Maggie Burke 

Justin Timberlake

Lyla Riggins

Kyle Bowling

Trace Ayala

Joe Burke

Brooks Allen

I’ve always been that girl.

The one who has nothing but male friends. The one who never learned how to put on make-up, or dress properly. The one who wasn’t afraid to get dirty or work on a car. The one who either had to be the worlds biggest slut, or a lesbian.

And I’m fine with being that girl. It’s never really occurred to me that I should be any other way. The people in my life never seemed too concerned that I was a better football player that most of the boys my age, so I always figured it was perfectly acceptable for a girl to be the way I was.

Maybe it was losing my mother at the age of two. Maybe it was my hatred for all things pink, frilly or sparkly. Or maybe I was just programmed differently. No matter the reason, I was the way I was.

And then she showed up.

I know people like to feed each other that bullshit about other people coming into your life for a reason. Yet, there’s never any way to tell what that reason really is until after the shit’s hit the fan and everything’s fucked up.

That’s when you realize, you probably should have avoided that person at all costs.

Lyla Riggins is that person for me. And she is the god damn devil.

I've seen that look a thousand times
Your innocence can make you blind
I can show you round a block or two

Let me introduce you to my friends

“Kyle… torque wrench….”

Nothing.

“Torque wrench, please.”

Zilch.

“Kyle, you worthless bastard… if you do not get me a mother fucking torque wrench, I’m going to rip your head off and shove it up your ass.”

I slide out from under the Ford F150 and blink rapidly, attempting to adjust my vision to the sudden burst of light. I look around and immediately find my so called co-worker, planted on his ass in the office, stuffing his face and watching TV.

One day, I will have a job where I can eat shitty food, and laugh at the fool who’s dumb enough to do all my work for me. Sadly, today is not that day, and I’m the fool pulling mine and everyone else’s weight.

People have always had this pre-conceived notion that the offspring of the business owner/manager/ what have you, is the one who gets to do jack shit. I am living proof that that theory is pure bullshit.

I stroll over to the office and lean against the door frame. Kyle doesn’t so much as glance in my direction. He’s leaned back casually, his chair teetering precariously on its back legs and my first instinct is to kick it out from under him.

“Oh, hi Kyle… so nice of you to come in today and convert oxygen to carbon dioxide. Your father would be so proud.”

“Can you not see that I am watching television? I don’t have time to deal with-”

Before he can finish his sentence, a freakishly large SUV pulls into the garage, Eminem blaring so loudly from the speakers that the entire building shakes.

A short man hops out of the passenger side, and if I wasn’t already on the verge of a major rampage, this would most definitely set me off. Leave it to Kyle’s jackass friends to ruin a perfectly normal day.

I’m sure it sounds like I hate Kyle, but I honestly don’t. I’ve known him since 8th grade and we’ve been friends ever since. He’s just a lazy ass who annoys the living shit out of me.

Trace, however… well… I really do hate Trace. I could list you the countless reasons why, but by the time I finished, I guarantee you, we’d all be in our graves.

A taller man climbs out of the drivers side of the SUV and I breathe a sigh of relief. Trace has this tendency to bring a bunch of shady ass weirdos around the garage when he’s in town, and believe me, I’ve seen them all. Drug dealers, skanky girls, skeezy musicians… I’m sure you get the picture.

But today, he’s brought Justin who, believe it or not, is probably the most responsible of the three.

I don’t know why, but people always assume the four of us have been best friends since we were in diapers or some shit, but that’s really not the case.

As I said before,, my dad and I moved to Memphis when I was 12. Kyle’s family lived next door. Our streets always been full of old people, so I was kind of forced into my friendship out of sheer boredom. It was him, or Mrs. Gentry and her 8 cats. So yeah… Kyle won that battle.

Trace and Justin are Kyle’s friends, and I guess by default, they’re sort of mine too, even though I didn’t get to know Justin until much later. (Mostly because he was off dicking around with a cartoon mouse, then making thousands upon thousands of hormonal teenage girls go apeshit.)

“Jesus Burke… when’s the last time you showered? I could smell your ass from down the block.” Trace cackles at his own joke and I roll my eyes.

This is a prime example of why I fucking loathe this moron. He thinks he’s funny, and he thinks he’s intelligent. Clearly, he thinks wrong.

“Trace… your wit astounds me.”

“Yeah? Well… your… your stench astounds me!” He smirks, believing that he’s just one-upped me, and heads for the office to see Kyle.

“Hey Burke.” Justin smiles as he approaches me, his hands shoved in his pockets casually.

“Well… would you look at that… a real live celebrity… in my garage!”

“Oh hardy fuckin har har. How ya been man?” He slugs me in the shoulder, the stupid grin never leaving his face.

“Annoyed.”

“Ah… the usual then.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Don’t know why I expected anything else.”

“You’ll learn one day grasshopper. Anyway… you been in town long?”

“Got in this morning.” He shrugs, then follows me back to the F150. “Just figured, I haven’t been here in awhile, so what the hell.”

“Right. Because if I had 10 billion dollars and four thousand houses in various locales, this is exactly where I’d want to spend my free time.”

“C’mon B… you love it here. You know you do.”

“If by ‘love’ you mean ‘hate with the fire of a thousand suns’ then, yes.”

“Hey asshole! We’re going to the bar.” Kyle and Trace amble out of the office, and under normal circumstances, I would protest. But, their leaving means I can get some actual work done, rather than spend my day bitching at Kyle.

Plus… no more Trace. And there’s just no way that can be bad.

“You coming Burke?” Justin looks at me expectantly, while Trace mutters something about how I would surely kill his ‘game’ if I tagged along. Fucker wishes he had game. I’m pretty sure the only reason he’s ever gotten laid is because some desperate girl thought it would get her closer to Justin.

“Fraid not. Front differentials do not flush themselves.”

“Alright… but we’re getting a beer before I leave town. Got it?” I salute him as he climbs in his truck and slowly backs out of the garage.

As much as I like Justin, nothing good ever happens when he’s in town.

***********************

I’m not usually the type to brag.

But, today… I’m fucking awesome.

In the seven hours since the three amigos left me to my own devices, I finished the differential flush on the F150, changed a set of break pads and rotors, did two oil changes and repaired a radiator hose.

All by my damn self. Don’t ever let anyone tell you a chick can’t fix a car.

I glance at the clock and smile proudly. For the first time in the two years since my dad hired Kyle… I get to leave early. It’s kind of amazing what you can accomplish when you don’t have an idiot distracting you all day. And believe me when I say Kyle has done it all, from humping cars to shoving funnels up his shirt and doing a wicked Madonna impression.

I’d be a damn liar if I said it wasn’t entertaining, but it is distracting as all hell.

I’m just about to close the garage door when a hysterical woman rounds the corner and nearly runs right into me.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah… I…I need a mechanic.” She sniffles, her eyes brimming with tears. “Can you get him?”

“I would love to, but our male mechanic is probably passed out in a puddle of his own vomit by now, so you’re stuck with me.”

“Oh…oh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you were…”

“It’s fine.” I cut her off and do my best not to roll my eyes. “Anyway… your car?”

“It’s down the street. It’s smoking and making this weird clunking noise. I have no clue where I am… I just moved here last week, and I don’t know anything about cars and…”

“Ok.. Just..uhh… calm down, and I’ll take a look, ok?” She nods quickly and swipes at the tears rolling down her cheeks.

I know this is going to sound really shitty and judgmental of me, but I absolutely hate when girls like this come in. You know the type… the ones who can barely out gas in their damn car, much less figure out what’s wrong with it. I’ll give this one credit though… at least she admitted she knows nothing about cars. Most of them are always convinced their engine’s shot, when the real problem is something as simple as a dead battery.

“Have you been a mechanic very long?”

“Umm… pretty much since birth.”

Sort of.

I’m sure this complete stranger doesn’t want to hear how I lost my mother, then obsessively spent every waking second with my father, out of the fear that he’d disappear too. Or how my dad was completely obsessed with cars, and that was the only way five year old me knew how to bond with him.

I could change a tire by the age of 10, so I’d like to think it was time well spent.

“Oh… good.” She nods as we continue our trek.

I almost feel bad for her.

Then again, a lot of girls cry when their car breaks down. I never really understood why. I mean, nine times out of ten, it can be fixed in a pretty short amount of time. So, what’s the big damn deal?

“I’m sorry… I’m just… having a really shit day and this isn’t helping. At all.”

I really don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I mean… asking about her shitty day is out of the question, because I really don’t care. Not to mention the fact that there is nothing on gods green earth that we could possibly have in common. I’ve honestly never known how to deal with girls like her.

She’s tall, she’s pretty. She has the supposed perfect hair. Despite all the crying, her make up is still pristine. Actually, she reminds me of the girls who gave me so much shit in high school and that makes me want to slap her around a little bit.

