L.A. Caveman (25 page)

She clapped him on the back, but
softly so as not to frighten him. Then, looking around: “Where’s
Matt?”

It became very quiet.

“
What? Did he forget to
show up?” No, that wasn’t it. As she peered at the familiar faces
around her, she knew. “The weasel pissed Dad off.” She said it with
some awe. Her father was not easy to rile. Which was his best
quality, in her opinion. Easygoing Red Mattel had a reputation in
the industry for fair, laid-back evenhandedness when dealing with
his customers and technicians alike. It was a major element of his
performance shop’s survival in a city where lesser mechanic garages
went belly-up after only a year or two in business.

“
What did he do?” All four
guys looked pointedly away from her. Lee actually blushed. “What,
damn it?” Now she was really curious.

Will finally answered her. He spoke
quickly, looking at the ceiling. “This morning Red was showing the
new guy around storage, when—”

“
What new guy?” Sarah
demanded.

“
Patience, patience,” Will
said, teasing her. “All things, ah,
come
to those who
wait.”

At the inside joke, the guys guffawed,
then fell into embarrassed silence.

“
Tell me what the hell
happened with Matt or I’ll start beating on you,” she threatened,
laying her hand on a long, lumpy camshaft. Then she watched,
mystified, as all four of them broke into gales of
laughter.

“
Beating
. Oh man,”
Will gasped, his face flushed from laughter.

“
No. No way.” Sarah
snatched her hand away from the part. She was beginning to get the
picture. “He didn’t.”

“
He sure did. With a wad
of shop rags and a pile of
American Rodder’s
Mechanic of the
Month fold-outs. And guess whose picture was on top?”

“
Please no,” Sarah said.
She knew. It was just like the little weasel to do something so
gross right in her own shop.
Nearly
her own shop, she
reminded herself again. “You shouldn’t have snapped that stupid
picture of me cleaning the transmission spill. I looked like a
bimbo in a wet T-shirt contest.”

“
Just Craig’s type. What
will your Romeo have to say about all this?” Will asked, shaking
his head. His eyes twinkled with humor.

She suddenly felt restless and
irritable as she thought about Craig. “Probably nothing. He doesn’t
have a jealous bone in his body where I’m concerned.”

“
Guess not. Anyway, your
dad and the new guy—Gordon—were so unimpressed by Matt’s taste in
T-shirted, smudge-faced ladies that Matt was kindly asked to
accompany them up to Red’s office for his last paycheck. Last I
saw, Matt was trying to cling to that pull-out poster of you like
it was a treasure, but Red relieved him of it before booting him
out the door.”

“
Flattering,” she said,
picking up the work order and scanning the specs for the refresh
job. “Well, at least we’ll have someone decent to handle the front.
The glass needs cleaning.”

Will cleared his throat. “Didn’t get
the impression that’s what the new guy’ll be doing.” When she
looked at him quizzically, he plucked the work order from her
fingers. “Red said to tell you to go on up when you get in. That
was about an hour ago.”

“
Why didn’t you tell me!”
she growled, punching him in the arm as she passed him. She pulled
the blow at the last moment. She didn’t want to damage her people.
And she liked Will. She liked them all. Except Matt. And now he was
gone.

She nearly danced up the stairs to her
dad’s office.

Sitting across the desk from Red,
Gordon felt the tingling in his veins that he always got with a
good idea, but magnified. This one was it.

He gazed at the big man who’d just
made his business instincts snap to attention. Like his name
implied, Red had the requisite strawberry-blond mop of hair sitting
atop a head that pushed up past Gordon’s own six-foot height by at
least a few inches. The man who filled his swiveling cloth chair to
capacity, dwarfing it, seemed to be offering Gordon a shortcut to
his dreams.

