2007-07-01: Baby, Baby, Baby


Trina_icon.gif Jack_icon.gif

Summary: "Jackie don't like sneaky female plottin'."

Date It Happened: July 1st, 2007

Log Title Baby, Baby, Baby

NYC - Ron Harvey's Warehouse

Ron's little sekrit hideaway, and home to Baby the Classic Mustang for far, far too long. Maybe that's why as Trina enters the shop, she triumphantly holds a cinched duffle high over her head with both hands despite the weight. "VICTORY IS FUCKING MINE, BITCHES," she cries into the air, twirling gleefully with her prize: the last bits of the suspension and chrome she needs and received for free due to some sweet-talking on her part

All she has to do is show up to some car meet to talk a whiny pussy rich boy know-it-all back to his daddy's pristine-floored garage with his tail between his legs. While she doesn't like all the implications about bitches not being supposed to know more than a man about cars, she can and is entirely willing to help shame the penis off the poseur for free parts.

Taking the car parts down from over her head, Trina bends at the waist as soon as she catches sight of that shiny red piece of love she calls her car, talking in the general direction of its chrome bumper as if it was a darling two-year old. "Mama's gonna take gooood care of you, Snookems. Yes, she is! Get you all pretty and back to the way you were before that douchebag in the Camaro hurt you. We don't like that nasty Gene Whateverhislastname is, do we? No, we don't! But it's okay. Mama gonna make it aaall better now."

"SO I CAN HEAR YOU~ WHEN YOU SAAAAAAAY THAT STUUUUUUFF TO ME~ AND WHISPER SO SOFTLY~" Jack drums on the steering wheel with his fingers in time to Poison's 'Talk Dirty To Me,' a cigarette clenched between his lips and clouds of smoke trailing out the window as he sings along badly with his favorite song. Julia's not-so-modest stereo is blaring, but he switches it off when he pulls up beside the door to Ron's warehouse. He pops the trunk, then climbs out of the GTO and retrieves a narrow, hefty, blue cylinder from the hatched compartment. After slinging it over his shoulder he slams the trunk with one foot and heads inside. He doesn't bother asking if his lady's already arrived—the way she croons to her car is very distinctive. I.E., she sounds exactly the same as Jack does when he croons to Julia.

Trina's already set out the ramp blocks for Baby by the time Jack makes his way into the warehouse and is camped out in the driver's seat with the door hanging open. Full lift isn't needed today; most of the hard work's been already done. As soon as she catches sight of her boyfriend, however, the brunette in her Master of Puppets shirt and stained, faded black jeans is back up onto her feet. Her worn army boots don't make a particularly quiet approach, so it's for the best that one isn't necessary.

Instead, she spreads her arms wide, palms extended towards the heavens. "Sooooo," she purrs happily. "Did you bring the good stuff, sweetness?" Somebody is in a downright euphoric mood. Today is friggin' M-Day: the day her Mustang should be reclaiming its little bit of the Manhattan road system.

"You can betcher perfectly formed ass I did, sugar." Jack shifts the cylinder in his arms until the NOS brand label with its distinctive arrowed lettering is visible. "You haven't lived 'til you've gone fast enough to outrun a police chopper." Gently, very gently, he lowers the tank to the concrete floor. Then he scoops Trina up in his arms, twirls her around, and proceeds with the very serious business of kissing her face. When he's done he grins happily. He's dressed to work in simple navy coverall with a red-on-white name tag over his heart that reads 'Elijah.'

"I knew you wouldn't let me down," Trina offers back in low, husky tones before returning those kisses with fervor after sufficient amounts of girly squealing at being turned around. When the gratitude and adoration is finally expressed with sufficiency for the moment, she gives a slightly nervous glance to the NOS tank, and then back to her baby. She's been torn about this ever since they decided together to do this. Need for speed and new experience vs. the beauty of a perfect restore.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean… it's not gonna chop things up too bad, right?" Even though she already knows the extent of the repiping to be done. Trina just needs a bit of reassurance. A little push to get her past this hump. "Because this is… I mean, I've never really played with drivin' with— What if I.." Stop. Try again. "She's all factory right now." Nervous mommies don't always have organic dearies. But she can always go back, right? Right?

