Chapter Text
JJ Maybank, twenty-seven and athletic and tanned and blonde, woke up on a Tuesday, setting out to do his regular Tuesday stuff. Briefly, this included but was not limited to: brushing teeth, taking a shower, having coffee, having breakfast if he’s early or a snack if he’s late, biking to work, getting lunch with his coworkers, crashing on his friends Pope or John B’s couches, playing with Woody The Mutt, having premade dinner, brushing teeth again, and finally, sleep (with a can of beer, sometimes).
This is the regular Tuesday. JJ Maybank did not, however, wake up on a regular Tuesday.
It was about half past noon and he was wedged deep underneath a car, half-drenched after an oil change gone wrong with some of it sticky on his face, when he saw the tiniest of feet walk up to the side of the car.
He lowered the wrench out of his view.
‘Can I help you?’ JJ asked, tentatively.
The small person in question wore pink sneakers with enough glitter on the sides that they reflected some of the garage lights. The sneakers moved, bent, twisted, but the person—a kid?—remained quiet.
JJ repeated himself. He half considered getting out from under the chassis, but there was excitement in the visitor’s mystery.
And then, in the most confident high-pitched voice, he heard: ‘Do you die if the car falls?’
With a sigh, JJ pulled the creeper with his legs. His hand shot to cover his eyes at the change in brightness, then the person moved to aid him and, in a silhouette that glowed, he saw a little girl.
It was known around the island that the Maybanks didn’t like kids. His dad didn’t like JJ, his dad’s dad didn’t like him, and so on. JJ found himself quite neutral towards them, slightly on the negative side, and had early on developed a tendency to stay away from them at all costs.
Kids wouldn’t get his sense of humour; they were unpredictable, half-human weird little people with no filter or a coherent thought process. He never quite learned how to behave around them.
Not that he had many chances to learn, anyway.
‘No,’ he said, at last, as the girl kept staring at him. ‘Things like that only happen in cartoons.’
She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. ‘I know it really happens. I saw it in a movie.’
JJ had a look around, wiping his hands on his boiler suit, but there was no parent in sight. It was him and the kid and the two cars filling out the inside of the garage. Even the street his garage was looking out to was mostly empty.
‘So do you?’ asked the kid.
‘Do I what?’
‘Die.’
‘No,’ he said.
‘You’re one of the bad guys,’ she said, pursing her lips even more. ‘Mommy says everyone who lies is a bad guy.’
‘Where’s your mommy, kid?’
‘My name is Jo,’ she said, as if she were offended at JJ’s lack of inquiring for her name. ‘Mommy’s in the shop right there. She said she’ll be ten minutes.’
‘Sorry, Jo. When did Mommy go to the shop?’
The kid looked at her wristwatch. ‘Two minutes ago.’
‘The one around the corner? Across the street?’
‘That one!’
So instead of waiting around for Mommy, the kid went straight into his shop and started asking questions. He found himself fuming at the mere thought of a child—what was she, three? six? All kids looked the same to him—alone, wandering the streets, talking to strangers when he’d always been taught that talking to strangers equals a death sentence.
His father’s exact words.
Instead of panicking, JJ figured he could put his work on hold for a minute. He dropped to his knees and asked if she wanted his help to find Mommy to which she earnestly replied that no, she wanted him to show her around, because she used to be interested in planes, but now she wanted to learn how to fix cars.
JJ didn’t know how well-spoken kids tend to be, but he had a good feeling this was a little more than usual. She looked little, about the age of his neighbours’ girl who was three, as far as he knew, but little Mae had about a quarter of the kid’s speaking abilities.
Looking at her, with her arms still crossed on her chest, he figured he’d try one more time.
‘Are you sure Mommy won’t be mad at you for spending time here?’
‘No. She knows I’ll do it even if she says no, so she just lets me.’
JJ chuckled. ‘Fair play.’
For the next ten minutes or so, he walked the kid around the garage, letting her ask all the questions she wanted. They were aplenty – he had an inkling the movies she’d mentioned were documentaries. She claimed she knew how to use a wrench and he let her try it out, finding himself not all too surprised that she could do it as if it were nothing. He had to tighten it only a little bit more.
It didn’t feel like he was entertaining a little girl, but a human stuck in a kid-sized form. She had the curiosity of a child but the sass and comprehensive abilities higher than some of the local no-good-do’ers, and JJ found himself, for the lack of a better word, impressed.
Then her mother came.
‘Jo Carrera! Have I not told you to stay in the car?’
The kid stopped mid-sentence, straightening her back and shooting the biggest smile JJ had ever seen to her mother, who was walking up behind JJ.
‘Hi Mommy! Mista JJ was teaching me how to be a mechanic!’
