Chapter 2

My hand holding the wrench paused for a fraction of a second.

"Oh. Then it’s been a while. It’s due for a major overhaul."

My tone was too flat, completely devoid of emotion. Mason froze, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out.

I tapped and checked every single bolt with my wrench, meticulous and focused.

It was as if the dazzling yellow sports car in front of me was no different from the thousands of other beat-up sedans I had repaired.

Perhaps the sharp clink of metal against metal grated on his nerves. Mason’s expression shifted several times before he finally forced a mocking sneer:

"Valerie, if you’re short on cash, you can just call me directly."

"There’s no need to scatter nails on the road just to lure me to this godforsaken place to watch you perform."

I chuckled, chatting as casually as I would with any random customer.

"If I were a good actress, I’d be in Hollywood by now."

"You came from 3rd Avenue, right? The local news mentioned this morning that a hardware truck spilled its cargo of steel nails there yesterday. You have to be careful."

As I spoke, I grabbed a rag from the counter and wiped the black grease from my hands.

Mason’s eyes locked onto the rag. It was once pink, but now it was washed out to a dingy gray, the edges frayed and threadbare. He finally lost his temper, his voice rising:

"Valerie, you used to be as proud as a swan."

"Claustrophobia, OCD, germaphobia—you had every single symptom of a spoiled rich girl. If a speck of dust landed on your high heels, you’d spend half an hour cleaning it. If there was a single oil spot on the dining table, you’d fire the maid on the spot..."

"And look at you now..."

"Hey, Val! Can you check my car? The AC is blowing hot air!"

With a loud, cheerful shout, the glass door of the shop swung open. Mrs. Higgins, wearing a bright floral shirt, walked in and tossed her car keys into my hand.

"You got it, Mrs. Higgins. Leave it here, I’ll check it out in a bit," I said, catching the keys. "It probably just needs a freon recharge. Easy fix."

"Great, I’ll leave you to it." She patted my shoulder warmly, then glanced at Mason. She lowered her voice. "You have a customer? I’ll get out of your hair then. Talk to you later!"

After waving goodbye to Mrs. Higgins, I realized I still had a client waiting. I offered Mason a polite, professional smile.

"Right, Mr. Miller. Your car is good to go. That’ll be twenty bucks."

"You..."

Mason stared at me blankly. It took him a long time to utter that single word, as if he lacked the strength to say anything else.

Instead, he hurriedly pulled out his phone, searching for a QR code to scan.

When I saw the $500 notification on my screen, I waved my hands immediately.

"Mr. Miller, you overpaid. Let me send the change back to you."

As I spoke, I instinctively opened Snapchat to find his contact.

Then I remembered. The day I was sent to prison, he had blocked me on everything.

Slightly embarrassed, I scratched my head. "Well, this is awkward. Mr. Miller, could you show me your Venmo QR code instead?"

"Didn’t you... didn’t you say the car needed a major overhaul?" Mason’s expression was incredibly complex. "Check the other parts for me. Is this enough?"

I smiled, genuinely pleased.

"More than enough. It’s plenty. Please, have a seat while you wait."

I grabbed a small, folding camp stool from the corner and pushed it toward him.

Looking at his perfectly tailored designer suit, I found a relatively clean cloth and laid it over the stool for him.

Mason remained silent for a long time before gingerly sitting down. He sat elegantly, hands resting on his knees, looking entirely out of place.

A second later, the squeak of the glass door startled him.

"Hey, Val! Still working during lunch? Business must be booming! No wonder you ordered the double-entree lunch special today."

"Whoa, a luxury sports car. We’ve got a VIP client today!"

It was Toby, the delivery guy who brought me lunch every day.

I laughed and traded a few jokes with him before taking the paper bag from his hands.

Hearing himself called a "VIP," Mason shifted uncomfortably, turning his head slightly and letting out a quiet sigh.

But there was nothing I could do about it. The neighborhood was just like this.

Chloe, who owned the nail salon next door, ran in to ask if I wanted to grab hotpot with her tonight.

A young guy from the upstairs apartment came down dragging a heavy suitcase, asking if he could leave it in my shop until he got back tonight.

A high school girl rushed in, frantically asking if I had a portable charger she could borrow.

Their eyes were full of curiosity, lingering on Mason’s expensive suit and striking looks.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Mason crossed his legs and shifted on the tiny stool.

"Valerie, have you really degraded yourself to this point? Hanging out with... these lowlifes?"