Chapter Text
Jo put down the phone with a satisfied smile and turned back to the shop, noticing a last Friday afternoon customer struggling to decide what he wanted. Blair was chatting with the middle-aged man who looked a little panicked. Jo could hear her reassuring tones, and could see the man relax a little as he accepted the container of pasta Blair handed him. She picked up a jar of sauce and walked the man to the counter, where Jo stood.
“Hi,” Jo said. “Is that everything?”
Blair nodded on the man’s behalf, and smiled.
“Jo will ring you up. Thanks for coming in!” Blair said with a little trill. She pulled a bag from the bin behind the counter and laid it near the register, then walked to the other side of the store and began straightening items on shelves.
“That’s twelve-seventy-four,” Jo said, putting his purchases in the bag and making change for the man.
In a moment, Jo and Blair both waved at the man’s retreating back, smiles plastered on their faces as they said goodbye. When the door closed, Jo raised a hand to high-five Blair.
“Teamwork. And that is the end of the work week!”
“What about tomorrow,” Blair asked.
“Natalie and Mrs. G. have that covered, I have to see a man about a carburetor,” Jo said happily.
Blair raised an eyebrow.
“I should know this, I realize, but is that a euphemism?”
“It is not,” Jo said, her smile big and goofy. “I just talked a guy upstate into selling me a rebuilt carburetor for my bike, and I’m going to get it tomorrow.”
“Ah, I see. No wonder you’re so chipper. Chipper for you, anyway.” Blair nudged Jo’s shoulder playfully.
“The weather will be great. The price is right, and I have zero homework,” Jo exalted.
Blair chewed on this information, giving Jo a quizzical look.
“How are you going to get the carburetor back here?”
“On the bike,” Jo said. “I can install it up there or just put it in the storage compartment if I have to.”
Blair, who had been moving around the store, continuing to straighten and wipe things down in preparation to close, stopped and sidled up to the counter where Jo stood pulling money from the cash register and counting it.
“Jo,” Blair said, drawing out her friend’s name for a beat, and fixing her with a beautiful, warm look, “could I come with you?”
Jo looked at her in surprise.
“To get a bike part? On the bike? It’s a long drive to Syracuse. What part of that sounds like something you would enjoy?”
“Well,” Blair said, maintaining the look of someone who very much wanted to convince the other to do what she wanted, “we could take the car. There would be room for your bike thingie in the trunk, and we could, you know, sort of make a day of it.”
Jo considered this. She had been looking forward to this potential trip for a week. She’d been negotiating by phone with the seller, and had plotted a route that she thought would be pretty this time of year. And she had imagined it being a solo run, free of chatter from the younger girls, or requests for attention from Blair. Truthfully, she didn’t mind Blair’s requests most of the time. It was, after all, Blair, and when those brown eyes found her, or when Blair would waltz into her personal space to try and get Jo to help her with something, there were always butterflies. But lately, it was hard to keep the butterflies down to a dull roar, and sometimes Jo wanted to be alone, just to relieve what she often experienced as pressure on her heart.
Still, Jo had to admit that being in a comfortable car would be nice, and, so long as Blair didn’t get impatient or whiny, having her company would be nice, too. The prospect of letting Blair tag along on this trip was quickly growing on her.
“Won’t you be bored?”
Blair fixed Jo with a thoughtful look, holding a gaze into green eyes for a long moment.
“Not with you,” she said, and twirled out of the room.
Jo leaned against the counter, allowing a stack of five dollar bills to flop out of her hand. She wondered, not for the first time, if Blair knew how she made Jo feel with just a tossed-off glance.
Jo had warned Blair that she wanted to get an early start. It was three-and-a-half hours to Syracuse, and Jo could make it there and back easily if they started in the morning. But Blair was taking her time as usual, and overpreparing as usual.
“What in the world do you need to pack?” Jo slammed into the bedroom, noticing Blair’s bag on her bed. “It’s a day trip.”
“I like to be prepared for anything. What if we go somewhere nice for dinner or want to take a dip in the lake?”
Jo was exasperated, but decided not to make an issue of it. There was room in the car for the bag she expected Blair would never open, and having it seemed to provide her a feeling of comfort.
