Wes’ POV
Cars shouldn’t be so hard to fucking fix, I’d decided, feeling like an utter fucking moron in the middle of the street. There was something very wrong with American engineering if a car was this hard to fix on your own, for the everyday man who did not go to mechanic school. Trade school. Wherever.
“You’re not even American, are you Giselle?” I said, glaring at the stupid BMW with her lovely detailing. “I’m pretty sure you’re German, you salty whore.”
And now I was talking to my car like it was actually a person like some type of madman. Great. Brilliant.
Could this day get any worse?
The family reacted poorly when I hadn’t brought Eva with me to the interview. It would have made for a wonderful debut and let the docu-series end on a high note instead of the mildly depressing one.