Free On the Corner of Heartache and Hopeful--MIC by Lynda Bailey Page B

onto Nonie’s front porch. Mic should arrive any time
with the Comet, and his excitement at seeing her burst through his chest. He
halted mid-step at the sight of his grandmother’s vintage, maroon sedan parked
at the curb.
    That’s weird, he
thought, his gaze scanning the vacant street . Where’s Mic?
    He didn’t like
the wisp of worry which funneled up his spine. He shook his head. It’s
probably nothing .
    That’s when he
turned and saw the Comet keys lying on the top weathered porch step. He picked
them up, his wispy worry now a full-fledged bonfire raging in his gut.
Something was wrong. He didn’t know what, but something was wrong. And he was
going to find out what.
    Clasping the
keys in a tight fist, he leapt down the porch steps. Minutes later, after the
only thing racing faster than his heart was the V8 engine of Nonie’s Comet, he
stopped in the parking lot of Anderson Automotive. By all appearances, it looked
closed.
    He got out and
glanced at his watch. Only 4:15, the place couldn’t be closed. Just then a
young mechanic, his head a bit too large for his shoulders, came out the door.
Scott recognized him as one of the mechanics from when he’d been such an ass to
Mic. He chewed up the gravel ground in three long strides. “Excuse me. Is Mic
around?”
    The mechanic
squinted at him. The name on his shirt read Boyd. “Nah. She left over an
hour ago to return some guy’s car.”
    Scott hiked a thumb
over his shoulder at the Comet. “That car?”
    Boyd turned his
squint on the car. “Yep.”
    “But you don’t
know where she is right now?”
    “Nope.”
    “Look, can you
give me her home address. It’s important that I find her.”
    With an
eyeballing stare, Boyd turned to lock the door. “I could, but I won’t.”
    Scott sighed in
exasperation. “Why not?”
    Boyd looked
back, his gaze narrowing. “I remember you from a couple of days ago. You came
into the garage all pissed off about something. Maybe you’re still upset.
Wouldn’t be a good idea for me to tell you where to find the boss, now would
it? ‘Sides, that sorta thing is against the rules.”
    “All right. What
about her number? Can you give me that?”
    “Nah, uh.”
    Another sigh. “I
don’t suppose anyone else is around that I could talk to?”
    “Nope. It was an
easy day so we quit early. Everybody’s gone. It’s my week to clean the
bathrooms. That’s why I’m still here.”
    Scott could feel
his tenuous control over his temper slipping fast. “Look you have to
understand, I don’t mean any harm to Mic, but I do need to find her. It’s
imperative.”
    Finished with
the lock, Boyd pocketed the key. “Sorry. Can’t help you.”
    The young
mechanic sauntered toward a beat-up Ford truck. To keep from bashing in the
punk’s skull with his fists, Scott spun on his heel and stalked back to the
Comet. He attempted to pull his thoughts together.
    What could have
made Mic disappear like this? Had he insulted or angered her somehow?
Everything had seemed fine between them that morning. He couldn’t figure it.
    Scott started
the engine and pulled out of the lot. He took the longest way back to Nonie’s
house he could, cruising every street in Tatum, his gaze peeled for any sign of
Mic. In spite of the fact this town was the size of postage stamp, he realized
the chances of finding her like this were nil. But at least he was doing some thing.
After an hour of driving around, he put the gear shift into “park” in front of
Nonie’s house and sat there, his heart heavy in his chest.
    The one thought,
which he’d kept at bay, now dominated his mind, curdling his insides like milk
in the summer sun. Mic had changed her mind about him.
    ~
* ~
    Mic watched
Scott trudge up the porch steps, oblivious to her sitting on the swing. As he
unlocked the door, she pushed back and the rusted swing chains squealed in
protest. He rifled his gaze to her, his expression joyful at first, then
cautious. She pushed again and the chains