Sandy’s Girl

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This is a spin off story from The Sandman where Kim did get a mention as Tracey’s friend. Kim was writing her thesis on gay and lesbian relationships. I’ve always had it in my mind to do more on Kim and introduce Sandy, the lead singer of Sandy’s Destroyers. This is the second spin off story from The Sandman, the first spin off being Seducing Anita. Apologies if it’s a little longer than normal, I was going to break it up into parts but decided to keep it all together.

Shaima.

*****

My name is Sandra McMahon but my friends all call me Sandy from Sandy because I was born and raised in Sandringham, Melbourne. By day I’m a motor mechanic but at night I’m the lead singer in Sandy’s Destroyers. I did pick the name but I was quite pissed on UDLs that night but for some reason it just stuck. There’s five guys in the band, Adam on lead guitar, Tony on bass guitar, Brian and Alex on rhythm guitar and Alex also plays the keyboard for some songs, Big Matty is on drums and yours truly is out the front belting out a selection of covers.

It started out as just a bunch of kids from Sandringham High fooling around in the garage at Adam’s place but a funny thing happened when we graduated, Adam’s uncle owned a pub in Highett and booked us to play one night. The crowd went wild over this screeching blonde woman on stage wearing skin tight jeans and a white tank top and the rest is history. Adam’s cousin, Stephen was at that gig as well, he became our sound man.

I was born in 1991 to Meghan and Wendy and yes you read that right. I was raised by two lesbians although they weren’t together when I was conceived. I was the result of a drunken one night stand and mum told me his name was Sandy so she named me after him. I was raised in a loving household by two mothers, the fact that I’m also gay is just coincidence. I did try it with guys but while I loved doing the things guys did, I just didn’t like doing that with them.

Which was how I started hanging out with the boys in high school. By then I’d gotten a name for myself as a bit of a street fighter. Don’t get me wrong I don’t start fights but I can finish them and having two mums made me stand out from my friends at school. I’ve been called all the names under the sun but Wendy enrolled me in kick boxing classes when I was ten although by then I could take care of myself. Meghan, my biological mum is a lawyer and she taught me to use words to defuse any tension.

But this isn’t about me in case you’re wondering. It’s about how I met my girl, Kim. I’d heard about Kim from Charlie and Tracey although I never got to read the dissertation. She apparently did want to interview me but due to work and band commitments it never came about. Kim is Vietnamese although her foster mum is Caucasian, she has flawless brown skin, jet black hair and a figure to die for but the way we met was purely by ‘coincidence.’

I’m a qualified motor mechanic and I often joke that it was a choice between being a mechanic or a beauty technician, except that in my case it’s true. I did work for about six months in a salon doing nails and eyebrows until I got tired of it all and applied for an apprenticeship. Admittedly, my first employer just hired me on my looks and for novelty value, but when he discovered that I was that way inclined we soon parted on mutual terms. I finished my apprenticeship at a garage in nearby Moorabbin, which coincidentally was a mere half a mile from a studio used by Melbourne bands. Being in an industrial estate means they can stay open to all hours and as it’s a fairly large building the owners have divided it into studios and private jam rooms.

But I’m waffling! I first met Kim face to face when she brought her car in for an oil change and service. I was processing a receipt for another customer when she walked into the office but I didn’t notice her because the customer was blocking my view, but then Kenny, stepped in and asked if she was here to see me. When the customer moved to one side, I got my first look at Kim but even then I didn’t make the connection straight away.

She was wearing a pink shirt and white pants, which contrasted perfectly with her light brown skin and long black hair, her features were obviously Asian but I was too busy checking her out as I handed the invoice to the customer.

“Can I help you?” I asked her.

Kim stared at me for a moment and then her eyes widened.

“Oh, it’s you,” she took a step forward, “you’re Tracey’s friend, Sandy?”

“Yeah,” I glanced at Kenny for a moment, “and you’re?”

“Kim,” she took two more steps forward to the counter and was about to lean against it when she noticed the grease stains and straightened up, “I recognised you from the pictures on Tracey’s phone.”

“Right,” I glanced at the customer who was fishing out his wallet, “can you excuse me for a moment?”

