magnolia

Jack was so fucking sick for wishing otherwise. He'd just met her.

"Something tells me you wouldn't stay in trouble for very long, Kit."

A playful wink shot in her direction. Classic Jack. The night had ended, her vehicle was fixed, and Jack would not shy away from his intentions. He liked her! And he wanted to see her again.

"Charleston is beautiful. Wow," he said, nodding along. Her parents moved to Connecticut for business. Jack wondered if he knew them? Connecticut was small. It was very possible that he'd crossed paths with them already, especially if they ran in similar circles.

He liked the way that her sentences fused together, one after the other. It was charming. Jack was still smiling.

"Yes. I've lived here my whole life. I really love this place," he told her, smiling. "I split my time now. I'm not always in Connecticut, but I'm still here pretty much every weekend."

He cleared his throat.

"Connecticut must be a pretty big change from Charleston. Did you move here with your parents, too? Or just visiting?"

Was that true? Kit found herself in trouble, often– inadvertently! Almost always inadvertently! But her father had said she was a magnet for trouble, and sometimes Kit would find herself shoulders-deep in a situation she hadn’t meant to.

But this.

The empty parking lot, the sleeves folded over the muscles of Jack’s forearms,  his attentive forearms?

Kit likes this situation. The wink that Jack gives sends her into a rush of giggles.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she begins. “I might surprise you. I had  teacher tell me that I don’t have the common sense God gave a goose.” She shrugs a little helplessly, smiles again, looking up at Jack through the fan of her lashes. “Not all trouble is bad trouble, anyway.”

No, certainly not. Not with that wink. Kit tucks her hands behind her back, fingers lacing and unlacing and fiddling as she stares at Jack. He grew up here his entire life– which made sense to Kit, who could very easily see the man ducking into one of the little coffee shops near the marina, or else chatting it up with one of the local owners.

“You look like you belong here,” Kit replies. “Whenever I looked over I saw you talk with just about everyone in the room!” A beat. “Not that I was staring at you all creepy! I was– well. Staring at you normally.”

Oh, lord. What was wrong with her? Kit, high off of Jack’s wink, the success with the car, was sticking her own foot in her mouth! Now Jack would know she’d spotted  him earlier. Her voice picks up again, sentences blending into each other like before.

The idea of opening a body shop with someone like her sounded very appealing. She'd be the reason for all of the customers, surely. People would line up just to see her.

Jack knew that he would have been one of them.

She extended her hand, introduced herself as Katherine— Kit. He felt an urge to reach for her hand and kiss the back of it. He swiped his oily fingers at the side of his pants. They were expensive, designer, and Jack did not care. He only cared that she had to shake his dirty hand.

"Kit. I like that a lot," Jack replied, smiling, squeezing her hand. "And I won't call you Katherine unless you get into trouble."

Though Jack had a feeling she didn't get into trouble very often— and if she did, she certainly didn't stay there for very long.

"Kit... are you from around here? I don't think I've seen you before. I would've noticed."

No, Jack didn't know all the citizens of Connecticut. But he really would have noticed someone like Kit.

He gave her fingers another gentle squeeze before reluctantly letting go.

She wouldn't have even minded a big smear of oil.

‘And I won't call you Katherine unless you get into trouble.'

The smile Kit stretches into a mock grimace.

“Oh, gosh. Well I really hope I don’t get in trouble with you.”

There were different kinds of trouble, weren’t they? Good trouble, and bad trouble? Stranded in a parking lot– bad. Rescued by a man like Jack– good. Very good. Suddenly it hits her, a great, crushing disappointment that her car was actually fine. There was no need for Jack to give her a lift.

“I would have remembered you too,” she rushes. “I mean– I’m originally from Charleston. But my parents moved here, two years ago, for some business thing, something or rather, I don’t remember, but clearly I haven’t been here long enough, because this is my first time seeing you and that’s such a shame, I have to say–”

Eventually, Kit has to take a breath. She smiles again at Jack, only mildly aware at how her sentences had begun to merge together in excitement.