We finally reach her car and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

A fucking Volkswagen Beetle convertible.

Why am I not the least bit surprised?

Girls like her love these cars, and it’s beyond me, really. They’re pieces of shit and not worth even half the money they sell for. It’s disgusting.

“What were you doing when this started?”

“Just driving.” She shrugs. “The clunking started before the smoke.”

I pop the hood and get a cloud of smoke right in the face. The distinct smell of antifreeze is a sure sign that smoke is coming from the radiator. The clunking however, could be any damn thing.

“Ok, well… I’m probably gonna have to have it towed, or push it up to the garage tomorrow. If you wanna give me your number, I can call you tomorrow afternoon.”

“That’s great.” She nods quickly, scribbling her name and number down on a small piece of paper.

Crying girl calls a cab while I head back for the garage and set about shutting the place down for the evening. I’m still getting out fifteen minutes early, so I’m calling the day a success.

**********************

“Pop… I’m home.” I call out as I enter the house and toss my stuff down on the floor. Our Golden Retriever, Strut, comes barreling toward me from the kitchen, my dad following behind him.

And yes.. I know Strut is a terrible name for a dog. Blame dad for letting me name him while I was drunk out of my mind.

“Hey… wanna tell me why I saw Kyle with the other two idiots down at Brewster’s?”

Shit.

See… this is where the fact that I do actually like Kyle comes into play. I can’t even begin to tell you just how many times Kyle has ditched work early or all together to go do lord only knows what. And most of the time, I end up covering for his stupid ass. Unfortunately, this time he’s totally busted and I’m not really sure how to lie my way out of this.

Then again… the fact that I’m 24 and still feel the need to lie to my father about random shit is pretty sad.

“Oh… Justin’s in town for awhile… everything was pretty much done so I told Kyle to take off.”

There we go. It’s only a half-lie, and everybody knows those don’t even count.

“And does he know he’s not getting paid?”

“Umm…. Yes?”

“Jesus Mags.” He sighs and shakes his head. “He’s supposed to be helping you.”

“He did help! It was an enormous help when he left… you have no idea how productive I am when he isn’t there being a pain in my ass.”

“I want him there for his whole shift tomorrow, got it? And don’t think I won’t be stopping by. I need to drop a new alternator in the Bronco anyway.”

“You’re still dicking around with the Bronco?”

To this day, I have no idea why he insists on screwing around with that thing. It’s been totaled for the last 16 years. We’d be way better off to part it out at the junkyard. But oh no… Pops won’t have any of it. He’s determined to get the piece of shit running again, and the only reason I can find is that its because it was my moms.

“Yes. And I will continue to dick around with the Bronco until I can drive the damn thing. Anyway… dinners on the stove. I’m heading to bed. Night kid.” He ruffles my hair, then climbs the stairs to his room.

See? Way touchy about the Bronco.

Before I can make my way out the kitchen to grab dinner, my phone vibrates loudly on the glass coffee table and I roll my eyes. Trace’s name flashes across the screen, and I answer, against my better judgment.

“Yes troll?”

“Burke… you… you gotta come to Brewster’s and pick us up man. Kyle got in a fight cause… fuck I don’t even know, but they threw us out and we can’t drive!”

“Ehh… dunno. I’m pretty busy.”

“Burke… you could save a life! This dude is seriously like, nine foot nine, and he’s gonna murder Kyle! You can’t-” I can hear rustling on the other end, and suddenly it’s Justin’s voice in my ear.

“B… can you please pick us up? There wasn’t a fight… we’re just waaaay too fucked up to drive.” He giggles and I roll my eyes again.

“I’ll be there in ten.” I mutter and snap the phone shut.

If it wasn’t for Justin… I’d so be leaving their asses there.

"My Friends"- Stereophonics

Coppers, robbers, cowboys and Indians
Hanging round the corner
Of the street you lived
How come it felt so far away... just a stone throw away

Your best friend wasn't someone you worked with
And money from your old man
Would burn a hole in yer pocket all day...
Not a single debt to pay

Gotta getaway

“If you look to your left, bay three to be exact, you will see that we are now servicing Barbie cars.” Kyle laughs at his own joke as we pass a neon green Beetle. “Trace, man… you oughta look into getting one of those. You might actually be able to reach the peddles.”

“Oh eat shit Kyle.” Trace mutters and pulls his hat over his eyes.

Clearly, someone is not handling their hangover too well.

I’ve gotta admit, despite the bickering and stupidity that tends to surround my friends, I’m so fucking happy to be back here. I mean really… whats not to love about the place? I get to do jack shit, drink as much and as often as I want, and nobody says a damn thing. And to top it all off, everybody leaves me the hell alone.

And I know it probably sounds all weird and shit, but I like hanging around the garage. The walls are decorated with all these old ass signs and hubcaps. Motown, the Beatles and other shit from the 60’s and 70’s is always blaring from the speakers. Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear I just walked into 1965 or something.

It doesn’t get any better than that man.

“Oh fuck me.” Kyle stops suddenly and I nearly run into him. “Joe’s here.”

Joe Burke.

Otherwise known as the scariest mother fucker in Memphis.

Believe it or not, he wasn’t always all intimidating and shit. As a matter of fact, he used to like me, Trace and Kyle. Then there was a slight mishap where we almost burned down the garage, and well… Joe hasn’t exactly been our biggest fan the last… I’d say, ten to twelve years.

But he did hire Kyle, so it’s not like he wants to pull his twelve gauge on us. Well… I take that back. I know he merely tolerates me and Kyle. I’m pretty sure he’d set Trace on fire if he could, but everybody hates Trace, so it’s understandable.

“How we doin’ boys?” He nods when he spots us, not even a hint of a smile on his face.

“Hey Joe. How’s it goin?” Kyle gently places his bag of tools down on the floor and I bite back a laugh. It’s almost sad how he tries his damndest to kiss Joe’s ass. I know for a fact that he usually tosses that shit around like it’s worthless.

“Not bad. How was Brewster’s yesterday?” A look of sheer panic appears on Kyle’s face and I’ve got a real shitty feeling we’re in for a Joe Burke scream-fest.

“Uhh… Bu- I mean… uhh… Maggie said it was ok.”

“Hmm.” Joe watches Kyle for another moment before rising from his seat. “I need to put a new alternator in the Bronco. Why don’t you go ahead and get the old one out of there?” Kyle nods quickly and disappears into the back of the garage.

Man… where the fuck is Burke? Joe’s so much easier to deal with when she’s around.

“You two need something?”

“We… umm… we were just gonna hang with Kyle… help him out if he needed it.”

“You wanna help, huh?” Joe chuckles and shakes his head. “Alright then. Ayala… that Corolla over there needs a new set of wiper blades, an air filter and power steering fluid. Timberlake… you can do the tire rotation on the Saturn.”

If Joe didn’t scare the hell out of me, I’d say fuck this and be out of this bitch quicker than you can say tire rotation. Instead.. I will keep the peace by tucking my tail between my legs, and just doing the damn thing.

24 fuckin years old and Joe Burke still orders me around like I’m ten. Guess it’s good to know I’ll always have that constant in my life.

*******************

Fuck cars.

I don’t want to look at one, ride in one, or even hear one ever again.

I had every intention of bullshitting with Trace and Kyle all day, possibly having a few beers. I’m on vacation damnit. The point is to relax. Instead, Joe has turned me into his grease monkey bitch, and it got old after about five minutes. And I’m definitely not liking the fact that Burke hasn’t shown up yet. Cause she’d totally come in and do all of this work on her own. The girl knows her shit man.

“Dude… I am fucking done.” Trace mutters and throws his oil covered rag on the floor. “I am not built to do real work.”

“There’s the shock of a lifetime.” Burke rolls her eyes as she enters the garage, already clad in her grey coveralls. “You know those are on backwards, right?” She points to the wiper blades on the Corolla and I’m pretty sure Trace is going to spontaneously combust.

“Hey Mags…” Joe sticks his head out of the office and it takes me a minute to realize who he’s talking to.

It seriously weirds me the fuck out when somebody calls Burke by her real name. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever used it in the twelve years I’ve known her. Kyle introduced her as Burke, and that’s the way it’s always been. Nothing else seems to really fit, for some reason.

Come to think of it, the only person who calls her Maggie is Joe. But I guess every parent is obligated to call their kid by their given name.

Burke’s just a weird chick, man. I mean, it’s almost like she’s not even really a chick. Cause let’s be honest… how many girls do you know that are master mechanics and shit? Every other girl I know would run screaming in the other direction if a little bit of grease got within a ten foot radius of them.

“Burke… you have got to get me out of this shit. Your lunatic father is making me do actual work, and this bullshit will not stand.”

“I dunno Trace… Kyle leaving yesterday really put us behind, and that’s your fault, so…”

She’s fucking with him. Sadly, Trace is too god damn stupid to realize it.

