2019-10-13 - Truck Tinkering

It's late afternoon on a Sunday in October. It's been drizzling a bit on and off, but at the moment there seems to be a bit of a break and it's relatively dry out. Jaime sits on the front porch of the house, facing the street, with a bottle of beer in one hand, just waiting for Kass to show up. She was scheduled to stop by to take a look at the truck.

Kass can be seen coming, just ambling up the side of the road, hands in her pockets. Today has the young woman in a dark grey camisole and dark wash jean shorts under a faded red and black flannel with the sleeves rolled up above the elbow and finished with blaze orange Chuck Taylors, laces flapping. Everything looks just a half size too small and about seven years out of date, like she's wearing a wardrobe meant for a younger her. The messenger bag bangs against her hip as she walks, a pair of cheap sunglasses covering her eyes from the sun that's decided to make a brief appearance. As she approaches, she lifts a hand towards Jaime and flashes a brief grin, the languid nature of her ambling suggesting that she's probably smoked a bowl fairly recently, though it doesn't seem to be impairing her much.

Jaime's in a pair of jeans, his usual work boots, and a grey t-shirt with some faded bar logo or another on it from somewhere along the road on one of his many long haul drives. He lifts his bottle in salute to her as he sees her coming up the street. "Hey," he says when she nears the yard and he can do so without yelling down the street. The old beater of a truck is parked in the driveway near the house. Joey's car must be out wherever he is.

"Hiya. So this is the Beast, huh? Hmmm... well, it could definitely be worse." Kass turns up the drive, pausing near the truck to look it over, popping the hood to take a peek inside. "Definitely seen better days but.. I think I can fix it up. Might take a little bit though.. let me know if you've got somewhere to be and I'll do what I can with the time I've got. Can always swing around again later and finish up." She takes the messenger bag off and sets it down, flipping the flap up to pull out a heavy duty plastic case. Opening that up as well, she displays a set of mechanic's tools... carious sized wrenches, ratchets, pliers, screwdrivers, even some breaker bars, extensions, and joint adapters... and a whole slew of spark plug sockets. "Got any fun plans for the week?" Its one of those conversational questions asked when someone is doing something but still trying to keep up a passable conversation while working.

"I don't know if I'd call it a beast," Jaime says skeptically as he looks over the old truck with a critical eye. "More of a Heap." He watches as she pops the hood and wanders over to the edge of the porch not far from where she's working. He hops up on the railing and settles there, sitting a bit above and behind her. "Nah, I've got nowhere to be right now. And if I need to drive, it'll be a company truck that I'm driving, not mine. I can pretty much do without it for now." He shakes his head when she asks about the week, "Nothing planned. I don't make a lot of plans. Just kind of go with the flow, unless I need to work with someone else's schedule."

"Maybe not yet, but it will be soon enough. I don't have the setup to trick it out right now, but I can definitely get it running sweet again," Kass calls back over her shoulder. She pokes about here and there, muttering to herself under her breath, then finally tsks, sighs, and shrugs out of the flannel, tossing it towards the bag so she can go back to the insides of the engine block. She bends forward and in, reaching down deeper into the truck, the occasional clank or sound of a ratchet working while she mutters to herself some more. "Fair enough. I'm just gonna go part by part and see what I can fix to get it running more smoothly. When's the last time the fluids were changed, or the spark plugs?" Tinker, tinker, clang, ratchet. "Sounds like a nice, easy lifestyle. Pretty sure that's what I'm aspiring to get to.. just sort of... chill, you know? Things were tense and weird for a long time, so I'm kinda trying to get back to something more.. easygoing. So you said you're in a band. You sing? Play? What's your style?"

"It runs alright, it's just pretty worn down over the years and is showing its age," Jaime chuckles. But he doesn't seem to mind whatever Kass feels like doing to it. The old truck isn't something he has any particular emotional attachment to, anyway. He watches her as she clanks and bangs around inside the truck and takes another swig off his bottle of beer. "Earlier tihs summer," Jaime says in response to her question about the fluids and spark plugs. "I play the guitar," he says, "And I sing. Though I'm a better guitarist than I am a singer. As for style, depends on if its what I play for myself or the band. I don't think the band even knows what our style is yet."

