Part 8

Dean woke to the sound of a zipper. His eyes refused to open and so he let the sound go for a minute, but then he felt a hand slip up his shirt. "You know, most girls like me to be awake when they're feeling me up."

"Shit!" Carmen exclaimed and promptly fell off the bed. By the time Dean had forced his eyes open and rolled to see where she'd landed, she was bright red and rubbing her butt. "I was… just trying to make sure your cut wasn't inflamed or anything."

"Okay but next time make sure you aren't pulling the Florence Nightingale routine on someone who sleeps with a knife under his pillow." He pulled the Stryker from under the pillows to make his point.

"Just let me look at it." She got to her knees with a huff and scooted closer to shove his shirts up. Then she gently peeled back the bandage. "Just red and not too much blood."

"Can I take a shower now?" He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his hands colliding with his glasses.

"You fell asleep with them on." She took them from him and cleaned away the fingerprints. "I made coffee."

"Awesome. More than what some people do after a rescue." He muttered as he got to his feet. "Come on. You relax. I'll shower, and then we'll go get your car."

Silence as comfortable as any he'd had accompanied them to the spot where they'd made their break for it the night before. "It's not my car."

"What's that?" Dean swung his head in her direction.

She looked small in his clothes, carrying her torn clothes in her arms. She shrugged at him. "I traded cars with my brother-in-law for the day because he had to make a run to Topeka. I wasn't going to the store but… I ran out of milk, and then I found out I didn't have bread so I figured that I'd make a quick run. I didn't think the dumbshit would leave me stranded in his stupid car."

"It's only three blocks from the store. What did the car do that made you pull over?"

"It was making a knocking noise. Then everything on the dash lit up. So, I pulled over and popped the hood. I figured that I could figure something out or at least cool the engine."

"Sounds like a blown gasket head." He nodded to himself. "The car runs but it overheats like crazy?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Leaky hose or blown gasket. If the water levels are low, we'll know."

"You know a lot about cars… well, more than me. None of that even makes sense to me."

"I like one car. Mine. I just… know how to fix them. I used to make some spare change fixing cars when I was a kid." He shrugged. "We used to stay in cheap motels. I'd want to take a girl to a movie and Dad wasn't going to shell out. I'd find a poor sap with a crap car. Do an oil change for ten. Full lube for twenty. Check out a transmission for free but charge 50 a day to do the work on it."

"Sounds like you had a sound scheme on things."

"Didn't I mention my profession as a hustler?"

"Somehow, that wouldn't surprise me." She patted her pockets for her keys but came up empty.

"I got 'em." Dean pulled them out of his pockets and unlocked the door. His grocery bag from the night before was soggy and garbage. He picked it up off the floor and tossed it in a trash can. "Pop the hood."

Carmen did as told, then stood back to watch him work. He peered into the engine and grunted. She disposed of her milk and slid her purse over her shoulder. "Do you need me to do something?"

"Pop the trunk. Get me a jug of water."

When she did, she was dumbfounded. There were four jugs of distilled water sitting there. "How did you know?"

"You get to know the signs of a cheap bastard." Dean took the jug when she brought it around. "There's duct tape on the hose. Lucky he hasn't blown a gasket yet. It's dried up and I could tape it together but I wouldn't want to do his work for him. We could make it to your car with maybe one stop if we take it slow."

"I'll kill him."

"I'll help you. Let's go." Dean dropped the hood once he'd filled the little tank. He took the passenger seat and watched the streets crawl by as Carmen navigated town and kept her eye on the dashboard. She pulled up in front of a nice house with kids' toys strewn across the lawn. There were several cars up front. "I'll… stay out here."

"Okay." She nodded. "Mine's the black one over there."

"The Cobalt?"

"Yeah."

"Not an Impala but still a Chevy." Dean whistled as he swung himself out of the car and took his time inspecting the '06 model car before him. He made sure he was still making his inspection when the front door swung open.

"Where the hell you been, Carmen? Your mom's pissed," a male voice called out. "We were going to start dinner without you."

"Really." Carmen stormed through the front gate. "I'm so sorry I'm late for Sunday dinner. It would have really sucked if I'd died and missed it all together, pendejo."

"What the fuck, Carmen?"

"Chingada tacaño y tu chinga carcacha." She growled at him and tossed the keys in his face.

"What the hell, Carmen?" He barely caught the keys before they caught him in the eye.

"Carmen! It's Sunday!" a voice called out.

Dean turned to watch her force her way into the house and come storming out, keys in hand and a trail of women who looked just like her. Carmen punched her brother-in-law in the stomach. "God, you can't even know what your 'innocent little mistake' almost cost me. Come mierda y muere!"

"Carmen!" That had to be her mother.

Carmen just kept walking, shaking her head and letting tears fall down her face. Dean caught her as she reached the car. "Hey, it's okay. Sit in the passenger seat." When she'd done as told. Dean hopped the fence and approached the worried huddle. "Discúlpeme… anoche… La carcacha deja de hace funcionar… y Carmen es solo. Dos
pachucos atacarse con un cuchillo…" He paused as it began to sink in what he was trying to say. "Esos… a ponerse fin."

The woman reached for his hand but Dean stepped out of her reach. "Gracias, mi hijo. Que Dios te bendiga."

"De nada." Dean turned on his heel and hopped the fence again. He could hear them talking but didn't stop.

"Mama, did you see his face?"

"Quiete, Nani. Y tu!" A loud smack met Dean's ears but he didn't have to turn around to know that the owner of the piece of shit had just gotten the snot beat out of him by a five foot nothing mother of three, grandmother of four.

Dean slid in behind the wheel and took the keys when she handed them over. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Let's just get out of here." It was six blocks before she spoke again. "What did you tell them?"

"What happened… more or less."

She only nodded and began rifling through her purse. The whispers of papers and plastic chanted out a steady fifty-two until she found her phone. "Lynn, this is Carmen… yeah, I know… I'm not coming in today. I'll explain later… Yeah… and is David on duty? … Could you tell him to meet me at my apartment? … Thanks. I'll see you the day after tomorrow."

"I take it this David guy is a cop?"

"Yeah."

TBC