I forgot this with the other update. Because I am like really really stressed out. And my brain is going away as a result . . .
Junie shook her head as Ripley laid out her clothes for the visit to the shop. The girl had decided-in light of the fact she would be meeting the people Otto worked with- that she'd actually try to look halfway decent. Well, as halfway decent as the confirmed beach bum would go. Her hair was down, already curling, and her huge black glasses were safely tucked away in their case. She'd laid out a pair of dark trouser styled jeans, a long but fitted dusky rose tee shirt and a simple cream cardigan. And a pair of printed cream canvas moccasins with tiny mauve and rose colored flowers . . .
Ripley looked up, smiling at Junie who momentarily forgot to breathe. The girl favored her mother so intensely-especially when they'd been younger- that it was easy to forget that it wasn't Millennia standing in this bedroom in a robe, smiling as she picked out clothes. The same large expressive eyes, high cheekbones and trim nose set in a softly rounded heart shaped face . . . with plump full lips that seemed to pout even as she smiled. Junie knew that as the girl grew and matured- and the baby fat faded away- that the girl would probably take after her mother in build . . . and that as her cherub face slimmed she would become even more stunning. Especially with her almost white blonde curls and sea glass green eyes she had inherited her father and paternal grandmother.
"Aunt Junie? Are you okay?"
Junie shook herself, nodding. She forced a smile, trying not to let on just how hard this was to do . . . Because she knew that no matter how much she was hurting, the little girl in front of her was hurting more.
"Yeah honey, I'm fine. Are you going to wear any make-up?"
Ripley grimaced, shaking her head as she turned back to her clothes. She reached out, picking up the long dainty silver locket and tracing the intricate design etched into the metal before slipping it over her head, careful of the fragile chain.
"Nope. I hate make-up. I'm just going to get dressed and go, you know? When do we need to leave?"
Junie's smile became genuine as she shook her head, crossing the room to pull her goddaughter into a loose hug. She might have looked like a clone of her mother but she was surely Eddie's little girl. The eccentric boost had always hated anything to do with dressing up. They'd barely convinced him to wear a tie to her and Otto's wedding . . . and only Millennia's threats to his cherished Bugatti Alante had gotten him into 'the damn noose'.
"Whenever you're ready, baby girl. I'm going to let you go ahead and get dressed, okay?"
Ripley nodded, picking up the jeans and eying them critically as Junie left the room. Another trait she got from both Millennia and Ed. No matter how perfect something seemed, it had to be examined a million times before she would decide. . .
Junie sighed, shaking her head to clear the tears pooling in her eyes threatening to spill down her cheeks as she walked down her hallway and through the kitchen to the backdoor. As she crossed the backyard, she had to wonder if Ripley really would be okay out here. The carriage house was at least forty yards from the house . . . and though it was close enough if something happened, Junie would have preferred the girl stay with them in the main house. But Otto wouldn't be moved on letting her take over the guest house. He swore that if their own son had needed the space and privacy to stay sane then Ripley would surely crave it as well. Besides, the girl was nearly eighteen . . . and it wasn't like she was a bad kid or anything . . .
Junie smirked, making her way up the freshly pressure washed stone path . . . careful to not slip on the moss covered stones. Junie had made sure to plant flowers to match the ones around the main house-and the ivy and wisteria covered stone fence that separated the two yards- always arguing that it didn't matter who else saw the guest house so long as she was happy with the way it looked outside. But when she opened the door into what would be her goddaughter's home until she wanted to move into her parents' old house (should that day ever come), she was jarred by the difference. It had been a long time since this place had been used for living . . . and when her precious Jason had been here it had been more of a disaster zone than a house.
The relatively small carriage house had been converted into an in-law suite long before she and Otto had ever bought their monster of a house . . . and it had taken a lot of work to get the thing livable again. But this place hadn't been used for anything but storage and the occasional boost hideout. Which is probably what made seeing the walls painted the deep pewter-alongside the exposed brick and the massive row of black paned windows- such a shock to her system. As well as the gleaming hardwood floors they'd freed from the confines of the outdated shag carpeting . . . and the low hanging black vintage light fixture.
