Kindness of Strangers Who: Ronnie, Shelly What: Locked Out Where: Searchlight, Terrible's Roadhouse When: Present Ratings/Warnings: Some language
Sometimes, Shelly did favors for people. While she tended to collect and discard friends like accessories, sometimes she really did grow to care about someone. One of these special people had recently left the game in Las Vegas to settle down with someone in Palm Gardens, a nothing town over an hour outside the city. This friend had called Shelly earlier that evening in hysterics, begging for her to drive over and help her move her stuff out, that she was done.
By the time the blonde had gotten there, everything was fine and calm. Of course. Halfway through the -- solo -- return trip home, Shelly realized that she was starving. She pulled over after seeing a sign for a Terrible’s Roadhouse. As she coasted into the parking lot, though, she began to get the inkling that the establishment might be closing for the night.
She exited the car, walking up to the front door to read the posted hours. “Shit.” Shelly really wanted some food. The blonde spotted a man walking toward a truck. “Hey!” she called out. “Is there anywhere else open around here? I’m starving and don’t want to drive another forty minutes on an empty stomach.”
When the moments ticked down to the end of his shift, he fired a text off to his boyfriend to assure him he was alright and on the way to heading home. His truck never looked so welcoming.
But that was when he heard the woman shouting at him. This caused Ronnie to turn around, looking at the woman. “There’s a McDonald’s up the road at the truck stop,” he called, friendly, pointing toward the direction of the other Terrible’s along the highway. “Unless you were wanting something else, then you might be outta luck until you hit Vegas.”
While Searchlight was a quaint town, it wasn’t open the way that Vegas was. And while he would’ve offered to make this strange woman dinner any other time, he was being super cautious lately. He could already hear Mikey in his head telling him to keep himself aware and use his gut.
Shelly looked at the darkened Roadhouse, then back at the man. She tried not to wrinkle her nose in distaste at the idea of McDonald’s. Instead, she managed a friendly smile. “Okay. Thanks.” She knew she should probably just head back to her apartment and find something there. The night had been frustrating, however, and it was one of those moods where one more thing going wrong threatened to open the floodgates.
The blonde turned back to her car, before noticing the keys and her cell phone inside, and...she tried the handle. It was locked. Her eyes widened, glancing up at the friendly stranger. “I...this can’t be happening.” She tugged on the handle again. “No, I didn’t. I absolutely refuse to believe that I did this.”
She screwed her eyes shut, willing it all to be a tired hallucination before opening them again. No dice. Shelly was still locked out of her vehicle.
Ronnie only nodded at her.
She seemed distressed and he felt bad, but that was the curse of the small town. Everyone shut down around the same time, or at least appeared to.
To make sure she got back to her vehicle safely, he kept an eye on her. While this was a fairly safe place, he’d seen too many scary movies and crime shows on Netflix to know that things weren’t always as tame as they led someone to believe. But the sound of the handle on the door clicking indicated she may have been locked out of her vehicle.
When she made eye contact, Ronnie frowned and began to move toward her slowly. “Hey, you lock yourself out of your car?” The question was that and another ‘you okay?’. He couldn’t just drive off and leave her there, stranded.
“I can take a look at it if you want, see if we can’t get it unlocked.” He had stopped walking near the car, not wanting to freak her out or anything. He would wait for her to give the okay for his approach before trying to help, as was courteous.
Shelly nodded, biting her lip to keep from crying. Oh, that was humiliating. She did not cry in front of people. Ever. “Yeah, it looks like I did,” she replied, forcing out a laugh, then running her fingers through her hair. She stared at the keys as if they were taunting her.
“If you have any ideas, that would be great,” she told him. “Maybe a coat hanger? I’ve seen that in movies. But that only works on old cars, right?” The blonde looked down at the ground, noticing a large rock. She glanced at the window, then back down at the rock. Maybe. If nothing else panned out.
Ronnie winced and nodded.
“Figured. Yeah, let me take a look and see if we can’t get you back on the road.” With that, he closed the rest of the distance. Peering into the car he looked at the set of keys on the seat, and then across to the door. Automatic locks. “Yeah, hanger won’t do us any good.” Mostly that was murmured to himself.
And then he walked around the car, looking at it.
“I’m gonna try something, though, okay? My mama used to have a car with automatic locks, and she was constantly locking herself out of it.”
On the passenger’s side, Ronnie removed the windshield wiper carefully, clicking it out of place. He held it up to show the woman. “I think this is gonna work just fine.”
Shelly’s eyebrows shot up as he removed the wiper, her previous frustrations momentarily forgotten as she watched him curiously. She idly fiddled with the zipper on her leather jacket. What if he broke her car? The blonde hovered nervously, trying not to let her expression betray that thought. He was doing her a favor, after all.
A finger would be held up to the young woman. He scrambled back to his truck, leaning over the truck bed on top toes for something. Ronnie nearly tumbled into the bed of the truck over the side, legs flailing, before finding what he wanted.
He came jogging back with the flathead screwdriver.
And then he proceeded to get to work. Consideration was taken with the vehicle; he worked the seal between the door and the body of the car apart, wedging the lever between and using enough force to pry the metal apart.