The woman apologised and JJ turned around, his mind working to unravel the familiarity behind the kid’s surname. He was met by a smile nearly identical to the kid’s – matter of fact, all of the woman looked near identical to the kid. Same loose curls, same straight white teeth, same arch to their dark brow as they looked at JJ now, both, together.
It was uncanny.
Also, he knew her.
JJ cleared his throat and leaned against the car, half-forgetting it was hoisted up and could, in fact, fall. ‘S’alright. She’s a curious one.’
‘Very,’ agreed the woman, rubbing her daughter’s shoulders. ‘She always goes off to learn something new. Kind of had to give up on trying to keep her on a leash.’
‘Weren’t you scared she’d get in trouble?’
‘I’d never get in trouble!’ exclaimed little Jo, with the same crossed look as ever. JJ was coming to learn that was a staple.
‘Of course you wouldn’t,’ said her mother. ‘Mr Maybank was talking about trouble finding you.’
Sure, he thought, sugarcoat it for the kid. Understanding was written over Jo’s face, yet very little fear came with it. Maybe disapproval, sure, but not fear. He’d forgotten just how confident kids are in their own invincibility.
The woman smiled at him. ‘Thanks for looking after her. Your reputation precedes you, y’know.’
‘My reputation?’
‘JJ Maybank, the best mechanic on the whole damn island,’ she said, as if reading out an ad. He’d never posted any. ‘My parents are your customers.’
It hit him like a brick: the Carreras were his infrequent but loyal customers, had been so since before this shop became his. It had been a while since they’d come for a checkup, so he’d assumed they’d be showing up any day now.
He’d heard of their daughter, alright. It’d been a few years her parents hadn’t talked of her, but before, they used to talk about her all the damn time. She was his year in high school and Mike Carrera would always forget he’d already mentioned it to JJ, asked him if they knew each other. The answer was always a polite no, though it wasn’t quite the truth, but it wasn’t much of a lie, either. He’d never known Kiara, but he’d heard of her exploits, of her protests against the rich and the stuck-up, and he’d always kind of admired her from the side.
Obviously, he didn’t think her father would appreciate the same about her, since he only ever talked about her ambition to become a lawyer.
Mechanics know too much.
JJ pushed himself off the car and sat back down on the creeper, the action calming in its familiarity. ‘Well, still, you shouldn’t let your kid roam about unprotected.’
‘C’mon, Maybank,’ she said, grinning. ‘I left her with you for a reason.’
He chuckled. ‘Right then, Ma’am, I’m sure you had your reasons.’
‘Kiara.’
She extended her hand. JJ took it.
‘I lived on the island all my life.’ He threw on that half grin he knew impressed girls and customers alike. ‘Be a fool not to know Kiara Carrera.’
Kiara chuckled and pulled her hair back, shaking it a little. The movement revealed the wide cut of her short-sleeved top, exposing her collarbones; JJ had seen the movement done a million times when girls were flirting with him, yet Kiara’s gentle gaze held none of the same intentions.
He scolded himself for looking.
‘Same goes for you, JJ Maybank.’
It’d be a lie to say he wasn’t proud of that. He damn well put a lot of effort into being known, becoming a presence around the island, for better or worse. It had landed him this gig, nearly a decade ago, and came in clutch when the owner kicked the bucket and left everything on his shoulders. When you know people who know people, it ain’t that hard to get by.
JJ asked what brought her back to the island. It was a slip—he revealed he’d known she’d been gone—but he didn’t think she caught on or, in any case, she didn’t give any sign she knew he paid attention to her whereabouts.
Unintentionally, he reminded himself, but it wouldn’t have mattered.
‘Visiting my family, for a bit,’ said Kiara. The tone was just a little too cheery for anyone visiting their family, but JJ wasn’t going to pry. ‘Some other things.’
Perking up, the kid beamed at JJ. ‘I met Nana and Pops!’
Kiara let out a nervous chuckle and rubbed the kid’s shoulders again. ‘Overexcited, this one. Everything’s a big deal to her.’
‘Everything’s a big deal when you’re four,’ joked JJ.
‘I’m five, Mista Jay.’
JJ put his hand over his heart and gave a little bow, shaking his head. ‘Pardon me, Ma’am, for I meant no offence.’
‘Right.’ Kiara took a step to the side and picked up a shopping bag JJ hadn’t noticed before. ‘We better get going. I’ll see you around.’
The girls departed with a nod from him, and the kid waved back until they were out of sight. JJ went back on the creeper, back under the chassis, and worked the wrench around the breaks until he was sure the squeaking was no more, and there’d be one happy customer making the business a few hundred bucks richer.
He couldn’t get the conversation with the Carrera girl out of his head, though, even as he closed up shop later in the evening. He’d assumed shit had gone down back when Mike Carrera stopped talking about his daughter’s success shortly after boasting about her graduation from the best college in the South. He just hadn’t figured how bad it was – if little kid Carrera met her family only now…
‘But that’s none of my business, right, pal?’ he said into Woody’s fur as he wrestled with the dog back on the floor of his living room.
