*Note: The story “Car People” originally appeared on the website District Lit, which unexpectedly went offline in 2022. An edited version of the story is reprinted here.

Kasey had a few more seconds before she lost control, and this time it was going to be bad. At first, the bald customer with mousy eyes looked like he would keep calm as she finished explaining that his Jeep needed a whole new wire harness. But the way he stood—hands on his hips, breathing through his teeth, shaking his head—told her that he was about to get shitty, which meant she probably would too.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” The guy’s winter coat flapped around the sides of his belly while he scratched his nose. “It’s only three years old.”

“Probably a manufacturing defect. Your harness was wrapped the wrong way around your steering column, and it rubbed the wires down to nothing.” She crossed her arms. “It should be covered under warranty.”

“How long will it take?”

“We have to pull the whole front end out. And that’s after we order parts. Three weeks, at least.”

“That’s not going to work.” The sharp blast of the tire bead seater from the back of the shop made the guy jump. “Damn it. Is there someone else I can talk to?”

Kasey reserved a certain facial expression for occasions like these. Eyebrows up, eyes wide, mouth flat—it was the face she made whenever customers asked to talk to a “real mechanic.” The boys in the shop referred to it as her “Kasey Fuckin’ Look” because she was basically saying, “Are you fucking kidding me?” They also called it that because they couldn’t pass up any chance to be disgusting. Whenever one of the boys saw the expression, he would come to stand next to her while she explained to the patron that she was the manager (assistant manager, at least), and if they didn’t like the estimate she offered or the work she did, they were welcome to push their cars two miles down the highway to the next garage.

Kasey didn’t need the boys’ help. She could handle herself fine. Their looming presence was mostly for the client’s sake, after one instance when she got carried away and ended her speech with, “And you can go to hell,” before wiping a greasy hand across some businessman’s gray suit coat. The shop paid to replace the jacket and the boys learned that an additional witness helped keep everyone calm.

This time Dustin was the first to see the look, so he stepped away from his oil change to stand behind her, and the reminder helped. Instead of telling off the Jeep guy, Kasey explained that no one else had the experience with electrical systems that she did, and while she regretted that the job would take so long, she could set him up with a loaner in the meantime.

The guy’s face didn’t reveal what he was thinking, but he nodded and said he needed to call the dealership. Dustin returned to the Mazda he was working on while Kasey closed the driver’s door of the defective SUV. She watched the customer talk on his cellphone and wondered what tone he’d take with her when he was done. Being nice was always risky. Sometimes it worked, other times it felt like weakness.

While Kasey waited, another client whose Lexus was being vacuumed by one of the part-timers wandered over to where she stood. He had dark hair and a big chin and bony cheeks and wore a winter coat with a half-dozen lift tickets hanging from the various zippers. He smiled at her.

“I’m Landon.”

“Kasey.”

“I like how you handled that guy.”

“Okay.”

“I bet you have to deal with lots of jerks.”

“All the time.”

The skier put his hands in his pants pockets. “I promise I’m not a jerk.” He paused, and Kasey kept still. “Any chance you want to grab a drink later. Or a coffee? Or whatever.”

She couldn’t tell if this was something he often did. He was confident enough to get right to his proposal, but afterwards he swayed back and forth like a school kid awaiting punishment from his teacher. Something about him felt genuine, even if several other clues pointed to him being the sort of prep she would normally avoid. Her instinct was to give him some version of the fuckin’ look.

Except… what would happen if she said yes? She was curious, even if the way he approached her had been a little gross. She must have watched her friends play this game with random men in bars too many times lately, because her response was something she didn’t expect. “Sure. Why not?”

“Awesome.” He handed her his phone. “Send yourself a text and I’ll have your number. You can respond with your address, unless you change your mind.” He punched in his security code while she held the device, which was a unique gesture of trust, unless it was a move he had engineered for all the strange women he asked out. She second-guessed her decision more with every passing second, but she still typed in her number, then added her address to the message line.

He retrieved the phone. “Or just give it to me right away. Cool.”

“I’m free around seven,” said Kasey.

“I’ll pick you up at seven. Looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” said Kasey, and she was surprised at how true that statement was.