Ripley had claimed the old mustard yellow couch from her father's office (that he'd found at an estate sale years prior); situating it on the long bare brick wall of the living area. Like a relic from some grand library (because it actually was), the deeply tufted seat on the flaxen, top-grain leather sofa was plush and comfortable . . . The hand-pleated arms and nail head trim adding a scholarly charm while the dark blue, plum, chartreuse, cream and wildly patterned pillows sat against the thick back.
The large windows on the back wall allowed the sunlight to shine into the area, basking the space in warm light. Directly in front of the windows, Ripley had the bone colored chair from her old bedroom. And though Junie still thought the tufted armchair was an odd thing for the seventeen year old to have . . . the girl and Millennia had reupholstered the thing with recycled jute sacks from France two years before. She could still hear Millennia claiming that the fabric showed every character-lending ding and smudge of its past life . . . and that the passiflora welting just added a little eccentric touch. Settled between the two seats was a low steamer trunk. The ancient chest was crafted of pine and poplar woods with blackened steel drawer pulls . . . and topped with an oval patina silver tray housing remote controls and dark leather bound books.
The black spiral steel staircase that led to the loft area- which Ripley had turned into her bedroom-was tucked into the corner between the wall of windows and the brick. A large black-and-white picture of the beach hung above the couch, with a smaller trunk beside it acting as a side table; a black lamp and a bowl of shells and keys settled upon it.
The kitchen and dining area, which were housed beneath the awning of the loft-, were now hidden behind a set of sliding black French doors with various panes of multicolored glass. The cabinets had been stripped and stained a dark espresso finish, new nickel hardware replacing the outdated gold. And though Junie was positive she wouldn't really use them, Otto had insisted that the girl bring some of the appliances from her parents' house. The retro mustard yellow fridge had been scavenged from her father's shop-because it would fit better in the small galley kitchen-, while she'd brought the older stainless steel oven and purchased the black microwave.
Ripley had already hung the pictures in the now plum painted kitchen, black-and-white images of the beach and cars arranged all along the longest wall of the dining room, acting as a back drop for the small round black table. What Junie couldn't get over was the fact that instead of using dining room chairs, Ripley had insisted on bringing in the two massive armchairs from her father's study that matched the sofa, opting to use them as seating. A black fan hung over the table, adding light and air circulation.
Beyond the kitchen, a bright red sliding door hid the small utility closet that held the bi-level washer and dryer, supplies and clothes baskets that Ripley had either brought or bought . . . as well as an array of cleaning supplies.
Junie sighed, turning off the light and walking back into the living area, ascending the stairs up to the girl's bedroom. Ripley had decided to paint the room the same shade of pewter as the main living area, covering the longest wall with metallic wallpaper in the same shade that had a lighter swirling and glittering design. The girl's bedroom furniture would sit nicely against the walls and the plush cream carpet she'd kept . . . the unique bed she and her mother had crafted from the huge clock face already nestled snuggly against the glittering wall. The large bay window seat to the side was already fitted with new cushions and pillows.
She turned, going back downstairs to check on the paint in the bathroom before she went to collect the girl. They had completely overhauled the bathroom over the past few days, painting the space a dusky lavender gray. Otto and Ripley had just put in the bead board paneling and the new vanity earlier yesterday. After she'd been called back from the funeral home to collect the final paperwork, she'd needed something to keep her busy . . . and pealing the old pink tile down had been just what the doctor ordered. Though it had taken them well into the early morning to finish, the two loons had managed to not only remove the old tile and replace it with the new board but paint and tear out the old fiberglass tub as well . . . clearing way for the new clawfoot tub that would be piped in tomorrow. The showerhead was already in place, just waiting to be tied into the new lines.
Junie smiled, shaking her head as she turned and left the bathroom, making her way back into the main living area and out the door. As she made her way down the moss covered walkway to the fence, she had to marvel at the changes they had made. Ripley had brought as much of her home with her without picking up the eclectic and eccentric house her parents had created herself . . .
