Disclaimer: All characters from The Fast and the Furious belong to Universal Studios and their subsidiaries and any other original copyright holders. New characters found here belong to me. Gem's songs were actually written and preformed in real life by Anna Nalick who is an incredible artist and just released her freshman album on April 19 so I'd highly suggest anyone who likes very original, unique, rock, jazz, blues flavoured music pick it up. If I could write songs like she does I wouldn't be sitting here writing fan fiction. So all props for all songs sung in the story belong totally to her. The small cover of Kelly Clarkson in the first chapter here obviously doesn't belong to me either. I know fiction which includes copy/paste lyrics was recently banned on this site, but as I am giving total credit to the original artist and am merely quoting her work much as I quote the movie this is based on I feel this is within the rules. I'm hoping the new rule is to simply weed out those stories which are ninety percent copied lyrics with one or two paraphrased lines from the author in between them. This is a full length fiction and should rival any novel you find in bookstores for length when I'm done if the first three chapters are anything to go by. If it gets pulled because some hater or fiction Nazi reports me than I guess so be it. Just wanted to get it out of the way here and now.
AN: This is a new story I've started. I'm sorry for leaving you all hanging on my other incompletes but I haven't been able to work on them since I started this story on a complete and total whim. It's a bit longer on another site I post on but I'm going to take it slow here and only post one chapter a week or something instead of posting all three in one go. It'll give me a cushion for the dry writing times. I will finish my other stories and hopefully it will be this summer but the heart wants what it wants and right now mine wants to write this story. I'm hoping it will show the growth my writing has undergone and come off with a more mature flavour. Hoping at least. Anyway, lemme know what you think.
Catalyst
By Tempest Races
Chapter one – Break Away.
"A ship in harbour is safe, but that is not what ships are meant for."
♫William Shedd♫
"I hear you have open mic night here on Thursdays."
Barry, the bartender of the Cobalt Café who just also happened to be its owner, looked up from where he was cleaning glasses and into the very ordinary face of a young woman. She stood at the bar in her jeans and cap sleeve tee shirt (orange sleeves on white, he noted), fidgeting nervously from side to side on flip flop clad feet, a guitar case in her left hand.
"That's right. Are you looking to sign up?"
"Maybe," she paused, taking a deep breath and looking very contemplative. "Does it cost anything to sign up?"
"No. But the list can get full fast. The show starts at eight thirty. If you're going to perform then I'd recommend you give your name to Nalia by eight."
"Who's Nalia?" The woman, whose hair was scraped back into a tight bun on the back of her head and of indeterminate colour asked, looking around the smoky bar and then back into his eyes.
"Nalia is the woman over by the stage. She hosts open mic and is also responsible for booking the talent."
"Ok, thanks," the woman flashed him a tentative smile and started to walk away, guitar case clutched to her chest.
"Hey, miss?" Barry called after her, unsure of why.
"Yes?" She turned back to him, pausing to wait for him to continue.
"Are you new to Los Angeles?"
"Yes, I just moved here from Frisco. I'm not sure how long I'm staying."
"Well, be careful. This can be a harsh place."
"Thanks, I think." The scowl she pulled wrinkled her forehead. She turned to walk away, to finish her trip across the room to Nalia. She turned back to Barry. "Say," she started, walking closer to the bar again. "You don't know of anyone who's hiring do you? I need to find a job. I only got into L.A. a few days ago but it's like no one's hiring."
There was something in her voice, in her demeanour. She'd been down and out before but she still hated asking for help. He was going to catch hell from his wife for this one. Another stray. "Come talk to me. After you sing." Barry didn't know what possessed him.
He did need someone for the night shift, but he didn't normally hire shy girls. Too much hassle when the customers hurt their feelings, and with the crowd his bar got, the shy, timid ones inevitably got their feelings hurt and their toes stepped on. Maybe when she got on stage she'd prove him wrong about just how shy she was. But he didn't hold out much hope. Either for her not being shy or for him not hiring her.