Where would he take her? To one of the clubs downtown?  Or to one of the hipster coffee shops? What should she wear? Were her nice jeans clean? Or should she pull out the dress she hadn’t worn since the final presentation in her speech class at the tech school four years prior? What could they possibly have to talk about? What sort of date was this? Was he looking for a hookup? Was she looking for a hookup? Did seven o’clock actually mean seven o’clock? How much time did that give her? Why had he asked her out? Wasn’t he the kind of guy who dated skinny college girls in spiky-heeled shoes? Should she wear make-up? How much? Did she need to clean the grease that outlined her fingernails? Could she, if she wanted to? Why did she say yes? What did he expect from her? Why did she say yes? Why did she say yes?

Seven o’clock meant 7:10. Landon parked on the street and came to the door. He wore khakis and a polo shirt and dressy shoes, which didn’t reveal anything about where they were headed for the evening.

“Good evening,” he said, like he was overacting as a joke, like he found this all just as awkward as she did. “Thanks for agreeing to this. I’m looking forward to getting to know you.”

“Really?” Kasey had spent the previous hour discussing with her roommate all the reasons why a guy name “Landon” who drove a two-year-old GS would ask out a mechanic. They covered all the options from “hidden camera show” to “perverted engine fetish.” “Why?”

Landon laughed. “Honestly? I liked the way you handled that guy at the garage. And, you know…”

“I don’t.”

He buried his face in his hands with playacted sheepishness. “You’re very appealing. I hope that’s okay.”

“That depends. Do you ask out tons of random girls?”

“Not tons. Just a few.”

Kasey’s best guess was that she was some sort of hookup conquest. Or maybe he was a serial killer psychopath. But he was also attractive, while the boys in her life were starting to wear the effects of all the beer they drank around their waistlines. And this whole set-up offered a type of thrill she hadn’t experienced before. She glimpsed the reasons why so many of her friends shimmied into tiny jean skirts and slathered on makeup and spent their weekend evenings giggling at morons in bars. “Alright. Where are we heading?”

“Where do you normally hang out?”

“Nowhere you want to go.”

“Please? I’d love to see your favorite spots.”

“The crowd at the Double Down would eat you alive…”

“The Double Down Tavern? Out west of the city?” Landon rested his hand on her arm above her elbow and gave a quick squeeze. “One drink at the Double Down and we’ll try one of my places after that.”

“Alright,” she said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Country music on the jukebox, groups of folks in Carhartt and Nascar and Artic Cat jackets competing to see who could laugh the loudest, bartenders with their boobs busting out of their V-neck t-shirts, the crack of pool balls, guys yelling at the high school basketball game on TV, and the smell of fried appetizers, Landon followed close behind Kasey through it all.

“Will we be able to talk?” he said. “It’s really loud in here.”

“You asked for it.” She steered them towards a spot in the back corner by the dart machines, as far away as possible from her friends at their regular table. Her whole crew had already gathered, like every Friday night: some of the boys from the shop, and some girls she had hung out with since grade school, along with a few cousins and assorted romantic interests. This group met around bonfires in the summer and weddings and new babies (now that they were all getting to be about that age) and popped hoods whenever someone’s truck wouldn’t start. Part of Kasey hoped they wouldn’t see her. They’d never let her live down showing up with a guy who looked like he might have been prom king.

The other part, though, was a little curious to see how her date would hold up, so she didn’t stress too much when Tanner and Dalton and Derrick wandered over, each carrying a metal bucket filled with six bottles of beer. Landon hadn’t even had a chance to ask her what she wanted to drink.

“Kasey!” said Tanner. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to Johnny Jawline here?”

“Yeah, and what the hell are you wearing?” asked Derrick as he pinched at her “fancy” sweater.

Maybe her friends were right. Maybe she had no business spending time with someone like Landon, and this all had been the worst idea she’d had in a long time. Too bad it was way too late to change her mind.

“Guys, this is Landon. Landon, this is Dalton and Derrick and Tanner and…” She turned to see the rest of the group wandering towards the corner. “…and here comes everybody else.” Landon’s expression mimicked the one she used on customers: wide eyes and eyebrows that asked, “Are you serious?” “And just so you know, they’re going to try to scare you away as quick as they can.”