“I’ll deal with this,” Kenny stepped around the counter.

Released from a customer who’d been so obviously mentally undressing me was a relief and şişli escort I reminded myself to buy him a six pack on Friday night as I ushered Kim towards the front door but she stopped short of the door.

“Um, I’m here for a service.”

“Oh, right,” I ran a hand through my hair, “of course.”

Kim drove a blue, 2006 Toyota Camry Sport, which was parked out in the street outside due to our small carpark being full.

“It needs an oil change and a service,” she stopped by the car, “Tracey recommended I come here after the last garage billed me for new brake pads that I apparently didn’t need according to my mum’s boyfriend.”

“There’s a lot of sharks out there,” I nodded, “the first garage where I worked at were always doing that kind of shit. It was considered normal but I could never bring myself to lie to customers.”

“Was that why you left?”

“No,” I shook my head, “I left because he grabbed my arse one afternoon and I threatened him with a fifteen inch shifter. That was in the first year of my apprenticeship, I finished up just down the road and around the corner, and then got a job here.”

“Cool,” she gave me the once over, “so, I can just leave it here?”

“Yeah,” I looked around, “so, where’s your other ride?”

“Taxi,” she took out her phone.

I made a decision then that has permanently altered my life.

I decided to do her car then and there. I mean we usually book a car in and the owner just drops it off but being a senior mechanic means I can also decide to do a car then and there if I want, the fact she was Tracey’s friend did have something to do with it though.

I got busy right away after finding her a seat in our so-called waiting room, which is just a room with a couple of old couches, a Coke machine and one of those coffee machines. The telly does work but most people prefer to play with their phones, I reckon the free wi-fi is the most popular feature for our customers.

Another feature are the two windows looking out onto the garage floor, most of the time the blinds are drawn but that morning they were open and thus Kim got to see me working on her car, which didn’t actually bother me but what it did do was allow her to check me out. Let me be clear here, I wasn’t posing in front of her, there’s too much to focus on for a start. For part of the time all she saw of me was my legs poking out from the front of the car as I drained the oil, then it was my back as I changed the oil filter, put in new oil and changed the air filter. The only time I actually noticed her looking at me was when I grabbed the analyser to check her timing. Kim was standing with her arms folded in full view and a strange smile on her face.

It was all over soon enough and it was as she was paying me that she popped the question.

“When’s your next gig? I was checking out your clips on You Tube while you were working.”

“Um, we’re playing the Retreat tomorrow night.”

“That’s in Brunswick,” she frowned.

“Yeah, but if you’re keen to go I could pick you up on the way through,” I held my breath and waited for the knock back but a moment later she smiled and nodded.

“Okay, it’s a date,” her eyes twinkled.

“So, what do you prefer, singing or working on cars?”

“Well in a perfect world we’d be doing world tours but working on cars gives me a steady income and I’m good at what I do,” I stared past her for a moment, “we rent a room at a studio not far from here twice a week for band practice and we’re working on our first album.”

“Now that I have to hear when it’s finished,” Kim took out her phone, “I’d really love to stand here and chat but I’ve got a heap of things to do, and you’ve got to get back to work,” she smiled at me, “um, what’s your number?”

I gave her my number and she sent a text to my phone, which was inside.

“Okay, I’ve sent you my address, send me a text with a time and I’ll be waiting,” she touched the back of my hand a moment later.

“And thank you so much for doing my car right away, I really didn’t expect that.”

“It was no problem, really.”

“We’ll talk soon,” she opened the door, “bye.”

I think of all the times I’ve asked a woman out over the years, that stands out as being one in a million. I wasn’t even thinking of asking her out, I certainly didn’t look attractive in my overalls and with my hair tied up in a bun, my face had grease stains on it and I did smell. She on the other hand looked as if she’d just stepped out of a beauty salon.

Tracey was likewise mystified when I told her that night in a text conversation.

Tracey: She’s always said she was straight but I never questioned it.

Sandy: Maybe she’s curious?

Tracey: I don’t know, just don’t assume too much, Kim’s really down to earth so she won’t judge you on how you look. Kim is one of the most beautiful people I know and I’m not talking about the physical either.

Sandy: I feel guilty for charging full price, I mean, she’s still a student.