"Ok. I'll just go sign up." She sounded like she was trying to convince herself. "Sign up to sing." She walked away again and if Barry wasn't mistaken she was turning slightly green.
"Say sweetheart, what's your name?" Barry called after her retreating form.
"Gem. It's Gemmalynn really but Gem will do fine."
Barry only nodded and watched as she turned to finish her path to Nalia.
Gem wondered for the hundredth time what she was doing at an open mic night in one of the most unforgiving cities in the United States of America. Just because she hadn't been booed off stage on karaoke night at her uncle's place back in 'Frisco didn't mean she was good enough to get up in front of a room full of Los Angeles' finest and let loose.
Besides this wasn't karaoke night. She would be expected to accompany herself. There would be no all forgiving soundtrack CD, complete with background singers, spinning in the background this time. This time everyone would hear just how pathetic her strumming on her poor guitar was. She wasn't a musician in her mind. She was a singer. The guitar had been a necessary evil. Hers was cheap, poorly tuned, and ugly, a sticker on its case proclaiming 'mean people breed little mean people'. It had been all she could afford, despite being second hand and purchased at a pawn shop.
She missed her bass guitar. It was back in her room, gathering dust. When it came to bass guitar she was a musician. But a one man band could not be made out of a singer and a bass guitar, not even if the one man was actually a woman. She could have used a keyboard, if she had had one, but keyboards were much more expensive than guitars. She had no problem writing the music for her songs. Keyboard, drum line, bass guitar, lead guitar, it all came to her easily. Composing her songs had never been her problem. Vocals however, were another totally different matter.
She straightened her back resignedly. You can do this. You can do this. She wondered how many more times she'd have to tell herself she could do it before she'd start believing it. That or start answering back, no you can't, no you can't. She walked up to the woman earlier identified as Nalia and set down her case.
"Hi."
"Hi." Nalia answered back. "You want to sign up?"
"Yeah," Gem fidgeted; a nervous habit her mother had tried break her of and never quite managed. "I mean, I guess so. Yes." Gem took a deep breath. "I want to sign up."
"Ok, you're sure?" Nalia raised one eyebrow in question, her black brow arching over her dark brown eye.
"Yes, I'm sure." Gem forcefully exhaled through her nose.
"Well, what's your name?"
"Gem."
"Gem what?"
"Gem Davis."
"Ok Gem Davis, what are you going to perform for us?"
"A cover song. Is that ok? That I don't have my own song to sing I mean?"
"Sure, people normally want to showcase their own stuff but if you want to do a cover that's fine too."
"I don't have any of my own stuff. I'm not a song writer, just a singer."
All her song writing attempts ended in disaster. They always ended up too stilted, too boring, or just too…fake.
She'd had a perfectly average life, right up until she'd decided that a place running her parent's restaurant was not what she wanted for her life. Nothing in her perfectly average existence to that point had given her much to write fantastic songs about. Nothing about growing up in suburbia with a white picket fence to keep the family golden retriever in the yard, going to a good school, getting good grades, being on the track team, singing in her school's choir and being her class president all while mostly flying under the radar had given her anything to write songs about. There just wasn't anything she felt that strongly about. She hadn't really had any real hardship. She'd never been poor, or discriminated against. She'd never been dumped or done the dumping. All her relationships had ended mutually, mostly after a few dates. She hadn't been the most popular kid, but she hadn't been taunted either.
Yep, her life had pretty much been simple. Nothing fantastic ever happened to her but nothing horrible ever did either. Just a string of mediocrity from childhood onward, one average experience after another until her present circumstances. Finding herself living in a rooming house in Los Angeles was about the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her, and even that wasn't song worthy. Lots of people lived in bad housing in LA. It was hardly interesting song material. And when she tried to fake it and write songs about all the exciting things that happened to other people they came out all wrong and it was obvious she wasn't singing about anything important to her. Some times she wondered if there was something wrong with her. Something that made her not feel her emotions as deeply as other people. Every song she ever wrote ended up feeling like it was just skimming the surface but she didn't know how to make them go deeper. So she gave up on song writing. She'd make singing her focus, she told herself time and time again. Lots of famous artists didn't write their own songs.