The girl had told Otto to go ahead and start the sale of her parents' home . . . and for them to half whatever profit they made. The property itself was ideal but with all of the additions Eddie and Millennia had made over the twenty years they'd lived there would net more than what they'd sunk into renovating it. But it was their home. Which is why she and Otto had finally talked the girl into just renting it out until she was ready to decide what to do with it . . . something that had taken them almost three days to accomplish. And she still didn't know that they weren't going to keep all of the proposed rent-like she wanted- and were squirreling away half into the savings accounts her parents had set up for her. Most of Eddie's scores over the past ten years had been poured into those accounts . . . as well as good portion of Millennia's earning from her interior design business.
Meaning that the girl would have a good chunk set aside for when she went back to school. Something she was still adamant about.
"Aunt Junie? What are you doing out here?"
She looked up, shocked to see Ripley standing on their back porch. She was already dressed, her face scrubbed clean and her hair pulled into a low ponytail at the base of her skull; her platinum curls falling down past her shoulder blades in huge twisting ringlets. She smiled, crossing to stand in front of her, cupping the girl's cheek as she smoothed her hair off her face.
"Just admiring your new house, sweetheart. And to think I let Otto and the boys keep this place for so long! He's never getting it back . . ."
Ripley laughed, shaking her head as she ducked under Junie's arm, letting the older woman lead her back into the main house. They stopped long enough for her to grab her bag and the keys before they made their way to the Cadillac. It was about time they went to Otto's . . .
Ripley had made her way through the back dock of Otto's shop, tracing the hoods of the various cars reverently. She looked each over, taking in all of the small details that made each unique; amazed at how peaceful it was to finally be alone. She knew Otto and Junie were trying hard to make her feel at home . . . jumping through hoops and helping her fight the funeral home and settle her parents' estate before they set her to work on making their old guest house her new home. But setting foot in this garage helped set her at ease more than all of the painting and decorating and renovating could . . .
She'd always loved coming to visit Otto, watching her uncle and father tinker with the classics and relics as they talked and laughed; reminiscing about their glory days . . . Which-despite the way that went on and on-weren't over. Her father hadn't been near forty yet . . . and Otto himself was only a little bit older.
And now-like before- seeing all of the cars, in bits and pieces of repair, was a secret thrill . . . and a soothing sight.
The workers had all been overly nice, going out of their way to introduce themselves and explain if she had any questions. Something she was more than a little certain her uncle had been the driving force behind . . . but nothing could convince her that the man she'd just left had been anything but genuine with his intent.
Harry Santoro had been-by far- the nicest and most interesting, smiling as he smoked and explained that the royal blue Aston Martin DB Vantage she kept eyeing was actually one of the rare cars to ever grace Otto's lot. Legally or otherwise if she'd read the look in his eyes right . . . Santoro-who had insisted she just call him San- was taller than most of the others, standing around 6' with dark olive skin and ink black hair . . . and the lightest hazel green eyes she'd ever seen. He was easily in his mid twenties, making him one of the younger workers and hang-arounds here, but hadn't talked down to her like she was a little kid or an idiot. Which had earned him so huge brownie points. She was seventeen, not stupid.
Which was more than she could say for the man who had sauntered up to San and started talking. Every word passing through his lips making her very skin crawl. When he'd finally noticed her-after about fifteen minutes of completely ignoring her entire existence- he'd turned; raking his eyes over her in a way that left her feeling dirty. He stepped forward, introducing himself with an oily smile and a charm that grated against her nerves. Otto, who had seen her wandering around sort of dazed and the decidedly unwanted interest the man showcased, had brought her into his new office and away from the new arrival. Honestly, she'd been happy to see Otto, who'd glared so harshly at the newcomer-Frankie the Fish- even she had squirmed.
Now, she was organizing the payment invoices on his desk, trying to make sense of the mess he'd left everything in while he talked on the phone. Seriously, why did it always seem that men could never keep such a small space like a desk clean? She was so busy sorting that she never noticed the calculating gleam in her uncle's eyes. When he hung up he leaned back, watching her for a few more moments before he spoke.
"Do you like doing stuff like this? Organizing?"
She shrugged, continuing on as she scanned the pages to make sure she kept like with like. She'd done this for her mother for the past few months, helping organize the invoices and orders for her interior projects . . . And Otto's shop forms were nowhere as complicated as some of the fifteen page shipment logs her mom got with the fabrics, accessories and furniture she ordered for her clients.
"Sure . . . I learned it from Mom. Why? Need a secretary?"
