A/N: I'm sorry I forget to upload on Monday. But, I guess this is more of a celebratory chapter. I'm 18 tomorrow :D :D :D Anyway, enjoy :D

Chapter 4

Turning her iPod off, Gabriella saw a pair of legs poking out from beneath the Honda in the workshop. She sighed and, assuming it was Troy, called out, "Troy, I'm here."

No answer. At all.

Frowning, Gabriella set her stuff on the table and walked over to the legs of the person under the car. She nudged one of the heavy walking boots. "Hey, Bolton. Talk to me."

The person moved out from under the car on a creeper and Gabriella came face to face with a man who held a familiarity about him. His hair was completely grey and his skin held a few wrinkles, especially around his eyes. He got to his feet and brushed his hands on his overalls. Gabriella saw the blue eyes with the same intensity as Troy's and Andy's. Troy's dad? Must be. The eyes were exactly the same. Only softer, happier.

He smiled broadly. "You must be the famous Gabriella that Andy was telling me about. I'm Jack, Troy's dad."

Gabriella nodded slowly. "I must be. I'm only here because Andy persuaded Troy to hire me. And then Andy persuaded me to stay."

Jack shrugged. "It'll be worth it. Give him time."

"So where is Troy and, if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing here?"

"I work here sometimes. It's mostly just Troy and my other son, Jamie, but I sometimes do some work," he explained.

"Work?" a voice exclaimed. "That's a bit of an understatement. You usually tell me and Jamie how to run this place."

Troy sent Jack a joking smile. He turned to Gabriella and the smile slipped slightly. He gestured to the woman to the side of him. With grey-streaked reddish hair, a petite nose, brown eyes, and dressed in a smart summer dress, she was the image of friendliness. "Gabriella, this is my mum, Lucille, and my dad, Jack."

The woman stretched her hand out. "A pleasure to meet you. Andy says you're quite the mechanic."

Gabriella shrugged as she shook Lucille's hand. "My dad was a mechanic."

"Is it a family thing? That's what it's like with us," Jack joked.

Gabriella shook her head. "Not really. My sister isn't a mechanic and neither is my brother. Just me. But I like to think I'm good at my job. And I'm glad to be here." She glanced at Troy.

Lucille smiled. "Well, as much as I disapprove, Jack does visit here a lot so we'll probably see each other quite a bit."

"I'm looking forward to it," Gabriella replied.

"Dad, could you finish up here? I just need to talk to Gabriella in the office. Is that alright, Gabriella?" he asked.

Gabriella frowned. "If you're going to fire me before my first day, just do it now."

"I'm not firing you," he muttered. "Please."

Gabriella sighed but followed him into the back office. She sat down opposite Troy and couldn't help but feel like a student in the presence of the head teacher. She had succumbed to the rather unusual heat of Scarborough and decided on a pair of dungaree shorts and a white shirt. She'd always thought that her legs were the best part of her and they were ready to be covered in oil and scratches and grazes by the end of the day. She felt rather exposed as Troy stared at her. She didn't know what he was thinking but she wished he would just spit it out. She watched him as he reached for a piece of paper and pencil and began jotting things down. She watched his stained and calloused hands, the tell-tale signs of a mechanic, move across the page with perfect precision.

In the time while he was writing, she looked around the office. It was kind of dark, with only a small window at the back wall and a light fitting on the ceiling. Filing cabinets were stacked against the wall to her left, each drawer labelled clearly. A laptop was open on the desk in between her and Troy and various papers were stacked beside it. She looked over her shoulder and saw a bookcase stacked haphazardly with various DIY mechanics books and car magazines. Overall, the office was surprisingly tidy and organised. Of course, she couldn't tell if the cabinets were organised but, the immediate appearance was better than she expected. Something about Troy had made her assume that everything would be thrown around chaotically. But it wasn't.

Turning back to face Troy, she took a moment to analyse him; more for something to do than out of actual interest. She reluctantly admitted to herself that he was attractive. His shaggy hair was flecked with grey and tufted out at odd angles as if he tugged at it a lot. His tanned skin was wrinkled, especially on his forehead. His cobalt eyes were dark, just like Alejandro's pet corn snake, tempting her to drown in them. Her eyes were drawn, of their own accord, to his torso. Covered in an off-white t-shirt with a small tear near the neckline, his muscles were being unintentionally boasted to her; something about Troy's persona told her that he wasn't going out of his way to show off his muscles.