“Look… I am not designed to do work. I was put on this earth to drink, fuck bitches and be awesome. I serve no other purpose. Your father needs to figure this out.”

“It really is amazing that you’re single Trace.” Burke rolls her eyes and moves toward the office.

Oh hell no. She isn’t going anywhere. She’s going to rotate these tires, and I’m going to sit on my ass and drink a beer.

“B… you wanna give me a hand?” I pout at her, and just when I think he resolve is crumbling, Joe bellows her name again.

“Timberlake… how you doin’ on that tire rotation?” He glares at me and I fight every urge I have to roll my eyes.

“Awesome, Joe.”

Ok, fine. Maybe I was wrong when I said he tolerated me. Clearly, the only person on the planet he actually likes is Burke. And I feel like she doesn’t even really count cause she’s his kid.

“I don’t know about you all… but I’m peacing the fuck out of here.” Kyle appears in front of me, covered in grease and god only knows what. “There are beers at Brewster’s that need me to drink them.”

“Tell ya what then, Kyle… why don’t you all go to Brewster’s and just let the damn garage will run itself?”

“Joe… this is why I love working for you.” Kyle grins and quickly starts to collect his belongings.

See… here’s the problem. My friends, are stupid. Joe… is not. My friends do not understand sarcasm. Joe does.

“Damnit… Kyle, you idiot. Go drop the alternator in the Bronco.” Joe rolls his eyes and stomps back into the office, slamming the door behind him.

“B… c’mon, you gotta get us out of this.” I plead with her. She continues to watch Trace struggle with the wiper blades, and I’m pretty sure she’s ignoring me. “Burke?”

“I’m thinking!” She snaps and rolls her eyes. “Pop gave me the day off so he could make you jackasses do the work. The only problem is, you’re all here and I’m bored. But on the other hand, watching you all attempt to do my job is fucking hilarious. However… I know I‘m going to have to re-do everything you all have done. Hence, the coveralls.”

“Burke… get me out of this, and I will pay your tab at Brewster’s every night until I leave town.”

“Deal.” She nods quickly. “Oh… wait… unless you’re leaving like, tomorrow. Cause you’re not screwing me out of free beer.”

“I’m here for at least a month.”

“Alright then. Deal.”

She ducks into the office and returns a few minutes later, gesturing for me, Trace and Kyle to follow her out of the garage.

I don’t know how the hell she does it, but Burke is a fucking miracle worker.

*************************

“And he’s all ‘that blue car over there needs this, this, and this’, and I’m just like… are you even speaking English right now? Cause this shit makes no sense!”

“He asked you to fill the power steering fluid, change the air filter and wiper blades. That takes like, ten minutes. How do you call yourself a man?” Kyle shakes his head and downs the rest of his beer. “Burke… you’re coming in tomorrow, right? Cause I can’t take another day of Joe, man.”

“Oh… yeah.” She nods slowly. “I have to call the bimbo with the Beetle and tell her that there’s a hole in her radiator, and I’m pretty sure the tranny’s shot, then she’s just going to cry and shit, and I so don’t want to deal-”

“Tranny? As in…” I don't know what the fuck transvestites have to do with cars, and I'm not so sure I want to know.

“Tansmission, you fucking moron. I swear to Christ, I don‘t-”

“Hold on… rewind.” Trace holds up a hand to silence her and she rolls her eyes. “I’d like to know more about this bimbo of which you speak.”

“Such as?”

“Is she fucking hot or what?”

“How the hell would I know?”

“Ok, for example… the blonde at the bar, she is hot. The redhead over there by the jukebox, is bangable, but not hot. The blonde in the booth there, I’d probably feel her up, but that’s about it. And then Burke… there is you. You don’t even register on the radar. So, on a scale of you to the blonde at the bar, where does the bimbo rank?”

“Dude… Trace…” Kyle frowns and shakes his head. “Not cool.”

“Yeah man, don’t be a dick.” I chime in, but it’s clear as day that none of what he said is affecting Burke in the least.

It’s an odd situation, I know that. 99 percent of the time, I think we all forget that Burke’s a girl, her included. And yeah, Trace busts on her more than anybody on the planet, but there’s some lines you just don’t fucking cross. No matter how cool a chick is, you don’t say shit like that.

In some weird way, I feel like I have to protect her when Trace gets out of line. Like she’s my little sister or something. Granted, if it ever came down to Trace needing the shit kicked out of him for real, Burke would probably want to do it herself, and do a way better job than I ever could.

“I don’t know. A bimbo’s a bimbo, Trace.” She shrugs. “They all look the same to me. And for the record… never in my life would I want to be on your fucking radar.”

“I bet she’s hot.” He smiles knowingly and nods. “They always are.”

“That’s it… I’ve seriously met my idiot quota for the day. You all have fun.” She slides her tab across the table to me and smirks. “You got off cheap tonight.”

“You’ve got four weeks to bankrupt me, so it’s cool.” I wave her off as she heads for the door and exit’s the bar.

“You know we’re gonna go see the hot chick tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah man, whatever you say.” I laugh and finish off my beer.

Yeah… it’s definitely good to be home.

"Getaway"- Stereophonics

Memphis is stupid.

It’s full of all these little side streets that lead to nowhere important. There’s way too many car fixing places, none of which seem to be where my car actually is. I could stop and ask for directions, but I’d probably need to know the name of the garage, and I don’t. So… yeah.

In hindsight, I probably should have gotten a number from that mechanic girl, but I wasn’t really planning on my phone being disconnected.

See… when I left L.A, the plan was to get as far away from my douche of an ex-boyfriend as humanly possible. And I’d like to think I succeeded. The only problem is, I forgot that nearly every aspect of my life was linked with his.

A family plan for our phones. Joint checking account. The same insurance plan. All of those things that married people usually do, we did. Minus the marriage part, and I’m paying dearly for it now.

I’m just lucky I had the forethought to clean out the checking account. God only knows where I’d be if I hadn’t.

I pass yet another garage and frown at the two older, overweight men standing outside. Pretty sure that’s not it either. And if I’m not mistaken… one of them just spit tobacco on the sidewalk. Gross.

I know I probably sound like an idiot, but who wouldn’t freak out at a time like this? Put yourself in my shoes for a second.

You’re in a completely unfamiliar area. No friends, no family, and no cell phone. Seriously… it’s like the apocalypse or something. You’d panic too. And you’d probably cry a little.

I turn down a street marked West 19th, and kind of recognize my surroundings. I vaguely remember seeing the big gray building with the peeling paint, and the diner on the corner. I don’t know if this is where I need to be or not, but it’s definitely familiar.

I keep walking, trying to ignore the ache in my left foot. Heels probably weren’t a very smart choice for walking the streets of Memphis for hours on end.

I finally spot a large red and white sign, the name Joe’s Garage, written in big, block letters. I can almost make out the faint sound of The Rolling Stones and I nod excitedly.

Holy crap! I found it!

I step inside carefully, doing my best to avoid the various tools and dirty rags littering the floor. I sincerely hope a little more care is going into fixing my car. Cause this place is just nasty, and it smells awful.

“Look… B… all I’m saying is, it’s fine if you are. But, chicks who aren’t tend to do better with the men. I would be willing to take one for the team and nail ya, but we gotta keep the lights off. Cause that’d just be… fuckin weird.”

“Alright… one, it’s none of your business whether I am or not. Two, I don‘t care how desperate you are… you know what? I’m not even gonna dignify that with a response, cause… no. Just… no.”

“Fine. But it’s your loss Burke. I mean it… you’ve got one week, and then the offer expires.”

“Kyle… don’t you have, ya know… work to do?”

“Umm… excuse me?” I knock on the door and the two of them look up at me. The man looks utterly surprised that someone is here, and the girl just looks… bored, I guess is the best word.

“Beetle, right?” He grins and nods slowly.

“Yeah. I umm… my phone’s been shut off, and I was just… I wanted to see how everything’s going?”

The girl nods slowly and wipes her hands on her already filthy coveralls. She slides past me and heads for my car, parked over in the corner. She pops the hood quickly and shoves her hand down inside the engine, and for a split second… I’m terrified that she’s going to lose it.

“You wanna sit down, or are you gonna be ok?” She looks at me over her shoulder, her hand still down inside the car.

“Is it that bad?”

“I’ve seen worse.” She shrugs. “But, I’ve also seen better. There’s a pretty big hole in your radiator.” She pulls her hand up, and it’s doused in a light green liquid that smells like some sort of dead animal. “And the transmission is done for. I could try to patch the radiator, but there’s no guarantee it’ll hold, so you’re probably better off getting a new one.”

“Is that… expensive?”

“Depends.” She shrugs again. “If I can pull it from the junkyard, it shouldn’t be too terrible, but if we’re going all brand new parts… it’ll be up there. Especially since it’s a foreign car. Then you figure in labor, and… yeah, it ain’t gonna be pretty.”

