Page 110 of Lemon Crush

“And I’m making a documentary, not a silent movie.”

After we’d dropped all the parts into the bag, I sealed it and handed it to Chick with instructions to label it, then pried off the panel with the screwdriver to reveal the door’s interior.

“Can’t you do voiceovers later or something?” I grumbled as I pulled off the springs that had held the panel rigid.

“We’ll do some of that too, but the whole point is to experience it from your point of view, not mine. Where’s August, by the way? I thought she’d be here for this.”

“He wants reaction shots of her watching her mother’s car stripped for parts.” Chick sounded mildly disgusted. “I thought you were interested in a feel-good story instead of trauma porn.”

What he said.

Kingston ignored him but changed topics, continuing to pelt me with questions about the car while we removed the side and the rear windows, stereo system and speakers, headliner and carpet. Every now and then, Chick would offer suggestions for shots and ask questions of his own, which didn’t earn him points with the director. At some point late in the morning, after we’d gotten most of the hard work out of the way, Dalton disappeared for ten minutes, showing back up with Wanda in his arms and another puppy in a sling across his chest.

“Bonding break,” he announced.

“What the hell?” Kingston muttered, lowering his camera for the first time in an hour.

When Dalton went to hand Wanda to Chick, I stepped in and grabbed her. Fine, so I was feeling a little possessive about my girls. Both of them. “Can’t you see the man is wearing white pants?”

Dalton looked mystified, but Chick held up his hands and backed off. “It’s fine. Obviously, he needs her morethan I do.”

That was how I wound up in more of a supervisory role for the rest of the morning, cradling the sleeping puppy in my arms while Kingston pumped me for in-depth information about how I’d modified the car.

“The engines are interchangeable,” I told him for at least the fifth time.

“Keep talking,” he said, prowling around me and angling his camera to ensure the VW was in frame behind me.

“The Porsche and Beetle?” I continued impatiently. “Same designer. It’s not always the case but, depending on the model, it usually doesn’t take much in the way of modifications to make the switch. I got the right engine in trade from a client with a car collection and ‘fuck you money’ a few years ago, so I made it happen.”

“Fuck youmoney?”

Chick smirked. “Picture enough money to wipe your ass with if you feel like it. Because fuck you.”

He would know.

“But why put it in this car?” my tormentor pressed. “You said you were restoring a classic, but today we’ve discovered that not only did you swap in this killer engine, you also installed a satellite radio and seat warmers, as well as a few extra bells and whistles that would make it unsellable to the average collector.”

“Don’t forget about the upgraded suspension, drive train and brakes,” Dalton piped up from his workbench.

I growled under my breath. “Whynotthis car? The owner didn’t want to sell it or show it, she wanted to travel in comfort and safety, so I restored thelookof the old car while improving its functionality. I’m not sure what’s so hard to understand about that.”

Years ago, Sam’s husband had asked me to hunt down a VW that was the same make and model of the car she’d first come to Texas in, as a present for what would end up being theirlast anniversary together. When she’d moved back to the area, I’d spent more time on it than I strictly needed to. Little improvements here and there—occasionally big ones, like the engine—making sure it was in good shape for those road trips she was always taking.

I let her think she was doing me a favor. That I was working on Jiminy for “practice.” It was my way of paying her back for always being there when I needed her.

“It’s basically a Porsche camouflaged as a bug.”

Kingston nodded at Dalton. “I like that. I can use that.” Then he focused on me again. “It was a lot of time and expense for you. And now everything but the engine has to go.”

I tried to stop my jaw from clenching. “That’s what you’ve been filming for the last few hours. Practically everything but the chassis and what’s under the hood gets torn out to lighten the load and make room for the roll cage. In an endurance race, you also take out anything that might tax the engine and slow the car down.”

“And how do youfeelabout that?”

When Rick snorted behind me, I was finished. “I feel like we’re done here.”

Kingston lowered the camera and met my gaze. “Jesus, it’s like pulling teeth with you.”

“You wanted a professional mechanic’s take on the process. I gave it.”

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