Statham Page 3

  “Bulls eye,” I say raising my glass.

  “Cheers to that,” Tanya says. “Damn, I need to drop my gloves more often so I can find a guy for myself.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Statham

  “You better have my money,” my father says to my mother.

  I take off running into the room my mom and I sleep in. On the nights my dad comes by he sleeps here too. It’s usually only a few hours and he makes a lot of moaning noises in his sleep. I’ve never actually seen him sleep though. Him and my mom kick me out when they take one of their naps.

  But dad isn’t here to sleep tonight. He’s so loud he could wake the dead.

  “I got your damn money,” my mom says. She always has money after she’s been out on the corner with her friends all day. They dress really strange like it’s Halloween and then they get in cars with some even stranger men. A few hours later the men drop her off and my mom has money.

  Usually she doesn’t come back right away. She goes to the guy across the street and gives him some money and he hands her something. I can’t tell what it is but she always comes running back to the apartment and locks herself in the room for awhile. She makes me go outside and play first though. When I come back sometimes she’s asleep and sometimes she acts funny. I love my mom, but I think something’s wrong. I think she needs some help.

  They start fighting.

  “Take the boy!” my mom says. “I don’t want him anyways.”

  I hear them fighting really loud and then some gunshots. I climb out of the window and down the fire escape. I run to the police station and tell them what happened. It’s the last time I ever have to go back to that dirty, cold apartment again.

  I spend the rest of my time as a kid bouncing from foster home to foster home. It’s not very fun. I’m not even sure my dad knows my name. He just calls me tax write-off, whatever that means.

  I do meet some other guys from the home and after a few months they let me in on a secret. There’s an older guy named Elmore who fixes cars. He shows us how to fix old cars and make them real nice. Sometimes he sells them and then he gives us some money, but we have to promise to save it and not spend it on dumb things. I do as he asks and within a few years I learn how to fix cars, watches, and all sorts of things. Before I know it more and more people are coming to me to fix expensive things. I realize they don’t care how much it costs. They just want what they want and they want it now.

  I’ll take all the money and move to America. I saw on TV that America is a place for a fresh start. That’s just what I need.

  I shoot up in bed and look around the room. Where am I?

  My chest is heaving and I feel cold, then hot, then cold again.

  I’m in my shop. Man, these flashbacks are playing tricks on me. I need them to go away one day.

  I’ve immersed myself in psychology when I’m not working, which isn’t very often. The one thing that I’ve kept hearing repeated over and over again by the best psychologists is that I need to trust again. I need to put myself out there and risk getting hurt by someone again if I ever really want to get past this.

  And that’s what freaks me out. I don’t want to put myself out there. I’m doing just fine as is.

  But today something clicked.

  Her.

  She saw the shield I’ve built for myself. The cold exterior and she didn’t even care. Shoot…it’s not even a shield anymore. It’s just the way I am.

  But I could see that she saw through it. She wanted more, and not just in a physical kind of way although there was that too.

  I don’t need a romp in the sheets. I need a woman I can trust, if that’s even possible. And in return that woman gets the most loyal, faithful, protective man on the face of the earth. After what happened to me as a kid those are the things I value most.

  I lift myself up from the mattress and walk towards the work sink. I splash some water on my face and cup my hands so I can catch some and have a drink. My mouth's as dry as bone. I must have been talking in my sleep again.

  How could I even have a girl like Isla stay the night? She’d surely just wake up and hear all the craziness I’ve got inside.

  Fuck, I’m a disaster. I’m darkness and she’s the light. But there’s no light unless I open the curtains and let it in. The problem is I don’t know if I can or want to open those curtains.

  I look at the clock on the wall. Fifteen till four in the morning.

  I guess we’re going to find out in about three hours.

  I already anticipate what’s going to happen. She’s going to show up a few minutes late and I’ll immediately lose trust in her. I need to stop doing that, or do I? I’m looking for any reason to eliminate people from my life, any reason not to trust them.

  Show up late? Better not to show up at all.

  My shop here in the States is getting more successful by the month and I’ve been told my citizenship paperwork are almost complete. I’ve almost completed my childhood dream…the dream of starting over again.

  But have I really? Or am I just the same person inside, but miles away? Have I really learned anything or grown as a person?

  Probably not. It’s too late to teach this old dog new tricks, no matter how hard I try. This isn’t the life I chose, but it sure chose me.

  I’ll live with the consequences.