Her fingers tingle, from where Jack had just squeezed, released.

In all actuality, Jack was the one who was far more charmed, somehow, that she couldn't have figured this out on her own. It tugged at his heart a bit knowing that she might've been stranded for the rest of the evening.

Thank God he showed up whenever he did!

There were a few other staff members leaving. The blonde woman bolted out of her car excitedly, waving her hands in the air, and Jack finally had to laugh!

It was a warm laugh, emerging deep from within his belly, and it felt a little hard to control. She was sunshine. And this accomplishment had Jack feeling a bit euphoric.

"I'm not the genius. You started the car, not me," he reminded her, grinning back, feeling the urge to gently grab her elbow to stabilize her — but stopping himself short of doing so.

The pink Jeep was alive, and she hadn't been sold an orange. That was good. Jack walked back over to the front of the car, gently lowering the hood and pressing it shut. She was all good to go — no excuse to really stick around, and yet — Jack hoped that she did.

Kit beams back- infinitely grateful that this stranger was being so kind. It was technically true, wasn't it? She had put her foot to the pedal?

But a little more credit ought to be given to the one who had supplied the helpful tip, after all. This guy was a genius!

"Yeah, but it was your super secret trick!"

What a good idea!

He'd had a nice laugh. A nice everything, really. His teeth gleamed. His forearms had a very nice amount of muscle.

And to boot, what was probably the most important thing of all- he was kind. Or. Jack was kind! Because he had a name, and the name was Jack!

"Jack. Mechanic Jack. Maybe we ought to open up an auto body shop together. We've got two very good minds for cars."

Anything if it meant seeing him again. She extends a hand to him, raised with manners, yes, but how nice would it be to feel his palm against hers!

"Not at all. I think it's a great skill to learn. I'd love to show you."

He watched as she climbed into the driver's side. She sat there, promising to show him exactly how she'd tried starting the car. Maybe it was an orange.

Jack had to stifle his laugh. He really, truly did not want to seem cruel. But he was so charmed by this. So charmed by her, already.

And even more charmed when she tried pressing the push to start. It beeped. And Jack took a quick look at the dashboard to see it's message: Depress brake petal to start engine.

Oh, God. That's all that it was? Jack tried not to laugh again, but his eyes lit up. He cleared his throat.

"That is strange," Jack said, attempting to play it off. "Here's an idea. I've heard of this before — not sure if it's really a thing, and you might've already tried it, but ... would you mind pressing on the brake and then pushing the push to start?"

Jack suggested it like it was a rumor he'd heard about before, nothing more!

"I think it's a thing with newer cars. No idea, but it's worth a shot?"

She turns to stare at the stranger, sighing, nodding along as the man cleared his throat. Was he also confused? He seemed very handy, very competent, and was hoping very badly that he would be able to solve this great mystery.

What else could it be! She’d been delivered a faulty vehicle, and the only thing to do was probably to scrap it!

At least he could teach her to change a tire! Kit would have to pick an outfit that was pretty, something this handsome, competent stranger would like on her. But what did he like? Would he rather she show off her legs or breasts? It’s a wicked thought, and Kit finds herself giggling for a brief moment before the stranger makes his suggestion.

'That is strange,'

So strange!

'Here's an idea. I've heard of this before — not sure if it's really a thing, and you might've already tried it, but ... would you mind pressing on the brake and then pushing the push to start?'

Oh, gosh. It sounds unlikely, a shot in the dark, but Kit was desperate! And this stranger seemed so knowledgeable.

Kit obliges– presses down on the brake before jabbing at the start button.

The Jeep’s engine purrs.

“You’re a genius! You’re a mechanical genius!”

He'd fixed it! Kit launches herself out of the seat, waves her hands around in excitement.

"It's not very difficult," he promised. "You just have to be really careful. Maybe I could show you sometime," he offered, testing the waters. Was it bad? That Jack was setting up to ask for her number later?

