"I promise, this car here will take you to California and back." that's what the man at the dealership told Starlee when she was looking for something to take her to and from work every night. She should have known he was lying. He just wanted the five grand she had in her hand. Star wasn't dumb. She knew she wasn't going to be able to get a shiny, fancy, brand new car. She had only been released from Bryce about twelve weeks ago, had little money to her name, and she was pretty sure her credit score what a whomping zero. An old used car was all she could afford, but it was better than nothing. She was hoping she could get something reliable to last her until she was on her feet enough to get something just a little bit better. She trusted the balding man in the tweed suit and slapped her money down. It drove okay for the first week, but then everything seemed to just go wrong.
Starlee didn't know much when it came to cars. Her father was busy running Fairhope when she turned sixteen, and her mother was busy being a trophy wife. The only thing Star knew was how to put gas into it. Other than that, she was getting by on a wing and a prayer. Her parents died just after she got her first car, she didn't know what certain sounds meant and which were good and which were bad. It wasn't long after she drove the Chevy Cruise off the lot that the windows refused to go down. Luckily for Starlee, the AC didn't work when she got the car. Summer's in Alabama was a little unforgiving and Star was convinced she was going to die from a heat stroke if she didn't get some moving air in her little sedan. Just when she thought it couldn't get any worst, it started making the most terrifying sounds.
Starlee sat in the driver's seat of her car, her hand slamming repeatedly on the steering wheel. The car had gas but for some reason was having trouble turning over. Finally, by the grace of God, the damn thing started. She drove in the direction of the only garage that she knew Fairhope had. As she drove the loudest grinding noise seemed the emanate from the hearing of the piece of junk. It felt like every person she drove by looked at her, offended by the loudness that came from her hunk of metal. When Star tried to turn the radio up to drown out the noise, she couldn't help but laugh when the knob popped off in her hand. She threw it down in the passenger seat, totally fed up at this point. She was considering just running it into a telephone pole and cutting her losses, but she was convinced the car would do more damage to the pole. That seemed to be her luck.
Finally, Starlee pulled into the garage. It was mid to late morning and was praying that the mechanic hadn't taken off for lunch. She parked her car and got out, slamming the door as hard she could and giving the front tire a kick for good measure. She walked through the open bay and looked around. "Hello. I'm looking for the superhuman who is going to fix up my luxury vehicle." She called out, as she stepped in deeper. Her hands slid into the back pockets of her jeans, her eyes scanning over the tools and equipment. Some things made her stop and lean forward to get a better look. Sometimes, Star was a little too curious for her good. She always blamed it on being institutionalized for ten years. It was her scapegoat and she was going to use it as much as possible. It got her out of situations, and away from sketchy people. ย
With a sigh, Starlee straightened up and looked around again. She did a little turn and spotted an office door on the opposite side of the garage. She stepped across the greasy, dirty floor without a single care. It only took a few seconds and she approached the door. Lifting her hand, she knocked three times and stepped back to wait for someone to, hopefully, answer the door.ย