Chapter 10 - The Garage

Catherine

I was awoken by the sound of clanking metal in the distance and the faint smell of motor oil. 

"Is she awake?" whispered a voice. 

"I don't know. Damon said we should leave her alone," said another. 

It sounded like teenagers arguing. It didn't help that I couldn't seem to open my eyes. The night before was a blur, but I vaguely remember getting in the car, so it was a relief that I didn't humiliate myself outside of the club. 

"She's not usually his type, is she? She may be good in be-"

"Keep your voice down," the other voice hushed. "He's going to kill us if he finds out we're even here."

My brows furrowed in confusion. I opened one eye slightly just to see what was going on. The room wasn't even lit. There was some light coming from a window not far from where I was lying down. The sofa I was on was uncharacteristically large. Some other person might be using this place as a sleeping quarter, too. All I saw were the legs of two people by the door. They were silently observing me, as if confused about why I was there.

"I didn't know he's into this type now. He usually goes for the outdoorsy type."

I was wide awake then. I made a show of stretching my arms, groaning as I did it. I had a feeling that my type wasn't someone Damon typically brought to this place, and I was eager to know what this place was. 

"She's awake! Let's get out of here," one of them said in a panic. Almost immediately, the room was empty. I could hear them rushing down some stairs, probably hoping that I didn't hear their earlier conversation. My body felt heavy, but I got myself up and attempted to make myself presentable. I was sure I no longer had makeup on, and my dress was wrinkled. After retying my hair, I stepped out to finally investigate. The place was huge, and a large sign hung on the far end of the floor.

The Garage

"I specifically told you two to stay out of my office," a man said. He was scolding two scrawny-looking boys. They didn't seem to mind being told off since they just looked at each other impishly. The man talking to them was wearing the typical getup you'll see in an auto repair shop. I looked closely and realized that it was Damon. His arms had grease on them, and so did his shirt. As if sensing my presence, he turned to look up. Our eyes met, and he gave me a small smile. He turned back to the boys and lifted a finger—as if warning them not to do anything that could guarantee them another scolding. 

"We just wanted to have a peek," one of them said. "Old Benjie won't tell us who you brought over last night. Besides, we wanted to see if she was alive."

"Well, you had your peek. Now get moving," Damon said, placing a hand on their backs and giving them a push. The boys laughed and walked towards one of the cars in the shop.

Damon made his way up the stairs. I couldn't quite guess the expression on his face. He looked relieved but anxious at the same time. He walked past me, and I followed him back to the room. When he turned on the light, the walls were painted white. It reminded me of the waiting areas in hospitals. The sofa I was lying on almost looked like a bed—a bed Damon can fit in. He started cleaning his arms with a damp towel while I just stood there awkwardly. 

"I know where I slept last night. Where did you—" I paused when I saw him looking at the same sofa. The room was cold, so the only explanation for how I stayed warm last night was that I had a heat source nearby. Said heat source was busy trying to clean himself up. The sound was faint, but I heard some careful footsteps by the door. The boys were back, and they were looking at me intently. I tried to smile, but I ended up looking at my hands instead. If there was one thing I'm scared of more than interacting, it was interacting with teenagers. They didn't even have to talk. They could just give you one look, and that would be enough to make you feel self-conscious.

You look like crap, Catherine. 

"Don't stare at her," Damon said. He was frowning as he looked at the boys. 

"It's fine," I said, trying to sound like I wasn't thinking of jumping off a window. "Staring hasn't killed anyone."

The boys gasped in surprise, one of them even covering his mouth. They spoke at the same time with the same wonder in their voices.

"You're alive!"

"You're not dead!"

Frowning, I turned to Damon and gave him a questioning look. I knew I looked like I got hit by a bus, but I wasn't expecting them to be shocked by the fact that I was still breathing. Maybe in their eyes I looked like roadkill. 

"Damon's never brought a human girl alive before."

This is it. I knew I shouldn't have trusted him. A few years from now, I'm going to be in a murder documentary on a streaming platform. Mothers would use me as a scare tactic to keep their daughters from sneaking out at night. 

"Well, how does he bring them then?" I asked. If I'm going to die, then I'm going to die knowing something about this man. I mean, what was I expecting? That some supernatural shiznick did happen and he would help me find the guy of my dreams? 

"She's funny. Where'd you get her?" one of the boys said, amused. Damon must have guessed what was going through my mind and sighed. 

"They're just pulling your leg. I've never brought anyone up here," he said, chuckling. 

I looked at the boys, still standing by the door. Damon seemed to be telling the truth, so I was slightly relieved. Now that I wasn't in fight-or-flight mode, I was able to take a good look at these two.

"Twins," I said to myself. Sure, one of them had lighter hair, but it was undeniable that they looked alike. They wore clothes a size too big for their scrawny figures. 

They looked at me, and the blonde one smiled. "Give the woman a cookie."

The one with brown hair started walking towards me. He was scanning my face, as if I knew something that they didn't.

"How can you see us?" The blonde stood beside his brother, frowning.

"My eyes aren't that bad; I can see you just fine," I said defensively.

They looked at each other. 

"She really can see us." 

"But she's alive. They can't just see us."

"Excuse me, but why is my being alive such a big deal?" I asked. I couldn't help myself. It was clearly them who knew something that I didn't. I was about to ask another question when an older man who appeared to be in his fifties entered the room. 