"And a guitar player?" Nalia asked with a pointed glance at the case still at Gem's feet.
"And a guitar player." Her answer was given with a lopsided smile. Just wait 'til she hears me, Gem thought after she answered.
"You can get ready to go on back in the green room. Down that hall," Nalia pointed over by the bar, "to the left. There's a bathroom down there too."
"Ok, thanks."
"You're on second so you go on in about half an hour. You don't answer by the second time I call your name I move on. Ok?"
Gem nodded, already on her way toward the short hall housing the green room. What was she getting herself into?
She didn't have a change of clothes with her so she was going on the way she was. No help for it. She took the pins and elastic out of her hair and let it fall. It finished midway down her back and fell in a smooth waterfall of dark blonde. She'd always found the colour too average to stand out among the sea of Californian blondes around her. Her hair had one important characteristic; it was thick and long. Therefore she could easily hide behind it.
She sat down on the couch provided in the green room, which wasn't green at all, but rather a rich yellow with a terracotta floor and burnt orange furnishings. She pulled her guitar out of the case and strummed it. Wincing at the sound she fiddled with the strings, trying to get some semblance of in tune out of the economy instrument.
She strummed again and the noise which emanated from her guitar wasn't quite so cacophonous. Fingering a chord and running her pick over the strings again she hummed a line and then strummed again.
She sang softly to herself. "'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable and life's like an hourglass glued to the table. There's no rewind button." She stopped with her mouth puckered in a look of distaste. "That's horrible." She paused, not liking how the chorus was progressing.
"'Cause you can't jump the track we're like cars on a cable, and life's like n hourglass glued to the table. You can't find the rewind…rewind…God who am I kidding? This sucks!" She strummed a loud, dissonant chord with a harsh hand and sighed loudly. "What comes after?" She asked herself aloud as she wondered why she was even trying. It would just be another song she never finished. Another song trying to tell someone else's tale.
She put pick to strings again and played a different chord. Time to try something she knew she could finish, since someone else had written it. It was someone else's tale but everyone knew it was. It wouldn't feel like she was stealing someone else's life when she sang it because everyone knew she was simply borrowing the words, she wasn't trying to pass them off as her own.
"Du du dud a. Dud dad a da. Grew up in a small town, and when the rain would fall down, I'd just stare out my window…" She sang a bit more of the Kelly Clarkson hit and then looked up. She realized the time with a start. She'd be going on the stage in no time. Standing, she set the guitar onto the couch and left the room. She used the washroom quickly and then washed her hands. When that was done she splashed cold water on her face before she raised her eyes to the mirror. Troubled turquoise looked back. "You can do this." She told her reflection. The woman in the mirror didn't look convinced.
"What'd you know?" She asked her reflection irritably. "Now I'm talking to myself. In the lady's none the less." She threw up her hands. "Great! Just great. Can't play, can't write, probably can't even really sing and now you're crazy too. That's just…" She trailed off, realizing that having whole one sided conversations was likely even more crazy than simply making one statement. "Great." She finished her sentence anyway in a small voice.
She went back into the green room and found her guitar accompanied by a black woman who's age she'd put about twenty eight, or about six years older then herself. "You're new here." This new woman said, rather than asked as she held out her hand. "Tamica. Tamica Ward." She introduced herself. "I sing and play piano. You?"
"Gem Davis. I sing and play guitar. One better than the other."
"Which is which?"
"Singing comes before guitar."
"For me, piano comes before vocals. First time on stage?" Tamica asked.
"No. First time at an open mic but not first time on stage. I use to sing karaoke all the time at my uncle's lounge."
"Well, good luck. When you going on?"
"Second."
"That's not too bad. Elliott always goes first. I guess he's just a sucker for punishment because lord knows the boy can't sing, or play, but he tries every Thursday. When he's through the regulars will be so glad he's done if you don't shatter their eardrums you'll do great with them."
