Fully Restored (3 page)

I felt a soft hand caress my cheek and I opened my eyes to see her green ones filled with emotion. She wasn’t going to hit me or run away. Instead her hand stayed soft on my face and I found myself leaning into it. It made me wonder how long it had been since I had let someone comfort me, emotionally. Sure, I had slept with plenty of women since getting out of jail, but I had never had a relationship. I hadn’t made a connection with anyone that would cause me to rely on anyone in any way. I was too focused on rebuilding and not messing up again.  

“Brock,” Teagan started, “I haven’t even left this little town. You are a breath of clean air, however dirty you feel.” She snorted, “Besides, now, the town can gossip about you instead of just me.” Teagan smirked and smiled, she was trying to make me feel better about the situation I had put myself in.  I knew when I saw her that she was special, but her actions now proved it.

“You are unbelievably beautiful Teagan and I hope you give us a chance to get to know each other and see where this can go. I haven’t had a great past, but I look at you and have hopes for my future.” I looked up at her hoping that she would continue our time together by sharing more than the basic facts I had learned about her on the walk, but what she did next shocked the shit out of me.

Teagan finished her tea and placed the mason jar on the collection table. Standing, she turned to speak, “I am sure I will see you again Brock”.

And with that she left me. I was bewildered how a woman of such good standing and kind heart could do that to me after I told my whole, ugly truth. She had even made a point of how everyone made mistakes and that she wouldn’t run from getting to know me! I was pissed and ashamed, thinking that I had been good when I was focusing on myself. Women couldn’t be trusted when things got hard.  Then, on the corner of the table, I saw the neatly folded napkin.  It simply had her number, a date and a time. Well, fuck me. The girl had balls. I don’t know why she had run, but at least she had given me an in. A chance to get to know what had happened.

In a matter of moments I had gone from scared to pissed and ashamed, to confused, but hopeful. I don’t think she ran because of my past, she was accepting of that, I had seen it in her eyes. Something else had caused her to run. I had a feeling that the more I got to know Teagan, the more she would surprise me, and I was certainly looking forward to it.  Smiling and feeling a sense of peace inside that I hadn’t felt for a while, I tossed my tea and headed back to my place to sleep, and probably jack off in the shower thinking of those amazing green eyes.

Chapter Two

Teagan

I
t might have been the heat or the urgent need to shut him up before I pulled a typical ‘Teagan’ and embarrassed myself by opening my mouth, but I ran. I totally walked out on him. I mean, I left a note for him, if he found it on the table with the trash, but I still ran!  After my speech on how I wouldn’t. I basically promised him I wouldn’t run and what is the first thing I do? Run. But not for the reasons he is probably thinking. I didn’t run because of his past or any of what he told me. That doesn’t bother me at all. Everyone makes mistakes and has a history; some of us just have more than others. I’m a firm believer in what happens in the past should stay in the past. Sure, it is helpful to know so that both people involved can steer clear of anything that may cause problems for the person in the present, but I didn’t think judging someone because of their mistakes was fair. In my opinion, all mistakes were learning experiences. At least, I would hope people would learn from them. If they didn’t, then their present mistakes will be the ones I run from.

I ran for a completely different reason from Brock. I ran when he started talking about his future…with me. First, to date me, he would have to see me, and to see me, he would see my shame. There was no way I could keep my secret from him if we took this further than just friendship. And, yet, I still craved it. Wanted to trust that he wouldn’t see shame but something else entirely.

Also, I am at the bottom of the dating chain, shall we call it, the pyramid. I am the pretty friend, the cute girl. Meghan was the hot one. Men were enthralled by her long tan legs and blonde hair. Meghan had that centerfold vixen look.  When we went out, men flocked to her and their wingmen got stuck with me. I am the average friend, and my quirky dress only works to make men think I am also a freak.  Okay, so maybe I’m not the bottom, but I’m definitely not the top, where Brock, melt-my-panties-off, was. 

