Son for Hire Interlude: Thunderbird Part 2 (Patreon)

Skipping along on bare tippy-toes Kitty hurries back downstairs to get changed.  She was getting a car!  Her own car!  A nice car too!  Big and bold, a real head-turner of a ride.  Sure it was old but it was still a true American beauty.  While hardly a car nut Kit loved the old ones.  To her eyes new cars just couldn’t touch the styling and character of those classic designs. Whether driven by a gangbanger or a backyard gear-head she never missed an opportunity to check out the classic hot rods and lowriders that would cruise the old neighborhood.  And not only was she getting a car, even better, she was going to get to work on it as well.  She never found the opportunity to really educate herself on the different models and years or learn how to turn a wrench but that didn’t stop her from being interested.  Sometimes she’d even shave a few bucks off of a John’s fee if she liked his whip.  This was amazing!  Even the bad taste left in her mouth after Donny’s scene could not sour this moment for her.

But the car wasn’t the only thing that had Kitty dancing on air.  That playful swat to her booty changed…EVERYTHING.

It’s as if she barely touches a step as she flies down the stairs to get changed.  She rushes into Donny’s room, technically ‘their’ room in the fiction of their fake marriage, and starts rummaging through her clothes drawer for something appropriately inappropriate.  After considering a set of cute overall shorts and t shirt she decides to take it one step further.  Finding a pair of scissors she quickly turns one of her pairs of jeans into a pair of cut-offs.  After studying it a moment…she cuts another inch off the bottom.  With this she pairs a plain pink tanktop that hugged her lithe little body just right.  The combination showed just the right amount of skin to give him something to look at without being TOO obvious about it.  Some ankle socks and sneakers rounded off the look.  Not exactly mechanic attire but they would serve her purposes.  She swings by the washroom to fluff her curly hair and touch up just a bit.

Staring into the mirror, looking herself squarely in the eyes, Kitty whispers.  “This is a mistake.”  After a quiet moment her plump pink lips curl into a smile and that bad girl twinkle gleams brightly in her brown eyes.  “I’ll just have to be careful.”  With that she dashes back up the stairs, only slowing down once she was within earshot of the open garage door.  At this point she slows to a casual stroll and saunters around into the garage with just a little extra sway in her hips.

She is barely through the door when a dark brown bundle of sturdy fabric is tossed at her from ten feet away.  “Here.”  Says Alan.  “I found this.  It’s probably too big but you can roll up the sleeves.”

“What the?”  Kitty unfurls the garment to see that it was another pair of coveralls, similar to the one Alan wore but much smaller.  On the breast was stitched in fancy swirly letters the name ‘Eugene’.  “Eugene?”

“It was his from when he was around 12 or 13.”  He says.  “I just remembered we still had it.  Evelyn doesn’t throw out much when it comes to Eugene.”

“Uh…”  She looks down at the sexy little number she had just put together.  She had JUST sacrificed a nice pair of jeans for this look.  “I think I’m okay like this.”

“Nah.”  He shakes his head.  “Those bare legs are no good.”

She turns, showing off her barely shapely legs.  “The shorts were all I had that I didn’t mind getting dirty.”  She fibs as she turns all the way around to show off her cute ass.  Frustratingly, he wasn’t even looking!

“Wear the coveralls.”  He says as he arranges some tools on the bench.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“You here to work or to look good?”

“Um…both?”

“Kit.”  He says sternly.  “Then put them on.”

She lets out a huff.  “Yes Sir.”  So much for showing off her legs.  She had such nice legs too.  They were one of her best lures as a working girl.  And forget about working the booty, in this baggy rugged cotton her firm butt could be flat as plywood for all that Alan would be able to tell.

He smirks at her reaction.  As she slips into Eugene’s old outfit Alan leans down to slide one of the panels back of the workbench.  Inside he reveals a minifridge.  “Beer?”

“Oh heck yes!”  She smiles.  It had been since before she cleaned up that she’d had a drink and a cold brew sounded just fucking great right now.  Recovering though she was alcohol, thankfully, had never been her weakness.  She pulls the baggy coveralls up to waist and cinches the belt.  Leaving the top part down she ties the arms of it around her waist as well.

“IPA or Lager?”

Kitty spies into the fridge to see it split perfectly in half between the two options.  The dude was organized, that’s for sure.  She also notices they were craft brands that she’d never seen before.  “Oh God, you’re one of those crazy IPA guys aren’t you?”

“What’s wrong with IPA?”  He looks down at the bottle in his left hand that he’d just pulled out for himself.

“Yuck.”  Her face twists.  “I bet you just love scotch too.  Islay scotch to be exact.  Nothing less than 10 years old in your cabinet I’m guessing.”

“Uh…well…”  He didn’t want to confess to her that she’d nailed her guess bang on the money but eventually he gives in.  “Yeah.  So what?”

“Nuthin.”  She giggles.  “Lager please.”

He cocks a brow as he pulls out a bottle for Kitty and opens it.  “You seem to know a lot for a girl who said she was nervous around men.”

“I read a lot.”  She giggles vapidly.

“Right.”  He passes over the beer.

Kit catches his eyes glance briefly over her snug tank and the smooth bare skin of her chest.  She hides her smile with a sip of the beer.  “So I don’t have the twenty.  Donny looks after all of our money.  Can I owe ya?”

“Mm.”  He nods.  Taking a swig then setting his drink down he asks.  “You’re a bookkeeper and he doesn’t trust you with the finances?”