"Thanks." Gem said with a smile. It was nice of Tamica to try and make her feel better. She had expected the other performers to be catty at best. Just then the door of the green room opened and a tall blond walked in. She was about five foot ten or so, Gem figured, and willowy in a way a lot of super models would envy. She had an almost feline face, her cheekbones high and fine, her chin a delicate point. Her eyes were a light brown, more an amber really. She looked so unique Gem found herself envious of her, an emotion she didn't normally fall prey to. Why be jealous when there's nothing you can do about it was normally her motto and she didn't normally have trouble sticking to it.
"Celeste." Tamica said coolly. All she got in return from the blonde named Celeste was an equally coolly raised brow, almost as though Celeste was asking who Tamica thought she was to dare talk to her. So the blonde's serene exterior wasn't indicative of her personality, Gem mused. The cat had claws.
It was right around then the blonde's amber eyes found Gem. "New girl?"
"Yeah, I'm Gem."
There was no answer from Celeste. At least, not right away. A minute later she looked up from where she was reading over some sheet music. "You sing?"
Celeste had a voice like tiny, perfect, tinkling bells. It was unmistakable. Gem looked up from her own music in confusion, wondering if the cool woman could possible be talking to her. That was apparently, however, the case. "Yes. And play guitar." Gem gestured to the instrument in her lap, as though Celeste could somehow have missed it there.
"That's nice." Celeste replied dismissively and went back to her music. A young man came into the room a few seconds later. He was slightly red in the face.
"Hey Elliott. Anyone throw anything at you tonight?" Tamica teased but it was obviously not in malice.
"No! I'm getting better." Elliott answered proudly.
"That or you're deafening all the regulars." Celeste said and the tone of her voice clearly relayed her intent to hurt, not gently tease as Tamica had. Elliott's face fell. Gem stood, slipping her guitar strap over her shoulder before slinging her guitar behind her back.
"Either way, thanks for warming them up for me." She held out her hand. "I'm Gem and I'm new."
"Elliott and I'm not." He shook her hand and a ghost of his previous smile came back to his lips. "You're on next?" Gem could only manage a weak nod in answer, her nerves starting to make a return. "She'll be calling you any second. Nalia doesn't like to leave too long between acts."
As though by divine irony the speaker in the green room activated loudly. "Gem Davis, you're up."
"Well, that's me." Gem said and walked to the door.
"Break a leg." Tamica called. Gem tossed her a tight smile over her shoulder as she left the room, closing the door again behind her. She walked down the hall and out into the main room. The bar had filled up considerably in the half hour since she'd gone to the green room to wait.
"Ladies and gentlemen I'd like you to join me in welcoming Gem Davis to the Cobalt. She's new to the city and this will be her first open mic night with us. Give it up for Gem." Nalia clapped and some of the audience joined her. Gem took the stage and stood in front of the mic, scorning the stool provided.
"Where'd you leave the Holograms?" A man called from the middle of the room.
"Will we get to see the Misfits?" Another voice from the same area yelled.
Gem couldn't pick either out of the crowd. She hadn't been looking up when they had made their calls and the room was packed. She just had a vague idea of where they would be. She heard their companions' answering laughs and she swallowed nervously as a wave of chuckling surged around the room. If she messed up they were going to chew her up and spit her out. She gulped, nerves getting the better of her.
Shoulda picked a stage name.
She adjusted the mic. Her eyes scanned the room. She picked up tables of single men in groups, a few tables of couples, a few groups of all women. One table caught her eye.
The man was alone. He had hair that might have been any shade beyond medium brown all the way down to black; it was too hard to tell from her position on the stage and his in the dim lights and smoky air. He was slightly hunched over his table, a half drank beer in front of him and three empties on the table around him. He's really knocking 'em back. Gem mused to herself. He wasn't here when I went back to the green room so in half an hour he's had almost four beers. Not your problem. She finished her mental conversation and realized they were waiting on her to start.