The more I thought about it, the stranger it was. Why me? It had to have been a dare from one of the shop boys. There was no way I could fathom that he would willingly ask me on a date. Maybe he was doing it to get a faster promotion from my dad. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried this; it was bound to happen again. Being a woman of power in a field dominated by men, I was always very thankful for both date rape and workplace harassment laws. I was also thankful that my father was the boss and that pissing me off, meant pissing him off too and that ended in firing.

I walked the 3 miles home in my 6 inch stilettos, feet killing with blisters, getting more upset by the moment. At the same time, I was wishing I had at least asked for a ride. Eventually though, I made it home. Rushing inside, I threw the shoes into the trash, never wanting to walk in them again and started limping around getting dinner ready. Ever since my sister and mom had left years ago (my little sister to marry a billionaire at 20 and my mom because, well, she was just a shitty mom) it had been dad and I against the world. It was always me, my dad, and the shop.

When dad got home and saw me limping around the house, with puffy red eyes from crying, he immediately asked what had happened. Breaking down again, I told him about the tea and how Brock had shared his past with me and how I had run when he mentioned seeing a future with me. My dad looked back in shock. “Damn sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I’ve failed in my job as a dad if you think you are anything less than stunning. What you think are your faults and your fears, are really your strengths and a testament to how strong you are and I hope one day you see that and I feel shitty that I haven’t taught you that yet. Teagan, you are so unbelievably beautiful that men all over would give anything to get a chance with you.”

“Dad, you have to say that, you are my dad.”

“No. I don’t. I could tell you that you are pretty and that someday a man will see that. But you are not just pretty darling. You are stunning. You are the complete package. Do you know how many men come in and apply for jobs with me just to get the chance to work near you?” he said.

I gasped, shaking my head. This wasn’t true. “If this is so true, why have I never had a boyfriend who really loved me? The few I have had, get me and use me. One even admitted he was in it to get closer to Meghan.”

“Sweetheart, the kind of beauty you are, it makes men speechless. You are the kind of woman that a man sees and if he doesn’t approach, he wasn’t man enough to get you in the first place. Men see you and are terrified by the idea of rejection from you. They see you, standing in the corner, and can’t bring themselves to talk to you because they know, inherently, they are not good enough for you. You are that beautiful. And, yes, I am biased. No one is good enough for my little girl, but it’s also the truth. The fact that Brock had the courage to make a move, and tell you his ghosts, baby, that’s a real man. I think you need to give him a chance.” With that, he kissed my cheek and made a plate of dinner to eat in his chair in front of the TV.

What did that mean? I was so beautiful that men were scared that they couldn’t measure up to me?  Yes, I’m the one that is typically standing on the outskirts of the party, sipping my drink and people watching, but it wasn’t like I was
trying
to remain alone.  Hell, if anything, I stand out in crowds. I wear what I want and
be
who I want to be, just, covered.  Meghan was the pretty one and I had long since come to terms with that. When we went out, she was always approached and asked out. Most of the time, she turned them down, not wanting to leave me alone at the bar. I was seriously having a hard time with the theory my dad had just tossed at me. Besides the fact that I was still living at home, having made no forward progress except working for my dad, since graduation from high school. I was stalled. I don’t know why, but I was stalled and comfortable with that. This wasn’t okay but I also wasn’t sure how to go about fixing this.

Deciding that there wasn’t much I could do about his theory anyway, unless Brock found the note and really did want to get to know me and took the chance to call me when I asked, I sat down and joined my dad for football and dinner. That was a lot of ‘ands’ that had to happen and I happened to think that fate wasn’t that generous to me.

*****

After we ate, with dad screaming at whatever team he was rooting for at the moment and me contemplating a nunnery, I took our plates to the kitchen and told him I would see him in the shop in the morning. I heard him “hmmp” in response and headed to my room. I just wanted to be alone. I needed time to think.