She averted her eyes. Anything to stop herself from admitting how attractive Troy was. And, more importantly, she was willing to do anything to stop herself from admitting how much he was affecting her. She tugged at the fraying seam of her shorts but couldn't help noticing, out of the corner of her eye, that Troy didn't wear a wedding band on his left hand.

Of course, that meant nothing. There were people in the world who were happily married but chose not to wear wedding bands. None that she knew, though. Her parents boasted their successful marriage and Sharpay had dragged Gabriella to more jewellers than she could count to ask Gabriella what kind of wedding rings she and Zeke should have. Of course, Gabriella was the wrong person to ask. Still, why was Gabriella so bothered? Nobody had mentioned Andy's mother, but the fact that Troy wasn't wearing a wedding ring should mean nothing to her.

So why did she feel like her heart was working so hard that it might backfire like an exhaust?

She stared at the piece of paper as he slid it across the desk towards her, folded into quarters. She frowned at him. He couldn't meet her eyes. "What is it?"

He shrugged, fiddling with his pencil. "Just read it."

Gabriella reached for it and unfolded the piece of paper. She saw two words: I'm sorry. He'd even drawn a really bad picture of a spider. She sighed and set it on his desk as she stood up. "Like I said yesterday: those are just words. Meaningless. It's not an apology."

He frowned. "What is an apology to you?"

She shrugged. "Figure it out."

Before she could leave, Troy spoke up. "I never complimented you. You clean up really well."

She cracked a smile. "I have to. My friend's getting married and I'm the maid of honour. She's making me wear gloves so that my fingers aren't on show." She frowned as she inspected her oil-stained fingertips. "I always said I was going to create a soap that actually gets oil off. Never got around to it."

He smiled and got to his feet. "Mechanics around the world would name you a hero if you did that."

Probably for the first time in his company, Gabriella laughed. "I suppose they would." She fiddled with her hands for a moment. "Your brother works here, too?"

Troy nodded. "Yeah. You'll probably meet him later today. He's not an owner. He didn't want that kind of responsibility."

She gestured with her thumb over her shoulder. "Should I get to work?"

Troy stared at her for a moment. "No. Not yet. Tell me about you. Why did you become a mechanic?"

"I told you," she muttered, stepping back and colliding rather clumsily against a bookshelf and a load of cars magazines and books fell to the floor. "I'm sorry," she mumbled as she began piling them up.

"It doesn't matter," he murmured softly. He rested a hand on her shoulder. "Leave it."

She reluctantly left them on the floor and stood up. "Sorry about that."

"I said it doesn't matter. I only asked why you became a mechanic," he exclaimed.

She shrugged. "I told you. My dad had a garage and I was overly-curious as a child and it was just kind of a given that I'd continue it."

"There's something else. Something you're not telling me," he whispered.

"I'm not telling you a lot of things. Please can I get to work?" she asked impatiently.

He nodded reluctantly. "Sure."

"Am I alright to have my lunch about half twelve?" she asked quietly.

He sighed. "Fine by me."

"Hey, Papi," Gabriella murmured. She kissed her father's, Greg's, cheek and sat opposite him in a window booth of Zeke's cafe. She set her bag beside her and smiled across at the older man. His hair was greying, his tanned skin held more wrinkles, but his chocolate eyes, the eyes she saw everyday in the mirror, were still as bright as ever.

"Morning, Gabi," he replied cheerfully. A Spanish accent clung to his voice that made Gabriella smile. According to Maria, her mother, it had taken her years to convince Greg to actually speak English, especially as he wanted his own business. Still, he spoke Spanish at home and expected the family to do the same.

She smiled gratefully at Sharpay who placed a black coffee with no sugar in front of Greg and a mocha latte in front of Gabriella. "How are you?" she asked quietly.

He shrugged. "I'm fine. Don't listen to whatever it is that your mother's been telling you."

