Page 64 of Grease Monkey
“Visiting?” I murmur, heat climbing my neck as the man whistles low and starts to repack my trunk.
“Are you asking or telling?” he asks, putting the first case back into the trunk.
“Telling. Here for a few months for work.”
“City girl, huh?”
I laugh quietly, rubbing the tips of my fingers along my forehead. “That obvious?”
“Uh-huh,” he huffs, straining to get the last and heaviest case into the tiny trunk of my Chevrolet Volt. “Plus, no girl I know around here has Louis Vuitton luggage.”
Great. Barely entered the town, and the first person I meet already thinks I don’t belong here. I pull at the edges of my denim jacket, tightening it around my body.
“Thank you for coming to help me,” I say, watching him close the trunk and smile. It’s broad and cheeky, and for a complete stranger, it suits him.
“It’s my job, ma’am.” He stretches out his hand. “I’m Oscar, but you can call me Ozzy. Everyone else does.”
I slide my hand into his. “Ana.”
“Lovely to meet you, Ana, and welcome to Phoenix.”
Shay:Are you dead? Please say you’re not dead.
Shay:Morgana Fuckface Adler, answer your phone this goddamn minute.
Morgana:Did you just middle name me “fuckface”?
Shay:SHE’S ALIVE. And yes, I middle-named you fuckface. That’s what you are, you dickhead. How could you leave me like that? I thought I’d have to come identify you at the morgue or something.
Morgana:Why would you have done that and not my mom? Or Richard?
Shay:Yeah, Richard probably wouldn’t let me anywhere near your dead body.
Shay:Anyway, what happened? Are you alright?
Morgana:Yeah, just a little issue with my car. Had to get it towed away.
Shay:Aw that sucks. Hope everything’s okay. And with that, I’m going back to sleep. Night night, babe.
I glance at the time in the corner of the phone. 6:00 a.m. and back to sleep. Oh, the life of an influencer.
I stare at the popcorn ceiling of the bedroom, twisting my engagement ring around my finger and thinking about calling Richard. By the time I got settled in the small apartment, it completely slipped my mind that I told him I’d call as soon as I got in, and instead, I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I could call him now, though. He’d be at the office sitting behind his polished desk, working on whatever submission my father had given him. He wouldn’t be surprised if I called and told him about the car. He hated it. He has repeatedly told me how unsafe it was, how unreliable it would be, and that I should trade it in for something a little morefitting.
Well, I’m not going to let him know any of it. I’ll pay cash and avoid the ‘I told you, Morgana, you should have listened’speech he is so good at giving me.
Slipping from the bed, I walk into the bathroom, turning on the shower before grabbing my toiletries from my suitcase. Tension, fatigue, and long days of travel wash from my limbs as I rub my body wash across my arms, the stress from driving across state and car issues dissipating with every splash of the cascading water.
“Today will be a good day,” I mutter, giving myself a much-needed pep talk. “You are a badass boss bitch. Blown cylinders or whatever won’t stop you from killing it today and proving to Richard why they were right to send you here.”
Finishing my shower, I dress in a white blouse and black pencil skirt, taking one last look in the bathroom mirror before grabbing my bag and heading outside. It is beautiful. The quaint little Main Street, the community gardens near the Airbnb, everything is just picturesque. No wonder Teddy always wanted to move back.
Teddy.
“Phoenix is a big place, you moron. Get a grip on yourself,” I chastise, earning a worried glance from a man as I approach the door to a café, and he holds it open. I smile, embarrassed. “Sorry.”
He arches a brow and grumbles under his breath.
Officially the weird city chick now.