"Forgive 'em, Miss. These boys don't know any manners," he said. He had blue eyes that seemed to smile at me, as if his one-tooth-missing grin wasn't doing that for me already.

"Damon wouldn't let us see her. If you didn't make it sound so mysterious, we wouldn't have come," one of the twins complained.

"Well, now that you've seen her, get back to work," the old man said. 

"I hate it when they're resisting too much. It takes longer to get the job done," the boy with brown hair complained. They didn't say much after that and went downstairs without much of a fuss. 

What did he mean when he said they were 'resisting'? I wasn't into cars, but I knew that they were physically incapable of resisting. 

The old man looked at me and offered his hand. 

"Benjamin Summers," he introduced himself.

I shook his hand and tried to smile. 

"Catherine Wright," I replied. I tried not to talk since I haven't really brushed my teeth yet. 

He cleared his throat, and I saw what might be the beginning of a blush on his cheeks. "If you don't mind my asking, Catherine, how can you see us?"

"I don't understand why you guys keep asking me that." 

His ears were bright red now, but I was more intrigued by why having functioning eyes was such a surprise to them. 

"I know this is a really impolite question, but have you and Damon been engaging in...physical activities lately?" he asked. I turned to see Damon choking on air. 

"Like exercising? I don't think I could keep up with whatever he does, to be honest,'' I replied, more confused than ever. After a while, I realized what kind of physical activity he was implying.

"We're not like that," I said quickly. Damon placed a hand on his chest, as if offended by my answer.

The man stood there for a moment and added, "Nothing wrong with that, Miss."

"I may have kissed her," Damon said. I looked at him in confusion before he continued, "on the forehead a couple of times."

There was a flash of recognition on the man's face when he heard what Damon said. 

"So you're her. And a kiss on your forehead, you say? That explains it," he said, nodding.

That explains nothing. I looked over to see Damon cleaner than when I first saw him a while ago. The man got to clean up while I was still wearing last night's underwear. 

"How's her car doing, Benjie?" Damon asked. He stood next to me, and I could get a whiff of apples as he moved. 

"It might take a couple of days to fix that one. It's the last of its species," Benjie replied.

I knew they were talking about my car. It was my version of high heels. It didn't matter if it was barely doing what it was supposed to do, as long as it looked cute doing it. Damon chuckled, and I turned to glare at him, only to find him looking at me. 

After binge-reading romance novels as a teenager, I had this fantasy of being looked at like I was the prettiest thing someone had ever laid their eyes on. Of course I wasn't expecting to experience it while I was in last night's clothes, but here we are.

"Good morning, bonbon," he whispered. He gently nudged my shoulder with his. 

"Morning," I replied, clearing my throat. We somehow developed this routine of greeting each other in the morning. With everything going on when I woke up, it seemed like he didn't forget. 

"Right," he said, satisfied. "I'll take you home after I check on your precious Bradley." 

He walked out of the office after that. I was left with Benjie, who was looking at the door Damon just walked out from.

"He seems happy," he said. He turned to look at me, as if hesitating on whether he should say something or not. 

"Look, I know it's too much to ask, and you probably have a lot of things to do today," he started. I grimaced. It was a Monday, and I definitely had a lot of things to do. I was hoping Rose figured I wouldn't be able to go to work. Benjie looked at me almost apologetically and continued, "But I have to be somewhere right now, and Damon and I are supposed to visit someone today. So would you, if it's not too much to ask, accompany him instead?" 

It didn't seem to be work-related. Curiosity got the best of me, and I found myself nodding. He gave me a smile of relief and held my hand, squeezing it gently.

"You're an angel. I have to go check your car. Damon was tempted to have it melted last night," he said before he, too, left the room.

Why that son of a—.

The moment he even tries to put anything that could melt my car, he'll be riding his motorbike around town with flat tires. My mind was busy plotting when Benjie came back, holding his finger up.

"One question: who's Bradley?" he asked.

Now how am I supposed to answer that?

"My Mini Cooper," I said, trying not to make it as ridiculous as it sounds.

He stared at me for a moment and nodded before leaving me alone with my thoughts, but not before I heard him say Bradley Cooper to himself.

I found my phone on Damon's desk and dialed Rose. She picked up on the third ring. 

"I can't go to work today," I said, massaging my temple. I really shouldn't be drinking the way I did. 

"Is your man keeping you in bed?" she asked.

I blushed. "What? No!"

"Alright, alright," she said. I could tell she was rolling her eyes. "I was kidding. Enjoy your man candy, kitty." She laughed, and before I could defend myself, she hung up.

I was staring at my phone when Damon re-entered the room.

"We better hurry, bonbon. You have to change your clothes. You'll be late for work, but I can get you there as fast as my bike can take us." He was picking up his keys, as if telling me to get a move on. I looked around the floor and found my shoes next to the sofa.

"I need to clean up, but I'm not going to work," I told him. I reached out to hold his arm as I put on a shoe.

He frowned but held my hand as I put the other one on.

"What? Why?" he asked.

I was looking down at my shoes, mentally preparing myself to walk in them. They weren't necessarily my most comfortable pair. He squeezed my hand, waiting for an answer on why I, a workaholic, am missing work.

"I'm coming with you."