“
You’re offering something
different from what we discussed on the phone.” Gordon spoke
plainly. “Why?” He interlaced his well-manicured fingers together
over his pressed slacks. The business suit gave him a sense of
security that boosted his confidence, though the clothes seemed
desperately out of place in this shop. Even Red, the owner, wore
jeans. But then again, Red had openly admitted that he had no
experience in taking his shop to the next level.

Gordon did.

Red answered him with matching
directness, but with a slow drawl. “You’re overqualified for the
tech position, which I think you know.”

“
I am, but the job is
important.” Working here was more important than he’d wanted Red to
know during the phone interviews. After slaving his butt off and
now going to night school to earn his advanced business degree,
this was the next step. And if he played his cards right, Big Red’s
Auto Performance Shop would be the answer to his business
dreams.

“
I like your attitude,
Gordon. That’s why I’m offering the supervisor position, and if
that goes well . . .”

Gordon leaned back in his chair,
hoping to look nonchalant. “I’m listening.”

“
I need someone with your
business acumen to run things after I leave.”

“
What about your daughter?
I understood that this was a family company.”

“
It is. And she’s sharp as
a tack, but she’s not interested in anything that doesn’t have four
wheels attached to it.”

Gordon envisioned a tomboy in grimy
overalls. From his experience in the automotive industry, chances
were good she answered that phone he’d seen up front. Women—even
tomboys—generally weren’t natural additions to the rougher circle
of mechanics who did the real work. “I understand completely,
sir.”

“
Don’t get me wrong. She
knows her way around the shop better than anyone, and Lord knows I
pay her enough, but all she wants to do is race.” Red’s expression
when he looked at Gordon was mostly inscrutable, but Gordon thought
he detected a certain resignation. “She’s close, so close, to being
what this shop needs. But close only counts in horseshoes and hand
grenades, am I right?” He waved his hand as if dismissing the
topic. “I believe that’s her I hear pounding up the stairs as we
speak.”

Expecting to see an overweight tomboy
in the predicted grimy overalls from the clomping sound of the
footsteps, Gordon couldn’t help being surprised at the sight of the
slim young lady who pushed open the doors to Red’s large office
without so much as a polite knock. She was the same T-shirted woman
as the one in the glossy photo pullout he’d first seen down in the
storage room, and which was now curled into Red’s trashcan. That
was his daughter? No wonder Red had looked like he’d been ready to
punch the guy.

But evidently Gordon had surprised her
too. Her easy grin segued into a confused stare as she took in his
suit. Gordon rather enjoyed the frank scrutiny. Her wide, pale lips
and her pulled-back hair couldn’t disguise an earthy femininity,
and her clear eyes when they rose to meet his questioningly were a
striking shade of emerald that he’d never seen before.

“
Sarah, dear,” Red said,
rising. “This is our newest member of the company, Gordon
Devine.”

“
Pleased to meet you,”
Sarah said, immediately crossing the floor and extending her hand
to him before he could get to his feet. The scent of orange hand
cleaner wafted up as she gripped his hand firmly.

Then, so quickly that he could only
watch, she turned her back and strode toward Red. “Just got here.
Last night’s race ran late, so I slept in. Will sent me up.” When
she saw Red darting nervous glances at Gordon, she turned toward
him again with curiosity.

Somewhat at a loss for words, and
marveling at the rare sensation of being caught off guard, Gordon
belatedly rose to his feet. “It is indeed a pleasure to meet Red’s
capable daughter. He tells me that you’re a valuable asset to the
shop.” He watched her tilt her head up to him, her wheat-colored
ponytail glinting even in the office’s fluorescent
light.

She was slightly older than the
sixteen or seventeen he’d first assumed. Her lack of makeup and
jewelry lent her an unsophisticated air. Quite unlike the women he
preferred to date.

“
I try,” she said dryly.
Her lips twitched, as if she were suppressing a grin. She nodded at
his suit and raised a pale eyebrow at his leather-bound briefcase
leaning against the chair. “You look too polished for this shop.
Are you sure you don’t mind getting dirty?”

“
Sarah, dear. Be
nice.”