Jack grips both of Trina's shoulders and kneads his strong, wiry fingers into her tense muscles. "You'll barely notice the change," he murmurs reassuringly. "We'd only have to pop a couple small holes to run the hose and wiring. The spray setup over the intake and the mount in the trunk are quick-release. You could have it good as new in an hour." He chews at his bottom lips, and his brows furrow together to form a concerned expression. Like a nervous high school prom date, he's looking everywhere but her eyes when he whispers, "We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."

Trina studies Jack for a few moments before she finally lets a large exhalation out through her mouth. "Y'know what? If I don't like it, it ain't like I don't know how to just switch out the old parts to go back." Rolling up onto the balls of her feet, the feminine part of the duo grabs hold of Jack's shoulders right back and snags herself another kiss. "Let's do this." That said, she moves to duck down and grab the tank. No reason to make him carry the part for her car any more than he already has.

Most guys would scurry to help their girlfriend carry a hefty gas tank, but Jack isn't like most guys. Trina, for that matter, isn't like most girls. She's independent. Willful. Strong. And pretty.

Jack catches himself staring and shakes his head, then laughs and scurries after her. "You know Transformers is comin' out soon, right? Looks so bitchin', it reminds me o' Saturday mornings spent in my Underoos. You gonna come see it with me?" It'd be unmanly not to also carry something, so Jack stoops to pick up a largish tool box en route to the Mustang.

"They gonna blow shit up?" Trina inquires, lugging the significant bit of steel and Special Air with a hint of a limp as it sets her off balance. She's not asking for help, however. No, sir. She'd much rather look like a dork and do it herself. Jack's fabulous in that he lets her do it — no sweeping in and snatching it from her.

Setting it down carefully in front of the car, Trina then goes to start the car and roll it onto the block ramps. "So," she calls out over the roar of the motor. Small talk, after all, makes light of heavy work. "How exactly did the Den get knocked outta commission?"

"Are you kiddin'? 'Course they're gonna blow shit up." Grinning, Jack sets down the tool box, kicks it open with one booted toe, and draws out a handful of wrenches. Next is a small powered drill, which he revs experimentally. His shoulders slump at the mention of the Den, and he lets out a short sigh. "My niece scared the shit outta me and I set a tea towel on fire. You remember 'Lena, right? We had ourselves a lil' heart to heart the other day ago. Anyway, flamin' tea towel set off the sprinklers. Gotta replace the carpet and get the place cleaned up," he explains as he climbs up beside the car. "Pop the trunk for me, yeh? I'll put the tank in while you work on the suspension."

Car in place, Trina's slender fingers quickly move to access and trigger the electric trunk release. "Yeah, I 'member her. Ran into her when I went up to go stalk that friend of yours, Cass." Sliding out of the car, the brunette woman starts prepping Baby for the last bout of surgery that she's hopefully gonna need in a long, long time. "Speakin' of. I volunteered us for a double-date with her and her guy. Hope you're cool with it." Headfirst, Trina goes diving into another set of relationships. Gets the shock over with quicker. "I figure the three of you are smart enough to figure somethin' out between you. Ain't like I got anywhere to be, other than with you, once Baby's back in the game until you get the Den back into shape." Leaning back so she can hopefully get a good straight shot at lookin' at Jack, she arches those sculpted eyebrows of hers and shrugs. "Maybe we can go see the movie together or somethin'?"

Jack is already shoulders-deep in Baby's trunk when Trina brings up double-dating. With a clank, a whack, and a handful of muttered curses, he drops the NOS tank and straightens up fast, catching the back of his head on the deck lid in the process. "Shit!" He winces and rubs the sore spot with his fingers. When the initial surprise has faded a bit, a smile creeps across his face. "That's fine with me, sugar," he says, meeting her eyes. "I'd like it if my friends became our friends. But no sneaky female plottin'!" He waggles a finger at her rebukingly. "Jackie don't like sneaky female plottin'."

"I'll do my best to keep it to a minimum, sweetness. Now you," Trina replies, wagging her ratchet at him with a grin of amusement. "Just be careful with Baby and get to work, you lazy bum!" The stifled laughter means that she doesn't really mean a word of it, other than to indicate that she's turning her attention back to the car and minding her own task to help bring her pride and joy back into its former glory.

Manhattan beware: Baby's gonna be back by nightfall with a Jack Derex Special in the trunk.

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