fic: LSF
Title: LSF
Rating: PG13ish for language
A/N: I've had an annoyingly long day and this fic cheers me up. I don't really know why, but writing it makes me happy. So I hope you all enjoy this.
A/N 2: I've totally forgotten to mention this in the past couple days: Pittsburgh won the Superbowl and suck it Baltimore. That's my whole commentary for that game.
part one
He kept trying to figure out how to talk to Trey.
Should he try the bold approach? Walk right up to his brother and say I want to go to UCLA, can you help me pay for it?
Or should he try to be subtle? Leave brochures around the house, drop little hints about how nice it would be to eventually get out of Chino?
Instead he chose the coward way and never said a word.
…
Ryan stood behind the counter and tried to focus on his homework.
It was his official job to run the register, but they didn’t have a lot of customers per day, so usually he just stood around and studied while Trey, ‘Turo, Eddie, and Charlie worked.
He looked up when he heard Eddie whistle and his eyes followed where everyone was looking at the car that rolled up in front of the shop.
“Hey ‘Turo,” Eddie nudged his friend, “look sharp, you’re about to get paid.”
Arturo ran this place, so he was always the one to take big customers, and this one was big.
The Mercedes was black, and the dirt from the road did nothing to hide the fact that it was brand new, and very expensive.
Well, hell yeah they were getting paid.
Rich people would shell out whatever it took to fix their precious cars. Except, he saw with disappointment, that it was only the front right wheel that was busted.
The car came to a stop, and they waited for a few seconds for the driver to emerge - the windows were tinted. Finally the door opened, and he was totally not expecting a girl - at least not a girl his age. He’d expected some big business man, or a trophy wife, but not this teenage girl in a pink and yellow checkered dress, with her hair slicked back primly and pearls draped around her neck. She smoothed out her skirt, grabbed a purse from the car, shut the door and walked over to them, her movements precise and exact.
“Excuse me,” she addressed Trey, most likely because Trey was standing closer to the front of the garage. “Could somebody help me?” Trey just grinned and nodded towards ‘Turo, and the girl frowned at him for a brief second before her face settle back into a pleasant expression. She turned towards ‘Turo, who was walking toward them now.
“Hi, what can I do for you?” he asked, wiping the grease off his hand with a rag before extending it to her. She hesitated, then stuck her own hand out resolutely, checking it for dirt discretely when the shake was done.
“My tire, it… broke - or whatever they call it. Went flat? Either way, I don’t think I can drive with it like that, and I don’t know how to change it.” She turned and frowned at her car, and Ryan couldn’t help but think that of course this girl wouldn’t know how to change a tire. She looked like she wouldn’t know how to change her own clothes. He’d had a few experiences with rich girls - coming down to the ‘ghettos’ to find ‘bad boys’.
Mostly they went running when they realized that ‘bad boys’ in Chino were actually bad, but he’d known them long enough to realize that rich girls were stupid.
‘Turo just smiled - he was actually very professional, which was why he had a bunch of regulars who drove out of their way to get their cars fixed by him. “Of course, Miss…”
“Townsend,” the girl supplied, squinting out at her car. ‘Turo nodded at Eddie, who went to inspect the tire in question.
“It’s just a puncture,” Eddie called, rising from his crouch to walk over to ‘Turo. “We can patch it up, since we probably don’t have the right tire to fit this model here in the shop.” Of course they didn’t, because they didn’t just keep tires made for Mercedes lying around. They weren’t exactly in high demand out here.
“Great,” the girl sighed, looking relieved. She handed her keys over to ‘Turo, who got into the car and drove it into the garage. He parked it and got out and walked back over to the girl.
“Miss Townsend,” he began, but the girl winced, cutting him off.
“Please, call me Taylor. Miss Townsend is my mother,” she muttered the last part, annoyance flicking over her features, but then the pleasant smile was back.
“Ok, Taylor, how long has the ‘coolant low’ light been on?” The four men looked over at the girl, and she shrugged, looking unconcerned.
“I don’t know, a couple days?” She looked around at the four when they said nothing. “Is that bad?” Trey snorted in laughter, and even Eddie grinned. ‘Turo kept his professional face on. “Isn’t coolant just the stuff that makes the air conditioning work?”
