Chapter 2

My Honda took the news harder than I did. It chose to have a meltdown, literally. Smoke and steam poured from the front end while thick black smoke blocked my view of hairy chin. She sputtered and "coughed" wheezing one last breath before dying right there in rush hour. More out of frustration over the fact that I was blocking a lane of traffic, hairy chin and SUV man pushed the Honda onto the shoulder of the road. I stood there at the front of my steaming car with my cellphone in hand, convincing myself that I didn't need to call Kevin. The traffic decided to add insult to injury, by suddenly clearing and whipping by me at alarming speeds. I reassured myself by thinking that at least there was a breeze. Please God I need a miracle. I suddenly wished I wasn't an only child, my parents weren't in Florida and my friends didn't live in New York City. Why did I leave New York? Oh yeah my career landed in the toilet and waiting tables and working in a deli didn't pay enough to afford my eighteen hundred dollar a month apartment. Frustrated I tossed my phone onto the front seat of my car and did what every five foot nine inch woman would do in a situation like this; I sat on the bumper of my car and cried.

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Now I'm not very religious and I wouldn't exactly call the sweaty greasy man that climbed out of the tow truck a miracle. But out of the blue he had pulled off the highway, backed his truck to within inches of my bumper and offered some assistance. The logo on the truck read "Dixon and sons." What was it with men and riding a woman's tail lights, or in this case a woman's car and her front bumper? This asshole had his shit all up in my little girls grill. He couldn't have gotten closer if he had parked on top of the car. Of course I exaggerate and grease monkey gave just enough room to strap my baby to the lift. I watched as he stuck his head under the hood tinkered around a bit, swore, as he spit on the ground.

Oh great a real mechanic! All we need is a little ass crack. Or was that just plumbers? I honestly didn't know. I put that on the top of my Google search list as I waited for the barbarian to speak. I thought of how accurate that name was for the muscle bound man with the sleeveless greasy shirt. His pants had grease smudged down both sides, the right side sporting a perfect imprint of his hand. Nice sized hands, attached to muscular arms and wide shoulders. My eyes moved over his strong back and down to his chisels rear. His slacks were a little baggie, perhaps to leave room for the frontal region. I had to tell myself to stop looking at this man that way. He definitely would get the wrong idea if he saw me staring at his ass. I was hopeless. I think my view of men was this way because that was the way most guys looked at me, like a piece of meat. Like I said I believed in equal rights for everyone.

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A tow truck showing up out of nowhere reminded me how vulnerable I was. As it stood right now, I was alone on the side of the road with a hulking redneck. I wasn't defenseless. I had my pepper spray and my cell phone. Never mind the fact that the pepper spray was dangling from my key ring in the ignition. I had my cell phone right here. The words died in my mind as I remembered I had tossed the phone onto the front seat of the car. Oh well I could kick him in the balls if he tried anything.

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He pulled his head out from under the hood and stared at me with an unwavering intensity. A little shiver ran down my spine. Questions floated around inside my head about why he pulled over when I hadn't called for a tow truck. Murder mystery plots came to mind. Every horror story that involved a woman alone at night came rushing back. I felt foolish and gave myself a mental kick in the ass. Stop thinking like that, Joy, its daylight and he's not going to kill you.

He continued to watch me so I took the opportunity to study his face, in the event I would need to describe it to a sketch artist. His face was typical male, attractive if not classically handsome. He was sporting a scruffy chin. But unlike hairy chin that rode my ass on the freeway, the barbarian's was lighter colored, thinner and softer looking. His lips were like any other, nothing unique about them, well aside from the little lift they had at the corners. His eyes though, they scared the hell out of me. Crystal blue and almost almond shaped. They seemed menacing. And paired with those lips, with the cynical upward curve, I was convinced he was very dangerous. I changed my mind; there wasn't anything average about this man. Turns out barbarian wasn't the right description, psycho killer was.

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He must have sensed my fear because he took a step closer. Maybe he had super powers and was reading my mind. I told myself to get a grip and say something already. Defuse the situation. I had read once that if you talked to crazed killers, humanizing the situation, you could confuse them, stall and possibly save yourself. I didn't believe that nonsense in the least bit because if someone wanted to kill you they weren't going to change their mind if they knew your name. Unfortunately he didn't give me the chance to talk him down.

"You have a busted radiator hose. That's the good news, the bad news I'll know the rest back at the shop. Too much going on in that pile of shit."

He spit on the ground again and I wondered if he had a chewing tobacco habit. I looked for any sign of it but decided against it because his teeth were white. I thought I was supposed to get an option of whether I wanted the good news or bad news first, before it was delivered. Maybe the barbarian/killer didn't play by the rules.

