Wreckless ( Ddlb ) *Complete*

Collision

Emmett tapped his boot against the concrete floor of the repair shop impatiently and caught himself just before he looked out the window of the office door yet again. No, it wasn't going to make the owner of the now pristine Volvo show up any faster. The car's leaky transmission lines had been replaced nearly 3 hours ago and it had been ready to go for almost two. His boss, Peter, had called the owner and was told they would be 'right over'. When Emmett had offered to stay, he'd planned on being out of here an hour ago. 

Did Volvo owners have their own definition of 'right over'? To him, it meant 15 minutes, half an hour tops. Anything longer than that required a time frame, an estimated time of arrival. Why hadn't they said they'd be over at six? Well, now it was closer to 7:00. Not that he really had anything planned tonight, his frozen pizza would be waiting whenever he got home, but it was the principal. Just how long did he have to wait before he wouldn't feel guilty about telling Peter tomorrow that the customer had been a no-show?

Finally, after Emmett had decided to wait until 7:30 and was sitting in one of the waiting room chairs with his feet propped up on the other one, a car pulled up to the shop. He jumped up, pushed the button to close the bay door, and strode out; heading for the passenger door of yet another Volvo. "Sorry we're late" a woman cooed, getting out of the passenger side.

He had to force himself to keep a polite look on his face. "No problem. It's all set, here are your keys." He was really glad at that moment that Peter had modernized things a bit when he bought the shop three months ago. Everything was paid for so he didn't have to deal with taking the time to run her credit card. All he had to do now was set the alarm system and then lock the front door behind him. Thursdays weren't supposed to be quite this hard but he was finally free. Not only that, he had tomorrow off since he was working this Saturday. Maybe he'd head over to the alley and grab a slice and a beer there. He sent a quick text to Andy to make sure he was working and could comp his food, then slid into his car.

He headed for route 40, music blaring and windows down. It wasn't usually this warm at night yet, but he wasn't complaining. He had to put his hair back during a stop light because it was blowing in his face but that was a small price to pay for some fresh air. Glancing up to see that it was green, he hit the gas just as another car turned, running the red light. He slammed on the brakes but it was too late as their fenders crunched and his body jolted forwards.

Emmett slammed his palm on the steering wheel, cursing under his breath. The other driver managed to pull forward and onto the shoulder so he spun around and pulled in behind. He got out of the car and stormed up to the driver's side, hoping no one was hurt. He was still six feet away when the door of the Mercedes roadster opened up and a man stepped out, turning towards Emmett. "What the hell is WRONG with you!?!" he bellowed, reaching back into the car for a tissue to wipe the blood that was dripping from his nose.

It only took a quick glance for Emmett to realize that the Mercedes' airbag had gone off. "Are you okay?" he asked, more concerned than bothered by the screaming.

"Do I look okay?"

Considering that the young man had just gotten hit by an airbag, he was going to look worse later. It probably wouldn't help to mention that though. There was something weird going on with his eye, but Emmett wasn't sure he should ask. Why was he blinking so much? "I don't think either of us needs an ambulance."

"Just give me your insurance information."

Emmett was dumbfounded. "And why would I do that? You ran the red light. Look, I'm happy to drive away from here and forget this ever happened." Car repairs he could do, a higher insurance payment would be much harder to manage.

"I did not! It was orange, okay, I'll give you that but hello! everyone turns late there. Why weren't you paying attention?"

Okay, now he was mad. This was not his fault. "I paid attention to the light, punk. That's how it works."

The look on the young man's face was priceless. "Punk? Did you just call me a punk? Have you looked at yourself recently?"

Yes, yes he had. Okay, his hair was much longer than it had ever been in his entire life and maybe his beard could use a little trim but he didn't look like a punk. "I thought it was more surfer chic." Of course, the man in front of him looked even less like a punk than he did. He had on a button-down and dress slacks. Topping it all off was a perfectly business-friendly short hair cut and clean shave. "Okay, what's with the eye?"

"I lost a contact when you HIT me" he emphasized. "Damn my nose hurts."

"It will. Airbags are much more trouble than they're worth in fender benders.  Sorry, maybe you shouldn't drive such a fancy car."

Mr. Fancy whipped a business card out of his wallet and passed it to Emmett. "Jealous, Mr...?"

"Locke. Emmett Locke." He glanced at the card. "Nice to meet you Finnegan. Now, can we get this handled before the cops show up? Look, it was your fault but I'll fix your car. Just drive it over to Wrecked. It's on Wilkens, right after the hospital."

"Um, how about no? This is what insurance is for. I'm not leaving my car god only knows where; I'll probably never see it again. Do I look stupid?"

Not for a second during their entire conversation had Emmett thought that Finnegan looked anything like stupid. Cute, a bit. Especially the dimple in his chin. "Look, I work there. I'll get it fixed tomorrow and you can come pick it up. Can I call you at this number?"

Finnegan took a deep breath, trying to decide whether or not to believe him. At least being a mechanic explained what he was wearing. He'd never heard of the body shop but he hadn't been in Baltimore all that long either. The thing that worried him was the fact that this brute of a man didn't want to call their insurance companies. Red flags went up in Finnegan's mind. Still, he seemed trustworthy enough and Finnegan considered himself a good judge of character. More importantly, he wanted this finished. He wanted to be home and relaxing before he was up at 5:30 AM tomorrow morning to try to finish out his week on a high note. Slim chance, but a worthy goal.

A police cruiser pulled up, lights flashing. The officer got out and walked over. "Anyone hurt?"

Finnegan knew he was lucky to not be hurt worse but it seemed like a silly question when he had blood dripping down his face and onto his shirt. "Just peachy, officer, thanks."

"Good" he answered, giving Finnegan an evil eye. "Either of you want a tow truck?."

"We don't need them, but thanks" Emmett answered, knowing what that would cost him. He turned towards Finnegan. "Want to follow me to Wrecked and I'll give you a ride home?" He'd taken a second to look over his car and it was nothing a bungee cord wouldn't fix until he had time to handle it.

"Um, no. I'll get an Uber. And I'll need a tow, officer." They both looked at him as if he was joking. "I can't drive with one contact in!" The officer mumbled something into the walkie talkie on his shoulder and then headed back for the cruiser.

Emmett knew it was out of his hands and hadn't gone well. He reached into his glove box and pulled out a pen, finding a receipt in his pants pocket. He jotted down his name, phone number, and the name of his insurance company and handed it to Finnegan. "I'm gonna talk to the officer and head out, here you go."

Finnegan gave his version of events to the cop and then waited another 20 minutes for the tow truck. When the driver asked if the closest shop was okay, he surprised himself by saying "take it to Wrecked, on Wilkens I think?"

"Past the hospital, right?  I know it, used to be Dave's place. Will do."