Seriously? Ryan shook his head. Why would there be an idiot light for air conditioning? He jumped back into the conversation, where ‘Turo was explaining how coolant kept the engine from overheating, and she could’ve blown up driving without it. Then he promised to fix that too, gesturing for Eddie to start on the car.
When Eddie and ‘Turo were gone, she looked around a bit more and her eyes landed on Ryan, widening a little. Then she smiled and made her way over to the counter and the weird feeling like he knew her from somewhere sparked, and he figured her out as the weird girl stalking him from Starbucks.
“Well, if it isn’t the boy without a name,” she said, tilting her head at him.
Trey shot him a look but he ignored that.
“You’re really good at this stalking thing,” he said back, slightly uncomfortable under her stare.
“Apparently,” she shrugged. “It wasn’t planned, though. I guess I’m just a natural at finding people.”
“You two know each other?” Trey asked, leaning up against the counter.
“Oh, we go way back,” the girl smiled nervously, eyes flicking over to Trey, noticing she had an audience for the first time. “We’re old friends, very close. Then there was that period of estrangement where I think we were both growing as people. But here we are, like old times.”
Ryan shrugged when Trey raised his eyebrow.
“Right,” Trey drawled, looking at her like she was crazy, which Ryan didn’t disagree with.
“I’m gonna go sit over there,” the girl said, face flushing red, and she hurried away.
…
The girl looked bored, and she was trying to fan herself with an old copy of Maxim, which Ryan assumed she had found on the table in the seating area. Usually men were the only ones who waited around while their cars were being fixed up - to chat with the mechanics and other car buffs.
She gave a huge sigh, got up from the couch, and walked over to the counter.
“Do you know how long this will take?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at her car. “My mother will kill me if I don’t get to the party on time.”
“Shouldn’t be too long,” Trey shrugged, twirling a pair of scissors around his finger. It was slow for a Friday, so Trey was bored. Ryan sighed, shutting his book closed and grabbing the scissors out of Trey’s grasp. The girl nodded, sighing, and leaned up against the counter next to him. She opened the magazine she had been fanning herself with, flipping through the pages absently. “You a fan of Maxim?” Trey asked, laughing. The girl looked up at him and smiled.
“Shockingly, I’ve never read it before. It’s fascinating, though.” She looked back at the page she was on, where the model of the month was spread out in skimpy clothes and high heels. “I mean, do guys really find this attractive?” Trey shot Ryan a look, but the girl continued. “I don’t mean the half naked girl, I mean the shoes,” she pointed at the model’s feet. “I don’t think guys realize how uncomfortable shoes like that are.”
Ryan had to admit, it couldn’t be comfortable, because the girls foot looked nearly straightened out with the height of the heel. Truthfully he never would have even looked at the shoes, on account of there being a half naked girl on the page.
“Trey!” ‘Turo called from the garage area, and Trey looked up to see another car pull up - though this one not nearly as nice as the Mercedes. A Honda Civic, early 90’s make if Ryan was judging correctly. He watched as Trey pushed himself off the counter and headed to where the owner of the car got out, greeting Trey. He was a semi-regular, coming by every once in a while when his old car gave out in their area.
The girl sighed, closing the magazine and turning around to rest her elbows in the counter. She glanced over to where Ryan had reopened his book, starting his Calculus work again.
“Where do you go to college?”
Her question caught him off guard, and she looked up at him. “Um, Barstow Community College…”
He wasn’t sure why he was nervous - maybe because she probably went to some high class college her daddy’s money got her into.
That made him less nervous; at least he had worked to get into college.
“Oh nice,” she nodded, even though he could tell she had never heard of it.
“Where do you go?” He realized that maybe she didn’t go to college. How did he even know how old she was? She could be older than she looked… no way she was younger. No way she was a high school student, especially not driving around on a Friday afternoon in the middle of nowhere.
“I don’t,” she flicked her gaze to the wall, expression flickering just a bit, until it settled back to normal. He stayed silent, and she hesitated, taking a deep breath, before continuing. “I dropped out.”