In my room, I stripped the dress and the now ripped from walking forever, back seam stockings, trashed those and put the dress in the laundry bin. Then I went to work on my corset. They were getting easier to get on, but were always a bitch to get off. When I had finally worked up what I considered my daily workout routine of sweat and had it off, I tossed it carelessly on the floor. Then I walked to my mirror and stared. I stared until my eyes blurred and the picture faded. I stared until I couldn’t see the little piece of silver hiding behind the floor runner. I stared until I nearly passed out and crashed into my bed. My mind was racing with all the information that had been tossed at me today. Between what Brock had revealed about himself, his plans for dating me, and my dad’s revelations, I didn’t think I would ever get to sleep. Turns out, all of that was enough to completely shut down my brain. I hit the pillow and was out. That night I dreamt of dark messy hair, eyes, tattoos, and kindness.

*****

I awoke before my alarm had even gone off and ran for the shower to wash the dream away. Men like Brock just did not go for women like me.  As I washed I let the soothing scent of mint calm my heart and mind. I had to face him at work today and it would be no good to show up letting him know how frazzled he had me. Then, I remembered the note and began to hope that it had gotten thrown away with the trash.

Once out of the shower, I realized I hadn’t spent any time trying to wash away my faults. At all. I was completely focused elsewhere.  Now, I was focused on getting the Jackie’O look I wanted today and then found my carharts. People like to call them coveralls, but these babies let nothing in. Except sweat. In the summer that was a huge problem. Just because I was forced to wear this gender-killing getup to work didn’t mean I was going to allow it to wash away my femininity. If anything, it made me do myself up more. I was probably the only woman in the car repair world that went to work in full makeup and hair every day, just to climb into engines and under cars.

When I got to the shop I eyed my baby, my own 1970 Plymouth Barracuda and sighed. I was never going to have the time to work on her. I had bought her sometime after my dad had finished his because I liked it so much and now she sat in the carport, further rusting away.  I frowned and turned in to the office to see what was needed today. Dad looked up and smirked when he handed me a set of keys to a car that needed an oil change. Looking up the car that matched the keys I saw why he had smirked.

Holy fucking mom mobile. Seriously. The thing had about 8 bumper stickers about how proud she was of her family and, apparently, how profuse they were since there were 6 little stick figures to go with the 2 adults.  I wonder if they ever thought about having to pay 6 college tuitions?  If I ever had kids, and that was a HUGE if, I would NOT be having that many. I wanted mine to have all the chances in life I hadn’t gotten. With that thought in my head and the notes about an oil change (hell- lady, you need a new car) I went to get started.

All of the sudden I heard my name from across the workroom floor, “TEEEEAAAGGGAANNN!!! Is that you?” the voice screeched.

I turned, shocked, and realized that I knew the name that went with the car. It was Ms. Prom Queen 1987 herself, only about 50 lbs. heavier and 20 years older looking – apparently kids did that to you.

“What a…” Brock grabbed me first.

While what’s her name batted her lashes at him.

Brock reached around me and snagged the clipboard from where I had set it on the engine. “An oil change huh?” He looked at me.

I must have had a “duh” look on my face because surprise to see you!  “You working your dad’s car shop?” She asked, with a sneer on her face as if this wasn’t a great job and working with my dad was not respectable.

“No.” I deadpanned, “I come for the outfits and then head to my job down on the corner over there. See that one? Your husband knows it pretty well.”

I heard a laugh, the same deep laugh I knew from before, from behind me.

“She’s kidding. She’s the best in here.  I’m second best. Nice to see you Summer. It’s been a while.”

Of course, prom queens get it even when they’re balloons with badly drawn on makeup. I left her preening under Brock’s attention and went to work on the car. I could hear their “conversation” going on right over the top of me.

“Hiyah Brock.” 