Woody’s response was a bark.
‘Damn straight.’ JJ led him to his bowl and patted him on the back as Woody sank into the food, letting some of it fall out. ‘Geez, you’re just as messy as the day I got you.’
Later, as he rummaged through clean dishes only to find no glasses and no plates and having to take some off the ever-growing dirty pile, he figured it wasn’t for nothing they say that dogs take after their owners.
It had been another Tuesday and few days more before the Carrera girls popped into his garage again. He was knee-deep into trying to figure out what the hell was making noise whenever the owner ran over even the slightest bump, running over half an hour behind, when he heard shuffling.
‘Be a minute!’ he shouted.
He’d just started checking the brakes, because it was a manual and maybe it was something between the clutch and the brake, and either of those weren’t good and meant more work, and the last thing he needed was to lose his train of thought.
And then came the ever so sweet: ‘Hey, Mista Jay!’
JJ let his head and hands drop, and sighed into the hood, collecting his bearings.
‘The name’s JJ, not Jay.’
‘I like Jay better,’ said the kid. ‘JJ is just one letter twice.’
‘Yeah. That’s how names work, kid.’
Taking his body out of the hood, he could see Jo Carrera standing about six feet away, dressed in denim overalls that were smudged like hell. The lips were pursed, as always, and her hair was pulled into tight pigtails that made her look like a ridiculous combination of a three year old and someone working in a garage.
Little Miss Carrera crossed her arms on her chest. ‘You’re rude.’
‘I’m busy. Where’s your mom?’
‘Shopping. I watched more movies. I can help you now. I can be your…’ She frowned, looking at him as if she could read the answer on his brow, if she concentrated just enough. ‘Assistant!’
JJ tapped the open hood of the car, feeling the engine still warm, struggling to cool down in the heatwave. ‘Look, kid, I’ve got stuff to do. Don’t mind you hanging around till your mom’s back, but I gotta do my thing.’
‘That’s great!’ Before JJ could even begin to ask how is that great?, she was at his side, peering into the hood. ‘Show me what you’re doing.’
He found himself struggling to retain his composure.
Here was the kicker: Jo Carrera might had been not too demanding to talk to the last time around, when he could afford to some patience, but she was still a five year-old kid, and JJ didn’t like kids.
Next to the car was a dirty cloth and he wiped his hands with it. He could see the kid waiting, beaming at the prospect of learning, and somehow that irritated him more than her mere presence. JJ never liked expectations being put on him.
‘Kid, it’s not a good time.’
‘But I won’t bother you.’
‘Come around some other day.’ He started guiding her towards the garage exit with a hand on her shoulder. ‘I ain’t got the time to be a teacher today. Where’s your mom?’
‘I told you already. In the shop.’
There was still resistance in little Jo’s tone, but he could feel her shoulders slumping. JJ couldn’t find enough energy to care, if he was being honest, so he dropped her off at the gate and told her to stick with Mommy and come by when they’re finished, for a quick chat. And he made sure she’d remember the quick part.
JJ said to himself he’d watch her until she entered the store. She walked to the edge of the road and turned around, her face determined, but the quivering lip betrayed her.
She said she’d see him later. He nodded at her and watched her disappear through the door down the road, with a neon sign that labelled the place ‘The Cornerstore’.
Never been much of a creative lot, the Kildare folk.
And so the mechanic went back under the hood.
He got his hands dirtier than they’d been in a while, felt sweat soaking the entirety of his shirt as it stuck to him like glue, and he knew he’d need to give his face and hair one hell of a scrubbing once he was home. Even the shirt, now hung over a part of the hoisting machine, reeked of sweat and oil and rust and grease and just good old island dust.
He wasn’t a sight to behold, but he had no qualms with it. It was a part of the job. And it was worth it, in all its disgracefulness, as he managed to locate the issue – there was a tiny glass shard stuck in the engine box. Sure, the car could’ve exploded if the owner hadn’t noticed the noise and sure, it would’ve taken an engineer to figure out and fix the issue.
Or, if you were JJ Maybank, tape. Not the safest, but he knew the customer wasn’t loaded, and he had to make do until the man could afford a full engine replacement. It was problem solved, at least for now, and he felt better now he knew the owner’s ride would last another day.
JJ was cleaning up his mess inside the hood when the girls showed up.
‘Heard you were asking for me.’
‘You’re lucky I’m in a better mood now than I was when the kid swung by,’ responded JJ, pushing himself out of the hood. ‘Evening, ladies.’