"Yeah, I can tell. Got some hoses that are getting thin in here, you'll want to get them replaced soon. If you can get the parts, I can swap them out, though. Maybe wait a few months, though, so we aren't wasting a fresh oil change or anything. They're not going to burst right away or anything, just.. probably before winter, I'd get them changed." Kass straightens up briefly, swapping out the ratchet for a socket wrench and glancing Joey's way. She stretches up to her toes and leans forward again, squirming a little this way and that until she's down into the 'belly of the beast' once more and tinkering away. "Well that clinches it, now I have to hear you sing sometime." She pushes up briefly to grin at him, "So what's your style? What genre do you prefer?" Turning back to it, she goes back to the tinkering, her feet kicking a little here and there as she wiggles her way around the truck's interior.

"Thought you were going to fix it. I'll give you money for whatever parts it needs. Just give me an estimate for whatever the work will take. I'll cover it if you do the job," Jaime says from where he sits on the rail. When she asks what his style is, he shrugs his shoulders a bit and says, "Not sure what I'd call it, really. But you can listen sometime and decide for yourself."

"I am fixing it. I didn't bring parts with me, though. Never know what you'll need til you get into the guts of the car. If you want to replace hoses now, we can do it now. Just means we'll have to take a ride over to the parts store to get them." Kass pushes herself up with a bit of a struggle, shifting around to sit her butt on the edge of the truck, sneakers on the bumper. She wipes her greese-streaked hands heedlessly against her shorts and shrugs, "Up to you, really. First time I'm getting paid for fixing anything, so I guess.. pay me what you think is fair?" Kass flashes a grin at hi, though, nodding, "Sounds like a plan. So what do you like to listen to?" She hops down to replace the wrench for a pair of needlenose pliers and a star key set. Clambering back up she scoots around a little and goes right back in. "I like a lot of things. Rock, Punk, Metal, even some country and zydeco. Some rap, but not as much there. The beat is good but the lyrics... yeesh, you'd think those guys had it worse than me and I've been in a mental hospital for ten years." If she realizes what she just said, she gives no notice of it, blowing right on past and continuing, "Oh1 And blues. Blues is some awesome ass music."

"Whenever you want to do it is fine," Jaime says with a grin. "I'm just saying, while you're in there and when you climb out, put together a list of everything that's needed and the cost and I'll cover it if you take care of putting it all together and making it run." He nods then and says, "I'll give you time and materials. Cost of all the materials plus your time for the work done, standard local garage rates. If you're doing the same work, you deserve the same pay for it." When she asks what he likes to listen to he says, "Little of everything, really. I tend to be drawn by a particular melody, bit of music, or a particular set of lyrics... not any particular genre. So there are some rap songs I like, some country, blues, rock, folk, poop, dance, etc. Whatever happens to catch my ear, really."

"Sounds fair. I'm going to crawl up under the truck here in a minute to check on a few things. Plus side? Your transmission, carbeurator, and the engine itself are still good. I cleaned up a few pieces here and there, added a bit more grease in a few places.. but those are the big three that you absolutely don't want to go bust on you. I spruced up the starter a bit, cleaned it up, changed washers and a few wires that were looking a little crispy. So that should improve the turnover itself. The pinion gear and solenoid are still going strong, which.. amn. Good on you for keeping up with the maintenance." Kass hauls herself out from the top of the engine block, hitting the ground with a small puff of dirt and spinning around to grin at him. "The radiator is good but the hoses are worn for upper and lower, and we might as well replace the overflow while we're at it, they're pretty cheap and its a good idea to replace them all at once so you don't get uneven wear and tear. I'll pick up a new radiator cap too, the threads are getting a little stripped." Hands prop on hips as she watches him, giving a nod, "yeah, I hear you there. I've been trying to play catchup on music, but it seems like most of the stuff that catches me is.. well.. older stuff. Not that the music isn't good now, but the lyrics just don't hit me the same. What's your current earworm? Mine is Africa by Toto. Shit's been in my head for like three days now."

Jaime listens to her from where he sits, paying attention to what she's saying, though he watches the neighborhood more than her at this point, people coming and going up and down the street, cars as they roll by, kids darting between one house and another, shouting to each other, all the sorts of things that go on in the late afternoon. He tilts his head then a bit and glances back over her as she completes her list of things that she did that he'll never remember, but he nods anyway. "Current earworm? Love Drunk by Boys Like Girls at the moment."

