Workin' At The Car Wash
Words: 1,262
- Oneshot -
"You think it's about time to pack up?" A bored feminine voice called across the vacant lot.
I studied my nails, painted red and white for the school colors, and fiddled with a piece of golden hair that had come lose from my braid while my face scrunched up in thought.
"Give it ten more minutes, Tess!"
Tessa wilted, making a face at me, but she turned back towards the road and forced an exuberant smile to her face, holding a 'Hope High School Cheer Squad Car Wash' sign aloft in the air while Jasmine did a series of cartwheels and flips along the side of the road.
"C'mon, Kaylee," Miranda whined, pouting at me. "Look at the donation jar. Really, I think we've washed just about every car this little town has to offer!"
"Ten more minutes," I said stubbornly, flipping a page in my magazine. "A dollar in the jar is a dollar we didn't have before."
"God, you're so annoying, Kay," Samantha, who easily held the title of 'most foul-mouthed cheerleader', rolled her eyes, her tone light.
I stuck my tongue out at her; the girls all groaned and complained, but they listened to me – I was voted Captain for a reason, after all. Nicole and Samantha began bickering over the music Miranda's iPod and speakers were blasting – the pop song and their argument were both drowned out as booming, expletive-filled rap music surrounded us.
I looked up from my magazine, cringing at the volume of the music emanating from the two cars speeding towards us – they were identical, save for color, one being red and the other being green. They made me think of Christmas, if you ignored the rap music, but it looked like Christmas had been in a mud fight. Dried, hard mud was plastered all over the surface of both cars, including a large portion of each windshield, which couldn't possibly be safe.
"You've got to be kidding me. Let's tell them we're done for the day, Kaylee," Miranda said, gaping at the sheer amount of muck covering the vehicles.
"No way in hell am I washing all that off," Samantha protested, but she settled down into surly muttering when I glared at her.
The cars' brakes squealed as they skidded to a stop, but not before they plowed straight through the puddle we'd made washing cars earlier in the day; sudsy, murky brown water splashed over all of us. Miranda shrieked, frantically trying to shield her iPod from the splash; Samantha shouted something unkind and held her middle finger up in the green car's direction.
Tessa leaned the sign up against one of the pool chairs we'd set up, and Jasmine walked up with the buckets and sponges just as the driver side door opened on the red car, the green car's door following not long after.
Miranda made a disdainful hissing sound in her throat, gaping at the two men that stepped out, while Samantha began sniggering openly, the rest of us only staring.
The men had to be quite possibly the sleaziest looking people I'd ever seen; they were identical, with brunette hair hanging in thick dreadlocks around faces that looked rather disfigured. They each had baggy pants that hung low on their waist, nondescript black t-shirts, and scuffed sneakers with untied laces trailing behind their feet. Studs glinted in their ears, and tacky gold jewelry hung from their frames from fingers to neck.
"No, no, no," Jasmine muttered, curled her lip as she prodded the mud coating one of the hoods with a manicured fingernail.
I shushed her, though I wasn't particularly keen on the job ahead of us, myself, and reluctantly approached the apparent twins.
"Hi!" I said, forcing an enthusiastic tone into my voice and putting on the cheeriest smile I could muster up. "Welcome to the Hope High School Cheer Squad Car Wash – all of our proceeds go straight to the squad! We'll clean your cars up for you, but, uh, you'll have to stick around for a little bit given the state they're in. Where did you two do find all that mud?"
Silence served as my only response, but one of the twins nudged the other with an elbow and they sniggered something to each other, amusement written all off their faces.
Biting my lip, I turned wordlessly to rejoin my friends and begin scrubbing, the other girls muttering rebelliously under their breath; Jasmine, our resident germaphobe, was attempting to scrub the windshield of the green car with feather-light touches and simultaneously avoid getting so much as a speck of dirt on her body.
"Check that aft, bro," I heard a garbled voice crowing, and from the various degrees of confusion on all of our faces, I was certain we all knew what part of our anatomy they were kindly referring to – but I couldn't believe anyone could mess up such a simple word so badly.
"'Aft'? 'The fuck is that? A gangbanger wannabe code word for ass so their mommy can't tell what they're talking about in her basement?"
Various snorts of laughter rang out following Samantha's very loud outburst; the odd-looking pair seemed to have heard her, too, because the series of extremely lewd comments and suggestions that followed were loud and seemed to be directly mostly at the short-fused blonde.
"Kaylee, I'm gonna go kick some poser ass if you don't hurry this shit up," She warned me.
Over half an hour of relentless scrubbing, many inappropriate jokes, much wolf-whistling, and one hose fight later our crew had almost rid the cars entirely of mud; all that remained was rubbing out the last few smudged spots on the paint.
"Whatcha gonna do, bust out the 'yo momma' jokes, Sammykins?" Tessa taunted, shrieking and falling backward as Samantha's dirty sponge hit her in the face.
Jasmine shrieked, too, ducking to avoid the muddy splash Tessa's flailing had thrown up.
"Hey! Hey!" I protested, jerking Samantha back from attacking Tessa by the shoulders. "We're almost done, just relax, guys."
"Fine, fine, but these freaks better put, like, five hundred fucking bucks in the jar for this," Samantha spat, sprawling across the majority of one of the cars' hoods to attack a smudge remaining in the corner of the windshield.
"Look at it this way – we got a nice tan out of the day," Nicole put in, grinning, as she readjusted a strap on her bikini top.
"Fucking optimists," Samantha muttered under her breath.
I rolled my eyes, turning to go talk to the owners of the cars, and recoiled immediately with a shocked sound as I registered the face staring at me.
One of the 'posers', as Sam had dubbed them, was standing directly in front of me, looking very pleased with himself. I stepped back, pressing my back into the car with a disgruntled look on my face as the man's amusement only grew with my obvious discomfort.
"Ya done yet?"
"Yes - "
Ignoring all of us, both men shoved past and into the cars. Before we could protest – though Samantha was gearing up to – both cars peeled out, leaving black marks behind in their race to be the first to leave the lot. Mud splashed up, drenching our predominantly white banners; the green car took out the table and row of chairs as it went, sending various coins from the donation jar flying.
The girls let out indignant cries, staring incredulously after the cars disappearing on the highway cutting through our small town, headed towards Los Angeles.
"What the literal fuck just happened?"
Because the twins, annoying little f*ckers that they are, don't get enough love. There, I said it. Those annoying little s*its are great comedic relief, homies. o_0 And because evil plot bunnies keep making me jolt awake out of that half-asleep phase to write down plot ideas that are too good to go to sleep and forget. -_-