Otto stopped, looking her over as if he was weighing the possibility. When she looked up, she knew she should've just kept her mouth shut . . . But if it helped them, when they'd been so great about helping her, then she would do it . . . And he definitely needed some help . . .
"When do your classes start? Are you going back in January?"
She blushed, brushing her hair off of her face as she buried herself in the next pile. She'd already told Junie that she was going to be taking a year off . . . but she hadn't found the right time to tell Otto. Guess he just gave it to her . . .
"I started going to the California State University's campus here in Long Beach . . . I'm just take pre-reqs right now . . . but I told Aunt Junie that I'm going to take some time off. I've already talked to my advisor and so long as I go back before the credits expire then I'm fine . . . I think with everything going on it would be best if I took a little while to get my shit together, you know? Won't do me any good to go to class and fail because I can't keep my head there."
Otto nodded, trying to wince as he thought of her parents and the reason she was postponing her education. But he didn't say anything against it . . . Meaning he could see the logic in it while Junie had just tried to placate her. He shifted, running a hand through his salt-and-peppered hair before smiling at her. And this time she knew she was in trouble. What had she just gotten herself into?
"Well . . . you could come in some mornings and help answer the phones. Maybe schedule some appointments. It'll give you something to do . . . I mean, Junie usually does this stuff but I'm sure she wouldn't mind the help . . . Besides, neither of us are any good at filing so we need all of the help we can get."
She blinked as he smiled at her, chuckling as he leaned forward.
"So how about it, sweetpea? Wanna come work for your Uncle?"
Finally, she nodded, shrugging. Why not?
"Sure, Uncle Otto. How do I need to dress?"
It was Otto's turn to shrug as he leaned back in his seat, grabbing a handful of the butterscotch candies he kept in the jar on his desk. He seemed about as interested in a dress code as she was, something they both shared with her father. Her mother had always been the one to keep up with the fashions . . . even the more ridiculous ones.
"Way you are now, I guess. Really doesn't matter so long as its appropriate for this kind of place . . . and you don't mind getting it dirty."
She nodded, pushing her hair behind her ear as it fell into her face-again. She felt her cheeks heat up, knowing they were red as she looked at her uncle across the desk. Finally, she built up the nerve to ask what she'd been thinking about in the dock earlier.
"Could you start teaching me about cars? On slow days? I mean, Daddy had started teaching me some of it before . . . And I don't want to stop learning just because something happened. He wouldn't want me to either . . ."
He smiled, nodding as he kicked his feet up on his desk and unwrapped a candy, popping it into his mouth before tossing her one.
"Sure thing, sweetpea! I'll teach you everything I know . . ."
She grinned, eyes gleaming as she leaned closer.
"Even the illegal stuff? Like how to by pass the newer safety features and to pick these new locks? Ooo! Or which parts and cars bring in the most now . . ."
Otto sputtered, choking on the candy before he finally caught his breath. He looked at her incredulously as she continued to grin at him. How in the . . .
"How do you-when did . . . What in the Hell do you know about that?"
He watched her face shut down as she gave him a deadpan look, and he knew in that moment that she'd taken more from her father than just hair and eye color. And he had apparently, already started her education for the world they lived in . . .
"Seriously, Uncle Otto. Dad boosted cars before-and after-he met Mom. Besides, he already taught me a lot about European Ladies . . . especially the Brits. But I really want to learn more about the American Classics and Muscle . . . you know? And maybe something about Italians and some other imports . . ."
He blinked, momentarily stupefied before he nodded slowly. If Eddie was already teaching her then he would continue. Hell, he'd started showing Raines how to refine the natural skill he already possessed when the boy was sixteen. And Ripley would be eighteen in just a few months . . . They could work on everything she would need to know. Then maybe ease her into it. So long as they kept Junie in the dark for a while they should be okay . . .
"Fine . . . . But you do everything I tell you. We go slow and you learn the right way . . . and no boosting until your eighteen. Got it?"
She laughed, and nodded, unwrapping her own candy and popping it into her mouth. And as she did so, Otto knew he was in for a world of hurt . . . He was going to be teaching Eddie Guadimus's little girl how to boost . . . God he'd lost his mind.