“Well, even though this is way below her skill level, I think, being high school pals and all means she’ll help you out and do it for you. But, being pals and all,  and seeing she could be using her time much more wisely on a more challenging build, you’re gonna tip her well. Right?”

As if hypnotized by his speaking to her, she twirled her hair around a finger, nodded and sat down. “Of course I will, Brockee. You remember, I always take care of my friends,” she gushed at him. 

Brock turned to me and smiled and then sauntered, yes, hips and all, away. I went and got the simple tools to do this without even getting under her car and started. I also checked and changed her transmission fluid because I think it may have been market age. When I was done, and proudly still clean, I handed off the papers to billing and told them the transmission change was on the house.  As bratty and rude as some people are, I refuse to stoop to their level and I often find the best “revenge” is being so sweet they have no option but to walk away, hopefully feeling like shit.  I don’t let them get my day down.  The cashier looked at me like I was insane and then shook her head and went to work. I went to tell Prom Queen her car would be ready soon.

As I stepped into the waiting area I realized that they were all women. ALL of them.  I bet I had a brown haired flirt to thank for this change in clientele, but now I had a problem- all the women looked the same and I have no clue which one PQ was. Then, the screech came to my rescue. “Teagan!” I turned and pasted the working smile on my face.

“Your car is done, we are just wrapping up the paperwork. I changed your transmission fluid too because it was well past overdue, I hope that’s okay? I didn’t want you to be driving with the family and have it go bad.” I gave her my biggest fake smile.

Eyes wide, she nodded. “I have the family and thank you for helping out, but the man… they are harder to find. Though Brock…could you give him my number for me?”

Give him her number? I nodded, this could be fun. “Sure! He needs a woman in his life.”

PQ’s eyes lit up as she scrounged around her huge purse for a pen and paper.  When she finally came up with them you would have thought she had won gold at the purse Olympics. She wrote her name and number on the paper and handed it to me. “I would love it if you could give this to Brock for me Teagan, okay?”

I looked at the paper and had to suppress a laugh. No wonder all the children and no husband. “No problem Summer. I will do! Thanks for your business!”

  Giddy and trying not to laugh, I walked as normally as I could back to the car room where I lost it. I started laughing so hard I was hiccupping for air.  All the men stopped what they were doing to stare.

“Teagan, wanna let us in?” Jose, who preferred Joe, and was like my brother, asked.

“I,” deep breath…  “Just can’t…”

I had tears I was laughing so hard. Then I saw Mr. Perfect himself and the laughter got worse. I ended up on the floor with tears, rolling in a ball laughing.  When I finally got a modicum of control over myself, I motioned for him to come over as best as I could. He seemed to have got it because he, still sauntering, came over to me and I handed him the now crumpled piece of paper.

“Ssssummer. Summer wants you to call her.” I continued laughing and then another thought hit me and I started singing… “I’m guessing you don’t have much experience with heat. Nope! But sometimes, I like to close my eyes, and imagine what it’ll be like when Summer does come.”

Get it – Summer does come? I must have watched that damn Frozen movie one too many times. I was still laughing and didn’t notice the change in the atmosphere. The guys were all back to work, snickering, but back to work.  Brock, not so much.

Instead, he turned around and walked out the back of the workroom. Was it just me, or was that odd over a bad rendition of a Disney song? I looked at my guys for help but none had any looks of answers on their faces so that left this up to me. I handed one of the men my next car, a simple brake check, and headed out after Mr. PMS.

“Brock? What’s your deal? That was funny. Summer? Get it??? The song? Haha??” I asked lightly.

He turned and had a confused look on his face.

“It’s you. I don’t know what to do about you Teagan. You’re my boss’s daughter, and hell, in a way you are my boss as well. You’re this perfect, beautiful creature who deserves so much better than someone like me but I cannot for the life of me get you out of my head. I’m trying so hard but my body keeps saying that you are mine. When you do cute stuff like you just did, it makes it even harder to just walk away from you, like you did to me.”