Tracey: Don’t be, she has a part time job at a solicitor’s office so she earns money. She’s doing her post grad but that’s just two days a week. You would only have embarrassed her if you’d charged her less, she’s meticulous about paying her bills. Kim is the only person I know who pays her bills before they’re due.

There was more of course but that was the gist of the exchange. She did admit that she’d sent Kim to my work but that was because she knew we wouldn’t rip her off.

Tracey: She’s my best friend, I was fucking fuming when she told me about that last prick.

Sandy: You want me to throw a brick through his window?

Tracey: No, don’t. I don’t want you ending up in jail.

Sandy: Me neither.

Date night saw me wavering between two stage outfits, both of them in leather. The first is your standard leather jacket and leather pants, usually teamed with either a white top or shirt, it can be a little hot though after the first session but it’s great for the colder months. The second is a leather pinafore that a good friend made especially for me on the proviso that I tell people who made it, hey it’s free advertising and I’ve sent a few customers her way. The dress has straps over the shoulders that hook onto a bib front and it has a button and zipper fastening at the side, I usually wear a white shirt under it and my thigh high boots. I eventually settled on the pinafore, partly because it was still reasonably warm for May, and partly because I do feel sexier in that outfit.

Kim lived in Hampton, which is one of the more exclusive bayside suburbs. You’ve got to have money just to survive there. The door was answered by a blonde, forty something woman in a cream coloured blouse and tan trousers and at first I thought I had the wrong address.

“I’m looking for Kim? Is this the right address?”

“Sure is, you must the woman she’s been talking about,” she opened the flywire door, “I’m Analyn her stepmother,” she half turned as Kim entered the small entrance porch.

“Hey,” Kim smiled, “you’ve met my mum.”

“Yeah,” I ran an eye over Kim’s outfit, she was wearing a black, off the shoulder top and skin tight jeans with a belt.

“Nice outfit,” I went on.

“Thanks,” she leaned over and kissed Analyn on the cheek, “bye, mum, don’t wait up for me.”

I farewelled Analyn as we headed to my car.

“I thought I had the wrong house for a moment,” I looked at her as I shut the door.

“Easy mistake to make, considering she’s Caucasian and I’m Asian,” she buckled her seatbelt, “she is my stepmother but I call her mum because my biological mum died when I was three months old,” she tapped her phone.

“Oh right, how did she die if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Drug overdose,” she glanced up briefly, “I never knew her but I’ve seen pictures and mum gave me her personal effects years ago.”

“Okay,” I didn’t know what to say to that and to be honest I didn’t feel the need to inquire further and so we set off for the Retreat Hotel.

The Retreat is located in the northern suburb of Brunswick, which is a decent haul from Hampton but I’ve done that drive so many times I can do it in my sleep. I take my turn driving the truck with all our gear but I prefer driving my own car out there to the ‘gig mobile.’ We talked a little on the way there, starting with her dissertation because the first time I’d heard about her had been when she was writing it. We then moved onto her post graduate studies, she was majoring in Gender Studies with a particular interest in transgender issues and then moved onto her part time job at the solicitor’s office.

“They’ve suggested I do an introduction to law so I could do more hours but law isn’t one of those things I want to do full time, I’d rather stick with university and become a lecturer.”

This was said as I pulled into the carpark at the back of the pub and stopped not far from our truck, which has Sandy’s Destroyers painted on the side.

“That must be your truck,” she stared at it.

“That is the gig mobile,” I replied, “we take turns driving it,” I nodded at our sound man who was leaning against the side with a stubby and an electronic cigarette, “that’s Stephen, our sound engineer,” I tooted the horn and he looked up and waved.

“Cute guy, is he?”

“Well, he’s single but the night’s still young. He’s a real heartbreaker. Every woman he takes home thinks she can change his mind but he has this golden rule. He never lets them stay the night. No matter how tired he is, he’ll always drive them home or pay for a taxi.”

“Well maybe not so cute,” she sighed.

“But apart from that he’s a hell of a nice guy,” I flicked at my hair, “come on, I have to get in there and see the others.”