Kiara brushed away a strand that had fallen out of her ponytail and JJ couldn’t help but wonder if that was masking her reaction to his bare torso. He was self-aware enough to know that he looked better than the average, half due to his job, some to genetics, and some to his semi-regular workouts.
She looked good, too, but he tried not to think about her crop top and high-waisted shorts and the messy ponytail and the deep red on her cheeks. He really just looked at the kid, who seemed sheepish and agitated at once.
He kind of figured he was at fault for the latter.
‘Got some time to talk?’ Kiara stopped about ten feet away, holding a shopping bag in her hand.
JJ smacked his hands until most of the dust had gone. ‘Yeah, just about to finish.’
‘That’s great, because Jo here has got something to say.’
Jo shook her head with her chin so high she could’ve easily looked at her mother behind her. ‘I have nothing to say!’
‘Jo.’
‘I didn’t do anything—’
‘Jo.’
It was the Mother Voice that did it. Kiara had it nailed to perfection – low and stern, quiet in a way that seemed like it was verging on shouting. JJ had heard it more than a handful of times from little Mae being scolded across the fence, and some of it to himself, back when he was almost too young to remember.
The kid’s chest rose and fell in a dramatic sigh. ‘I’m sorry for interrupting you, Mista Jay. I won’t do it anymore.’
JJ laughed. He apologised immediately, clarifying it was at the kid’s very noticeable disagreement with the words coming out of her mouth rather than just… her. Even Kiara was smiling where the kid couldn’t see her, as bemused as JJ was.
‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘Today was a bad time, but last time wasn’t, so if you always come at a good time, I could teach you stuff.’
‘Really?!’ The kid’s eyes went wide and she ran halfway to him before stopping to a halt. She scrunched her nose. ‘I was gonna hug you but you stink!’
Aghast, Kiara called her name, but JJ burst into laughter. He didn’t find the comment as entertaining as he found Kiara’s reaction of pure terror. The look on her face screamed embarrassment and it was, for the lack of a better word, endearing.
JJ extended his elbow and waited until the kid bumped it with hers. ‘Dirty hands,’ he said, and she scrunched her nose again.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Kiara shook her head and shifted the bag from one hand to another. ‘You don’t have to babysit her, at all.’
‘It’s not babysitting,’ he said, and then against his better judgement added, ‘I could use an apprentice.’
It was in the kid’s favour that she kept her squeals to herself, hands on her mouth, because it would’ve swayed JJ against his (moronic, if you’d asked him the same when she walked in earlier) decision. Kiara waited with lines on her brow, looking at JJ as if she was trying to catch him slipping, whatever that would mean in this situation.
She smacked her lips. ‘Are you sure?’
He shrugged. ‘She asks good questions. She’s curious. Not many kids are wanting to get their hands dirty, these days.’
‘She’ll want to be doing something else in a few months’ time,’ said Kiara. The kid stirred and her mother’s glare shut her up. ‘I don’t want to waste your time.’
‘Not wasting my time if it’s my choice.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘If I’ve got the time, I’ll more than happy to explain stuff to her. If she’s wanting me to, that is.’
A squeal came from the hand-covered mouth and confirmed it was, in fact, what the kid wanted.
Kiara nodded with a happy little sigh and a smile to match. Her gaze flipped between the other two and she walked over to her daughter, twirling one of her pigtails. ‘Guess we figured out what you’ll be doing this summer, huh?’
A few minutes later, the deal was done. The girls walked out of the garage with JJ’s phone number, having agreed to text before the kid would drop in next, and he offered to send some articles Kiara could read to her so she could understand some things better. Her knowledge was extensive already, and JJ found himself surprisingly looking forward to working with a kid who seemed to have so much passion for his profession.
If he’d given it more thought, she would’ve reminded him of himself when he was little, eager to soak in all the knowledge in the world, but particularly that regarding mechanics and mechanical engineering.
The client came and picked up the car, and JJ agreed to fix the engine when there would be enough money for that. He’d do some favours, here and there, but do enough of them and the income’s gone with the wind. JJ liked to keep his integrity.
His phone buzzed as he locked up the garage, the sun having set quite some time ago. He still smelled like shit and looked even worse, but the relief of a day’s work behind him made everything worth it.
JJ pulled the phone out of his back pocket and read the text, from none other than Miss Kiara Carrera herself.
Thanks for offering to teach Jo, she can’t stop talking about it. She’s already picked another documentary for tonight. I hope you know at least something about Formula 1.
It was odd how easy the text brought a smile to his lips. He’d always been one to cheer up easy, that was nothing new, but there’d been a different feeling surrounding the Carrera girls. The confidence Jo exuded was clearly inherited from her mother, and it was one that JJ would grow to appreciate even more as time went by. For now, however, he wrote a quick reply and spent the night watching the documentary Kiara mentioned, with Woody snoring by his side.
Just in case the kid’s got questions.