“Why?” He was probably being nosy, but he was bored, and it was a nice distraction from math. She probably found college too hard, although she’d probably make up some excuse like ‘it just wasn’t me’. He didn’t doubt that college really wasn’t made for some people, but rich girls were just lazy. Maybe she flunked out - too much partying, not enough studying.
She sighed again, this time looking down at the counter. “I got married.” Now that he wasn’t expecting, and he glanced down at her left hand, which was ringless. “Oh,” she noticed his gaze, “I’m totally getting a divorce.” There was another pause, “I hope.”
“You hope?” he asked, turning to lean sideways so he could see her better.
“Well, Henri-Michel doesn’t want to get divorced. He wants me to go back to France-”
“France?”
“Oh, I was going to the Sorbonne,” she explained. “So I went over there, and I was in a new country, and I was all alone, and he gave me change for the subway… the next thing I know he’s telling me he loves me and he wants to take care of me, and then I’m at his parent’s chapel in Burgundy, and I’m saying ‘I do’. After I sobered up, I realized that I didn’t love him, and I came home. Where, of course, my mother flipped, and she’s basically had me under house arrest for the past two months…” she broke off, looking up in embarrassment. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”
Ryan shrugged - he was used to everyone talking at him. “So if you’re under house arrest, why are you here?”
“My mother’s hosting a party in San Bernardino,” she explained. “One of her clients won some tournament thing, and she wants me to make an appearance.”
“Tournament?”
“Oh, she’s a sports agent,” the girl waved vaguely, obviously uninterested. “Some team called the Universe, or…”
“The Los Angeles Galaxy?” Ryan was officially interested. He liked soccer.
“Yeah, that one,” she nodded. “And I really would’ve protested, but I think David Beckham might be there…” She frowned, “I just don’t know why she couldn’t have held the thing in Los Angeles. I mean, that’s where the team’s from, right? Except I think her client originally came from San Bernardino, so he thought it would be awesome if they had it there. I don’t know, I’m just gonna show up for an hour and go home.”
Ryan was about to protest that she couldn’t just leave a party like that, when her cell phone went off. “Speak of the devil,” she muttered, before flipping the thing open. “Mother!” Ryan flinched at the tone of her voice, way too bright and overly perky. “I got a flat, somewhere on I-15,” she explained, and he could actually hear the shrill tones of her mother’s voice over the line. “I don’t know, a while? No one even knows me there, what does it matter if I’m late? I don’t see why I have to come any… umm… the pink and yellow one?... Ok, but you said the blue one made my ass look huge… well, then what am I supposed to wear, mother?”
The girl flushed red, eyes flicking over to him as if he could hear whatever her mother just said.
He couldn’t, but her ass looked perfectly fine in the dress she was wearing now.
…
“Ryan Atwood.”
He turned and the girl was smiling at him triumphantly.
“What?” he asked, rubbing his hand over his face.
Trey, ‘Turo, and Eddie were finding this way too funny. The girl was bored waiting for her car and apparently she’d picked him to entertain her.
“Your name,” she said, like it should be obvious. “Your name is Ryan Atwood.”
“Thanks, I’d forgotten,” he said, leaning against the counter.
The girl was hot but it seemed like her mouth had no off button.
“You never told me your name, but it’s on the folder right there,” she said, pointing to his college folder. “I’m like Nancy Drew, but without the lesbian and the fat girl for sidekicks.”
“Right,” he said, looking over her shoulder at Trey, who was grinning at him.
“Do you have a vending machine?” she asked with no segue, looking around the garage. “I was supposed to eat at the party and I’m starving.”
“There’s a Coke machine out front,” he shrugged. “And a diner a little ways down the highway called Chucks.”
“Like the sneaker?” she asked and didn’t wait for a response before launching into her next thought. “How am I supposed to get there without my car.”
He took a deep breath but Trey saved him from answering.
“Hey LB, wanna go get us some lunch?”
“Yes, please,” Ryan said hurriedly, shoving his books into his bag and digging his keys out of his pocket. “You guys want your usual?”
“Yeah. And why don’t you take Miss Townsend along? I heard her say she was hungry and her car’s pipes are a little damaged from the lack of coolant, so it’ll be a little longer.”
Ryan tried to glare, but Trey just grinned it off and the girl was already walking outside.