She strummed her guitar as she started to play.
♫
She sang in a fairly pleasant voice, he told himself as he watched her start her song. Gem, was it? The song she'd picked to sing did nothing for him. Some pop-y ballad, over played and overdone. Plus, she was killing her poor guitar. She missed a string and he winced, draining his fourth drink and looking around for a waitress to order another.
Her picking technique left a lot to be desired and the way she crushed the neck, as though if she wasn't fast enough she'd miss the chords and if she wasn't strong enough the strings might fight back and get away from her wasn't helping her playing at all.
She missed the next chord but hit the appropriate notes vocally. She wasn't horrible but she wasn't great either. At least that was his assessment of her singing. Her guitar playing was slowly driving him mad. She was a better singer than some of the stuff the Cobalt attracted on open mic night, but not great either. Some of the people who came out thinking they could sing made the worst cases shown on American Idol look like Tina Turners.
"I'll spread my wings and learn how to fly. I'll do what it takes 'til I touch the sky. I'll make a wish, take a chance, make a change, and break away. Out of the darkness and into the sun, but I won't forget all the ones that I love. I'll take a risk, take a chance, make a change, and break away."
If he wasn't deluding himself she sang better in the chorus then in the verses. Her voice was clearer, easier to listen to. It was like the chorus was her voice, but the stanzas were someone else. She could be one of the good ones, if she was singing the right song. And someone else was playing her abused instrument. Someone who wouldn't choke the life right out of it instead of making it sing. It was a dime store model anyway, not the kind of instrument anyone could use and get a truly good sound out of. But almost anyone would have to be able to play it better then Gem Davis.
Not your problem, and boy do you have enough of your own already, the voice in his head nagged. He agreed with himself and looked around for the waitress. He found her on her way to his table where she deposited his next beer. About time. He picked up the fresh drink and took a bid swig. Nope, not your problem at all.
♫
Gem walked off the stage when her song was done, her knees weak with left over adrenaline. She'd gotten a smattering of applause when she was finished, but not an enthusiastic, standing ovation like she'd wished for.
She headed for the green room and put her guitar in the case. With a preoccupied smile for the others in the room she left, guitar clutched to her front like a shield. She had only been passable and she knew it. She wasn't ever going to find someone willing to provide her with songs to sing and pay her for singing them if she didn't find a way to make her voice sound as good on stage as it did in her bedroom at home.
She went to leave the bar, her head down and her steps leaden. She wasn't going to be getting by on her voice any time soon and that meant she needed a job. Back to the grind, bright and early tomorrow. Surely someone was hiring. If she didn't get a job soon it'd be back to 'Frisco for her, back to her mom and dad's house and back to a job working in their place.
"Hey Davis, where you going?"
The bartender's call snapped her head around. He was calling her. "Home, I suppose. I've done enough damage to these folks for the evening."
"I'm glad to hear that." Barry answered. Gem fought not to let her hurt show on her face. He'd thought her horrible too. He was glad to hear she was done. He continued. "That means you won't be spilling their drinks on them." He tossed her an apron. "Put that on and put the guitar behind here. You ever wait tables before?"
"My mom and dad own a little place back home."
"You twenty one?"
"And a year better."
"Good. Most people come here know what they want and know we make it. There aren't really a lot of drinks I can't make so just take the orders and tell me what you need. We don't run tabs. People pay when you drop off their drinks. Ok?"
"Sure." Gem secured the apron around her waist and passed her case over.
"I'm Barry by the way. I own this place. You do good tonight and I have a place for you. I need someone on the night shift Tuesday to Saturday. I'll even let you take a break on Thursdays to sing in open mic."
"I'll take the job but I don't know about any more open mic nights."
"We'll see. Start with the back tables and work your way to the front ok?"