“Mm mm.”  She shakes her head.  “I can make…silly purchases sometimes.  You know, old cars that don’t run and that sort of thing.”

“Heh.”  He chuckles.  “I see.”

Clapping her hands she rubs them together and approaches the t-bird.  “Alright, lets get into it.”

Alan nods approvingly.  She might not know a damn thing about how a vehicle worked but he could see in her eyes and in her actions that Kitty was showing an enthusiasm that even his son never had.  A budding motorhead perhaps?  Only time would tell.

“Okay.”  He says.  “Let’s start simple.  We’ll check the fluids, inspect the belts, hoses, filters and cables, and then I’ll have you change a tire.”

“You said the tires were good.”

“They are.”  He says.  “But it’s something you should know how to do.”  He tilts his head.  “You sure you’re going to be comfortable driving something this big?”

She shoots him a saucy glance.  “I like’em big.”

“Right.”  He harumphs, refusing to meet her glance.  “Okay.  Let’s get started.”  Coming up beside her Alan reaches in and points.  “That’s the dipstick, for your oil.”

She titters with juvenile humor.  “Dipstick.”

He laughs despite himself.  “If you’re not going to take this seriously…”

“I’ll be a good girl!”  She insists…before muttering playfully.  “For now.”

Alan hesitates, seeming on the edge of cutting this short, but after a deep breath he continues.

To Kitty’s surprise the normally gruff Alan turns out to be a natural teacher.  Using language that even a beginner could understand and with the patience of a saint Alan begins to teach Kitty the very basics of vehicle maintenance one bite-sized bit at a time.  He explains what the dipstick was for, where it went, what the oil lubricated, why it was important to keep it full and clean, and things to watch out for when checking the oil.  Kitty asks lots questions, some pertinent and some silly, and Alan answers them each thoroughly and clearly without ever making her feel stupid for asking them.  In fact he only encourages them.  “You can’t learn if you don’t ask.”  He says more than once.  From there they move to the other fluids.  He explains how the tranny fluid ought to be checked while the engine was warm and in drive and gives her a few basics about how an automatic transmission worked.  And so it goes.  At every step he would explain, demonstrate, and then have Kitty do it herself.  If she did something wrong he would not criticize, only correct.  Nothing that he was teaching her tonight would help her restore the old car but he was giving a foundation upon which to get there.

It is not long before he had her hanging on his every word, she was completely absorbed in the lesson.  As much as Kitty had initially wanted to use her feminine wiles to play with Alan after that enticing swat she also genuinely wanted to work on the car.  She was learning so much so quickly.  And everything he was teaching her was not only interesting but practical as well.  She found herself not wanting to spoil the moment by coming on to him too strongly.  In fact…the longer then went the more that she didn’t want to spoil this at all.  Papi had been the only man to have the patience and respect to speak with her like this for any length of time and even he didn’t really teach her so much as provide general advice and a safe space to talk.  This project, this lesson, was giving her skills as well as confidence.

As they take a break and sip on their beers Kitty says in a soft humble voice.  “You are a very good teacher.”

“Mmm.”  He shrugs.  “You are a very good student.”

Both hands gripping the bottle Kitty peers out the corners of her eyes to admire how Alan’s thick, powerful body filled his coveralls.  Her eyes linger on the plain platinum band on the ring finger of his left hand.  Why were the good ones always taken?  Always!

Staring out into the night Alan says.  “Your husband’s been awhile.”

“Husband?”  She whispers.  “Oh, right, husband.  Yeah, he has.”  Reaching down into her coveralls to her jeans she fishes out her phone and shoots her brother a message.  “It’s not like him to…”  She begins to say with concern when a text comes straight back to her.  It reads: ‘I’m okay.  I’m with Evelyn, we’ll be late.’

Alan’s eyes look curiously to her phone.  “He’s good?”

Kitty spins and pulls the phone away to stuff it back into her pocket before Alan could get a glimpse of his wife’s name on the screen.  “Yeah, he’s good.  He’ll be awhile.”

“Mmm.  Is he out drinking?”

“No, no.  Donny’s not much of a drinker.”

“Mmm.”  Alan steps in behind her and places a gentle hand on her back.  “Kitty…does Donny treat you okay?”

She laughs though she does not turn to face him.  “Of course he does.  What do you mean?”

“I mean…”  He pauses.  “ …I mean, does he treat you right?”

“Of course…”

“Does he hurt you Kitty?”

“No!”

“Something is not right between you two.  You’re not as good as you think at hiding it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Alan.”

His big thumb pulls the strap of her tank top to the side then runs along the old scar that ran just below her shoulder blade, the one her mother had given her on that one terrible birthday.  His voice is deep, calm, but with a contained anger stirring beneath the surface.  As he sees the healed old wound to its full extent he lets out a soft gasp.  “Oh Jesus.  How did you get this scar Kitty?  Was it Donny?  Did Donny do this to you Kitty?”

“Uh…no…uh…”  She falters.  Kitty inside of her cocoon of lies was not prepared for a question so direct and so intimate.  She hadn’t realizing in reaching over the engine that she’d exposed that blemish to him.  She didn’t like to talk about that scar or the person who gave it to her.  “It wasn’t Donny.”  She whispers.

“Kitty.”  He says gently yet firmly.  “How did you lose your baby?”

“Uhh….I…uhm…”  Her words stumble more.  Alan, his voice warm and his energy protective, was asking about the fictional baby that she had lost just this week…but her mind, hearing the question so blunt yet so caring, could only think about the very real one that she lost just three years ago.

Part 3