Rating: PG13ish for language
A/N: I've had an annoyingly long day and this fic cheers me up. I don't really know why, but writing it makes me happy. So I hope you all enjoy this.
A/N 2: I've totally forgotten to mention this in the past couple days: Pittsburgh won the Superbowl and suck it Baltimore. That's my whole commentary for that game.
part one
He kept trying to figure out how to talk to Trey.
Should he try the bold approach? Walk right up to his brother and say I want to go to UCLA, can you help me pay for it?
Or should he try to be subtle? Leave brochures around the house, drop little hints about how nice it would be to eventually get out of Chino?
Instead he chose the coward way and never said a word.
…
Ryan stood behind the counter and tried to focus on his homework.
It was his official job to run the register, but they didn’t have a lot of customers per day, so usually he just stood around and studied while Trey, ‘Turo, Eddie, and Charlie worked.
He looked up when he heard Eddie whistle and his eyes followed where everyone was looking at the car that rolled up in front of the shop.
“Hey ‘Turo,” Eddie nudged his friend, “look sharp, you’re about to get paid.”
Arturo ran this place, so he was always the one to take big customers, and this one was big.
The Mercedes was black, and the dirt from the road did nothing to hide the fact that it was brand new, and very expensive.
Well, hell yeah they were getting paid.
Rich people would shell out whatever it took to fix their precious cars. Except, he saw with disappointment, that it was only the front right wheel that was busted.
The car came to a stop, and they waited for a few seconds for the driver to emerge - the windows were tinted. Finally the door opened, and he was totally not expecting a girl - at least not a girl his age. He’d expected some big business man, or a trophy wife, but not this teenage girl in a pink and yellow checkered dress, with her hair slicked back primly and pearls draped around her neck. She smoothed out her skirt, grabbed a purse from the car, shut the door and walked over to them, her movements precise and exact.
“Excuse me,” she addressed Trey, most likely because Trey was standing closer to the front of the garage. “Could somebody help me?” Trey just grinned and nodded towards ‘Turo, and the girl frowned at him for a brief second before her face settle back into a pleasant expression. She turned towards ‘Turo, who was walking toward them now.
“Hi, what can I do for you?” he asked, wiping the grease off his hand with a rag before extending it to her. She hesitated, then stuck her own hand out resolutely, checking it for dirt discretely when the shake was done.
“My tire, it… broke - or whatever they call it. Went flat? Either way, I don’t think I can drive with it like that, and I don’t know how to change it.” She turned and frowned at her car, and Ryan couldn’t help but think that of course this girl wouldn’t know how to change a tire. She looked like she wouldn’t know how to change her own clothes. He’d had a few experiences with rich girls - coming down to the ‘ghettos’ to find ‘bad boys’.
Mostly they went running when they realized that ‘bad boys’ in Chino were actually bad, but he’d known them long enough to realize that rich girls were stupid.
‘Turo just smiled - he was actually very professional, which was why he had a bunch of regulars who drove out of their way to get their cars fixed by him. “Of course, Miss…”
“Townsend,” the girl supplied, squinting out at her car. ‘Turo nodded at Eddie, who went to inspect the tire in question.
“It’s just a puncture,” Eddie called, rising from his crouch to walk over to ‘Turo. “We can patch it up, since we probably don’t have the right tire to fit this model here in the shop.” Of course they didn’t, because they didn’t just keep tires made for Mercedes lying around. They weren’t exactly in high demand out here.
“Great,” the girl sighed, looking relieved. She handed her keys over to ‘Turo, who got into the car and drove it into the garage. He parked it and got out and walked back over to the girl.
“Miss Townsend,” he began, but the girl winced, cutting him off.
“Please, call me Taylor. Miss Townsend is my mother,” she muttered the last part, annoyance flicking over her features, but then the pleasant smile was back.
“Ok, Taylor, how long has the ‘coolant low’ light been on?” The four men looked over at the girl, and she shrugged, looking unconcerned.
“I don’t know, a couple days?” She looked around at the four when they said nothing. “Is that bad?” Trey snorted in laughter, and even Eddie grinned. ‘Turo kept his professional face on. “Isn’t coolant just the stuff that makes the air conditioning work?”