Despite my best efforts, I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes again, and all I really want to do is crawl into a hole somewhere.

I really, really hate Memphis.

***********************

Oh shit… she’s crying. Again.

I’m not completely heartless. I do feel bad for the girl, but come on man… there’s no point crying over a car. Unless it’s a 1970 Z28 Camaro. I’d probably cry over that. But a Volkswagen Beetle? Hell no.

“Can you fix it?” She sniffles.

“Yeah… I can fix it.” I nod and shove my hands in my pockets. This is getting way too awkward. “I can talk to my dad and we can probably work out a payment plan or something.”

“Or ya know… for every date you let me take you on, I’ll do an hour of labor for free.” Kyle grins as he appears behind me and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

Before either of us are able to respond, Justin’s Escalade flies into the garage, coming to a screeching halt just before he hit’s the back wall. Trace quickly hops of out the drivers seat and I almost want to gag.

I cannot fucking believe Kyle called the rest of the idiot brigade down here. And yes… I guarantee you, he so called them. If you ask me, this is a perfect example of just how pathetic men are. This girls been here all of maybe ten minutes, and these morons haul ass down here like she’s the second coming of Christ or some shit.

Justin slides out of the passenger seat and even he is drooling over her. They’re disgusting, I swear.

“We just came to see if y’all needed some help.” Trace smirks proudly, like he’s outsmarted us all and no one can see through his brilliant cover.

“Oh my god…” Memphis Barbie gasps and that’s when I notice her eyes are fixed solely on Justin.

Shit.

How did I not see that coming?

I’m not going to sit here and tell you that it’s super easy to forget who Justin is. Because it’s not. My dad has chased those idiot photographers away from the garage more times than I care to count. Almost every time Justin comes home, he has some ridiculous story about how he got high with Morgan Freeman, or some other insanely famous person. I’ve heard him talk about performing with Michael Jackson more than you could possibly imagine.

The difference between me and the rest of the world is that I really don’t give a shit.

So yeah, it’s not like ‘oh no, he’s just Justin to me’, because there’s no such thing as ‘just Justin.’ He is who he is. I just don’t care about what model he’s banging this week, or what rapper wants to work with him.

But apparently Barbie over here does.

Hooray.

“You’re… you…” She stutters and I roll my eyes.

Like he hasn’t seen the ‘oh my god, I can’t believe you’re real!’ shtick ten thousand times. I almost can’t wait to see him laugh in her face.

“I know you probably get this all the time, but I’m a big fan.” She smiles shyly and tucks her hair behind her ear.

“Eh… always good to hear. I’m Justin.” He grins and shakes her hand.

If she passes out in here, I’m gonna be super pissed. The last damn thing we need is some chick losing her shit over Justin. Cause… ew.

“I’m Lyla. It’s really nice to meet you.”

I’m pretty sure her make up is going to crack if her stupid smile gets any bigger. And is it just me, or is this the worlds longest fucking handshake ever? Jesus Christ.

“I’m Trace.” The midget pipes up, damn near shoving Justin out of the way and I have to stop myself from laughing. They really are fucking idiots.

I turn to head back to the office, a tad surprised to find Justin right behind me. I figured he’d want to stay and drool over the homecoming queen some more, but he seems pretty intent on annoying me today, so go figure.

“You need something?”

“Just hanging out, B. Chill.” He laughs and throws himself into Kyle’s chair. “We doing Brewster’s tonight?”

“Depends.” I shrug and begin sorting through the invoices on the desk. “I’ve got a bunch of shit to do here, and I’m exhausted because Kyle is useless. So… don’t know.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“I sincerely hope that is some kind of sick joke that I don’t get.”

He laughs at me again and for a split second, I’d like to punch him. “I can do car stuff!”

“Right. Because you did a bang up job on that tire rotation. Now… go bother the other two stooges. I have work to do.”

“Alright, well… lemme know about Brewster’s.” He slaps my knee before rising from his seat and rejoining the Lyla fan-club.

Let me guess… you probably think I’m jealous, right?

Wrong.

Because seriously… what the hell do I have to be jealous of? There isn’t a damn thing that girl could have that I’d want for myself. It absolutely kills me that people always blame dislike on jealousy.

The bottom line is, I’ve never liked girls like her. I’m not saying I’m necessarily right in that opinion or anything. It’s just a fact. I’d much rather be who I am than some braindead bimbo who falls all over herself for some famous guy.

Plus, girls like her are the ones who made my teen years absolute hell. So fine… maybe I am a little biased, but can you really blame me?

*************************

I’m going to tell you a secret.

Granted, I’m not exactly sure that something qualifies as a secret when 99 percent of the earths population already knows it, but whatever. Let’s just pretend for my sake, ok? Anyway…

Justin Timberlake is stupid. Very, very stupid.

I was perfectly fine with his idea to go fishing at Runners lake. Totally fine with driving because he wanted to drink. Didn’t mind taking off work and losing much needed money, just to spend time with a friend I never get to see. Wasn’t remotely phased by having to bait his hook because he’s secretly a ten year old girl and didn’t want to touch the worms.

However, I am so not ok with the prom queen tagging along, and Justin trying to go all survivor man and shit because of her. Number one, as I said before, Justin is secretly a girl. Bugs and all outdoor creatures turn him into the worlds biggest pussy. But, Barbie shows up, and suddenly he’s fucking captain wilderness. Showing her how to throw the line out, helping her hold the pole. Which is odd really, because I assumed a girl like Lyla would know a thing or two about working a pole.

Ok, yeah… really bad stripper joke, I know. Let’s just forget that happened.

Anyway, the point is, he’s acting like a god damn retard just to impress this chick and it’s pathetic. Even more so, because she’s buying every last bit of it. There’s been a lot of giggling, and hair flipping and all that other stupid shit girls do when they’re trying to flirt.

Part of me almost feels bad that Justin thinks he needs to act like this, and I kind of feel bad that Lyla is stupid enough to think he’s really like this. But mostly, I feel sorry for myself because I’m a witness to this ridiculous bullshit.

And I haven’t even caught one damn fish. I’d say it’s time to call it a fucking day, go home and hang out with my dad, and my dog. Because frankly… they’re way cooler than anybody else I know. I begin loading my gear in the truck and it isn’t until I shut the tailgate that either of them notices I’ve moved from my spot at the edge of the dock.

“B! What are you doing?” Justin yells, a slight slur to his words.

Awesome.

Drunk Justin, contrary to popular opinion, is actually a giant pain in the ass. He’s one of those people who wants to get all philosophical when he’s been drinking, talk about the meaning of life and shit. And he always, always manages to make me feel guilty about something I’ve said or done at some point in my life.

“Going home.” I shrug. I’m hoping that since he’s got Barbie here to keep him company, I can escape pretty easily. Cause lets face it, me here while they’re trying to flirt and shit is way awkward for everyone.

“What? Burke… you can’t leave! I won’t have a ride home!”

“Figured Lyla could take you?”

“I would….but I’ve actually gotta take off myself. I have a job interview.” She smiles proudly and it takes all I have not to roll my eyes.

“See Burke… you have to stay. You wouldn’t make me walk home, would you? Remember that time Kyle pushed you in that nasty ass pond behind the high school? Who drove you home, huh? Who had no problem with your dirty, stinkin ass on their leather seats?”

God damnit. The asshole is good. If ever there were an award for the planets best guilt tripper…

“Alright, well… I’ll see you guys later then.” Lyla rises to her feet and heads for her rental car, smiling brightly at me as she passes.

“C’mon B… let’s catch some damn fish!” Justin grins and pats the now empty space beside himself.

Sometimes, I really do hate this bastard. Almost more than I hate Trace, and believe me… that’s saying something.

I plop down next to him and he quickly downs the rest of his beer. “So… what’d ya think?”

“About?”

“The weather.” He laughs and shoves me. “I meant Lyla, ya dumbass. I think I like her.”

Well… there’s the surprise of a lifetime. Please Justin, tell me more about things I never could have figured out for myself.

“Trust me… you don’t want to hear what I think of her.”

“You sayin you don’t like her or something?”

“Excellent deduction, dipshit.”

“Aww… come on B! You don’t even know her… how can you decide you don’t like her?”

“Let me get this straight… we’ve known this broad the same exact length of time. You know her well enough to decide you like her. Yet, I don’t know her well enough to decide that I don’t like her? You and logic aren’t very good friends, are you?”

“All I’m sayin is… give her a chance. If… ya know, if I decide I really do like her, she’ll be around awhile.”

“Umm… aren’t you leaving in a month?”

“Well… yeah. But that’s not a big thing. Just, be nice Burke.”

As much as I hate admitting it, I am a bit of a sucker for my friends. And, ok fine… there’s a very slight possibility I could be wrong about Lyla, but how the fuck would Justin know that? Then again, Justin is a man. That automatically makes him a god damn idiot. None the less, I will be nice, for his sake.

