Owner: Scott Sanderson (NPC)
Staff: Harriet Dayne
TBA and NPC
The sound of the idle chatter from the disc jockey on the radio, buzzed in the background, while Harriet was already down and dirty, working underneath a Buick in Scott’s garage. Wearing a pair of denim overalls, with a black def leopard t-shirt underneath, the young mechanic was already dirty, with streak marks of oil on her cheek, and her hands practically black, as she worked a wrench, trying to loosen a tight nut, that held in all the oil. Gritting her teeth, and showing exertion with her arms, she finally got it loose, and the oil flowed freely into the drip pan that was at her feet. Though grimy and wishing she could change the station, Harriet was in her element in the Garage. Always a beaut car to work on, and she thrived on the challenges they created, when she couldn’t get the right parts. The only person she had a problem with, was whenever Jackson would bring his car in. Harriet still hated his guts…but he made her into what she now was, and there was no going back to an ordinary life. <3>
It had been a long day, and Scott was finishing with the last of the customers, after Harriet had reversed the Buick out of the workshop and parked it in the customer holding bay. Getting out of the driver’s side, she took out the mat cover where her boots had been, and scrunched it up, as she closed the door firmly. Another day…another car finished. Harriet was pretty content with herself, tossing the rubbish in the large industrial bins to the left of the workshop entrance. She noticed Scott smiling and talking with animated hand gestures to the owner of the Buick. Lucky bastard. Hardly ever did Harriet get a chance to talk to anyone. Just her and the cars. Her boots scooted along the sheer surface of the workshop floor, as the lights started to be turned off, since Scott was starting to close up the shop.
“Did good today, Girl. Mister Stamford always brings that car here, and knowing you, you treated that car like it was your own.”
“Yes..Sir.” Harriet offered, wiping her hands on the sides of her overalls. Scott looked at her thoughtfully, like she was waiting for something, maybe a word, or more. But he had his own wife and family waiting for him at home. “Shut the roller doors, and set the alarms. I be seeing you first thing. Night Harriet.” Scott turned and left her there, as the last of the office lights were turned off. Glancing outside, Harriet could see the last rays of the sun, and knew she better hurry to get home.
(thread change – Wolf’s den)