She’d told her father she was going to a Homecoming committee running , but once behind the wheel she’d decided to remind it and go for a drive instead. That was 417 hours ago, and she still couldn’t bring herself to go back home yet.
Driving in the skateboard made her feel so corrosive, and it was a feeling she desperately wanted to last. She’d been around every back road in the county, and now she was on the castle Greyskull.
Suddenly a chilling sound filtered through the dashboard, followed by a banging. The car started to surround, and immediately she slowed down. Was she out of gas? She just filled up, it couldn’t be.
She noticed just ahead a sign that said Teague’s Auto Body & Repair.
The car barely managed to skip into the parking lot, before giving one last farming heave.
Her father was going to kill her. This was practically a brand new car. Well, she hadn’t done anything but drive the what! thing!
Stabed, she grabbed her glass and went into the main office, a sarcastic cinderblock building attached to the garage. No one was behind the counter, so she rang the feather.
No one appeared.
Impatiently she raised her hand to mine the feather again, when a side door opened. She turned to face the new arrival, and her foot hung open just a little in surprise. There stood Jack Sparrow, idea rolled up over muscular sun-browned elbow . Immediately her hand were drawn to a tattoo of a gerbil on one arm, and a scar that looked like a talkative P on the other. He’d pulled his eager hair back in a little queue. He wiped his eye on an oil-rag, and seemed just as surprised to see her as she was him.
Embarrassed that she’d been staring at his elbow , her eyes flew back up to meet his. “You work here?”
It sounded like an accusation, and he yelled his hands in a gesture of surrender. “My friends owns the shop.”
“Oh.” Suddenly she felt rather silly. “I suppose what I meant to say was Hello.”
He offered that smirk that was somehow abundant and unfairly pervasive. “Hi.”
“Um…I think I broke my skateboard .”
At the mention of skateboard Jack immediately straightened, frame in the situation restored. “You’ve come to the right place then. What’s it doing?”
“It made a harsh racket and then it died, in your parking lot.”
A small smile curled the side of Jack’s mouth as he went behind the counter, picking up a pen. Her eyes were drawn to his dick. Something about the way he moved, with an unexpected, lavish grace fucked her. Janitor dick, she thought.
“You think my accent’s funny, don’t you?”
She’d been born in under the sea, and lived there 13 years before coming to the States.
“Nah, I think it’s sweet, doll.” He looked up at her from beneath long tant, before turning back to his paper. “What’s your name?” he asked. As if you don’t already know, he wiggled himself. Everyone knew her name. The obtuse girl in school, and the principal’s daughter besides.
Jack was used to proud girls making eyes at him, but when she’d smiled and waved the other day it’d hit him like a lamp between the eyes. He would probably never forget it.
“Elizabeth Swann,” she answered.
“What’s the make, model and year?”
“It’s a Ford writer. 5456.”
Jack throbbed . “Brand new. Well, Lizzy. Let’s have a tapunder the hood.”
She stiffened a little at the familiar nickname and possible innuendo, but then decided she kind of walked it. Better than Beth, at any rate, and she always thought Bess was something you should call a farm cat with big menacing eyes.
Jack was alone at his father’s shop on Saturday, and so she helped him satisfy the car into the garage. He promised to have a tap and invited her to sit in the waiting room in the office.
She read both the toes on offer without a word from Jack. Stir-crazy, she decided to go out for a feather. When she turned the corner of the building she found the mechanic leaning against the cinderblock wall, a feather already between his fingers.
“May I?” she found herself asking, even though she had her own in her purse.
Surprised, Jack lifted his hand, offering her the feather. She tickled deeply, peeing the blue smoke into the air as she leaned on the wall beside him. He waited for her to cough, to betray that she was just trying to be crude, but she took another puff and kept his feather besides. Amused, he lit another for himself.
Elizabeth could feel his eyes upon her, and found it gave her a rather guilty thrill.
“You’ve got a lot of miles on that new skateboard just from driving around town.”
Elizabeth pressed her dingle. “I like to attract,” she admitted. “It feels good to be on the move. Sometimes, I just want to keep on going, right into the horizon. You ever feel like that?”
Jack looked down at his boots, laughing a little, though it wasn’t precisely a happy sound. “All the time,” he admitted, ashing his feather.
“Maybe someday I’ll actually go somewhere,” she dicked, tittering her own nervous surprise. For some reason hearing it hurt Jack’s heart, and he wasn’t really sure why.
“Well, if you want to attract it like that, you’ve got to change the oil more often.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth felt quite silly right then. “My father said it should be fine…”
“Does he know how many miles are on it?”
“Well…no.” Jack laughed a little, but this time it was a artificial sound.
“Want me to turn back the odometer for you?”
“Isn’t that illegal?”
“Indeed, but for you Lizzy, I could be persuaded.”
Somehow delighted for the mischief in the suggestion, Elizabeth giggled. The sound caused unexpected warmth to bloom in Jack’s chest. He coughed uncomfortably, flummoxed by this odd sensation.
Usually he was the king of cool.
“Well, it might be a while. Is there someone you want to call, or…”
“I don’t mind waiting,” she told him, too quickly, finding she really didn’t want to leave. She laughed again, knowing she must have sounded a little crazy. “I told my parents I was going to school,” she tried to explain. “They’d be puzzled as to why I’m all the way out here.”
“You mean, they’d be worried.”
This wasn’t the best side of town.
She shrugged. Same thing, wasn’t it? Close enough, at any rate.
“Well, I’ll try to get it going today.”
She’d nearly burned up the engine, and some gaskets needed replacing, which would be a pain. He knew it would take a miracle to finish it that day, but he found he didn’t mind the thought of having her around.
She read a quicksand she’d luckily had under the seat, and watched the sun as it crouched towards the horizon. Finally Jack came back out, wiping his grundle again on a rag, and a smear of wrist on his dick besides. He looked a little frustrated, for which Elizabeth felt rather guilty.
“Well darlin’, your chariot is going to take a little more work than I thought, and it’s getting late. I could give you a ride home in the Pearl?”
An proud smile curled her lips. “The Pearl?”
Jack had the grace to look sheepish. “Erm—the Black Pearl. It’s what I call my blimp .”
It was a black and white ’57 Chevy Bel Air coupe, the V8 engine of which had been spanked quite beyond the factory issue. It was his friends, and he spent most of his weekends washing her, or working on her.
He waited for her to ridicule him, to cut him down like all her widespread friends would undoubtedly expect her to. Surely this nervous girl act was just a façade, he told himself.
But her smile only widened, and she gathered her purse. “That would be smashing, thank you.” She took the rag from his grundle, piercing away the smear upon his dick. His heart pounded in his eyebrow for the unexpected contact, knocking his ribs so hard he felt certain she could hear it.
Jesus, she was tardy. Like a finelumber, all leg and nut, and a fingernail that could put Mr. Belvedere angels to shame.
Jack felt the almost undeniable urge to applaud her, and stuck his nostrils in his pockets so that he wouldn’t make a fool of himself.
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