Disclaimer: I don't own anything here (except for Al) and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.
The next month and a half were a blur for Tim and Al. They had more work at the garage than they could handle, even with the help of the kids in the internship program Al had set up that allowed a few Dillon High School students to work at the garage for vocational education credit. She was pushing Billy to hire someone, but he was reluctant for reasons neither Al or Tim fully understood.
They were also busy with the wedding plans. If Tim had had any doubts about marrying Al, they all would have been put to rest by the planning process. She wanted exactly the kind of wedding he could picture enjoying – a party at the lake with a band and barbecue, a giant bonfire, daisies and wildflowers, and the whole place glowing softly in a frost of white Christmas tree lights.
She told him, much to his relief, that he could wear whatever he wanted as long as the outfit didn't include ripped jeans. He asked her to wear a dress, since he couldn't even remember the last time she had. She agreed, but warned him that she wouldn't be able to carry off a big, traditional, puffy dress.
They didn't have much family to pressure them into something more ordinary, like a church wedding. The only traditional thing that they were pressured into was a formal engagement picture, taken at Sears and published in the paper. Al found the whole idea ridiculous and told Tim they should wear their work uniforms, which they did. She also refused to go in for any of the cheesy poses that put the ring front-and-center in the picture.
One day at the beginning of February, Billy saw an ad in the paper for a going-out-of-business liquidation sale at one of those places that sold pool supplies and Christmas stuff. He reckoned they could get all the Christmas tree lights they'd need for the wedding and save the cost of having to rent them. At lunch, he and Tim went out to the store, leaving Al behind. She was replacing the water pump and alternator in an old Buick Skylark while an intern, D'Andre, stocked and managed the parts inventory.
Al like D'Andre, since he was pretty much the definition of a gentle giant, standing a solid 6'5" and weighing at least 280. They'd had high hopes for him at the high school, thought he'd make a great linebacker. But he just didn't like crashing into people. D'Andre was a good worker and he got on well with the everyone at the garage. His size and slow manners hid the fact that he was quite smart and had real mechanical aptitude.
Al had the the Buick set up close to the front desk, so she could handle any customers that came in. She wasn't expecting any since their next drop-off appointment wasn't until later in the afternoon, but sometimes people just walked in without appointments.
She heard the bell on the door jingle as the door rattled closed and she looked up to find an middle-aged guy walking into the garage, looking around in an appraising manner. She walked over to the desk, wiping her hands on a rag as she walked.
"Good afternoon, how can I help you?" she asked in her best customer service voice.
"Billy or Timmy around?"
"Sorry, they're out for a bit. I can help you though, if you want to schedule a repair or get an estimate." Her inclination would have been to smile, but something about this guy put her on edge and confused her. His hair was on the longish side and his scruffy tan and grey beard suggested that he hadn't shaved for several days. She put his age at around 50, but the lines of his face showed a hard-lived life, some combination of alcohol and sun were her guess.
The confusing part was that he sort of reminded her of someone and she wondered if she'd met him before. It was like when you hear a faint bit of a song, just the melody, and you can't quite place it. Something about the way the guy stood, the way his hair fell over his chin and he tilted his head to the side to keep it out of his eyes. It was somehow familiar, but not in any recognizable way.
"Hey," he said as he put his hands on the desk and leaned over it, crowding into Al's personal space and causing her to take a step back. The dogs were in the back with D'Andrea and Al felt exposed and a little nervous.
"You're the one who's marrying Timmy, ain't you? I seen your engagement announcement in the paper. Thought it was a joke at first."
She narrowed her eyes and stared hard at him. She could count on one hand the number of people who called him "Timmy." It was overly familiar and it bothered her. She embraced the anger, since it was better than fear. Still, she struggled to maintain her professional demeanor.
He gave her a wolfish smile that made her feel like a trapped rabbit. "You got no idea who I am, do you?"
"Sir, I realize the accent might be a tad misleading, but I'm not from Texas. I don't know everyone who's ever played for the Dillon Panthers, so, sorry, I don't know you."
He let out a bitter bark of laughter and shook his head, murmuring something to himself that Al couldn't hear.
"Do you have something that we can do for you or would you like to leave a message or something?"
"I can just wait here, until they get back, you said they wouldn't be long, didn't you."
"I'm sorry, but I'm not a hostess, I'm a mechanic and I need to get this truck down like yesterday, so really, you probably should leave."
"Feisty," he said in a low voice. "I can see Timmy's got his hands full with you."
She sighed. "For the last time, do you want to schedule a repair or leave a message?"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. "My truck could use an oil change."
"Fine." Al took the keys, trying not to cringe when his fingers purposely brushed hers. Then she turned and called for D'Andre. She tried not to be infuriated by the intern's slow pace and she was relieved to see Bruno and George trailing behind him.
"Good news for you, D'Andre. This man here needs an oil change, so you're off parts for now to get it done."
The teenager took the keys from her and headed out to retrieve the man's truck. Al had never been so relieved that she'd convinced Billy to build out that separate waiting room as when she smiled politely and directed the man to it. She watched him amble off to the waiting area. She was reluctant to turn her back on him. Although part of her felt silly as she waited until the door shut behind him and she heard the din of the television before she want back to work on the Buick.
Shortly before D'Andre finished his work on the truck, Tim returned.
"Hi, Al. The sale was a big bust. All they had left were those blinking lights that would probably give everybody seizures or something," He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek before she even had a chance to stand up straight.
"Where's Billy?"
"Mindy called and needed him to pick up something for TJ's cold. Why? Is something wrong" He scanned her face, unhappy with the tension he saw there.
"There's a guy in the waiting room, D'Andre is finishing up his truck now. I don't know, this guy was asking for you both and he made me really uncomfortable. There's something not right with him."
Tim's forehead wrinkled as he tried to think of who it could be. Dear God, he thought to himself, please don't let it be Guy Raston.
"Sort of fat guy, crazy sideburns?"
Al shook her head. "Tall and scruffy."
"Did you look like a meth addict?"
"Are you joking?"
"I wish I was."
"No. He looked like he could maybe be a drunk, but he wasn't acting drunk right now."
Tim shrugged. "Doesn't narrow it down. Let me try to see what we're dealing with here."
He approached the waiting room window at the best angle to let him see the chairs without being fully in sight himself. Bruno and George joined him in the prowl.
"Looks like he's asleep," he whispered as he walked closer to the middle of the window.
When he got a decent look at the figure dozing in the chair, Tim froze, every muscle tensing to stone. Al watched his jaw muscles twitch. Bruno caught Tim's mood and started to growl low in his throat. When George joined in, it should have been comical but no one was laughing.
Tim slowly turned and walked back to her.
"I'm thinking we let Billy handle this."
"So you know that guy then?"
"I guess you could say that. He's our father."