There was no grinding or anything, but there was beeping? Oh. Maybe Jack should have tried starting the car himself.

"Oil," he explained. "It's clean, which means... it's good. It means Jeep delivered a car with a fresh oil change. It's good. If it was dark, it would mean you needed an oil change. So, this is good," he said, waving his fingers around. He walked over to the driver's side door.

"The beeping. Do you mind if I get inside and try to start the car? Or do you want to try, and I can watch you?"

He was still a stranger. Maybe she didn't want him in the car. Either way, Jack was just ... happy to help.

“Oh gosh,” she exclaims. “Would you mind terribly? I’ve tried to follow one of them youtube tutorials but I imagine I’d just drop the tire onto my foot.”

Her dead drops– staring down at her silky white heels, the matching white toenails that had never seen a speck of grease.

It wasn’t even about the tires. Or the oil,or anything. She just wants to see this man! Wants to be alone with him, somewhere, perhaps somewhere more opportune than a parking lot. He had a patient voice, and a kind smile, and Kit would very much like to be on the receiving end of it again.

He was so good at explaining about the oil too.

“Dark oil means bad,” she parrots. “The clear oil is good.”

Hmm. Simple enough. She was learning so much around him!

With a little noise of effort, Kit swings herself up into the jeep– clutching the train of her dress close against her side.

“I’m gonna start the Jeep, and show you what I did, and then maybe you can try? I think I’m starting it normally though. Maybe this thing is an orange, like you said.”

Orange. Lemon. Same thing.

"I'm not, no. I just ... tinker a bit. Sometimes. For example, I can replace a car battery, jump start a car, change a tire — I could even change your oil. But I can't repair your transmission, or anything."

Another warm smile by Jack — so wide that he felt his line of vision get smaller. She was gorgeous— and he wanted to find something wrong with her car desperately, just so that he could spend more time with her. And so that he could fix it.

"Brand new, huh? Did you pick the color?"

What a silly question, but he asked it anyway because he knew he was going to like the answer.

"Whatever's going on, it's probably very fixable," he assured her. "And if it's not... you bought a lemon. And you can't really help that, but I'm sure Jeep would be willing to make it right."

He checked the battery. It was brand new, so there was no corrosion, nothing to really be concerned about. The clamps looked fine.

He checked the oil next. He pulled out the dipstick, swiping it across his fingers. It was clean oil. Still good. The levels seemed fine.

"Hmm. I'm not sure. Was the car making any noises when you tried starting it? Any clicking or grinding sounds?"

“Oh gosh. I don’t even know how to do any of that. Changing a tire seems like witchcraft– all them lugs, and stuff. Or whatever they’re called.”

This guy– this guy seemed to know his way around his car, even if he was a self-proclaimed tinkerer. Very comfortable. Very confident. Very warm towards her. It was late, after a long dinner, and this man had every reason to be exasperated by the strange lady and her strange mechanical emergency. But he hadn’t once made her feel like an inconvenience. Like he had better places to be.

She watches with a growing grin as the stranger roots around beneath the hood, fussing with wires and metals.

He even removed a strange stick from deep inside the metal innards– wipes it right across his finger!

Huh. Good with his hands. Very charming, his ruggedness, even if Kit hadn’t a solitary clue what it was for.

“I did order it myself. The pink. And there was no grinding or nothing. It just started beeping at me all hatefully!” She shakes her head, the picture of rueful frustration. “Beeping at me just like a bomb. Thought I might be a goner until you came along."

A beat.

"I bet most people don't know how to do that," Jack said. He walked over to the driver's door, swinging it open without asking— hoping she didn't mind. He motioned for her to take a look, pointing at a button beneath the steering wheel. "It's this one," he explained. "It's got a little drawing of the hood opening. See?" He smiled at her, before pressing it.