"Good song. I like Thunder alot. Heard that one at Cabaret when Mee was messing with mixes. I heard Hurt on the radio a few days ago, though, and now it just won't get out of my head. I just need swing by somewhere with something different playing so I can pick up something new. I like Nine Inch Nails, but three days is too long for one song." Kass lifts a shrug and hops down, moving back to the kit and getting a socket wrench and adjustable wrench before alying out on the ground on her back, using feet and shoulders and elbows to squirm her way up under the truck. "So I heard there's like this weird ass early flu going around? You know anything about that? Guy came int he dispensary last night... looked like shit. Dark circles under his eyes, pale skin, looked pretty clammy, the whole nine."

Jaime takes up his bottle and takes another swig from it. "You want a beer?" he asks her after she wriggles under the truck and is poking around down there. "Yeah, I heard a lot of folks are getting sick. But then, there's always something going around, you know?" He slides down off the railing and wanders across the porch, the sound of his footsteps a steady thud as he makes his way down the steps to settle onto them instead.

"Sure, a beer sounds great." Her voice is somewhat muffled under the truck, but it comes through clear enough he can make it out. The sound of the wrench moving back and forth can be heard as she tests nuts and bolts to ensure threading is still holding. She squirms back out from underneath a few minutes later, a bit greasier, a little oily, a touch dirty. Flashing him a grin, she gives a shrug, "I can't really remember, but I'll take your word for it. Okay. Barring the hoses and such, you should be good to go. Soon as we get those I can throw them in and I swear you'll think it just rolled off the line... from a performance standpoint, anyhow." Hoisting herself up, she puts her tolls away before anything else, digging around in her bag to come up with a stained cloth that she uses to start wiping off her hands and arms in lieu of washing up just yet. "So, um.. there anything that happens around here? Like, I dunno, concerts in the park or movie nights or anything?"

Jaime does wander off to get her a beer from the kitchen, returning with a bottle in hand. By the time she wriggles free, he descends the steps and holds out the bottle for her to take, having opened it so that she doesn't have to do that while covered with grease. He shrugs when she asks if there's anything that happens around here. "I mean, sure, there's stuff. Nothing real consistent, so you just gotta pay attention when folks put up flyers and such."

"Oh, thanks!" Kass reaches out for the beer, plucking it up carefully. She rests the bottle against the back of her neck for a few moments, sighing in relief as the heat recedes. Pulling it back around for a sip, she smiles towards him, "Fair. Most of the stuff I come across that sounds interesting seems to happen while I'm working." She takes another drink, then holds it between two fingers as she she lifts a shrug, "Oh well! There seem to be some events that center around Cabaret, so I'll at least have that going! I've already been meeting some itneresting folk there for the whole Goblin Danse thing..."

Jaime sits himself down on the front steps and lifts his own bottle to his lips to take another swig, nodding his head. "I'm on the road a lot, so I catch what I can when I can. And I'm trying to practice with the band when I'm around, so there's that. The Cabaret isn't really my style, but Joey likes it there from time to time so I'll go with him, like that whole amateur night thing, where we got up and danced." He chuckles.

"I.. didn't really want to work there, you know. Like, it wasn't my first choice," Kass pauses, snorts a small chuckle. "Hell, it wasn't even my twentieth choice. But its the only place that would hire me. And, well.. I like the people. The other girls, that work there. They're a good lot. They've, you know, watched out for me." She ambles over, ptopping a hip against the edge of the house and lifting the beer for a sip. "I'm not talented like that. Creative things, you know. Not really great with people either. Didn't really develop many people skills in the asylum.. they did.. other things. Wrong things." She frowns briefly, then shakes her head and looks back to him with a shrug, "Anyway, I'm trying. To, you know, get better. Be better. Fix things. Make friends. So I try to find things to join in.. but the things I keep ending up in aren't.. they aren't the things I want to be doing."

"Oh, there's nothing wrong with the club," Jaime says, clarifying that he's not judging her place of employment. He also doesn't seem to judge regarding the asylum either, not batting an eyelash when she mentions it. He just seems to roll with it, taking it in stride like everything else. "You seem fine to me," he says with a shrug of his shoulders. "And you seem to be doing pretty well, holding down a job, workin' on my truck, all that." Then he nods and asks, "So what is it that you /want/ to be doing?"