"Oh thanks. I'll call…" I was going to say a tow truck but that would have sounded ridiculous. I hooked a thumb at the car indicating that I did have a phone and I could call for help. "I'll call a friend…" I should say boyfriend but the thought of actually saying boyfriend turned my stomach. "Thanks for your help mister…"

"Names Daryl, save the mister bullshit for someone in a suit." He pulled a rag out of his pocket, used it and then shook my outstretched hand. He held it longer than necessary and stared at me again, long and hard. "No offence but that is a load of crap. If you had someone to call you would have been on the phone when I pulled up. Do you even have a phone? You could use mine if that's the issue. But I think you just don't got no one to call."

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His southerner grammar reminded me of the southern side of my family. My daddy was born and raised here while my mom was from upstate. It was why I love New York City so much. New York was part of my childhood. Then it dawned on me he was mocking me. He was thinking I was an uppity bitch that looked down on men like him. I was furious because I didn't, not in the least bit. My grandpa worked hard his whole life in a steel mill. And in that job he left his blood, sweat and tears, eventually his life too. He died years ago from asbestos poisoning.

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I wondered where he got that hair brained idea. Did he not just look at my car? I worked hard too. I had three jobs and barely made enough money to pay my rent. I didn't act superior I just was a little afraid. I should have told him that. Maybe then he wouldn't make me feel so uncomfortable, I chose the hard road instead. "You don't know me. I didn't ask you to stop and help me out either."

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I marched to my car and pulled on the door. I didn't yank hard enough. The door remained firmly closed. I nearly landed on my ass if it wasn't for the barbarian catching me. I had been in a car accident a few months ago and from that point on the driver's side door was hard to open. I was still leaning against him as he reached for the handle. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest and the warmth of his body. Instinctively I darted my tongue over my lips, tasting the cherry Chap Stick. Daryl put his left hand on the roof of the car, trapping me between him and the vehicle. He leaned his head over my right shoulder. For a second I thought maybe I should be afraid. A little shiver ran down my spine but it wasn't out of fear. Any thought I had in my head about this being sexy or dangerous vanished as soon as Daryl gave the door a rough pull, making it shove me up against him tighter than before. He put his hands on my biceps, making sure I was steady on my feet before stepping away.

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I turned around a little too abruptly throwing off my equilibrium. He steadied me with his hand on my bicep once more. I felt helpless and took it out on Daryl. "I could have opened the door myself, you know. I do own this car!"

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Daryl scowled at me. He gave me an annoyed expression that matched his words. "Aren't you just a bundle of joy?" My eyes got huge when he said my name. I looked at him carefully studying him some more. Daryl had enough of being examined by me. Impatiently he barked, "Listen, I would like to get this shit over with I got work to do. If you got triple A, they're just going to send me back out here. I'm here now let's cut the bullshit."

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I ignored his concerns about being in a rush. I put my sunglasses up onto the top of my head as I looked at him. "Do I know you?"

"What? No I never saw you a day in my life. What gives?"

"You said Joy."

Sarcastically he asked, "Is something wrong with that word?"

He was mocking me again and pissing me off. I definitely wasn't afraid of him any longer. Maybe it was because he had me mad and my mind wasn't thinking clearly anymore. Or maybe I finally realized there wasn't anything to be afraid of. "It's my name!"

"Oh brother." He rolled his eyes.

"Roll your damn eyes all you want I can be pleasant!" I remembered the reason we were having this conversation in the first place. "Look, you don't have to stay. You can go back to your busy life. Besides, I can't afford this anyway."

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I sat down on the front seat of the car, refusing to look at his face. I concentrated on the grease drippings on the top of his boots. I didn't get to stare at them long because he walked away. Great now I'll need to walk to the nearest gas station. I was shocked when I heard chains rattling. I looked up and saw him dropping the lift on the tow truck. I grabbed my purse and my keys. I gave the door a shove with my hip making it slam shut. I tried to ignore the fact that my weight closed the door that hard. Lately I'd been living on junk food, ramen noodles, potato chips, canned ham. My diet was in shambles. Some people believed I could use to gain a few pounds but for me it just made my jeans tight and uncomfortable.

I ran to Daryl. "Didn't you hear me? If you take the car you might as well keep it because I can't pay you."

He laughed, deep and loud. "Keep this pile of shit? No thanks. I heard you twice. If I leave you here the state police will make me come back and get your skinny ass. They frown on leaving helpless females out here alone at night. Just get in the truck."

I was gripping the canister of my pepper spray and felt like giving him a shot on principle. Helpless females, where the hell did he get off calling me a helpless female? I turned around to yell at him just in time to see him flop onto his back with his head under the front of my car. I saw him shove the stops behind the tire. His arms and back muscles rippled under the material of his shirt. I couldn't help wanting to feel him wrap those beautiful arms around me.