She sighed, stirring her coffee. "Papi, be honest with me. I'm a big girl. How are you?"

He shrugged helplessly. "I'm still going strong. I've told you to stop worrying. You got all of your mother's genes."

Gabriella frowned at her blackened fingers. "Not all of them."

Greg's fingers wrapped around hers. Of course, his deteriorating health meant that, to his dismay, he hadn't touched a car's bonnet in months, and so his fingers were now pale, thin and showing the spiders' webs of veins beneath the skin. The only signs that he had ever been so determined to fix cars were the calluses. And Gabriella suspected that they'd be there until he died.

"I'm glad," he whispered.

"Me, too." Her reply was so quiet that she wondered if Greg had heard her. But, with a final squeeze of her hand, he let go of her hand and picked his mug up, taking a sip.

"Have you heard from Adela recently?" he asked. His tone was so conversational that it was as if they were discussing the weather. It was a coping mechanism. They all did it: Greg, Maria, her brother, Alejandro, and, yes, Gabriella was guilty of it, too. If they acted like it wasn't a big deal, their lives moved on. If they started to acknowledge that it was a big deal, the severity of the situation, they'd freeze. They wouldn't live anymore, they'd simply worry.

Gabriella smiled sadly. "Addie phoned yesterday, just before my interview."

"Any news?" he murmured.

Gabriella shook her head as she sighed. "Nope. She said that she loves all of our letters but she still can't tell us exactly where she is. She's missing us all, especially Mama's cooking. The food leaves a lot to be desired. And she's expecting a Red Cross parcel from us any time soon. Deodorant, toothpaste, magazines, newspapers, tinned food, Pot Noodles...anything really. Other than that, it wasn't anything drastic. She just wanted to hear my voice. And I wanted to hear hers. She wanted to phone us all but she only had a few minutes."

Greg nodded with a smile. His two daughters had always been ridiculously close. A lot of families would've been jealous of the extra letters and phone calls that Gabriella received. But, the other Montez's forgave them both. How could you not? With only three years between them, Gabriella the oldest, they had experienced everything at pretty much the same time. During the teenage years, when they were at their very worst with boys, grades, and a load of other changes he had no desire to know about, they swore to each other that they would always be with each other, no matter what. No matter if they were a thousand miles apart. They hadn't failed yet.

"Anyway," she began, turning away from the topic of her sister, "how's Mama?"

Greg quirked an eyebrow.

Gabriella laughed. "She's still fussing worse than ever, right?"

"Right," he muttered. "Blasted old woman. I'm doing just fine. When God decides that I'm not supposed to walk places, I'll get in a wheelchair, and I'll damn well get there faster." (A/N: Yes, I did just reference 'Serendipity' – Gabriella's grandfather said something similar...)

Gabriella swirled the last of her coffee around in her mug. "Papi, you need her and you damn well know you do."

Greg tried to look unconvinced but even he, the most reluctant person to show emotion, couldn't hide the sparkle that always showed in his eyes when he spoke about his wife. "So, how's the job?"

Gabriella shrugged. "He was reluctant to employ, I'm reluctant to stay. If I didn't need the money, I'd look elsewhere but I couldn't take those bastards down at Ford anymore. I'm desperate."

"Remember what I told you when you were fifteen?" he asked sternly.

Gabriella looked as if she was about to burst into a rather childish tantrum. Instead, she downed the last of her coffee and slammed her mug down in defiance. "Being a woman mechanic was never going to be easy. I know, Dad. But, I never asked for easy. I just asked for possible."

"That's my girl," he murmured.

Gabriella fiddled with the bandana around her wrist. "It's still not fair. He was way too reluctant. And then today, he practically wanted to know my entire life history."

"Where did Troy come into this?" Greg asked slowly.

Gabriella frowned. "What? I didn't mention Troy."

Greg quirked an eyebrow. "Okay, let's pretend you didn't. You need to be careful. If you mention him too much, Sharpay will be planning your wedding," he joked. "Now about how he wants to know your life history...that's natural. You're different. In a good way. But, it's not often that this town comes across someone like you. People are going to be curious."

She sighed. "It's hard, though. I don't want him to know anything about me. As long as he pays me, that's all I care about."