"Oh! No, its not that there's anything wrong with the club but.. you know. There's a certain kinda stigma that attaches to a girl that works at a club like that. Not really what I want to be known for.." Kass lifts a small shrug and sips from her beer. Tugging the rag from her back pocket, she draws it across her forehead, leaving a faint smear of something in its wake, then tucking it back away. "I've gotten better. I don't.. spook as much. I've stopped jumping at shadows on the walls. Still got a ways to go. Still got a lot of medications I'm on." Letting out a breath, Kass glances back at him, lifting a brow, "You mean like.. really want to do?" A smile appears, a small one. "Paint. I love painting. It gets the demons out, clears my head.. and its quiet. Inside, y'know? Makes everything.. quiet."

Jaime shrugs his shoulders and says, "I don't know that I'd care about the opinions of the sort of people who would judge someone who was making an honest living and supporting themselves." He takes another swig from his bottle of beer and nods as she explains how she's recovered. "That's good. I mean, here's the thing, right? You're making progress, moving forward. That's what matters." Then he nods, "Yeah. Really want to do." He waits to listen as she explains. "Any kind of painting, or specifically creative painting like making art?"

Kass shrugs in return, "I still remember what it was like when my parents weren't afraid of me.. didn't hate me. I still want that back. I don't have anyone else but them." She sighs, lifting the bottle up for another drink, muttering against the rim, "I probably shouldn't, but I do." Drink taken, she licks her lips and glances down, one hand coming up to scruff at the back of her neck, "See, that part I'm not so sure of. Things keep happening. And every time I think I've done something right? Someone yells at me for it. I end up.. doing things I don't really wanna do. I don't like breaking things. It goes to a bad place.. dark place. But.. when I try to fix things, fix people? I get yelled at for it. So.. am I making progress? Only time I feel.. accepted, is when I'm doing the thing I don't -want- to do. And that seems wrong." Her brows furrow together for a few moments as she gets caught inside her own head. When he asks about her painting, though, she grins. "You want to see? I've got pictures."

Jaime is a pretty good listener, and he sits there quiet while she talks. He nods every so often, but it doesn't seem cursory, or like he's just humoring her, just considering what she's said. "I can understand wanting family to accept you, even if they've treated you poorly. They're still family, and that bond is kinda strong." He knows. He has his own family bonds. "Well, maybe your next step is not worrying so much about what other people think of what you're doing, and thinking about what you think about what you're doing, eh?" But he nods when she asks if he wants to see her painting.

"I... can't. I lost ten years, Jaime. Ten years of making friends, of having any sort of relationship with anyone that wasn't dressed in white, or worse, black. Ten years that I can barely remember because when I try it actually -hurts-. I get.. flashes, sometimes. Faces. People I should know but I don't. People I can see on the street and suddenly I get a small sliver of memory back, but I can't go chase them down and try to make it happen again because then I'm crazy and I end up right back in the asylum. I go to sleep, and I dream.. and sometimes I wake up hurt. Or worse, sometimes I wake up happy, like something really good happened only now I don't want to be awake because that dream was nicer than my reality. And nobody cares. I put on a bunch of body paint and go act like some happy little college girl and it stings like a motherfucker because somehow the glass that cut me in my dream cut me in real life and I've got a smile frozen on my face while I try to doge pinches and gropes from guys that my dad would go bowling with and I don't even know why I'm doing any of it because nobody cares. I could disappear again tomorrow and I don't know if anyone aside from my boss would even notice." For a rant, its sort of.. lackluster. More resigned than heated. Morose. Shaking her head, she takes a large swallow of the beer and murmurs, "One of these days, I'm going to find the butterfly to take me somewhere better." She reaches into her hip pocket with one hand and digs out an older style smartphone. One of those cheap 'pay by the month' types. Unlocking it, she flips through to the camera app and pulls up her pictures. And there they are. Her chalk butterfly from the bridge, somewhat faded and smeared after it was stepped on a few times. Some light tagging that was done at an unremarkable looking location. The interior of her trailer is probably the most interesting. The living room has a desert theme, spray-painted a matte sand yellow on the walls with golden heiroglyphics and the famous Nile winding through the desert with trees and the occasional oasis (around the windows). The kitchen has been fixed up to look very 50's (the appliances might be original), painted a bright turquoise with black and white check floor and a black and white glass tile backsplash, the cupboards all turquoise with acrylic painted band logos across them, most punk, some rock, some jazz.. there's more. Lots more.