"That'll open it, but it's still safety latched at the front," he explained, before walking over. He lifted the hood about an inch or so, before sliding his hand inside. "Right in the center, there's this little lever," Jack explained. "You'll move it to the side, then ta-da. It's open."

He used the struts to hold the hood open so he could freely look around.

She was sweet. Sweet and beautiful and stranded, and Jack wanted to make it his life's mission to make her night better.

"I don't think it's the battery," Jack told her. When he opened the driver's side door, the lights inside of the car were still working, so it wasn't drained. "But could be something else. How long have you been driving this?" He wondered. "Any issues before tonight?"

Wow! The little drawing was so helpful. Maybe it would help her to remember next time! She nods, eagerly, trailing behind him as he heads over to the hood,unfastens a latch as he explains all the convoluted, complicated terminology.

Sure enough, the gleaming pink hood opens up no problem.

“Wow,” she gushes. “You are so good with all this car stuff. Are you a mechanic?"

God, wouldn’t that be lucky. And hot, in all honesty– the idea of this man wheeling underneath cars and getting all greased up and dirty. Ugh. How fun! Maybe she could sit by his little work station and keep him company.

"It's okay," Jack reassured her. "Will you let me take a look? This is probably something really simple. Could be a dead battery, or a loose battery. Can you pop the hood for me?" Jack wondered, already rolling up his sleeves. "If we can't figure it out here, I know someone who can take a look. Real nice guy. Can probably get you in tomorrow. And I'll make sure you get home safe tonight."

Jack smiled, hoping to disarm her — hoping to make this shitty situation a little bit better. And Jack hated himself for thinking it, but ... she looked very beautiful still — even with the tear stains and the flush at her cheeks. Did she know who he was? Maybe that'd somehow help her feel better, knowing he was the Connecticut junior senator.

“I don’t know how to do that,” she sniffles. “Would that be a button on the dashboard? Or would that maybe be inside the little cabinet thing? In the middle?”

Console. Kit meant console. But she’s so grateful for the help, and even more grateful that this stranger was going to help her get home! He was either really nice,or really interested.

She raises her left hand– uses the tip of her ring finger to dab delicately beneath the row of her lower lashes. How very handsome he looked, rolling up his sleeves to his elbow like that!

“Thank you, by the way. I don’t know nothing about batteries. I was worried I might have to sleep out here like some pioneer girl.”

With that, Jack departed into the night. The parking lot was empty, save for a few vehicles that presumably belonged to the staff. It'd been a great night — one of Jack's favorite local events of the year. The humane society did fantastic work, and it didn't matter what kind of work he was doing in D.C. — he'd never miss this.

He'd missed the valet staff, so he walked over to his truck. There was another vehicle in the parking lot. Bright pink, a really nice looking Jeep in pristine condition — and a woman who'd stepped out. Distressed. Tears in her eyes. Jack remembered her from the event. Beautiful and radiant, and he'd kept wishing for an excuse to approach her all evening.

He hadn't wanted this to happen — but an opportunity was an opportunity.

After placing his suit jacket inside of his truck, he shut his door and walked toward her.

"Hey," Jack said, voice warm. His brows were furrowed in mild concern. "Is everything okay? Can I help with something?"

She’s about to admit defeat– perhaps try a tow truck, anything but open herself up to the questioning and mild ridicule of her parents- when a voice cuts through the panic of her thoughts.

“Oh my God,” Kit exclaims, hand coming to rest at her breastbone. “I thought I was completely alone out here.”

But this stranger was handsome. Nice. And not really a stranger? Kit had been eying the man at the fundraiser, admiring the glossy sheen of his hair, the perfect dimple at his chin that was exceedingly tasty. Suddenly she’s incredibly thankful this piece of shit car was malfunctioning.

Kit gestures to the Jeep.

“She’s brand new,” Kit despairs, dabbing delicately at the tears beading in her eyes. “Won’t start worth a damn, just all these buttons and lights flashing and screaming at me! I think I pissed her off bad."