Seriously? Ryan shook his head. Why would there be an idiot light for air conditioning? He jumped back into the conversation, where ‘Turo was explaining how coolant kept the engine from overheating, and she could’ve blown up driving without it. Then he promised to fix that too, gesturing for Eddie to start on the car.
When Eddie and ‘Turo were gone, she looked around a bit more and her eyes landed on Ryan, widening a little. Then she smiled and made her way over to the counter and the weird feeling like he knew her from somewhere sparked, and he figured her out as the weird girl stalking him from Starbucks.
“Well, if it isn’t the boy without a name,” she said, tilting her head at him.
Trey shot him a look but he ignored that.
“You’re really good at this stalking thing,” he said back, slightly uncomfortable under her stare.
“Apparently,” she shrugged. “It wasn’t planned, though. I guess I’m just a natural at finding people.”
“You two know each other?” Trey asked, leaning up against the counter.
“Oh, we go way back,” the girl smiled nervously, eyes flicking over to Trey, noticing she had an audience for the first time. “We’re old friends, very close. Then there was that period of estrangement where I think we were both growing as people. But here we are, like old times.”
Ryan shrugged when Trey raised his eyebrow.
“Right,” Trey drawled, looking at her like she was crazy, which Ryan didn’t disagree with.
“I’m gonna go sit over there,” the girl said, face flushing red, and she hurried away.
…
The girl looked bored, and she was trying to fan herself with an old copy of Maxim, which Ryan assumed she had found on the table in the seating area. Usually men were the only ones who waited around while their cars were being fixed up - to chat with the mechanics and other car buffs.
She gave a huge sigh, got up from the couch, and walked over to the counter.
“Do you know how long this will take?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at her car. “My mother will kill me if I don’t get to the party on time.”
“Shouldn’t be too long,” Trey shrugged, twirling a pair of scissors around his finger. It was slow for a Friday, so Trey was bored. Ryan sighed, shutting his book closed and grabbing the scissors out of Trey’s grasp. The girl nodded, sighing, and leaned up against the counter next to him. She opened the magazine she had been fanning herself with, flipping through the pages absently. “You a fan of Maxim?” Trey asked, laughing. The girl looked up at him and smiled.
“Shockingly, I’ve never read it before. It’s fascinating, though.” She looked back at the page she was on, where the model of the month was spread out in skimpy clothes and high heels. “I mean, do guys really find this attractive?” Trey shot Ryan a look, but the girl continued. “I don’t mean the half naked girl, I mean the shoes,” she pointed at the model’s feet. “I don’t think guys realize how uncomfortable shoes like that are.”
Ryan had to admit, it couldn’t be comfortable, because the girls foot looked nearly straightened out with the height of the heel. Truthfully he never would have even looked at the shoes, on account of there being a half naked girl on the page.
“Trey!” ‘Turo called from the garage area, and Trey looked up to see another car pull up - though this one not nearly as nice as the Mercedes. A Honda Civic, early 90’s make if Ryan was judging correctly. He watched as Trey pushed himself off the counter and headed to where the owner of the car got out, greeting Trey. He was a semi-regular, coming by every once in a while when his old car gave out in their area.
The girl sighed, closing the magazine and turning around to rest her elbows in the counter. She glanced over to where Ryan had reopened his book, starting his Calculus work again.
“Where do you go to college?”
Her question caught him off guard, and she looked up at him. “Um, Barstow Community College…”
He wasn’t sure why he was nervous - maybe because she probably went to some high class college her daddy’s money got her into.
That made him less nervous; at least he had worked to get into college.
“Oh nice,” she nodded, even though he could tell she had never heard of it.
“Where do you go?” He realized that maybe she didn’t go to college. How did he even know how old she was? She could be older than she looked… no way she was younger. No way she was a high school student, especially not driving around on a Friday afternoon in the middle of nowhere.
“I don’t,” she flicked her gaze to the wall, expression flickering just a bit, until it settled back to normal. He stayed silent, and she hesitated, taking a deep breath, before continuing. “I dropped out.”