Unless Memphis Barbie gives me a legitimate reason to want to rip her hair out. Then it’s game over, whether Justin’s banging her or not.

**************************

“You know what would be cool… having some Freaky Friday shit happen.” Justin nods seriously and takes a sip of his beer. “I would totally wanna switch places with Kyle for like… a week.”

“Kyle? What the fuck?”

“Yeah man! Cause like… we’re a lot alike, but you know… he gets to do all this cool shit that I don’t… work on cars… hang out with you… stay here.” He shrugs. “It’d be awesome.”

It’s official.

Justin is fucking hammered. If he starts talking about a car that runs on water, I’m making him leave.

“Who would you switch with?”

“Dunno. I kinda like being me.”

“Well, yeah… you’re awesome B… but, there’s gotta be somebody you’d want to switch places with.”

“Umm… not really. Most people suck, and I don’t, so yeah… I’d stay myself.”

“What about like… Lyla? You could switch with her, and then you’d realize that she’s awesome!”

Not really sure how I didn’t see that coming.

I mean, ok fine… he’s drunk, has no idea what he’s talking about, but still… that was not fucking cool.

Him saying that shit is the same as him saying he wants me to be like Lyla, and why the hell would I want that? From what I’ve seen of her, she’s everything I’ve refused to let myself become, and fuck him if he thinks I’d ever want to be like that.

Or, it’s three in the morning and I’m reading way too much into the ramblings of a drunken idiot.

Gonna go with the latter on this, I think.

“I really, really like her, Burke.” He giggles and shakes his head slowly.

Great.

Apparently today is the day to put on my best friend suit and tell Justin he’s being a moron. I’ve had to do it a handful of times, and it’s never fun for anyone. But, you know… I feel like somebody needs to set his ass straight sometimes.

Trace is a yes man. No matter what Justin says or thinks, Trace agrees with it, and nine times out of ten, it does more harm than good. Kyle is always kind of non-committal when he gives advice, tells you to do what you think is best, and honestly… how the fuck does that help?

So yeah… that leaves me to be the asshole.

“Don’t you think you should get to know her first? I mean, fuck, Justin… you’ve known her for three damn days.”

“B… have you ever actually liked anybody?”

Of course he’d turn this around on me. Of fucking course.

In all honesty, I don’t think I can say I’ve liked someone, or had a crush, or whatever the fuck you want to call it. I was always more interested in working on cars, or hanging out with my dad. The only use I had for boys was to prove I could do whatever they could, and do it better than they’d ever be able to. I never really went into that boy crazy phase most girls go through.

“No.”

“See… you just don’t get it. Sometimes… you just know, and I just… know. I mean… I’m not gonna propose to the chick or anything, I’m not fuckin crazy. I just want to hang out with her and see where it goes. And ok fine… yeah, I don’t really know her, but so what? Why do I have to know all these stupid fucking details? Why can’t I just like being around her? Cause like… that’s what matters, you know? Who gives a fuck if you both like peanuts or some shit? Isn’t enjoying their company more important?”

“Yeah… guess so.”

“I mean… yeah… at some point, you gotta know that stupid shit too, but at first, you have to like being around them, or you’ll never even want to know the other dumb shit.”

“Right. Makes sense.” I shrug and glance at the clock. Fuck… it’s almost four and I have to be up in three hours. His ass needs to go. Now. “You want me to take you home?”

“Yeah… might be a good idea.” He stands up, laughing when he wobbles slightly. “B… you’re good people.” He nods and throws an arm around my shoulders as we head for my truck.

I wish I knew why I’m the one who always gets stuck taking his drunk ass home.

As soon as I pull out of the driveway, he flips on the radio and searches through the stations until he lands on the oldies station. Pretty sure that’s where I’d left it before, but whatever.

“B! This is my favorite fucking song ever!” He damn near squeals and starts belting out the words.

“I’m aware of that." For some stupid reason, that's a fact I've known for years.

“Come on… you gotta sing with me!”

So, here’s a thought. According to Justin, a major part of liking someone is enjoying their company. Another, smaller part of liking someone, is knowing small details about them, followed by having things in common.

There have been several people in my life who fit into those categories, but I never wanted to like…date them. God… I sound like a fucking idiot. I seriously need to stop listening to drunk assholes.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Justin bobbing his head to the beat, and singing like there’s no tomorrow.

You know… Justin may be the only person I know who fits all three of those categories.

And if those really are the requirements for liking somebody, I am in a load of fucking trouble.

"(Sittin On) The Dock Of The Bay"- Otis Redding

Tonight, I have a date.

And even though it makes me sound like a chick, I’m kind of excited about it. Granted, Trace and Kyle aren’t too thrilled about it, but is it really my fault that they have zero game, and I beat them to the punch? I think not.

And ok fine… I’m not a hundred percent sure that it’s an actual date, but when I asked Lyla if she wanted to grab dinner tonight, and she said yes, I kind of assumed that was the case. Don’t know what she thinks, but I mean… come on… two almost strangers going to dinner together? I think most people would classify that as a date.

I haven’t told Burke yet, but that’s mostly because I don’t need another fucking lecture. I mean… I get where she’s coming from and yeah, I agree with some of what she said, but the thing to understand here is that outside of our little world here in Memphis, Burke doesn’t know a whole lot about life.

I’m not saying she’s some socially retarded hermit or anything, she just doesn’t have the experiences to back up her ideas and opinions on how relationships are supposed to work. She’s never had a boyfriend, never been on a date.

And you know… a lot of people form their opinions of relationships based on their parents, and Burke can’t even do that. I don’t think Joe’s so much as even looked at another woman since his wife died.

So yeah… I get where B’s coming from and I can even appreciate the fact that she’s looking out for me, but I’m good. Besides, how am I supposed to get to know Lyla if I don’t go out with her? I’ve only hung out with her a couple times, but I liked being around her enough to want to get to know her. I don’t know why that’s so fucking hard to understand.

“You totally violated the chain of command dude.” Kyle shakes his head sadly and sighs. “The oldest has first dibs. We came up with that shit in the third grade! You waited till now to fuck it up?”

“Like you had a fuckin chance.” I snort and roll my eyes.

Leave to to Kyle to bring up an almost 17 year old pact. And come to think of it, I’m pretty sure that chain of command shit was about toys and food. Chicks hadn’t even entered the equation yet.

“Alright look… neither of you has a shot in hell.” Trace chuckles and shakes his head. “You got a pity date. Big fuckin deal. This time tomorrow that chick’s gonna be begging me to-”

“Tie her shoes so she doesn’t have to bend over?” Burke grins as she enters the office and tosses her stuff on the floor. “You know Kyle… I could have sworn there was a shit ton of work to do around here. Which means the idiots brigade’s gotta go.”

The hostility leads me to believe that Burke probably heard more of that conversation than I wanted her to. And really… I don’t get why she cares so damn much. I mean, ok fine… be concerned for me, worry about whether Lyla has ulterior motives… that I understand. The anger however, makes no fucking sense.

Then again, hostile is kind of Burke’s thing, so maybe I’m analyzing it a little too much.

Kyle and Trace head for the garage while I hang back. One way or the other, I’m gonna figure out what B’s getting all weird about.

“You need something?”

“Depends. What’s up your ass?”

“Last time I checked… nothing.” She shrugs and begins flipping through the car parts manual in front of her. “Why?”

“You just… you’re… never mind. I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Wise choice.” She mutters as I exit the office, shutting the door behind me.

You know… I’ve gotta be out of my damn mind to think Burke gives a shit about who I date. There are three things in this world that she’s ever concerned about. Her dad, her dog and cars.

Clearly, I’m not one of those three. So, if there is something bothering her, at least I know it ain’t me.

*****************

I’m not exactly sure what I was expecting. I mean… obviously, the place wasn’t gonna be the fuckin Ritz or anything, I just… I didn’t think I’d be walking into what looks like some sort of crack den. Lyla comes across as the type who’d want to live somewhere clean and fairly nice. So this is… well… this is weird.

Before I can even reach the second floor, she meets me on the stairs and ok, yeah… she looks awesome and I just got real fuckin nervous.

“You ready?”

“Whenever you are.” She grins as we head for my car.

She stops before climbing in and looks around curiously. “Are the others meeting us there or…”

“The…ot-others?”

“Yeah… your friends. I figured we were…” She frowns for a second before her eyes widen, and I suddenly feel like the worlds biggest jackass. “Oh… oh my god! Is this supposed to… is this a date?”

I am a fucking tool.

I try to play the good guy card, be myself… not throw my name in her face, and it shoves me right into the friend zone. Of fucking course.

I’d be totally fine if one of the crack heads from the apartment building comes down and shoots me in the face right fucking now.

