19. Shira

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Shira

After we pay out at the bar, we return to the auto shop to listen as the mechanic says things like, "cost-benefit of repair" and "resale and scrap value" and talks through how much time and effort it'll take to get Lilac a new water pump from a specialty supplier.

"The rest of the engine shows signs of wear. After the water pump fails, there's no telling what will be next. But it'll be sooner rather than later." He adopts a sympathetic tone, like a doctor delivering bad news. "Sometimes, we get attached to vehicles well beyond their lifespan. And sometimes it's better to just let something go."

Half of me wants to march over to him—to dig a nail into his chest and demand he put Lilac back to rights, that he move heaven and earth to fix her with money I don't have. But the short, ladylike manicure I'm rocking isn't that great for that kind of confrontation.

Blake must see the storm clouds building above my head, because he pulls me and Felix aside near a red metal cabinet crammed with various tools. "So, what's the verdict?" Blake asks. As if this is a group decision.

"Fixing her would be expensive," I say.

Blake nods.

"Sounds like she was running on borrowed time."

Blake nods again.

"Then it's settled, I guess."

"I should tell him we want to go through with the repair?" Blake clarifies.

I shake my head. "I should tell him we don't."

"If it's just about the money…"

Just . Like it's that easy. We could fix her. We could order the part, pay more than she's strictly worth to patch her up. She might not run anyway. Sometimes things come to their natural end.

A loud throat-clearing announces the mechanic's approach. "If y'all have arrived at a decision…"

Blake turns to me. "If you want to repair Lilac, I'm happy to pay."

I consider Lilac—her beat-up paint job, her rusting wheel wells. How she got me here to this moment, like it was fate. "If I choose to scrap her, what happens?"

The mechanic nods as if he approves of my decision, even if I haven't quite made it yet. "She'd be recycled for whatever parts we can, and then the metal would be melted down—it's a pretty good system. There's a lot of potential in these older vehicles."

Put that way, it doesn't sound so bad: Lilac as a thousand other cars. It'll be easier not to miss her if she's not really gone—just transformed into something else. I can survive a few months taking the train and squirreling away money for another car. Hell, I've survived worse and come through it.

"Okay," I say. "Tell me what paperwork I need to fill out to make that happen."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." The more I think about it, the more certain I am. "We could all really use a fresh start."

"So," Blake says, when I've signed and initialed and sworn up down and sideways that the mechanic can process Lilac for salvage, when we've piled into the Uber that's ferrying us to our hotel, "what do you think there is to do for fun in this town?"

I pull out my phone, do a cursory search. "Google says there's a big lake. Golf ."

"You don't think you can have fun in the country?" Felix sounds vaguely offended at the idea that someone could find the slow life, well, slow.

"Maybe we should check into the hotel," I suggest. "Make sure there are enough beds." Or, better yet, not enough .

But when we pull up, my heart sinks. There are gonna be enough beds. Probably a bed for every person in this town and then some. "When you said hotel …" I aim the question at Blake, "you meant resort ."

He grins, unembarrassed. "What's the difference?"

A sign stationed on the U-shaped driveway has arrows pointing to various amenities. "There's a spa? " I ask.

"I figured something we didn't have to drive to might be nice."

And fuck, how much did this cost? I lower my voice so the driver doesn't hear. "You didn't have to do all this." Would you have, if you knew I danced?

But Blake doesn't look regretful so much as gratifyingly smug. "Maybe I wanted to spoil Felix."

Whatever version of Blake this is—a newer, more daring one, who only goes a little red as he says it—I don't want it to evaporate when we get to Florida.

"All right," I say, "new rules." That gets me both of their attentions. "We each get to pick something to do at this ridiculous-ass resort and the others have to go along with it."

The second I say it, I almost want to bite it back. We're not doing that again…right? Blake and Felix just danced in public, but mezcal and averting an engine fire are enough to make anyone act reckless.

"Anything we want?" Felix asks.

"You have something in mind?" I shoot back.

From the front seat, the driver gives a polite cough, possibly because we've been parked at the resort entrance for the better part of a minute.

"I could think of one or two things," Felix says with a smirk, then climbs out to liberate our suitcases from the trunk.