“Why?” He was probably being nosy, but he was bored, and it was a nice distraction from math. She probably found college too hard, although she’d probably make up some excuse like ‘it just wasn’t me’. He didn’t doubt that college really wasn’t made for some people, but rich girls were just lazy. Maybe she flunked out - too much partying, not enough studying.
She sighed again, this time looking down at the counter. “I got married.” Now that he wasn’t expecting, and he glanced down at her left hand, which was ringless. “Oh,” she noticed his gaze, “I’m totally getting a divorce.” There was another pause, “I hope.”
“You hope?” he asked, turning to lean sideways so he could see her better.
“Well, Henri-Michel doesn’t want to get divorced. He wants me to go back to France-”
“France?”
“Oh, I was going to the Sorbonne,” she explained. “So I went over there, and I was in a new country, and I was all alone, and he gave me change for the subway… the next thing I know he’s telling me he loves me and he wants to take care of me, and then I’m at his parent’s chapel in Burgundy, and I’m saying ‘I do’. After I sobered up, I realized that I didn’t love him, and I came home. Where, of course, my mother flipped, and she’s basically had me under house arrest for the past two months…” she broke off, looking up in embarrassment. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”
Ryan shrugged - he was used to everyone talking at him. “So if you’re under house arrest, why are you here?”
“My mother’s hosting a party in San Bernardino,” she explained. “One of her clients won some tournament thing, and she wants me to make an appearance.”
“Tournament?”
“Oh, she’s a sports agent,” the girl waved vaguely, obviously uninterested. “Some team called the Universe, or…”
“The Los Angeles Galaxy?” Ryan was officially interested. He liked soccer.
“Yeah, that one,” she nodded. “And I really would’ve protested, but I think David Beckham might be there…” She frowned, “I just don’t know why she couldn’t have held the thing in Los Angeles. I mean, that’s where the team’s from, right? Except I think her client originally came from San Bernardino, so he thought it would be awesome if they had it there. I don’t know, I’m just gonna show up for an hour and go home.”
Ryan was about to protest that she couldn’t just leave a party like that, when her cell phone went off. “Speak of the devil,” she muttered, before flipping the thing open. “Mother!” Ryan flinched at the tone of her voice, way too bright and overly perky. “I got a flat, somewhere on I-15,” she explained, and he could actually hear the shrill tones of her mother’s voice over the line. “I don’t know, a while? No one even knows me there, what does it matter if I’m late? I don’t see why I have to come any… umm… the pink and yellow one?... Ok, but you said the blue one made my ass look huge… well, then what am I supposed to wear, mother?”
The girl flushed red, eyes flicking over to him as if he could hear whatever her mother just said.
He couldn’t, but her ass looked perfectly fine in the dress she was wearing now.
…
“Ryan Atwood.”
He turned and the girl was smiling at him triumphantly.
“What?” he asked, rubbing his hand over his face.
Trey, ‘Turo, and Eddie were finding this way too funny. The girl was bored waiting for her car and apparently she’d picked him to entertain her.
“Your name,” she said, like it should be obvious. “Your name is Ryan Atwood.”
“Thanks, I’d forgotten,” he said, leaning against the counter.
The girl was hot but it seemed like her mouth had no off button.
“You never told me your name, but it’s on the folder right there,” she said, pointing to his college folder. “I’m like Nancy Drew, but without the lesbian and the fat girl for sidekicks.”
“Right,” he said, looking over her shoulder at Trey, who was grinning at him.
“Do you have a vending machine?” she asked with no segue, looking around the garage. “I was supposed to eat at the party and I’m starving.”
“There’s a Coke machine out front,” he shrugged. “And a diner a little ways down the highway called Chucks.”
“Like the sneaker?” she asked and didn’t wait for a response before launching into her next thought. “How am I supposed to get there without my car.”
He took a deep breath but Trey saved him from answering.
“Hey LB, wanna go get us some lunch?”
“Yes, please,” Ryan said hurriedly, shoving his books into his bag and digging his keys out of his pocket. “You guys want your usual?”
“Yeah. And why don’t you take Miss Townsend along? I heard her say she was hungry and her car’s pipes are a little damaged from the lack of coolant, so it’ll be a little longer.”
Ryan tried to glare, but Trey just grinned it off and the girl was already walking outside.