“What?” I laugh incredulously and shake my head. “Are you… what? No! God… no. I don’t even… I barely know you lady. I just… Kyle and Burke had to work late, and Trace lives on the other side of town. We’re gonna go pick them up.” I nod and she breathes a sigh of relief.

“Oh… good.” She nods quickly. “I just… we just met, you know? And I don’t have a job yet and I don’t… you’re a nice guy, but I just can’t get involved in anything, but if we’re just hanging out as friends, none of that matters. So… I’m… I’m gonna stop talking now.”

Seriously… where the hell is a crackhead with a gun when you really need one?

*****************

My first stop is Kyle’s, and if there is a God, Lyla will be perfectly happy to wait in the car, cause there’s no telling how long explaining this shit to his dumb ass will take.

“I’m just gonna run in real quick… you cool to wait out here?”

“Yeah… no problem.” She smiles.

I enter the house and roll my eyes at the sound of Sum 41 blaring throughout the house. I take the stairs two at a time and find Kyle sprawled out on his futon, a bottle of Captain Morgan in his hand, and clad in only a pair of bright green briefs.

I honestly don’t know why this fucking idiot has been one of my best friends practically since birth.

I begin rummaging through his closet for the first set of clean clothes I can find and throw them at him.

“Uhh… what the hell dude? Who the fuck popped your boner?”

“Get dressed, and meet me in the car in five minutes.”

“Five minutes? Are you for fucking real? It’s gonna take me at least 20 minutes to find the will to even want to put on pants. The actual putting on could take twice as long.”

I will not knock his teeth down his throat. I swear I won’t.

“Kyle… how many times do I ask for your help? Honestly?”

“Umm… there was that one time you made me carry one of your suitcases to a limo. A limo I never got to ride in, mind you. But I totally helped. Didn’t even complain. And honestly… what kind of douche makes his friend carry his shit, and doesn’t even give said friend a limo ride? This is a seriously fucked up friendship we’ve got going here J-Man.”

“Kyle… please… just get dressed and meet me downstairs.”

If I have to beg for his help… I am going to be seriously pissed.

“Fine, fine. But I expect a limo ride at some point, and free beer. And I’m not talking fuckin Bud Light either. I want the good imported shit!”

“Whatever. Just put some god damn clothes on! Lyla’s out in the car waiting and I don’t have time for this shit!” I jog back down the steps and out to the car, doing my absolute best to keep my cool.

Even though Kyle is a jackass 99 percent of the time, I know he’s going to come through for me on this. Believe it or not, the dude always manages to step up when you really need him. It’s like he’s got a sixth sense about this kind of shit. Once he gets down here, he’ll know what’s up and it’ll be totally fine.

Provided Trace and Burke don’t somehow fuck it all up.

Picking up Trace takes virtually no time. Because it’s Trace, and honestly… what the hell does he have to do on a Friday night besides sit in his parents basement and get high?

Burke’s the one I’m worried about. I mean sure, I could totally do this without her, but I feel like it’s more believable with her here.

I stroll up to the door and it opens before I have the chance to knock, and there stands Joe, glaring at me like I’m 12 and just ran over his flowerbeds with my bike.

“Hey Joe… how’s it goin?”

“It goes.” He nods slowly. “You need something Timberlake?”

“Uhh yeah… is Burke home?”

“Yeah. Up in her room.” He stands aside and lets me in and I can feel my shoulders tense.

It really is fucking sad that this dude makes me so nervous.

“Alright. Umm… thanks.” I nod and slide past him toward the stairs.

“Door stays open.” He damn near barks at me before disappearing into the living room.

Uhh… what the fuck?

Not exactly sure why I wouldn’t leave B’s door open, but whatever. I don’t have time to decipher Joey and his scary dad shit right now. I’m on a mission damnit.

I enter her room and find her seated on the floor, what I can only assume are car parts scattered all around her.

“Hey.”

“Oh… hi.” She looks up from the mess in front of her and smiles. “What’re you doin here?”

“I..umm… I need a favor B.”

“Why am I not surprised?” She rolls her eyes playfully and laughs. “What is it this time? Help you bury a body… chase teenage girls away from your house? Pretty sure my ball bat would come in handy for that one…”

“B… so not the time. I… I asked Lyla to dinner tonight, and she said yes. So, ya know… I figured it was a date. I pick her up and she totally wigs out on me. So, I played it off and told her we were all going.” I can’t help but wince when the smile immediately falls from her face, and her eyes dart back to the car parts.

Shit. That’s not a good sign.

And maybe I’m crazy, but I’m kind of getting the feeling that she’s doing everything she can to avoid looking at me.

“You… you actually… you asked her out?”

“Yeah. I like her.” I shrug. “Burke… please. Kyle and Trace are coming… I’m paying. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

“Ok, so… riddle me this. You’re supposed to be such hot shit with all these chicks hot for your ass. You spend more time than could possibly be healthy bragging about how many broads you’ve banged, and how you can get anybody you want. So, if there’s so many just waiting in line for their shot at you… why do you give a shit about this one?”

“B… I promise we can get all philosophical later, but right now I just really fucking need your help, ok?” She’s silent for a moment before she finally rolls her eyes and nods.

“Let me get changed.”

”Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Seriously… if it wouldn’t feel like incest, I’d totally kiss you right now.”

“Umm… lets not go there. Cause… just… ew.”

It doesn’t take Burke long to change into a clean T-shirt and jeans, and then we’re off.

The car is damn near silent until I make it to Main street, and just when I’m starting to feel like this might turn out semi ok, Kyle has to go and open his big fucking mouth.

“Ok, so… why are we here?” He leans forward in his seat and stares at me curiously.

“What? I laugh and pray that it doesn’t sound as nervous as I think it does. “Dude… we’re going to dinner. We’ve had this shit planned for the last three days.”

“We have?”

“Yeah man. We drove by that new Chinese place on Tuesday and planned this out.”

“Impossible. I’m allergic to Chinese.”

“Yeah man… Chinese food is fucking gross! No way would I have agreed to this.” Trace shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

I swear, these two are the biggest fucking idiots on the planet. And that is precisely why I’m major screwed for the remainder of the evening.

I mean shit… even if they don’t know that I’m trying cover up the fact that this was a date, why aren’t they smart enough to realize that I’d like Lyla to not think I’m a total fucking loser? And what is with Burke and all her ‘you can get any chick you want’ shit?

Have my friends suddenly made it their mission in life to dick me over and make me miserable?

And ok fine… I’m whining like a little bitch, but guess what? I’m allowed to, cause this is a bunch of bullshit. Any hope I’d had of ever possibly hooking up with Lyla is shot to hell, and it’s all because of my fucking friends.

“Seriously dude.. I’m allergic to Chinese. You can ask my Mom.” Kyle nods seriously. “If I die tonight, it’s totally your fault. Hope you’re ok with losing a friend to death by Chinese food on your conscience.”

You know… I just may have to leave Memphis three weeks early.

So, here’s a tale for the grandchildren I’ll probably never have.

The first date I ever went on wasn’t even my own.

I suppose by typical date standards, it could be considered nice. Decent restaurant, good company… minus Trace. Ok music.

Then again… what the fuck do I know?

The thing I just can’t figure out is why Justin’s being such a god damn moron about this. The idiot spends hours telling us how he just nailed some on the rise actress, or how Janet Jackson seduced him. Yet this broad makes him act like a ten year old.

So much so that he invited me on his fucking date.

Like, grow a pair and tell the girl it’s a date and if she doesn’t like it, she can go snort ants or something. But no. He’s Justin Timberlake, and he gets what he wants. And if by some sick twist of fate he doesn’t get what he wants, he acts like a whiney bitch until you’re on the verge of stabbing yourself in the ear with a spoon and you finally cave.

He’s a sick, sadistic bastard and he knows it.

“Are we all sitting together?” Lyla smiles as we enter the restaurant and I have to bite my tongue.

No. The four of us are sitting together, like normal. You can go sit by yourself. Don’t leave your drink unattended, I hear they sell roofies in place of french fries here.

“Right… stupid question.” She laughs nervously and rolls her eyes. “So…”

“You two wanna grab a table and we’ll get the beers?” Justin doesn’t even give me a chance to respond before he, Trace and Kyle all take off to the bar and I’m left with the homecoming queen.

Awesome.

“Where ever you want to sit is fine with me.” Lyla smiles politely as we begin to weave through the sea of tables and chairs. “I like your shirt by the way.” I glance down at my plain black T-shirt and roll my eyes.

Is this bitch retarded or something?

“Right. You know you don’t have to be nice to me, right? I couldn’t give a shit less who Justin dates or why he dates them. Being nice to me doesn’t earn you brownie points or some shit.” She looks slightly stunned and I’m fighting the urge to laugh at her.

Does she honestly think she’s the first chick to be nice to me, solely to get to Justin? I mean, let’s get real. Girls have been pulling this shit on me for years, and it’s never done them a damn bit of good.