“I’ll be in the kitchen putting some stuff in a cooler. Hurry, OK?” Jo left the room and muttered to herself as she stomped downstairs.
When Blair finally entered the kitchen, she carried a large purse and wore jeans and a silk blouse. Jo made a mental note not to ask Blair to help her lift the carburetor, and snickered at her own joke.
“What’s so funny?” Blair wanted to know.
“Not a thing.” Jo hoisted a small cooler and led the way to the car, holding back as they approached, giving Blair the chance to take the driver’s seat if she wanted to, but knowing she would hand the keys to Jo and settle contentedly on the passenger’s side. Jo popped the trunk and heaved Blair’s bag inside.
Jo had to admit that she had grown used to driving the Porsche. It purred as she accelerated, responded quickly when she shifted, and she was pretty sure she looked great behind the wheel. Blair enjoyed the car’s sleek lines, and what the brand told everyone about her wealth and status, but she was ambivalent about driving. And when Jo was available to take the wheel, she preferred to ride shotgun. For a motorcycle-owning ex tough girl from the Bronx, Jo was a steady and effective driver. And she’d gotten very good at handling the fast car in regular traffic and on the rare occasions when Blair asked her to take them out on a lonely road for a faster drive. It hadn’t escaped Jo’s notice how much Blair trusted her with the car, and it made her feel warm inside to see Blair put on her seatbelt, lean back in the passenger’s seat, and turn expectantly to Jo. She could tell by the way Blair looked at her that she trusted Jo not only with her car, but with her life.
A New York State map lay between them on the front seat, and Jo asked Blair to fold it to a point near where they would turn off the highway that led out of Peekskill. The least Blair could do was navigate. Blair sighed dramatically, but she was laughing, content for the moment to be on this adventure. Jo had warned her how long the drive would be, and had made a bet with herself about how long it would be before Blair sought some kind of diversion. But Jo lost all the bets she made. Blair sat happily, making occasional smalltalk about scenery, and fetching snacks for them from the back seat.
Getting the carburetor went without incident. Blair called out directions from a note pad Jo had handed her. The seller, a beefy man in his 40s, whose eyebrows rose into his receding hairline when he saw Jo and Blair, handed over the part at the agreed-upon price after Jo inspected it.
“Jo,” Blair said as the trunk lid slammed on the box with the new-to-Jo carburetor tucked inside. “Let’s find a nice place for dinner up here. Surely there’s a quaint little bistro or a diner with upstate character.”
Jo snickered. “Or you could find us something quick and simple and we could eat on the road home.”
Blair laughed. “We’ll see. Now drive to that gas station a few miles back so I can do a little research.”
Jo did so, and when they reached the station, which was large and modern, Jo pulled up to a pump and Blair got out of the car, entering the small store. When she returned, she was carrying a piece of paper and smiling.
“Where to?” Jo slid back into the car and buckled up.
Blair consulted her paper, then the map, which she’d spread out on her lap.
“Hmm.” Blair traced her finger on the map. “It’s maybe five miles away, but there seem to be two different ways to get there.”
Jo leaned across the seat, angling in front of Blair to look at the map. She stretched out a hand and traced her finger along one of two nearby roads.
Blair curled the fingers of one hand around Jo’s right shoulder from behind, and pressed down a bit, then leaned nearer so that their heads almost touched over the map.
“That one?” Blair asked, tracing her own finger from where Jo pointed.
“Yes.” Jo turned her face to Blair to answer the question and they looked at each other, nose to nose now. Jo held the look for a moment, then very slowly moved away.
“Remind me when to turn.” There was a little catch in her voice.
Blair’s eyes seemed to be focused on where Jo’s face had been moments earlier, then she looked back at the map.
Jo pulled onto the highway and drove until Blair let her know the next turn would be theirs. She followed Blair’s directions until they ended up on a small town Main Street. This surprised Jo, as they had just been close to Syracuse, which surely had a better selection of places to grab a quick bite than this little town.
Blair signaled to Jo that she should pull into a parking space on Main. Jo did, and exited the car first, as Blair folded the map and gathered her purse. Then Jo was at her door, pulling it open.
“Why thank you!” Blair gave Jo a dazzling smile and rose from the car.