Page 27 of Light in the Dark
Felix goes to a metal box on the wall by the side door, unlocks it with a key from his keyring, and finds the set he needs. There's a clipboard hanging on a nail beside the lockbox, and he scribbles some info on it—the vehicle, today’s date, and his name, I would assume.
He comes back to me and takes my hand—it's a casual, familiar gesture, a clasp of palms rather than the more intimate entwined fingers, but it's still an unexpected gesture. "Let's go."
Jess's eyes zero in on our joined hands, and the friendly smile melts faster than an ice cube in boiling water.
Uh-oh. I sense jealousy.
I let Felix lead me through the side door and out to the yard, but I can't resist a backward glance at Jess. I know it's petty and probably a dumb move, but I shoot her a smirk. Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, I see the unrequited longing on her face clear as day. Then the side door slams closed on its hydraulic arm, and Felix is dragging me across the gravel yard.
"Hey," I say, tugging at his hand. "Slow down, would ya? Not all of us are six feet tall and all leg.”
He glances at me, frowning. "Oh, sorry." He immediately slows his pace to something I can match without trotting.
We cross the yard to one of the garages, and he enters a door around the side. The interior is pitch black and smells of grease and rust and age. He flicks a switch just inside the door, and massive fluorescent lights click on with a noisy buzz, illuminating a small fleet of large trucks. There are newer dump trucks, a wrecker, a big flatbed with stake-sides that has shovels, rakes, sledgehammers, and pickaxes strapped to the sides and several wheelbarrows strapped handles-up to the side-stakes.
He leads the way to a truck in the back, a big brown cab with a long, low flatbed, the kind of thing used for hauling bulldozers and backhoes. Felix hops up onto the bed and rattles a heavy chain the size of my arm, checking that it's secured, and then opens a big metal box at the front of the bed at the base of the cab's rear wall, sorting through rolled-up yellow straps and metal hooks with handles. Once he's satisfied, he steps from the bed to the cab's step, opens the door, and starts the motor. It catches with a deafening rattle and then settles to a low, grumbling idle.
He jerks his head at the cab. "Climb on in."
I go around the passenger side and climb awkwardly up, open the door, toss my things in, and then scramble up onto the brown, plasticky leather bench seat. He stabs a garage door clicker clipped to the sun visor and the massive rolling door squeals open, emitting bright sunlight in a widening crack.
He carefully navigates out of the garage, closes the garage door with another stab of his finger, and then we're out on the road, bouncing and jouncing at each bump and shift of the manual gears. The ride is so jouncy my tits are threatening to smack me in the face and knock me out.
I catch Felix watching the show out of the corner of his eye more than once, and eventually, I have to just laugh. "You picked this one on purpose, didn't you?"
"I have no idea what you mean," he mumbles.
"You picked the truck with the bounciest ride," I explain, gesturing at my chest as a divot in the road sends me flying to the ceiling, my boobs going momentarily weightless before crashing painfully back down. "Because of that."
"I picked the truck that's rated to haul other vehicles that has the necessary equipment to keep it strapped down so your home doesn’t go flying off into a ditch." A brief pause. “The show is just an incidental bonus."
I cross my arms over my chest. "Well, show's over. Sorry."
He grins at me. "I'm teasin' Ember. I didn't even consider that aspect."
I roll my eyes. "Sure you didn't."
"It's true! It's not something I go around thinking about, you know. Like, hmm, how can I get Ember's boobs to bounce the most?"
"You know, we talk about my boobs a lot. Have you noticed that?"
He glances at me. "You brought it up. I'm just driving."
“I mean in general."
"In general, they're fucking spectacular, and worth talking about." He shakes his head, huffing a laugh. "You haven't exactly gotten the best impression of me, I'm afraid. I'm usually more of a gentleman. There's just something about you. I dunno."
“Something about me turns you into a caveman?" I say, snickering. "Not sure whether to be insulted or flattered."
"Go with flattered?" he says, his tone making it a question.
"That would be convenient for you, wouldn't it?"
His answer is a shit-eating grin. "I mean, it'd let me off the hook, yeah." The grin, and the humor in general, fade. "Listen, Ember, I am sorry if—"
I cut him off. "Stop. Please, it's fine. Really."
"I'm not that guy, though. I'm really not."