Number one, because I know it’s total bullshit. Two… the only one of Justin’s friends who has to approve is Trace.

See, I am what you’d call a “back home friend.” I see Justin for maybe two weeks, three or four times a year. There aren’t any daily phone calls… not even monthly, for that matter. My thoughts and opinions on his day to day life are irrelevant. And I’m fine with that. Honestly, if I had to deal with him more than I already do, I’d probably hang myself.

Bottom line is, these broads don’t have to get in good with me to impress Justin. In the grand scheme of his life, I’m pretty unimportant. So yeah… Lyla doesn’t even need to waste her breath.

“Why wouldn’t I be nice to you? You’re fixing my car and you’ve been nice to me.”

“Yep. I’m a regular Suzy fucking Sunshine.”

Seriously… how long is it going to take the three amigo’s to get beer? I can’t be held responsible for anything I may say to this broad in response to her stupidity.

“You’re a little cynical… there’s nothing wrong with that. Honestly though… I made a complete fool of myself that day I brought my car in, and you were just… awesome, about all of it.”

Oh… I get it now. She’s being sarcastic. Great.

“Really Maggie… you don’t know how much I appreciated your help. I mean… I’ve got pretty much nothing here, and believe it or not… that ‘a friendly face goes a long way’ stuff is true. It doesn’t have anything to do with Justin.”

“So you don’t like him?”

“Well… yeah, I do. But… I don’t know him very well, and he’s this insanely famous dude, and I’m… me. I’m nothing special.”

So she’s going to pull the ‘oh he won’t fall for lil’ ol’ me’ card. Like that hasn’t been done. I would love for someone to explain this thought process to me. Cause it makes zero sense. These girls know what they look like, and I guarantee that they see the male reaction to it.

“You know what… I gotta go.” I mutter and slide out of the booth. “Tell the guys I’ll see them tomorrow.”

“Aw Maggie… don’t leave! I don’t want to be the only girl here!”

“They’re not gonna try to gang bang you… you’ll be fine. Later.”

This isn’t one of my finer moments. I’m aware.

But… things have been happening these past couple weeks and it’s all just…. Really fucking weird.

For a very split second, I thought maybe… maybe I liked Justin. But I’m fairly certain I’ve just disproved that because… hello….if I did like him, would I actually leave him semi-alone with Lyla? I think not.

So there. Problem solved. Crisis averted. So on, and so forth. However, a little planning might have gone a long way because now I have to fucking walk home.

“Burke man… where you goin?”

“Home.” I shrug, not bothering to turn around and face Kyle. I start my trek down the street and immediately hear his heavy footsteps behind me. “Pretty sure stalking is a federal offense.”

“This is not cool dude. If I have to be the fourth wheel on Justin’s fucked up date, so do you.”

“Four wheels are typically a good thing.” I mutter and roll my eyes. “Christ Kyle… you’re a mechanic. You of all people should know car metaphors.”

“You knew what I meant. Anyway… you think you’re just gonna walk home? It’s like… twenty blocks, B.”

“Just started a new exercise regimen. It’s totally fine.”

“Alright… stop.” He grabs my arm and jerks me around to face him. I could probably just sock him in the mouth and run away, but he knows where I live and he‘s a big fan of retaliation, so I’m kinda screwed. “What the hell is going on?”

“I am trying to go home. You are preventing such events from happening. Would you like me to draw your simple ass a diagram?”

“As a matter of fact… yeah, I would like a fucking diagram. Because your batshit crazy ass isn’t making sense to anybody with a dick. Which you used to have one of. You know… uhh… metaphorically.”

“Oh do not-”

“And my ass happens to be quite complex…just an FYI.”

“Fuck. You. I’m going home.”

“Bur- Maggie… come on. Just talk to me. You’ve been really fuckin weird the last couple weeks and it’s… not gonna lie… it’s starting to freak me out.”

I do believe that’s the first time in twelve years that Kyle has actually sounded… concerned, I guess is the right word.

And ok fine… maybe I haven’t been myself lately, but can’t he just boil it down to the fact that I’m on the rag, and move the fuck on? Then again… Kyle’s a moron. He probably thinks periods are some mythical creature, right up there with fucking unicorns and leprechauns. (Trace notwithstanding.)

“It’s…. you know what…it’s been since Justin got home. Did he say some shit to you? Cause, he might be my boy… but fuck that.”

“Oh… so Trace can say whatever the hell he wants to me, but Justin says something and it’s time to launch some macho bullshit fueled attack? Get a grip Kyle. I’ve been busting my ass at the garage, and I’m tired. End of story. Ok?”

“You aren’t doing any more at the garage than you normally do. Don’t make me call your dad… cause… cause he scares the shit out of me… but I will totally do it unless you start talking B.”

And Kyle the idiot has just pulled out the big guns. Apparently I didn’t give him enough credit, because he is a vindictive little bastard.

And you know… maybe this is one of those things where talking about it would help… maybe the problem is that I’ve had all this stupid shit bottled up and it’s turning me into a lunatic. Once I actually tell someone, it’ll go away.

That’s how this shit is supposed to work, right?

“It’s not Justin. Well… it is… but it’s… not, you know?”

“And we’re back to the not making sense.”

“I don’t… it’s…. I don’t like Lyla. And I thought it was because she’s… she’s a real girl, you know? Like the ones who made me fucking miserable all through school. And it was really easy to hate her because of that… but now… the more I think about it… I… I hate her because Justin doesn’t.”

“So you’re saying you’ve got a thing for Justin?”

“No… Yes… I don’t fucking know! And that’s the problem… I don’t know how this shit is supposed to work, or how it should feel, and… “

“Wanting to bang him would be a good indication.”

“Yep… definitely leaving now.” I roll my eyes and do my best not to slap him. “And so help me god… you breathe a word of this to anyone… I will shove something large and sharp up your ass.”

“B… it’s ok, you know? It’s not a bad thing… I mean…”

“We’re done talking about this.”

“K.” He nods slowly and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I think you should stay, but… I get it. I’ll see you tomorrow. And… completely cliché, but… if you need anything…”

“Yeah, you’re here. Blah, blah fucking blah.”

Now I have a nice, long twenty block walk home to think about what a god damn idiot I am.

Awesome.

I’m pretty sure last night could not have gone worse, even if I’d been trying to sabotage myself. Granted, a few of the things that happened were pretty much out of my control, but still…. It was a total shit show and I’m pretty sure Lyla is never speaking to me again.

The food was terrible, the service was shit. Trace was… well… He was Trace. And Trace is a giant bag of douche. Kyle was fine, right up until Burke left, and then he decides to turn into this completely incoherent jackass. Nothing he said made any fucking sense.

Then, there’s also the fact that Burke just bailed before we even got back with the god damn drinks. The one person I thought I could count on to help me get through this crap fest of a date, and she just takes off without a fucking word. Like, what is that man?

I’m not sure what’s crawled up her ass and died all of a sudden, cause she’s been a hardcore moody bitch, but I am gonna find out why.

However, I’m not going to even bother wasting my time asking her what the hell is up. She’d just sarcastically bullshit her way out of it, so whats the point?

So… I’m going to Kyle. He went after her when she left, so I can pretty much guarantee he knows whats going on. I may actually beat it out of him if I have to.

I walk into Kyle’s apartment and find him sprawled out on his futon, video game controller in one hand, and his eyes glued to the TV. Why am I not surprised?

“Yo.” He mutters, not even glancing in my direction. Clearly, killing zombies or whatever the fuck he’s doing is way more important.

Unfortunately, I already know that if this conversation is gonna go anywhere, I’m gonna have to be a dick. It’s not something I enjoy doing, but it seems to be a necessary evil when it comes to Kyle. I unplug the console and am immediately hit in the back of the head with what I believe is the game controller.

“You son of a bitch…. You just killed me! It’s taken me all day to get to level 48! Now my entire day is wasted!”

“Yes… NOW your day is wasted.” I roll my eyes and ease down next to him. “We need to talk.”

“You know… they make these things called phones for that, but whatever. What kind of girly, emotional, my feelings are important, bullshit are we talking about today?”

“What’d Burke say when she left last night?”

“Oh… umm….” He suddenly becomes fidgety and refuses to look at me. “Nothing really man. I think she was getting sick, or…something. She may have been growing an actual dick, for all I know.”

“Dude, don’t bullshit me.”

“Seriously… it was just Burke being a bitch. Not like that’s something out of the ordinary around here. In case you hadn’t noticed, she isn’t exactly… whats the word… pleasant.”

“She was mad about something. Even Lyla picked up on that and she barely knows Burke!”

“Oh… oh yeah. That… can’t tell ya.”

“She’s mad at me, isn’t she?”

“No… no. It’s nothing.”

“Kyle… I swear to god…. If you don’t tell me what’s wrong with Burke….”

“Don’t get your panties in a wad man. She’s fine. It’s Burke, ok? Irrational anger is kind of her thing.”