Derrick slammed his beer on the table. “What the hell, Kasey? We’re the goddamned welcome wagon. We’re Gus GQ’s new best friends.” He put one arm around Landon’s back, and with his other hand started rubbing the skier’s stomach. “Right, buddy? We’re going to get real close.”

The group paused, because how Landon reacted next would decide how this whole evening would go. Kasey held her breath.

Landon nodded, put his arm around Derrick, and started rubbing his tormentor’s stomach in return. “As close as we can get with this gut you’ve got going here. Seriously, are you going to have a baby?”

“In about twenty minutes, if all those wings I ate do their job!” Derrick laughed at his own joke, loud, hard, bent over at the waist and slapping his knee, and everyone laughed along with him. Beers were opened and placed in Landon’s hand and Kasey’s girlfriends used stealthy glances to ask all sorts of questions. “Where did you find this guy?” “Why’d you bring him here?” “Are you going to fuck him?” Kasey shrugged in response to each.

Kasey stood next to her date and grew a little more attracted to him with every question he posed to her friends. They all had football in common, of course, and he knew enough about cars to make a few comments that weren’t entirely stupid. He edged in information about himself, too. Apparently he worked at a bank, had grown up out east, had a dog. Six buckets of beers later, he was basically a part of the group. Kasey considered what their second date might look like, and their third.

At one point someone referred to the snowmobile dealership across the highway from the Double Down, where Tanner worked, and Landon said, “I don’t understand how a business like that stays open, with a such a narrow market.”

“Have you ever ridden one?” replied Tanner.

“No.”

“You should. Then you’d know exactly why sales are so good.”

The beer had started to do its job. The dumb ideas came easy, everyone’s agreement came even easier. “Show me,” said Landon.

“Let’s do it.” Tanner fished around in his pocket. “I’ve got the keys right here.”

“Your boss would kill you,” said one of the girls.

“No he wouldn’t. I’ve got a potential customer. I might make a sale.”

Tanner led the way, Derrick and Landon followed, and Kasey had to walk fast to keep up in her leather boots They left the tavern and crossed its parking lot, then paused at the highway. In between the cars racing by they jogged across, Derrick shouting expletives into the cold night air, and Kasey starting to worry that the night was about to race away from her.

“You really don’t have to do this” she said as she came even with her date.

“We’re having fun.”

“It might not be a good idea.” She grabbed his hand, which felt warm and strong and she let him pull her forward for a second until he turned to face her in the middle of the westbound lanes.

“Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” He grabbed her other hand. “Just a quick ride to get these yahoos off my back, then we’ll get out of here. I can handle it.”

The service lights illuminating the shiny snow machines in the front windows provided enough light to cross the dealership’s icy parking lot. Tanner unlocked the service door in the side of the building and led them to the back of the store, where used and defective snow gear hung on metal racks past the warehouse shelves. He handed everyone helmets and snowmobile gloves. “You want snow pants?” he asked Landon.

“It’s not that cold out.”

“It is when you hit eighty.”

Landon glanced around for someone to share his disbelief. Eighty miles an hour? That’s insane! But he was all alone. Except for Kasey.

“We’ll be fine,” she said.

“We?”

“Of course, we. You think I’m letting you go by yourself?”

“It’s easy,” said Tanner before he mounted his snowmobile. “Turn the key, hit the throttle. Any questions?”

Landon considered the dashboard and the handlebars. “I think I got it.”

Tanner and Derrick started their sleds and raced out of the back lot into the snow-covered field that rippled into the horizon. Kasey sat on the seat behind Landon while he popped the ignition and tried to follow the boys’ lead, but he kept letting off the gas, which made the machine jerk forward before stopping.

“Just follow their tracks?” He turned and shouted through his helmet shield over the sound of the engine. “Am I doing this right?”

Tanner and Derrick’s taillights faded as they sped through the countryside. When Kasey looked to the side, her eyes adjusted to the broad stretch of flat snow glowing in the moonlight. The orange haze of the city polluted the clouds behind them while the soft black of the night sky met the crest of a steep hill ahead, which Tanner and Derrick topped before disappearing over the other side. Finally, Kasey and her date were alone.

“Should I go faster?” Landon shouted.

