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Eve's mouth curls in embarrassment as her car slows to an attention-seeking halt, the pitchy squeak screaming from somewhere in its belly goes heavily detected by everyone in the vehicle's immediate vicinity, much to her dismay. She leans back in her seat, head tossed back against its rest and hands flattened against her face at the sheer humiliation of it all. For a while now, her car had made questionable noises whenever she drove it, so much so that she'd grown deaf to the fact. It wasn't until she found herself acquainted with Morgan the baker and her trusty mechanic of a boyfriend, that she was informed how clinically insane she must be to hear her car crying out for help and ignore it.
After his definitive insistence and a few minutes of scolding, Sullivan managed to convince Eve to bring her car into the shop, and ever since, that eery squeaking has rung louder in her ears than ever, to the point she now finds herself wondering how she ever missed it.
Eve presses her foot gently against her gas pedal yet again, wincing at its cries of pain as she rolls down the narrow strip between Bill's Barber and Abbey's Café, whose fumes almost completely overpower the distinct stench of grease. Once she's as far in as space allows, she deads the engine and clambers out of the car. Guerrero's sounds closed but the lights are on and the doors are pulled wide open. She decides against wandering inside. Rather, she pulls her phone from her pocket and dials Sullivan's number. Once, twice, thrice, but to no avail—suddenly, she wishes she'd stayed at home.