“I need your help,” he murmured softly, offering Shelly a smile. “Can you hold this exactly the way I’m holding it right now? You might have to put some strength into it but it won’t take long.” He could maneuver if she didn’t feel comfortable, but it would move more smooth if she helped.
“Uh, sure, I can,” Shelly answered, trying to keep the uncertainty out of her voice. She took a hold of the screwdriver, copying the way Ronnie had been holding it. She already felt like a complete dunce for locking her keys in the car in the first place, the least she could do was try to help. Even if anything involving cars beyond the basic day-to-day operation of them was completely foreign to her.
“I’m not usually this, like, helpless,” she explained to him. “I’ve just had a weird night.”
“Cool, thanks!” His energy remained positive and light. He’d done the same thing, locked his keys in the truck or locked himself out of the house by accident.
When he was sure she had the wedge secured, he stepped aside, put the wiper in through the slit, and maneuvered it down to the door console. It took a bit of twisting and a good bit of momentum but finally the lock clicked and the door was unlocked.
“Oh shit. There we go!” And then he made a face. “Sorry, excuse me.” He tried his best not to swear, especially in front of ladies. He pulled the wiper pit and opened the car door carefully.
“Holy shit.” Shelly grinned, looking up at him. “That was like magic. Thank you!” She reached in and grabbed her keys and phone, clutching them to her like they were her long lost children. Food was pushed out of her mind in favor of feeling grateful. She had never called AAA before, and didn’t even know what that entailed. The blonde had only heard people mention it.
“I’m Shelly, by the way.”
He laughed softly, nodding at her. “Let me fix this for you.” The wiper would be held up. Ronnie wandered around to the passenger side and reattached the wiper to the vehicle for her. “Don’t worry about it, happy to help. I’m Ronnie.”
Recalling she was looking for food, he motioned to the truck. “I got some granola bars in the truck if you want one? I always keep a couple just in case of emergency.”
Shelly couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten a granola bar. She smiled and nodded. “You’re like a one-man AAA,” she told him. “And yeah, that would be great. Thanks.” The blonde leaned against her car and watched him closely. There was something oddly open and friendly about him that was unusual to her. Like it wasn’t an act. She could tell by his laugh.
“Do you work here, Ronnie?”
Ronnie laughed a little. “Well come on then, and I’ll hook you up with some road food.” He was more like a mother hen, making sure he was always prepared to help the lost chicks strayed from the farm. “Yeah, I’m the cook here.”
Whether or not she followed was okay, he trekked to the truck to deposit the screwdriver and grab up both of the granola bars he had. They were good sized, ample to last for a trip to stave off hunger. He gave them to Shelly when he got back to her.
She accepted the granola bars, still studying him. He looked really familiar. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before,” she told Ronnie, tilting her head as if that might help with the recognition. Was it around Vegas? Shelly didn’t think he would be a patron of her usual haunts. “Are you in Insta or something?” She began unwrapping one of the bars.
Ronnie shook his head, “Nah. I wish. I'd probably be way more wealthy than I am right now.” And he didn’t know the first thing about being a Vlogger or social media personality. “I, uh — was on season five of Master Chef? And I worked a few years at a restaurant in Vegas. More like, a couple of years.” He didn’t really tell people about his days as ’Scrunchie’ as Ro affectionately called him.
“Oh!” Shelly was a reality tv addict, she wondered why she didn’t recognize him sooner. Probably because she had been so upset about getting locked out of her car. “I remember now.” She took a bite of the granola bar, chewing thoughtfully before adding, “You’re famous. I’m talking to a famous chef.” She almost winked, then remembered that she wasn’t there for game-playing.
“Now I really want to eat here.”
A soft, humble laugh coupled with a bit of red in his cheeks and Ronnie smiled. “Thanks. I’m not famous, but that’s nice of you. I just love making food. Is it wrong to love what you do?” It made people happy and that’s what mattered.
“It’s a good place. Good people work there, small town and all. Maybe I’ll see you around?”
“No, not wrong, but then it depends on what you do,” Shelly countered. “Don’t serial killers love what they do?” Maybe she shouldn’t have been talking about that with a strange man in a darkened parking lot at night. Ronnie didn’t concern her, though. Then again, neither had John, and he had definitely surprised her. Not entirely in a bad way.
“I think you will. If your cooking is as good as it looked on TV.”
Well that was a drastic turn but then she kind of had a point? “I don’t know if I’d call that a careful career choice. But sure, I guess?” It was in the wrong context, anyway.
“Cool, well, I’ll walk with you to your car if you want. I don’t think anything will happen, but you never know around here.” They were a place of crazy stuff.
“Thanks.” She had said thanks a lot that night, more than she ever usually did. He had been nice, though. Shelly drifted over to her little silver car, the keys safely in one hand. She opened the door, about to slide in behind the wheel before turning to Ronnie.
“Nice meeting you, chef. See you around.”
“You too, stay safe out there.” A small wave and Ronnie turned, trekking back to his truck with good vibes ahead.