"No sweat." Gem took the tray he offered her, balancing it expertly on her hand. Raising it over her head she started off, slinking through the packed house, around the tables and patrons like the pro she was. Maybe she couldn't play guitar, or write songs, or sing, but she damn sure could wait tables. She'd spent summers since she was 16 waiting tables for her mom and dad in their little Italian restaurant back in 'Frisco. "Hey guys! She approached a table of young men at the back of the room. "Get you guys anything?"
"A round of rum and cokes." One of the guys answered.
Gem quickly counted the men at the table. "Comin right up." She moved on to the next table, knowing that going back to place the drink order without enough drinks to almost fill her tray wasn't the best use of her time. She got the orders of the other two rear most tables and then went to tell Barry what she needed.
She caught his look of surprise as she rhymed off all the drinks she required, and all without the use of any sort of system writing them down. She was working solely from her memory. She winked at Barry to show she knew she'd shocked him as she slithered off to get another few tables while he worked on the orders she'd already placed.
She worked diligently as Tamica played and sang. A few other people who either knew just went to show up or didn't believe in the green room went on stage after her and still Gem worked the room, taking orders, delivering drinks and taking payment. She was making pretty good tips and she was pleased with her impulsive decision to accept Barry's job offer despite it not really having been the type of work she'd been thinking of.
She was half way up the room, getting the tables in a fairly dark corner off to the side of the room. She got a table of older ladies out on the town, using her mental tricks to remember the assortment of cocktails they'd ordered. She realized next in the order of things was the table with the lone male hunched over his beer. He'd been busy while she'd been working the back. The empties now numbered seven. Dare she offer him number eight? It was up to Barry to cut people off, not her, she decided with a shrug as she headed over to the side of the shadowed table.
"Get you anything?" She asked with a smile. She fought to keep her smile natural, sensing that by times her latest customer looked for trouble and it didn't matter who gave it to him at those times.
"'Bout time you got over here." Her newest patron growled, looking up from his table top into her eyes. He looked surprised to see her, and not the normal waitress but he hid it quickly.
"Sorry 'bout that. It's pretty packed in here. Can I get you another?" She indicated the empty bottles on the table around him.
"Yeah, that would be why I'm still fuckin sittin here."
"Ok." Gem drawled out. What a grumpy bear. Oh well, she figured she'd just have to check back with him more often, the rotation of the room be damned. If he wanted to get shit faced it was none of her business. "Coming right up."
She wiggled her way back to Barry and told him what she needed for drinks. Several fruity cocktails for the first wives' club, and one Corona for the lone bear in the corner. "What is with that guy?" She asked as she stood at the bar a moment, watching Barry make the two Singapore Slings she needed for the table of ladies.
"What guy?" Barry asked as he spared her a glance up from where he was adding club soda to the tall glasses filled with gin and fruit juices.
"The grumpy guy sitting alone. The guy the Corona is for."
"Oh," Barry sighed, "that guy." He shrugged. "I dunno really. He started coming in here about, oh, eight months ago I suppose. He's here almost every night, drinks a few Corona and leaves. He never says much. Can be a bit surly but he's never rowdy and doesn't create hassles so." Barry trailed off with a shrug. It was like he was saying the guy's money spent just a well as anyone else's so if he wanted to end up with a killer hangover every day it was no one's business but his own.
"Ok. I figure I'll check with him a bit more often then the other tables. He seems pretty cranky without a cold one in his hand."
"Fair enough." Barry said with a smile as he finished adding the grenadine to the last drink for the women and finally with a deft movement popped the top off the bottle of Corona. "There you are Davis. Keep it up kid."
"Off I go." Gem hoisted her loaded tray and made her way back to her tables, depositing the colourful drinks for the ladies before turning to deliver the golden brew to the man she nicknamed 'grumpy bear'. She found him with a five dollar bill held out as she turned to set the beer in front of him. She took it and started to make his change.
"Keep it." He said gruffly, not even looking up at her.
"Thanks." Gem chirped back, determined to remain cheerful in the face of his gloom. He grunted in answer. She slid off with an inexplicable grin on her face. She just knew her cheerful answer had somehow irritated her grumpy bear and the knowledge about made her night.
