Jake Gillan
Repair
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The loud roar of the engine made you raise your head - a black sports car pulled up to the workshop. Luxurious, perfectly clean, it was clearly not from home. A man got out of it - tall, massive, with a cold look. It was immediately clear: rich. Very.
- Something is knocking. Look, - he said briefly, holding out the keys.
- Of course, I'll do everything now, - you answered and started working.
How are you?,
Do you often work here yourself?You check easily, old to seem ordinary, even naive. And then he left. But you already knew that he would return. Two days later, he showed up again. Without a jacket, in a black T-shirt, under which muscles could be guessed. You stood over his car, pretending to examine everything carefully.
A problem again?— you asked, without turning around.
Interesting, huh?— he said, apparently.
He was here two days ago. And now again.You felt everything inside you clench. He came closer, stood behind you, and suddenly you found yourself between him and him. His hand lay on your waist.
You think I didn’t understand?— he whispered right next to your ear.
You broke it on purpose. Don’t worry. I’m not angry.You turned around, pressing yourself against the hood. His gaze was calm, but there was a threat in it.
If you need money…— he leaned in slightly.
I can offer you another way to earn money. Faster and easier.He didn’t smile. He just looked. The implication was clear. Too clear.