Playing gigs used to be a frightening thing for me. Believe it or not I’m actually quite self conscious about being out front singing into a microphone, feeling very much like a fake. Almost as if the illusion would suddenly fall away and people would see that I was a shit singer. I hit on the cure one night after reading about a famous singer who’d had a similar thing until she created a look with certain outfits. She essentially became another person on stage, someone she’d constructed in her mind and recreated on stage. It enabled her to come out of her shell and explode onto the pub rock circuit that Melbourne is known for, we cover some of their hits.

What worked for her, also works for me. My persona is the bad girl, the slut, the bikie moll and partly because of that outward projection I can get away with a surprising amount of banter. You get the occasional knobhead who thinks he can get up on stage and bump his balls against you but the boys are always there to step in if they can see I’m in trouble. Most times I’m quite capable of pushing him away. Thankfully, this crowd was quite well behaved, although the presence of three Maori bouncers also helped a lot. Those guys can put the fear of God into most guys just by looking at them.

We usually open for other bands but when I got inside I found out that the other band had pulled out at the last moment due to the fact two of their members were down at the police station answering questions, I never asked what it was about but when the manager asked if we could do the full night we were only too willing. It meant we had to do three sets instead of our usual one, and this time instead of doing our usual selection of covers, we were able to perform the original songs we’re going to put onto a C.D. We also let it be known we’d do requests, within reason.

One of those requests was from Kim, who wanted us to do an ABBA song, Does Your Mother Know That You’re Out. It had the boys smiling but hey, it’s music and so that was added to the queue and we were in business. As gigs go, it was an exhausting one and by the end my voice was a little hoarse but it was a good night all the same. The crowd was easy enough to work and when we did our finale, a rocked up version of Suspicious Minds the crowd was on fire.

I’d caught sight of Kim several times that night and she’d been hit on by a few guys and at least one girl but come the end of the night she was still there and unattached, which left me feeling a little out there and exposed. Was she just being polite? I hadn’t hinted at anything on the way there and her body language certainly wasn’t suggestive as we packed the P.A system back into the truck and said our goodbyes. Kim was propped against the front of my car with her phone, she was texting someone and looked up as I unlocked the car.

“Do you want to head back home or stop off somewhere?”

“It’s up to you,” she shrugged, “I’m not in a hurry but you’re probably tired.”

I was tired but it seemed a shame to just go straight home and so we stopped off at a pizza joint in Toorak for a sit down meal. I’m always hungry after a gig even though I try to eat beforehand but for some reason it just goes straight to my legs. The guys are the opposite, they just crash out or get drunk but I’m not a big drinker despite my on stage persona. I do have a pot of Coke on stage most of the time but people just assume it’s Bundy and Coke.

“My mum has a friend not far from here,” Kim remarked as we waited for our order.

She left that out there for a few moments before going on.

“She was involved with her for a few months but then they broke up and she went back to men.”

“So your mum is bisexual?”

“I think so,” she tapped her phone again, “she says it’s more like living in the moment. She’s been going out with Tracey’s dad for the last few years.”

“So you and Tracey could be sisters one day,” I managed a crooked smile.

“What do you mean one day?” Kim stared at me, “we’re practically sisters now.”

“So, where does your mum work?”

“Social Services,” she replied, “she used to be a cop but in order to adopt me she resigned from the police force and went back to university to do a social work degree.”

“Why did she have to resign from the police force just to adopt you?”

“It was because of the situation,” Kim looked past me for a moment.

“It’s kind of complicated, it usually freaks people out when I tell them.”

I nearly did ask her to tell me that night but changed my mind at the last moment and not long afterwards they brought our meal around. Kim wasn’t that hungry but she did take a piece of pizza and some garlic bread and hey, I’m not selfish. I was only too willing to share my meal.

Nevertheless, despite our ‘date’ I was under the distinct impression that it was purely platonic even when we were sitting outside her house an hour or so later. I was pretty tired and looking forward to hitting the sack when she turned to look at me.

“So, will I see you again soon?”

“Yeah, why not?” I replied, “we’re playing again tomorrow, Saturday and Sunday.”

“Would you like to come around for Sunday lunch?”

Now I consider myself pretty quick on the uptake but that came at me sideways, I mean what do you say to that?

“Yeah, okay.”

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