  And this morning when she shows up there will be consequences. First thing she messes up she’s gone and it’s back to a one-man show.

  That’s the way it’s always been, and that’s the way it’s always gonna be.

  CHAPTER 5

  Isla

  It’s almost lunchtime and I’ve been here since fifteen till seven in the morning.

  Usually when I sit at my desk it takes me awhile to work up an appetite. It even takes me awhile to get going in the morning. I need a coffee and ten or fifteen minutes of web surfing before I’m really awake.

  Talk about a completely opposite experience here.

  The second I arrived I found Statham already hard at work. He was covered in sweat and had a Lamborghini in about one hundred different pieces in his garage.

  He stopped to show me how the cash register worked and how I can look for prospects and hire designers to put together ads when no one’s here. I like that he trusts me with so many parts of his business. At my last job I needed approval and sign-off for just about anything that didn’t involve taking more than a two-minute trip to the restroom.

  Statham just hands over the reins to me like I have experience in everything. He does it so convincingly and like it’s the most normal thing in the world. He shows me something and then immediately we move on to the next thing. I’m taking notes and absorbing as much as I can, but what I’m absorbing most is how much faith he has in me.

  The confidence he has in me is inspiring confidence in myself.

  For the last couple hours we’ve been out of the front part of the shop and in the back with his current project, the Lamborghini. He’s showing me all the parts and what he does to modify the car. It’s fascinating how everything works and all the detail that go into a job like this.

  Here I thought he was just a mechanic, but it’s so much more than that. He’s an artist built on a foundation of years and years of working on cars. He’s never had any formal education regarding automobiles. He’s entirely self-taught although he did mention having a mentor when he first started that showed him the ropes and piqued his interest in all things mechanical.

  And when it comes to mechanical things and operations he is a machine in and of himself.

  He moves with such precision as he screws, tightens, and fastens parts of the car together.

  He doesn’t even seem to step back and take a look at what he’s doing. It’s like he’s in some sort of flow or mental zone. He’ll just grab a piece, do what he has to do to it, and then that’s that.

  He had the front fender, a term he taught me, off the car earlier. Fifteen minutes later it was sanded, repainted, an
d drying in some sort of oven that he has which sort of bakes the paint on. I guess you can call him a cook too then. There are just so many parts to his artistry that I had no idea in regards to his work. He’s not just some hunk that could pose for a calendar covered in grease and holding a wrench. I mean he definitely could, but he’s got the brains to match the brawn. He’s really as sharp as a tack.

  “Can you hold this?” he says, twisting back to offer me a wrench. I stare in admiration as his torso turns showing the power he holds in his mid section. His trunk is as thick as a tree’s trunk.

  He offers me the wrench in his outstretched hand and I see the calluses that cover his fingers and the veins the bulge in his Popeye like forearms. Does he even lift weights, or is this all natural?

  He shakes the wrench a bit.

  “Oh sorry,” I say. “I’ve got it.”

  I take it from his hand. If he hadn’t woken me up out of my daydream about his body there’s no telling I would have just stood there like a robot.

  He has the car up off the ground a few feet. He slides in closer and reaches up and underneath it. With his arms extended it really flares out his back. How wide can a man’s back be? His lats, delta, and his entire back are just a series of interconnecting muscles. In some places they almost look like ropes they’re so well defined.

  I can just imagine him reaching for me, pulling on me like he’s pulling on this car.

  “Wrench,” he says.

  I extend my hand, but realize he’s moved too far forward.

  I take a step in and place the wrench in his hand. He has one foot forward and one foot back for leverage so I have to step over his back foot bringing my body closer to his.

  “See this?” he asks. “You can come under here. It’s safe.”

  The idea of getting under a car would have never sounded appealing, but somehow it is. He wants to share his knowledge and I want to learn. And in order to learn I need a safe environment, and he provides that in spades. Even squatting down with a car over my head I somehow know nothing’s going to happen to me. Not while he’s here.

  I do as he asks and he points out some things on the chassis, another word he taught me this morning. “It’s really just a fancy way of saying internal vehicle frame that supports an artificial object in its construction and use, it can also provide protection for some internal parts. An example of a chassis is the under part of a motor vehicle, consisting of the frame. It’s probably just some term a guy made up long ago to sound smarter than he was,” he said earlier…and then smirked.

  I don’t know if it’s because he’s older or more worldly or what it is, but if he got into a smirking contest with Bruce Willis he’d have Bruce’s smirk turned upside down and have him crying in the first round. The look he gives when he flashes that thing is that powerful, and by powerful I mean it gets me hot and bothered instantly.