One brow creeps up a little bit as Kass begins to rant and keeps going, and going, and going. He doesn't stop her. He doesn't even attempt to interrupt, instead just taking another swig from his beer as she unloads, letting her do so. "Sometimes, you gotta live your life like your opinion of it is the only one that matters. So that if nobody cares, you do." If she was hoping for pity, or for him to comfort and reassure her, she probably came to the wrong guy. He looks over at the pictures as she shows them to him though and he says, "I like the hieroglyphs. You should take up interior painting. Do people's houses and stuff, murals for businesses, that sort of thing."

"I think I'm talking to the wrong guy about the wrong thing. Its easy to say that when you got family. Friends. A life. A memory. To you.. knowing me was ten years ago. Ancient history. To me? It was like.. last month. World of difference." Kass shrugs and leans her shoulders back against the outside wall again. "You can't understand. And I can't even blame you for not caring. I'm just.. tired." She blinks, then shakes her head. "No way. Painting is the one thing I do for me, and ONLY for me. The lsat thing I want is to go to someone else's house and listen to them talk about what they want me to paint. I might actually be moved to hurt someone if I had to do that."

Jaime shrugs his shoulders and says, "It's not that I don't care at all, but I mean, what do you want me to tell you? I'm sorry your parents were shitty and you spent time in a mental hospital. I'm sorry it sucked and you lost a big chunk of time. I was being as encouraging as I knew how to be." He takes another swig from his bottle and says, "But if you just want to feel sorry for yourself and wallow in it, then I mean, you do you. I'll keep my opinions to myself." And when she says no way about the painting he says, "Then keep doing that for yourself. Was just a thought."

"Nah, its not on you. I don't even really know what I want except.. not this. I came home thinking things would be okay. But I'm still as alone as I was the last ten years, only now I have to work for it. I'm still trying to figure out HOW I know what I know and what I was doing that I learned it. I.. my head's all messed up and I'm trying to untangle the threads but the more I pick at it the worse it seems to get." Kass shrugs, sending him a faintly confused look before shrugging. She gives a small shake of her head and murmurs, "I appreciate the thought, I do. But.. painting is what keeps me sane. Its like.. my outlet. You know? I like the spraypaint.. and I really like the acrylics. There's a tactile sensation to them. You can really get in and use your hands with them."

Jaime nods, though it's clear that he doesn't understand a good portion of what she's saying. Painting, though, that he seems to understand. "Sure, I get it. My music is kind of that way, but I also perform for others, too, and play with others, so I guess sometimes it's not always." It's about then that a small girl, looking about five years old or so, with light brown hair dressed in a light blue t-shirt and dark blue pants comes out through the front door and wanders over to Jaime, slinging her arms around his neck, and hugging him, then climbing him like a jungle-gym until she plops herself down in his lap. "Hey, kiddo," he says to her. "This is Kass. Kass, this is Jess."

Kass flashes a brief, lopsided smile, "Maybe more than you think. I'm not always painting by myself. There's someone else that we get together sometimes and make just... fun, awesome, off-the-wall art. Painting isn't always a solo thing. And some of it is in public places, for other people to see, too. Just gotta be more careful with that cause not everyone wants their property painted on." She lifts a small shrug and glances towards the small girl that comes running out. For a second she just freezes in place, watching the little girl like she isn't sure what to do. Then something seems to kick into place at the introduction and she smiles towards the girl, "Hi Jess. Its nice to meet you. You like the color blue?"

"Hi. I'm Jess. I'm five," she announces to Kass and then nods when asked if she likes the color blue, before looking up at Jaime and saying, "I'm hungry." He nods and says, "Alright." Picking her up easily, and slinging her around onto his back in a piggyback, he says, "Alright. I gotta feed the munchkin and get a few things done. But, I'll definitely get the parts that you recommended, and let you know when I've got them, so we can finish up the work on the truck. Then you just need to let me know how much I owe you."

"That is a very good age, Jess. A really really good age." Kass smiles at Jess before glancing back to Jaime. She gives a quick nod and moves towards the tool kit, making sure everything has been neatly put away before shoving it back into her messenger bag. The bag gets slung crossbody once more and she turns back to man and girl, "Sure. I'm usually textable even if I can't talk. Trust me, I'll have this truck purring like the world's biggest kitten by the time I'm done." She offers a smile and wave towards Jess, a nod to Jaime, then she's turning about and heading back down the driveway in that same ambling gait she'd approached in.