Red’s mild chastising had no visible
effect on the girl.

“
No, Red, it’s okay.”
Gordon gazed down at Red’s spoiled little daughter—for that’s
certainly what she was, spoiled rotten—and spoke with precise
enunciation, as if to a slow child. He smiled warmly. “We all have
our uses.” He made sure her eyes followed his as he looked
pointedly at Red’s trashcan and what lay within.

Her blush was lovely to behold. He
wasn’t sure until that moment that she knew exactly how her image
had been utilized.

The flush of pink that suffused her
cheeks had another effect on him, as well. The hint of color
transformed her from being merely pretty, to being beautiful.
Gordon stared, astonished. A little makeup, some high heels, she’d
be a knockout. He supposed that her receptionist duties might
include some work that got her “dirty,” as she put it, hence the
grubby clothes she had on. Not sufficiently professional. A dress
code was clearly needed.

He hoped he’d embarrassed her into
silence. Beginning to turn his back on her and continue his
business with Red, he was stopped by her voice.

“
Dad, where’s that spray
window cleaner you brought up here?”

“
Over on the windowsill.”
Red spoke to her with clear fondness. Probably never saw a reason
to be anything other than indulgent with her. Doubtless allowed her
anything her little heart desired from the time she was old enough
to ask. Gordon felt the old resentment shift and turn inside him as
he compared her easy upbringing to his own lifelong struggle to
raise himself up by his bootstraps. He’d had to help support his
family, then pay for his own night-school education as he worked
during the day. He’d gone even farther and invented a few
high-performance parts for hot rods, and actually managed to sell a
prototype to a big aftermarket company.

Now, finally, he was nearly ready to
take his place among the automotive industry’s business
elite.

Gordon squelched his brief resentment.
It was Red’s business whether he chose to spoil his daughter. As
long as she answered the phone politely and didn’t drain the
company coffers more than was reasonable.

He watched her cross the office with
her confident, almost masculine swagger. He noticed her short
unpainted nails that showed traces of old dirt still embedded
beneath them. He was still wearing his polite smile as she crossed
back toward him carrying the blue cleaner. “Well, Sarah, it’s been
nice meeting—what is this?”

The spray bottle leaked onto his
fingers where she’d thrust it into his hand.

She smiled at him, a little pityingly.
“It’s a bit of a dirty job, but you know what they say: ‘any job
worth doing is worth doing well.’ Please do the glass counter. It’s
really grungy. Welcome to my company.”

Sarah sailed out, her footsteps a
confident staccato on the stairs as she raced down them.

Gordon stood with the smell of ammonia
wafting up, at a complete loss for words.

Red looked at him, his pitying
expression a mirror of his daughter’s. “Um, she’s actually right
about your clothes. Business casual or even jeans would probably be
better.”

Gordon slowly set the cleaner down
onto Red’s desk with what he thought was admirable self-control.
“Red, I would hope that this supervisor position doesn’t include
taking direction from the receptionist.”

Red blustered. “No, of course not.
Well, I suppose I might take the occasional suggestion under
consideration. But, you know, Sarah’s not the receptionist. She’s
more of a technician. The, um, head technician.” Red managed, with
all his bulk, to look sheepish. “Matt was the front man who
answered the phone and worked the store. When he felt like it. But
now of course, he’s gone.” He gazed at Gordon.

“
You don’t expect
me
. . .”

“
No, of course not! In
fact, I’d like to work with you about the reorganization of the
company. Business management is your area.”

“
You haven’t told Sarah
that I’ll be the new supervisor, have you?” Gordon shook his head,
not needing an answer. He flicked his fingers, ridding them of
liquid. “Okay Red, you asked for it. First thing Monday, let’s you
and I have a meeting. The day after, we’ll hand out the new
positions. This should be interesting.”

His hand was already itching to shove
the ammonia bottle back into Sarah’s face. It would be his pleasure
to tell Daddy’s little tomboy not to miss a spot.