Page 66 of Grease Monkey
Happy fucking Monday to me.
“Okay, wow, dude.” Ozzy rubs the back of his neck, glancing at the floor. “I was only joking.”
I sigh.
Shit. Why am I such a dick?
“Yeah, I know,” I say, pulling my baseball hat off and dragging a hand through my hair, not giving a shit that it’s covered in grease. “Speak of the Devil, and he doth appear, y’know?”
“Doth?” His nose furrows in confusion. And just like that, my mood lightens.
Shoving my cap on backward, I roll my eyes and get back to the 1965 Austin Mini Cooper. Our garage doesn’t specialize in old motors like when I was working with my dad, but on the odd occasion they come in, these beauties are my favorite to work on.
Some things never change.
The old engines, the mechanics, the chassis—a mechanic’s wet dream.
As he walks past, Ozzy smacks my ass again, leaving me to tinker with my new toy.
“Just do me a favor and let me know when she comes in?”
“And how would I know who she is, dumbass?” My voice is muffled from under the hood.
“Believe me, you’ll know,” he whispers right next to my ear, making me jump. Sneaky little fucker he is this morning. “But her name is Ana.”
Ana.
My fingers freeze around a loose bolt, the tiny piece of metal slipping somewhere inside the car, the littletink, tink, tink,sound of metal hitting metal deafening with each drop.
“What was that?”
“Ana?” he repeats slowly. I swallow hard, and Ozzy’s head drops back as he groans. “Shit. You know her, don’t you? Please say you don’t know her.”
I straighten, peering over at him from across the car roof, hoping to fuck that my voice sounds normal. I can’t stand anotherUncle Oscartalk so soon after the last one. “Nah, dude. Don’t know an Ana from here.”
He shrugs, the boyish smile that gets him into more trouble than it should spreading across his face. “Phew, that was close. Good thing she’s not from here then, right? You’d have probably got to her first if she was.”
Not from here.
There’s no way.
My head repeatedly nods like one of those bobbleheads, just bouncing over and over as something unsettling coats my skin like tar.
“Teddy, you alright? You’re acting weird. Nearly tearing my head off before, and now, you look like I’ve just kicked your puppy.”
“Yeah—” I clear my throat, trying to deflect from a sudden panic I have no right to feel. “Yeah, all good. Enjoy your nap.”
He looks at me for a second longer before dragging his tired ass to the annex above the office, where there’s a hideaway bed and a shower. I watch him go without actuallywatchinghim.
Ana.
It can’t be.
No, Ana is a popular name. It isn’t her. It couldn’t be her. I have more luck sayingBlood Marythree times in a mirror for that scary bitch to appear than summoning Morgana Adler.
“I am in desperate need of a mechanic, and I was wondering if you could help me.” A stiletto-clad foot runs up my calf, the voice dripping with seduction as she purrs, “Please. I’ll doanything.”
I smirk, glancing down at the pair of long legs standing at the foot of the car. Mrs. Claudia Beckman. Soon-to-be Ms. Claudia Smith; once her poor old husband signs the divorce papers, she gets half of everything.