Kasey removed her hands from his sides and grabbed his shoulders. “Stop,” she said, then again, louder. “Stop.” He let go of the throttle; she climbed off the seat. They both flipped open the shields on their helmets. “I’m driving.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Move.” She put her hands on her hips. “Now.”

She sat in front, he sat behind, and as she passed forty, fifty, sixty miles an hour, he clung tighter to her, his arms around her waist and his hands clasped over her stomach, pressing himself into her. The closer he got the faster she went until he squeezed so hard that they would be able to catch up to her friends in no time.

They stopped back at the Double Down for one more beer, but Kasey couldn’t focus on Landon’s excited recounting of their ride for the rest of the group. Was he going to ask her back to his place? If he didn’t, should she invite him over to hers? Would he stay the night? Should she warn her roommate? Was the house clean enough for guests? What would Landon think about her if they had sex? What would he think if they didn’t?

Before another hour had passed they left bar and Landon joined Kasey in her bedroom. Whatever meekness he had shown throughout the evening disappeared as he peeled her underwear down her chilled legs. Kasey was familiar with frantic hormone sex and drunk after-bar sex and obligatory relationship sex, but not with the version Landon preferred. He was like a figure skater on the ice, focused and practiced, aggressive yet graceful. He spread her legs to where he wanted them and flipped her over to where he wanted her and told her what to say. “Tell me how much you like that.” “Ask me to go faster.” “Say please.” He didn’t have the body she imagined. His sharp hipbones drove into her thighs and he had wispy body hair that tufted in weird places, like the fronts of his shoulders and under his bellybutton. As he moved her through his routine, he was considerate and selfish at the same time. He was connected and distant at the same time. Kasey’s collection of former lovers mostly resembled quarter-fed kiddie rides at the mall, with one speed and relentless motion until their time was over. Landon, on the other hand, was always in control, right up to the end.

Afterwards, as they lay next to each other while they caught their breath, Kasey got a feeling like they had met on vacation in some tropical paradise, and he knew better than her they’d both soon board planes to head home and never speak again. A minute later, he propped himself up on an elbow.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Would you have slept with me if I didn’t drive a Lexus?”

“That’s a weird question.” She grabbed her bottle of water from her nightstand. “Yeah? Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” He lay back down and stared at the ceiling, squinting like he was trying to figure something out. He started to speak, then stopped, but the question was one he apparently could not withhold. “How much do you think about your social class?”

“My what?”

“Your social class. You know, income and culture and all that.”

She sat up and pulled the comforter tighter around her body. “What the hell are you talking about?” He must have been trying to be funny, so she laughed. “I don’t get it.”

“Sorry.” He put his hands behind his head, but he wouldn’t take his eyes off the ceiling. “Really, I’m sorry. That was great. You were great.”

Kasey’s voice grew more serious. “You need to tell me what’s going on.” Was this part of the routine? Did this sort of thing happen when her friends slept with random guys? When could she ask him to leave?

Landon turned to look at her. “Alright. I’m going to be honest. Please don’t be offended.” He took a breath, and Kasey moved closer to the edge of the bed. “The bank made us take a cultural sensitivity course, and the instructor gave us homework. We had to connect with someone from a different race or class or whatever. My buddy had coffee with a Cambodian girl, and one of the women in my department took the black guy who cleans the building out to dinner.” Kasey could sense a hint of regret under his matter-of-fact tone. Or she thought she could. “So when I saw you at the auto shop, I thought, sweet—woman, working-class, car person…” He must have sensed how this sounded, because he jumped up to sitting and grabbed her knee through the blanket. “As soon as I got to know you, that all went away, obviously. You’re great, and I had such a good time tonight. And when you wanted to come back here, that was all about us, not the assignment. I promise.”

No matter the situation, Kasey never had a problem figuring out what to say. Rude customers, drunk friends who didn’t know when to stop, co-workers who crossed the line, people who didn’t give her a fair shot or enough consideration or the time of day, her responses to them always came quick and harsh and without hesitation. Except for this time. Landon smiled and touched her and apologized and begged for a response, saying over and over, “I just wanted to get to know you. That’s not a bad thing, right?” Every word he said made it harder for her to speak, but her silence only made him want to talk more, and unless something changed, they would keep on going like that all night long.