She delivered a few more beer to him over the course of the evening and she kept a running count of the empties on his table. The count grew from seven to twelve. As she was about to go offer him lucky number thirteen she heard Nalia's voice come over the PA system and blinked like a mole as the house lights came up.
"Thanks for joining us at the Cobalt Café for open mic night. We do it all again next week, same time same place so I hope to see you all again. Don't forget we have live entertainment Tuesday to Saturday here at the Cobalt so don't be shy, come see us again. If you've been drinking don't drive, let us call you a cab. Have a good one folks."
So that was it, Gem mused. First night over and done with. She was fairly pleased with her take of tips. A good bit of it was thanks to grumpy bear and she knew it. Every time he paid her with a five and refused his change. It was like he knew he was behaving badly and felt bad, but not bad enough to stop doing it.
She watched as the object of her thoughts got unsteadily to his feet and fished in his jeans pocket. He pulled out not a cell phone as Gem had been hoping, but a set of keys. She skirted the crowd and walked up to Barry at the bar. "Does he always drive home after a dozen beer?"
"Who?" Barry asked distractedly.
"Grumpy Bear." Gem realized her mental nickname for the man didn't mean anything to Barry. She corrected herself. "The guy who sits in the corner drinking the Corona."
"I guess. He doesn't normally drink that much. Maybe you'll have to watch how often you go back there. Maybe he drank more just to see your smiling face more often." Barry teased.
Gem gave him a sarcastic smile. "Shouldn't someone offer to call him a cab?"
"Sweetheart, if you want to try and convince that man not to drive you go right ahead. Just don't expect to come out of it without a headache. Let me give you some advice. Drinking and driving is wrong, and stupid. But as far as people doing it goes, if you think he's a real danger to the motoring public try to find out what he drives and I'll phone it in to the LAPD. It's not worth having someone go crazy in the bar over it. Ok?"
"Sure. He just seemed a bit intoxicated and he had car keys in his hand."
"That one is always a bit intoxicated. He comes in here almost every night we're open and gets drunk almost every night we're open. But he keeps to himself so," Barry looked up into Gem's eyes, "we just mostly live and let live around here."
"Fair enough. I'll start cleaning up the tables."
"Not your job sweetheart. You did good tonight. Should I pay you in cash or will I be seeing you tomorrow?"
"If you want me back I'll be here."
"See you at six then. What you have on now is a little casual, if you know what I mean."
"For sure. I didn't think I was coming to work, you know?"
"Sure, sure. I'm sure you'll figure something out." Barry handed over her guitar case.
"Ok. Night."
"Night." It was clear Barry's mind was already back on finishing his counting.
Gem started toward the exit, her tip money filling her pocket. She walked around the side of the bar, to the lot where she'd left her car. She unlocked the door and slid behind the wheel after chucking her guitar into the back seat. Sliding the key into the ignition she turned. All she got was click, click, click. "Oh great! Don't do this to me. Please." She begged her car. She tried again.
Click, click, click.
"I hate you car." She slid back out of the dusty Honda and popped her hood. She got it open onto the prop rod and looked down into the engine compartment. She had no idea what she was looking at. "Why is it that everyone pops the hood to look at the engine when the car won't start, whether they know what they're looking at or not. I don't know what any of this stuff is." She sighed. "Why in the name of the good lord won't you start?"
"I don't know. What's it doing?" Someone asked from behind her.
Gem jumped at the stranger's voice, her head hitting the open hood. "Ouch." She rubbed the top of her head as she turned around. "You scared the life outta me just then."
"Sorry. What's your car, and I use that term loosely, doing?"
"It's more a question of what it's not doing." Gem let her gaze travel up the stranger's legs from his feet to the plain buckle on his belt, up over his muscled chest encased in a dark coloured sleeveless shirt to his face. She found herself looking into a pair of slightly unfocused eyes that were some sort of light colour. In the gloom it wasn't clear just what colour they would be. She realized she was once again face to face with her grumpy bear.