“God damnit Kyle… you made me do this.” I sigh and jump up from my spot next to him. I immediately throw an arm around his neck and put him in a pretty shitty head lock. In a matter of seconds, he’s down on his knees, pushing at my arms.

“You’re an asshole and a half man. Let me go!”

“Tell me what Burke’s mad about.” I tighten my hold on him and laugh when he starts to fight against me. “I’m not letting you up till you tell me.”

“She’s mad cause I banged your mom.” His speech is muffled, but I heard that clear as day. Apparently, he thinks I’m joking. I will stand here with his ass in a head lock all day if I have to. I don’t have any plans today.

“Kyle….”

“I can’t breathe, you dick!”

“Tell me.”

“Fine…. Fine.!” He shouts and I finally let him go. “Apparently, she… umm…. ShelikesTrace.” The last few words come out so quick, I can’t even catch them.

“Huh?”

“Yeah man…. She wants to bang Trace. Like… like, really bad. She’s all in love with him and shit. Can’t hardly be around him.”

This is not fucking possible.

Burke doesn’t like anybody. Much less, Trace’s dumb ass.

But, I’m not so sure Kyle is smart enough to make up something this off the fucking wall. I mean, when we were kids, he couldn’t even make up a decent story about why he missed his curfew.

Jesus… maybe… maybe Burke does like Trace.

This is ten kinds of fucked up man.

************************************

So… Burke likes Trace.

As much as I find this disgusting, I’ve decided I’m gonna do something about it. Cause really, if Burke would dress like an actual girl and ya know… wear make up, she might not be all that bad looking. And I can pretty much guarantee, if she’s looking decent, Trace may actually go for it.

And I know that sounds shallow as hell, but Trace goes for looks, first and foremost. He’s a dick. But, if Burke likes him, I’m gonna try to make it happen for her.

“Aren’t we supposed to be like… banned from the garage or something?”

“What? No. I mean, Joe might make us do some shit, but it’s cool.”

“Cool, it is not. I’m on vacation. I am not here to do Kyle and Burke’s job.”

“Yeah, cause you could do the shit Burke does.” I roll my eyes and pull up in front of the garage.

Ok, I know I’m gonna have to do things to talk Burke up to Trace, so maybe pointing out the fact that she’s more man than he is, isn’t such a good idea. How the hell am I supposed to get two people who act like they hate each other together?

We walk inside and find the same scene you’ll find just about every day in this garage. Burke going back and forth between two different cars. Kyle seated on a spare tire, eating a hot pocket. I honestly don’t know how Joe hasn’t fired his ass yet.

The best I can figure, Burke sticks up for him, and I know for a fact, Joe never says no to her.

“That’s a good look for ya, B.” Trace snorts when Burke turns to face us, grease spots all over her face.

“Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be in a tree making cookies with the other keebler elves?”

I’m just gonna throw this out there, Burke is really, really shitty at covering up how she feels about Trace. Mocking him is so beyond obvious. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.

“Just came to hang out for a bit…. See if you needed any help with anything?”

“Uhh… nah. I’m actually ahead of schedule, all things considered.” She shrugs, and shoots a dirty look at Kyle, who’s trying to control an extremely long piece of cheese oozing out of his hot pocket.

Before I can respond, an incredibly loud motorcycle pulls up outside the garage and everyone turns to stare. Awesome. If Burke has a bunch of work to do, getting her and Trace to bond is going to be somewhat difficult.

A kind of stocky guy climbs off the bike and removes his helmet, before turning and entering the garage through the main door.

“Oh my fucking god….” Burke inhales sharply and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

She can’t seriously be checking this dude out. Number one, Burke doesn’t check dudes out. Two, if she did… I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t go for the tattooed biker guy thing. I mean, I guess some weird chick would find him attractive, his hairs kinda short and looks like someone had no fucking clue what they were doing with the razor. He’s got a total pedo goatee too.

“Uhhh… B…. he looks kinda… trash-”

“That bike is just… fucking beautiful.” She mutters and heads straight for the… well… I don’t know what the hell it is. I follow her outside and shake my head. She is the weirdest girl on the planet. In a matter of seconds, she’s hunched over, inspecting every inch of the bike.

She walks around it slowly, admiring it like a normal chick would admire an expensive dress.

“B… it’s a bike. What’s the big damn deal?”

“Sometimes, I’m pretty sure you’re a girl.” She laughs and rolls her eyes. “This, my friend, is a Ducati Monster 696. It’s like… the best bike on the market right now, and I’m pretty sure it’s really fucking expens-”

“Actually, it only cost me about eight grand.” I jump at the sound and turn to find Biker man standing right behind Burke. If I’m not mistaken, he just checked out her ass.

Or, maybe I’m just seeing shit. Cause let’s be honest here… Burke is barely even a girl. Maybe Biker guy is gay.

Haha… isn’t that like, the ultimate? A big tough biker dude, who’s actually gay?

“Damn… that‘s not bad.” Burke grins. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Thanks. You ride?”

“I wish.” She giggles and shakes her head. Since when does Burke fucking giggle? “My dad would murder me if I got within ten feet of one, but I always wanted to try it.”

“Looks like your pretty close to this one.” Biker boy smirks. “If your dad shows up, just hop on back and we’ll take off. I’ll protect ya.”

“Yeah, that’d go over real well.” Burke laughs again and shoves her hands in the pockets of her cover alls. “This thing looks brand new, are you bringing it in or…”

“Nah, I’m actually here about the opening.” He smiles and I can see that he is blatantly looking Burke up and down.

See… this dude is a total skeezer.

“We’re not hiring.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can even think about them. But it’s fine. Cause if there was an opening here, Burke surely would have mentioned it.

“Oh? Am I in the wrong place or something? There was an ad in the paper and I thought…”

“Nope. Not hiring. Ever. We hired this retard named Trace awhile back, huge disaster. So, yeah… never hiring ever again.”

“Ignore the idiot. He doesn’t work here, thank Christ. I’m Joe… come on in.”

“Brooks.” Biker guy and Joe shake hands before heading inside and Burke immediately turns to glare at me. What the hell kind of name is Brooks?

“Since when do you give a shit about Pop doing some hiring?”

“I… I don’t. I just… I uhh… don’t wanna see Kyle lose his job for some skeezy biker.”

“Kyle’s not losing his job. Business has picked up and we need the help. Jesus Christ… you’re fucking weird. Shit! Why didn’t you tell me I had grease on my face? I don’t need the new guy seeing me looking like a god damn idiot!” Burke rolls her eyes and heads back inside.

Why does she give a shit how the new guy sees her?

I do not like what is happening here. I do not like it one bit.

*************************

I’m gonna murder Kyle.

I’ll hide the body down by the lake, then skip town before they can find him. Nobody will ever know it was me.

Ok, probably not. But, I could definitely punch him in the face, given the opportunity.

There used to be a time, where I thought Joe Burke was an incredibly smart man. He built his business from the ground up and made it wildly successful, raised a daughter who doesn’t take shit from anyone, everybody in town likes him. That shit doesn’t happen to stupid people.

However, that all changed today when Joe hired the biker guy.

See… if I was running the garage, I would have taken one look at the guy and told him to piss off. He’s creepy looking, and I’m pretty sure he wants to get in Burke’s pants.

Joe makes her leave her bedroom door open when I’m at their house for Christ sake, but he’s totally fine with bringing a dude who looks like a felon in to work closely with his daughter?

What the hell man?

Then, as if I wasn’t already getting weird vibes from this dude, Kyle has to go and invite him to fucking Brewster’s with us.

Brewster’s is our thing damnit. Outsiders are not welcome.

Ok fine… yes, I brought Lyla here, but that’s totally different. She doesn’t look like a criminal.

And of course… he just has to be getting along all great with Trace and Kyle. And Burke has this really stupid look on her face anytime she looks in his direction. She’s laughed at all of his jokes, that weren’t even funny, mind you.

“I did this charity ride a couple months back, and I’m telling you… it was the coolest shit I’ve ever done. Like, I’m good any time I get to ride for the hell of it, but to get to do it, and know that it’s actually doing something good for someone… it’s just… can’t even describe it man.” Brooks nods and takes a sip of his beer.

“Which charity?”

“St. Jude’s Childrens cancer research.”

I call bullshit. I bet he was doing time, and uses the charity ride story to cover it up. I watch Law and Order. Criminals lie all the time.

“Dude… that is awesome. For real.” Kyle nods seriously. “Joe’s always trying to figure out a way for us to get into charity work, but nothing’s come up so far.”

“I’ve got a couple friends at St. Jude’s, I can always make some calls and set something up man.”

“Oh my god… Pop would love that.” Burke grins.

I swear to Christ, these three are gonna start a Brooks the biker fan club.

But, it’s totally fine. I’m not buying the biker with a heart of gold thing.

I’m way too smart for that.