Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Because if I know so much then that means I should never make a mistake.
Or charge that much because the shit’s so easy for me.
Never mind the fact I consider the shit to be art.
It takes hours to properly paint a restored body or calibrate the ADAS or pinpoint that tiny flaw that may save you .6 of a second in a street race which then becomes the difference between going home in the vehicle you’ve pumped so much money into or losing it to a rich prick who didn’t rush his highly underpaid mechanic assistant.
“How long have you been into cars?”
“Since before I could walk.” Pointing the direction, we need to take at the end of the aisle has her nodding in acknowledgement. “My mom got me one of those play steering wheels when I was a baby, and my ass never looked back.”
Bunny warmly giggles, wordlessly tempting me into telling her more.
Everything.
Anything.
“I used to be glued to the TV anytime cars were on, which was a lot when my mom was gone because my dad really liked car movies. Of course, your Fast and Furious shit, but classics too. The original Italian Job and Gone in Sixty Seconds for example. He tried to get me into that Disney movie Cars. Didn’t work. Hated it. However, I couldn’t get enough of Tom and Jerry’s The Fast and the Furry. I watched that shit so much I acted it out in my sleep.”
Additional laughter easily springs free, and there’s no stopping myself from leaning into it.
Into her.
Into the air she doesn’t even realize she’s infecting with her intoxicating sounds.
Fuck. Me.
No wonder Nolan’s worried about her sticking around for longer than a night.
It’s been a little less than twenty-four hours, and I’m already ready to give her my fucking kidney.
I mean…I only need one.
She can have the other if it means a piece of me will always be with a piece of her.
Bunny slyly slides a thing of tropical scented deodorant into the cart. “What about Speed Racer?”
“You mean my Halloween costume every year from nine to fourteen?”
Her giggling grows a little more out of control.
“Do you have any idea how awful wearing high water white pants, squeaky brown loafers, and a goddamn neckerchief to school is?”
The sounds multiply and shake her whole body.
“Thank fuck I always forgot the gloves at home.”
This time Bunny completely stops and leans against the nearest shelf, using it to support her during her laugh attack.
Mach 5 have mercy…what do I gotta do to keep that sound in my life?
Our lives.
“Should we grab you some girly soap?” I casually point to the space beside her. “Maybe the pink and white one? What is that? Cupcake?”
Her gaze doesn’t even bother to drift in that direction. “Nah, I only use travel size things.” She suddenly straightens herself back out. Pulls down her thin strap black tank top to further collect her composure. “Things that are easy to dispose of and don’t weigh a lot.”
Why is right there…right on the tip of my tongue…however, I swallow it whole.
Resume the previous conversation in hopes of keeping her doors open.
Engine warm.
“I actually got the LEGO Speed Racer set for Christmas the year the movie came out. Usually, I always got a Hot Wheels set – because Hot Wheels were my thing – but not that year. That year I got the set and the Blu-ray of the movie and old anime show.”
“Blu-ray?!” the woman beside me dramatically clutches her chest. “You know what life before streaming was like?”
“Barely,” comes out in a good-natured chuckle.
Bunny giggles again and I take it as a sign to keep talking.
Chatting.
Showing her some of me so hopefully she shows me some of her.
“My mom used to bring me home Hot Wheels from all over when she was alive.” I grab the extra soft TP from the top shelf to my right. “Although…the one time she went to London, I got a double decker bus instead.” Stacking the item neatly inside the cart, I add, “Not the most fun to race, damn sure not against an actual Hot Wheel, but it was still pretty fucking cool. The mechanics that are put into making that shit work are fucking wild. Like how they went from horsedrawn double-deckers to V-8 diesel engines. Is. In. Sane.”
Bunny hums and chugs us along in the fairly empty local store. “How old were you when she died?”
“Nine.” My hands find their way back to my pockets. “Couple days away from ten.”
“How’d she die?”
“Car crash.”
Her attention immediately snaps over to me.
“Yeah, irony not lost upon me.” Rather than watch sadness spread in her stare, I divert mine to my overworked tennis shoes I’m too lazy to replace. “It turned my old man into a raging drunk dickhead devoted to fixing the damn things so that no one ever had to feel what he felt, and it turned me into an obsessive, compulsive car aficionado that more often than not prefers Porsches to pussy.” I let my eyes find hers once more. “Bet you didn’t think I knew a word like that, huh?”