"Ok, what's it not doing?" He asked her, his voice starting to show his trademark irritation.
"Starting. It goes click, click, click then nothing happens."
"Do you have a flash light in there somewhere?"
"I might have one in the trunk. One sec." Gem went and opened her trunk, rooting for a light to offer her grumpy bear. Her rational brain was telling her it was stupid to be out in the dark parking lot with a strange man who knew her car didn't run. But on the other hand he seemed so confident when he asked for the flashlight. If he could fix her car and save her a trip to the repair shop she'd be very grateful. Money was still going to be tight, job or no. She felt around, knowing there was one of those disposable lights in her trunk someplace. She felt around behind her sub enclosure and her fingers finally stumbled over the hard plastic case. "Ah ha!" she held it up with a flourish. "Got behind the subwoofer, like every other small thing I ever put in there and then end up needing."
"Great." The man took her light and started poking around the maze of things in the engine compartment of the car. He wiggled some things and tugged on other things. "Try it now."
Gem did as he asked but still only got click, click, click. "Sorry, still nothing." She called.
"Ok, you got anything I can use to hammer in that car?"
"The tire iron from the spare."
"It'll do. Can I have that?"
Gem got out of the car to retrieve the implement from the trunk. She was putting an awful lot of trust into a drunk stranger in a dark parking lot. In for a penny, in for a pound, she told herself with a shrug. "Here you go." She handed it over. "What are you going to do with it?"
"I'm gonna hit your starter. Try to start the car while you here me clanging under the car ok?" The man asked as he hit the tarmac on his back beside her beat up Honda.
"You don't have to go through this much trouble. It's ok. I didn't know you'd end up rolling in the dirt over it."
"It's ok, really. I'll hit it, you start it." He wiggled farther under her car, iron in his arm.
Gem heard a metallic clang as he hit something metal under her car with the metal tire iron.
"Try it now." He called. Gem tried the car again. She got the same clicking noise the first try but on the second try it grumbled a bit then turned over.
"Woo!" Gem called from the front seat, watching as her good Samaritan stood up. "Thank you so much. Let me give you something for your trouble." Gem started to fish in her pocket, intending to give the man a few bucks for his trouble.
"Don't worry about it." He replied, handing her tire iron in through her open window. "I didn't really do much. You're gonna need a new starter. I didn't fix it; I just forced it to work. It needs to be rebuilt or it's just going to keep letting you down."
Gem felt her face fall in her disappointment. "Will that cost much?"
"Not necessarily. One second." He rooted through his pockets, eventually pulling out a card. "Come see me here tomorrow sometime and remind me who you are. We'll work something out."
Gem took the card and looked down at it. It was a business card, judging by the graphic on it for a garage of some sort. In the upper corner there was a red sports car of indeterminate make. The only information it contained was simple. A phone number and a short name in bold, simple font.
Toretto's.
"Say, can I give you a lift someplace?" Gem asked on impulse. One last ditched effort to be a good Samaritan to the man who'd done her a good turn.
"I have a ride." She watched a steely glint enter his eyes.
"If you're sure."
"Yeah. Don't forget the car might work for awhile but sooner or later it's going to let you down again. Get it looked at, if not by us then by someone."
"I will." Gem assured him and watched as he walked over to where she assumed he had parked his own ride. Suddenly she didn't want to know what he drove. She didn't want to hear on the news that a car like his had been scraped up off some highway. If she didn't know what he drove then she could play ostrich with any information she might receive. She left the parking lot, careful not to look back.
When she got home she went right to bed, scorning the shower despite her longing for a nice hot one. As she crawled into her cool sheets after donning her 'Lucky Bear' Carebears night dress she had thoughts of another bear altogether on her mind. Was he as beautiful inside as she instinctively felt? Was the gruff exterior all a front to hide the caring man inside? She fell asleep with thoughts of her beautiful stranger on her mind and fantasies of what he was really like ran through her head all night long as she slumbered.
TBC…