The last 2 months of Abbie Mills' life had been absolutely off the rails. Between meeting the colonial version of Demolition Man, thwarting demonic demise, and reconnecting with her sister, Abbie barely had a chance to catch her breath.
Last night, Friday, she found herself, Jenny, and Crane fighting not just Goliath but David as well. When it was all said and done, Abbie quietly prayed to herself:
If I could just have one free day, to myself, without any nonsense, I'd be eternally grateful.
And without missing a beat, Jenny insisted she and Crane go shopping Saturday morning.
Jenny hates shopping. She said so last week, Abbie thought to herself.
Abbie didn't even know Jenny had a license to drive, let alone money to take anyone shopping, but she wasn't going to ask why or how, as long as it worked out.
Saturday morning arrived and Abbie realized she had—barring any catastrophes—the entire day to herself and not a single activity planned.
She could hear Corbin in the back of her mind:
Bad things happen when you don't occupy yourself properly.
That was the first thing he taught her after they met. Abbie couldn't have just stopped doing all the bad stuff in her life without replacing it with something positive. At the time, the bad stuff was breaking locks and rolling joints.
It wasn't even about the smoking. It was the idea of taking a few pieces of something and making them into one thing by hand. She liked it. And that wasn't something she could ever let go of, she just had to find a better way to do it.
Corbin arrested her while driving a 2001 Crown Vic. She laughed when she got in the front seat:
This is the definition of lame.
And what should I be driving?
Well if I had a choice, it'd probably be a Mustang.
Corbin just nodded, knowing he had found a chord with her. A week later Abbie was pouring herself into a scale model of a GT 350 Mustang. She worked on anything, cars, planes, monuments; if there was a small version of something, she wanted to make it. As she got older, she moved onto bigger, more animate objects as well.
That urge to use her hands was apparent this morning but it wouldn't be curbed by painting a miniature race car. In her tool shed—which was so small it could qualify as a closet for a lawn gnome—she had a fire engine red '88 Vespa Cosa. Small, fast, and an 80's baby, just like her. Unlike her, it hadn't been around the block in over 6 months.
It ran well enough but she had been meaning to put in a new taillight, a new side mirror, and clean the battery contacts. So Abbie had her work cut out for her.
The bulbs she had on hand but the mirror had to be ordered online. And it was going to take a whopping 3 weeks. By that time, Abbie thought, she would be up to her neck in demon spawn again. So she headed to the scrapyard for a temporary solution. She was in luck: the scrap guy, Mitch, had a mirror for the '89 Cosa. It wasn't perfect but it would suffice until her order came in.
Holding the mirror brought on a strange sense of nostalgia. Abbie thought of the last time she road the mo-ped:
Abs, you sure both of us can fit on this thing?
You say that every time. I thought you Army guys were fearless. 'Hoo-rah' and all that?
He smiled and said,Just drive.
They were headed down to the lake. They hadn't had a date in weeks. And while Luke claimed he hated the mo-ped, she remembered his grin in the side mirror whenever she picked up speed. She loved his smile.
A gruff voice pulled Abbie out of her reverie.
"Uh, I think twenty'll cover it."
"Wait, what? It's a 20 year old mirror, you're lucky if I give you 10.", said Abbie.
Mitch pursed his lips and sighed. Ten it was.
Back home, in her driveway, Abbie set out to jury-rig the mirror to the remaining piece of the frame. She was so engrossed in getting the angle just right she jumped when a familiar grin popped up in the mirror.
"Little red deathtrap."
Looking into the mirror, Abbie replied, "You know, if I wanted to hear Prince, I'd have put on my iPod."
Normally Abbie would have been mortified as a result of Luke's sudden arrival. She was covered in garage dust, sweat, and wearing an old cut up Keith Hernandez t-shirt. But she hadn't spoken to Luke in a while, so he was a welcome sight.
"Need a hand?", Luke asked. He had been meaning to speak to Abbie for quite some time now. He wanted to talk to her about Andy, but that thought was pushed to the back when he saw that she was wearing his old t-shirt.
She had cut the sleeves and sides off, a mutilation he approved of. She had on old white uptowns—the hi tops—and cargo shorts. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and it was curly. He loved when her hair was curly.
"Yeah, I can't work on that taillight until I disconnect the battery, can you start on that?", Abbie asked. She didn't know how he was going to help without getting his button down dirty but that turned out to be a moot point when he took it off, leaving him in just his tank top and khakis. Oh no, she thought. Today was for downtime.
They worked in awkward silence for about 15 minutes, pretending that neither was glancing at the other every few seconds. When Abbie finally snapped the battery cover closed, Luke closed the tool box and stood up. He reached to help her off the ground but she was already popping up, face first into his chest.
"Whoa!", Abbie yelped as she gripped his arm to keep from falling and he grabbed her torso and pulled her upwards. It was so cliché that Abbie laughed. But when she looked up at Luke she realized the humor was lost on him. His eyes were very wide and his lips were parted in shock.
"Maybe we should be more careful.", Luke said.
And without even thinking Abbie replied, "Should we?"
Wrapping her arms around his neck, Abbie crushed her lips to Luke's. He responded in earnest, reaching inside her shirt and splaying his hands on her back. He swept his tongue across her lips and when they both parted, he slid his tongue over hers. She ran her fingers through his hair as he ran his mouth down her chin and across her jaw.
But just when she was about to push him towards her front door, the best and worst thing happened: her phone rang. Jenn, she thought, I love you and I can't stand you, I really do.
"Don't…pick it up", said Luke, between kisses on her neck.
"Luke I—Luke, stop", she said, reluctantly prying him off by his hair. "It's Jenn."
Trying to pretend she wasn't out of breath, she answered the phone. "Uh…hey."
"Hey, you alright, you sound like you were having sex with someone", said Jenny, with her typical sarcastic ease.
Abbie looked back at Luke—who was already buttoning up his shirt—and quickly bit her bottom lip. "Not exactly."
"Well, Crane and I stopped at that diner you like so much, the one with the 'C' rating? We're getting everything to-go, you want anything?"
Abbie had to pause when Luke leaned in behind her and whispered to her "Next time, we'll go for a ride" and walks off.
What have you gotten into?, Abbie thought.
"Abbie?", Jenny's voice cutting through.
She was so busying watching Luke saunter away from her house, she forgot about the phone call.
"Yeah, just get me the fries. And a couple of beers while you're at it."