INT. BODY SHOP – EVENING
The drawl of the engine is enough to make MISCHA (25) cringe. An unmarked Ford Crown Victoria pulls into the parking garage. She squeezes out the oil stained handkerchief, shoves it into the back pocket of her dungarees. She hears the soft purr of the engine, turns only slightly.
The car continues to move forward.
— She WAVES the driver off.
HEINZ (29) steps out of the car, one arm slung over the car door, the other rests on the steering wheel.
Your sign says you’re closed at seven, its only quarter to.
Seriously? The next shop is like ten kilos from here, I won’t make it.
(Shuts off the engine)
I just need a quick tune up.
Mischa contemplates, approaches the car against her better judgement.
Fine, open her up.
Heinz hops out of the car, hands her the keys.
(points at the whiff of smoke emerging from the engine)
do you see it?
(pops open the hood, inspects)
damn it. Your engine is, like, totally fried. I could try to repair it,
(slams the hood)
but there’s no point. The entire belt has to be replaced. It’s gonna take forty minutes at best.
I need it done in twenty.
Mishca fetches her tool kit.
Double or nothing, and, I might be done in thirty.
This isn’t a bargain.
Never said it was.
Heinz flashes her badge.
Are you sure about that?
Livid, Mischa grabs a wooden creeper. Rust lines the edges, she lies flat, the wheels squeak when she rolls forward.
Minutes pass, we hear nothing but an assortment of tools clank and drag against the concrete floor.
(Underneath the car)
It’s just a piece of metal, you know. Melts away like anything else.
I know, I, I didn’t mean to –
– Flash your pride? It’s like second nature with you people.
Hey, easy, alright.
My partner, he always said, if you want something done, show em’ what you’re made of.
Yeah, and, how’s that workin’ out for you?
60/40, most days; but, it’s kinda hard, you know. People see me; then they see the badge.
Mischa wipes her brow.
(tightens the exhaust)
I know the feeling.
First in my class, 5’4 with a lotta spunk and nothing to show except for excellent comedic timing and a brilliant left hook.
So a cop walks into a body shop…
Mischa slides out from underneath the car, grabs a spare belt.
I’ve already heard that one.
She lies back onto the creeper, slides underneath the car.
I can’t imagine it’d be easy for you either.
How’d you figure?
Young woman, early twenties, beautiful, mechanically inclined.
That your best profile?
It’s the only one I’ve got.
Mischa slides out from underneath the car.
My uncle owns this shop, I just work in it. I’ve got four brothers,
(approaches the front of the hood)
but for once, biology worked in my favour. My parents were short another XY gene and, I was good, better, than most of them,
(disappears under the hood)
I still get my ass handed to me, some days. Nothing I can do about it.
She grabs a fresh belt.
I’m sure your work speaks for itself.
– If my body doesn’t silence it first.
Heinz gives her a once over.
That it does.
(Wipes her hands in her handkerchief)
that it does.
(Slams the hood, hard)
(throws the keys to Heinz)
she’s all yours.
(Reaches for wallet, hands her a couple bills)
(Open’s the driver’s door, steps in, hesitates)
You’re not alone, you know.
(Steps forward, leans on the car door)
Never said I was.
(pops into the driver’s seat)
She steps back, as the engine revs alive. Heinz reverses, disappears into the night.
Mischa stands in an empty garage, shoves the oil stained handkerchief into her back pocket, closes the lid of her tool kit.
We watch as the garage door slowly closes.
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