Getting Lucky (The Marilyns) by Katie Graykowski

baby, her prized possession, was the ’69 Ford Shelby GT350 that sat rusted and broken in the last bay. Poor Shelby. She needed lots of love and attention, but Lucky hadn’t had time to give her it until now.
    Ricky had given her this car the day before he died. They had planned to restore her together. Now, she’d do it alone. There was no denying that she missed him. Loneliness wrapped its cold arms around her and held on tight. Even after her epic cry last night, she still missed him.
    It wasn’t fair that she had to feel guilty because he was gone, and it wasn’t fair that she missed him so damn much. He’d betrayed her in the worst way possible, but she still loved him. That was the biggest bitch of all. Her love should have died the moment he’d dropped the secret family bomb, but love didn’t play fair, and fate was even worse. Lucky didn’t even have the luxury of divorcing Ricky; instead, she was forever the duped wife who was expected to play the part of the grieving widow when all she wanted to do was punch him in the face.
    In an attempt to get her mind on something else, she popped Shelby’s hood and pulled the lamp hanging down from the ceiling closer. She flicked it on and leaned under the hood. Expecting the rusted engine block she remembered, she did a double take at the dirt-free engine standing before her. Someone had been working on her car. She leaned closer for a better look. Whoever it was did good work. Running a finger along the air filter and up to the intake, she couldn’t believe how clean this was. Her father had taught her that cleaning was the first step because you couldn’t tell what was wrong unless you could see everything.
    “You’re not mad, are you?”
    Lucky jumped and banged her head on the underside of the hood. “Ouch.” She rubbed the back of her head. Mad at what? “Should I be?”
    She turned around to find a skinny, dark-haired girl with thin, wire-rimmed glasses and braces. She reminded Lucky of a puppy because she seemed to be all arms and legs. Viviane.
    Nervously, the girl rocked from foot to foot. “You’re not mad, are you?”
    “Why would I be?” Lucky smiled. The girl probably had no idea that she was named after Lucky’s maternal grandmother. Not only had Ricky had children with another woman, he’d given his children the names that he and his wife had chosen. Bastard. “You did this?”
    “That depends. Do you like it?” Viviane’s eyes darted around like she was looking for an escape route.
    “It’s good work.” Lucky nodded.
    “So you’re going to let me work on the Shelby with you?” She sounded so hopeful. Viviane had been giving Lucky a wide berth these last few days. The girl was cautious, so Lucky had given her space to make up her own mind.
    “Do I have a choice?”
    “Not really.” Viviane grinned.
    “Then grab that half-inch torque and the safety glasses.” Lucky didn’t need a half-incher, but she just wanted to see if Viviane knew her tools.
    She grabbed the half-inch torque and handed it to Lucky. “What are you gonna do with that?”
    “Just checking.” Lucky felt around the edges for the bolts. “Hand me the quarter-inch deep with the extension.” It was in her hand before she finished the sentence. “I’m afraid we’re facing a replace instead of a rebuild.”
    Viviane shook her head. “That’s a damn shame.”
    “Don’t cuss, it makes you sound trashy.” Lucky double-handed the socket and put her back into it, but the bolt didn’t budge. “Motherfucker!”
    “What happened to cussing makes you sound trashy?” Viviane turned her serious brown eyes on Lucky.
    “I am trashy.” Lucky used her body weight as torque, and finally the bolt moved a tiny bit. “Yes.”
    “Where do you want me to start?” Viviane waited, eager to please.
    “I don’t know. Where do you do think you should start?” Lucky wanted to see if she knew as much about cars as it seemed.
    “I’m ignoring the replace comment, so