  “A little more to your left,” he says.

  He moves his right hand so I can slide in and then puts his right hand back into position. He’s got both hands around me now. It’s almost like he’s hugging me, and that’s not all.

  I can feel the heat from his body against my back. I swear I can feel his breath on my neck. He moves a mile a minute…his heart rate may be sky-high at all times. Either that or he has one of those athlete’s resting heart rates which is so low it’s like their body is just relaxing all the time, even in the heat of the moment.

  “This is the part you have to look out for,” he says. “Clients don’t know what it is, but it controls so much in regards to the precision they’re looking for when it comes to maneuvering.” He slides in closer to me and all I’m thinking about is the kind of maneuvering we could be doing now.

  God, if he just dropped his hands and put them on my waist he could yank my pants down and be inside me in under three seconds. I’m already wet and ready.

  I lean back just a couple inches and feel my back come into contact with his chest.

  He says something about some part of the car, but I don’t hear any of it…I’m too busy feeling.

  Feeling the sweat from his bare chest pressed against my back. Feel the flexing of his chest muscles as he turns something with his hands. I feel his abdominals and realize it’s like they’re little steel bricks, one stacked on top of the other in his mid section.

  I lean back a bit more and feel my ass come in contact with his cock and my hamstrings with his thighs.

  He immediately goes from nothing to hard and I immediately want his tool.

  There’s not enough room to turn and maneuver my way around or else I would and we’d be face to face.

  I hear his voice stop. He pauses. “That’s all there is to it,” he says in a different tone.

  I hear his boots slide across the concrete floor and suddenly his body is gone. There’s a void from where his touch used to be.

  “Better get out from under there,” he says. “It’s not safe.”

  Damn right it’s not safe…when you’re not next to me. But I know it is safe. His presence provides safety.

  I take a step back and turn to face him.

  “Another couple steps,” he says.

  I do as I’m told and then I watch as he hits a button and the car begins lowering to the ground.

  I listen to the hydraulics and watch as he stand there holding that little box with the button that’s attached to some sort of tube. He’s still holding it with his thumb while his eyes are holding my attention. All of it. He’s got his eyes locked on me and he’s not even watching the car lower, only my temperature rise.

  The minute the car hits the deck he drops the little box and comes right at me!

  He grabs me by the hips and presses me back into the car.

  I feel my chest arches and my hips move forward as his face moves closer to mine.

  He’s staring at me with an intensity and passion that no man ever has before. I’ve never seen a want so deep, never imagined it truly existed like this…and especially not for me, and definitely not from a man like him.

  His eyes narrow and his focus moves to my lips. I’m so horny I want him to just kiss me once and then fuck me immediately.

  I can feel that’s what he wants too.

  “Anybody back there!” a voice says.

  His hands stay on my hips, but his body moves back. Then he releases my hips.

  I move sideways and then past him, brushing him slightly. He doesn’t turn his head, just counties looking forward.

  The moment is ruined, but I know we can pick up right where we left off after I see to this customer.

  The only question is will he feel the same, or will he think twice about shifting what we just experienced into the next gear?

  CHAPTER 6

  Statham

  I’m back at the sink again splashing water on my face. It’s a sense of déjà vu this morning when I woke up in a cold sweat.

  I walk back to the car and try and focus, but I can’t.

  I pause, hearing some commotion at the front of the building.

  “I see his name on the damn sign, bitch! Don’t lie for that sorry sack of shit.”

  I’d recognize that voice anywhere. It’s been years, but it lacerates like a knife in my ears.

  Dad.

  “He’s not here, sir,” I hear Isla say. I feel goose bumps cover my skin. Damn, this girl’s got my back. She’s willing to die for me and we just met.

  But nobody’s dying today. Not on my watch.

  I grab an engine hose and run around the perimeter of the building and see that there is no one else here. Not like the guy who created me would have friends anyways, and he certainly doesn’t have one here. Closest thing I’ve got to a father is maybe Elmore. He hasn’t been my dad since the day he and my mom got together, and now I’m gonna make sure he knows it.

  I come around front keeping an angle on the front door so Isla doesn’t make eye contact with me. It’s too likely her body language will give me away.

  I see hi
m. He’s holding a knife, but he’s got it down by his side.

  I take off running and just before I reach the glass I dive forward. I put my forearms in front of my head and brace for impact.