Twinfestation

The old garage I worked at was anything but professional looking, from the front that is. It was nothing but a dirty brick wall with a flimsy wooden door and a small sign that read "The Old Garage" above it. Graffiti colored the front wall, courtesy of me and one of the other girls that worked here, Laren, making it look anything but legit.

The front inside was basic looking but it looked more like a tattoo parlor than a repair shop. Mix matched benches sat in random spots, miscellaneous objects hanging on the walls, and a cold concrete floor underfoot.

A crappy, underused, broken down desk sat farther back with a hammer and wooden block set on edge. The front of The Old Garage wasn't really used much, mainly for a waiting room when wives and kids came in. No one was usually there, only on really rare days when we were unusually busy.

I sat down and wrote myself in with my excuse for being a hour and a half late. I woke up late then spent some time trying to convince Silver to stay home. I had caught him on the way out of the door, but he wiggled out of my grasp and pulled Conner to his car.

It annoyed me how Silver could just call one of his friends and go anywhere he wanted. Too many times have I come home and the house be completely empty. I always tried to call him, but he rarely answered and then he comes back at strange times, refusing to tell me anything. I can't exactly force the answer out of him, I had no right to. He's sixteen, he can do whatever he wants whenever he wants. It's just scary to know that.

While writing down a excuse other than the truth, I noticed that Laren had been late too. Deciphering her normal illegible handwriting I got that it said "Vomit in my hair." or something like that.

Walking out back, the first thing I saw was a puff of dark smoke obscuring the view of most of the yard. Judging from what I could make out through it all, we had good amount of beaten up cars sitting around today. Despite the look, The Old Garage was the best place to go for anything car related. If you have a dent? We'd fix it in a minute. Broken windshield? We'd replace it, no questions asked. Totaled? We'd have it looking like new in a week or two. We did get a few shady dealings here, but rule number one was never to ask, so we didn't.

Coughing, Laren slammed the hood of a beet up silver Mazda, her already squinted eyes narrowed to the point where I wasn't sure whether they were closed or not. Pieces of her dull red hair were falling out of her half-assed braid in chunks, strands sticking to her face, dirt and sweat covering her face in sheets and turning her red camisole a dark crimson color.

Planting her bare feet on the driver side door, she pulled herself up onto the roof and out of the way from the cloud of smoke seeping through the hood of the car. Her shorts would seem slutty to anyone who didn't know where she worked. The heat set off by cars, bikes, and other vehicles was enough to make it feel like indoor concert in the middle of winter and make the guys run around without shirts while girls dressed in short shirts and micro tops.

Granted, the only three girls we had working here were the owner's sixty-year-old wife, who only wore flannel, a thirteen year old tomboy that refused to wear anything but jeans, and Laren who really didn't give a fuck what she wore as long as she wasn't naked. Not that many people would mind if she was naked. I'm convinced that she's the reason we get so much business.

"Salem Dimitri Ihtoo." Laren put her hands on her hips and jutted one out to the side in a scolding mother pose. "You're so fucking late."

"And you're standing on a car. Don't want to dent it."

"Did you just call me fat?" Jumping down, she landed ninja style. "I am not fat. This is my moms car anyway. It doesn't matter."

"Yeah yeah, what's wrong with it?" Walking around to the front, I opened the hood and was immediately hit with the giant heated smoke cloud that had been forming inside. "She fried this thing! How do you even do that!?"

Coughing, Laren wiped her face, smearing dirt over her lips but the natural red still shone through. "I don't even know. I can't figure out where to even start with this thing. I'm surprised she even got it down here without it blowing up."

Not finding a rag anywhere nearby, I pulled my shirt over my head and used it to move a few things around inside the car. "We might want to start with getting your mom into a basic car care class. She had to be driving around on the verge of breaking down for months and didn't even realize it."

"You're telling me. Hey, what are you doing?"

Using all my strength, I yanked out some sort of metal thing lodged deep into the car. "Is this.....is that....what is this?" The bent piece of metal sat in my hand, the heat from it seeping through the shirt and to my palm.

"What the hell did she do?" Laren gasped in surprise. "That's it, she's not allowed to drive anymore. She's either calling a cab or waiting for me."

I let out a little laugh looking over at her. "Technically, you're not allowed to drive without her anyway. I mean, you are only seventeen and failed the driving test more times than my brother."

"I did not fail! I was merely tired and answered incorrectly due to my sleep deprived brain."

"All fifteen times?"

"I don't get much sleep." A familiar muffled bang found it's way through all the engines and chatter as Laren stole my shirt to wipe her face. "We should wait until this cools to start. You go get that. I'm gonna work on something else."

Coughing, I started to make my way to the front when a hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. Turning, I faced a tall, buff, old man with his over-sized arms folded and scowl plastered on his face. Bushy eyebrows bent down and almost connected over a crooked nose set between two faded gray eyes. Wrinkles lined everywhere on his face, making him look even meaner than he would have twenty years ago. His skin seemed gray from years of smoke, inside and out.

Smiling, I spread my arms for a hug. "Mr. Sal! You're back early!"

Hansel Lens, the owner of The Old Garage ever since his father died six years ago, the meanest looking old dude you could find, gave me a hug so tight I could feel my ribs touch my heart as he lifted me off the ground.

"Salem, I've missed you boy." Setting me down, his smile immediately turned back into a scowl. "You're late."

"I know, you see, I woke up late again. I stayed out a little long last night."

"Bullshit, that brother of yours would have woke your ass up."

Smiling even wider, I shrugged. He knew me too well. "I got side tracked?"

"Mr. Sal!" Laren, apparently not having found another project, ran up to him before he had a chance to turn and jumped on his back like a child, wrapping her long legs around his torso. "When'd you get in?"

As he pulled the seventeen-year-old supermodel off of his back, I slipped away to find a car to hide under. Once I found a crappy looking black one, I guessed that I could hide under it for a few hours and made some progress. Ducking down to avoid Mr. Sal's searching gray eyes, I set to work.