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Crazy Hard	By : Goblynmeister Category: A through F > Crazy Series Views: 1256 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the works of Tara Jansen, nor any of the characters from them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Crazy Hard
- 2-Chapter 2
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- 2
[Tara Janzen Crazy Series.] A/U J.T Chronopolus never died in Columbia. Set between Crazy Love and Crazy Sweet.
I do not own our lovely chop shop boys. Tara Janzen does.

Fuck. J.T thought, slamming his glass down on the table. He was the only one left; First Quinn, then his brother, Superman, even fucking Creed and Dylan got married. Fucking Dylan! To Skeeter Bang, no less! J.T snorted. Well, hell. If they where happy, which, surprisingly, they were, he didn’t care. So that left him, all alone, to hold down the fort at Steele Street. Dylan and Skeeter were still away on their honeymoon to Russia. His brother, Kid, was still away in Paris, were his wife Nikki was working at a museum. Hawkins, his wife, Katya, and his baby were at one of Kat’s art galleries for a show. Creed and Cody Rivera where holed up in their apartment, no doubt trying to make a baby. Quinn was in Boulder, with his wife Regan, who was Nikki’s sister. J.T sighed. He guessed that would make him and Quinn kind of related, in a way. They had practically been brothers anyway. Not that they looked anything alike. Quinn was a golden boy, all light and grins. J.T was dark, a taller, longer version of Kid, and half as attractive, or so he thought.
It was a boring night. He had started working on a car, a busted-up 1963 Chevy Stingray. He had torn out the engine, electric, and transmission already, and he wandered back into the garage from the small kitchen area. He stood with a can of beer in his hand, contemplating what color to paint her. Nothing garish, like Roxanne, Hawkins’s car, or like Betty, red with hot pink piping. He shook his head. No…maybe a metallic blue. Yeah…or a burnt orange…he could see that. He already had a name picked out for her, too: Suzette. J.T grinned. Suzette. He set the beer down on the workbench and went back to work. He was deep under the car, ripping out brakes and whatnot, when the buzzer sounded. He scowled and slid out from under her, heading over to the wall. “Yeah?” he grunted into the intercom.
“Hi…this is MaryKate Shautraud…Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins’ new nanny…?” the voice on the other side of the intercom sounded soft and sweet, and slightly faltering.
J.T glanced at the clock. 10:30 was an awfully late time for her to be getting here, especially wandering around the streets of LoDo. He knew that she was supposed to arrived either early that morning or late that night on a flight from somewhere he couldn’t remember. “….elevators unlocked.” He said in the speaker, keying in the code and turning away.
“This…will hold my car, right…?” the voice sounded slightly doubtful. She had been told that she could park her car in the building, by ways of a freight elevator. As the girl glanced as said elevator, she couldn’t help but be doubtful. It looked ancient.
“Yeah.” Car? He snorted. Probably cost her an arm and a leg to ship something like a shitty civic that chicks seemed to like to drive. He heard the elevator start to rise, and went back to laying out all the parts he had taken out of the Stingray. 15 minutes more of peace. The time passed, and, before he knew it, the garage door was opening and in rolled….a Chevelle. He blinked. A 1970 Chevelle, if he wasn’t mistaken, and mistaken he could be. “Shit.” He muttered. The car was in…bad shape, to say the least. Mismatched tires, dents, the hood paint peeling off…as for the paint, he had to say it was the ugliest color green he could think of. Even Roxanne seemed better colored. And the way the engine rattled…he didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or yell at the girl for letting such a good car go to such disrepair. And the girl. He could see her through the windshield, rummaging around on the paper-covered dash. A few seconds later, she opened the door, not without some difficulty, as there was a large dent…was that a bullet hole, for Christ’s sake…in the door. She swung herself around and out of the car, and J.T blinked. She was tiny, about 5’3. He himself was 6’1”. Short, choppy red hair hung to her shoulders, shorter strands framing her face. Green glasses sat on her nose, behind which friendly blue eyes shone. Her face, and the rest of her, was plump, and curved. J.T’s mouth suddenly went dry. She had on one of those shirts that tied under the boobs, and skimmed her stomach. The blue color almost matched her eyes. Blue jeans with raggedy hems finished the look, her feet in red flip-flops.
“Hi.” She said, coming to a stop in front of him, her hand extended. “MaryKate. You must be Mr. Hawkins?” she guessed. She knew that there where several apartments here, but she hadn’t thought that anyone else would be waiting for her.
“No. Sup-Hawkins isn’t here. Neither is Mrs. Hawkins. I’m J.T Chronopolus.” He didn’t take her hand. His was covered in oil and grime.
“Oh.” She looked disappointed. “I guess…I’ll wait here for them…” she glanced around, and not spotting any chairs, sighed. “I’ll wait in my car, I guess…”
“I can show you to your room.” J.T said. He knew where she would be sleeping. He had helped Hawkins clean out the crap that was in that room. “Where are your bags?”
“Backseat…the trunk doesn’t work.” She said, hurrying over to the car. She opened the drivers door and leaned over, unlocking the passenger side door. “The lock is broken.” She explained with a smile.
“Of course.” J.T muttered. A few minutes later, after wrestling her bags out, and carrying them up to Hawkins’ apartment, he had her in her room, and he was back downstairs, staring at the car of hers. Like it or not, it was going to get a free overhaul. J.T scowled. The girl had been mostly quiet after he had taken her suitcases out of the car. He noticed the way her eyes darted around the halls as they entered rooms. It was almost as if she was checking for danger. J.T shook his head. No. She had been curious, that’s all. Curious about her new residence. With a scowl, he picked up his beer and headed up to his own apartment.
Seems isolated enough… MaryKate thought, taking a seat on the bed. Hopefully…it was. Denver was a long way away from Maine. Although she had been assured that she was in one of the safest places in the country, she was still apprehensive. Nothings going to happen. Just…be a nanny. Everyone here is well trained with weapons…no one will let you get hurt. Their own families live here. They don't know who you are, anyway. It was a mantra she repeated, and stood. It was time to unpack. After all, this was supposed to be her new home. She might as well get settled.

A/N: First Chapter. Later Chapters will have violence, and smut! R&R!
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Crazy Hard