The suburban garage on the edge of little ol’ Nowhereville was a chaotic shrine to Vlad’s eternal messiness. Mismatched lawn chairs sagged under the weight of forgotten summers, empty soda cans littered the cracked concrete floor like aluminum confetti, and the air hung heavy with the sharp tang of motor oil. It was Vlad’s kingdom—a testament to his “I’ll fix it later” philosophy. And today, oh boy, today was a day of triumph.
Vlad stood in the center of the mess, hands on his hips, beaming at the beast he’d just dragged home from a shady local auction. A vintage GMC motorhome, all boxy lines and faded avocado green paint, sat there like a relic of the ‘70s that had seen better days. Peanuts, they’d sold it for. Absolute peanuts. Vlad, in his threadbare band tee and cargo shorts that hadn’t seen a wash in weeks, looked like he’d just won the lottery.
“Epic road trips, baby,” he muttered to himself, running a hand over the rusty side panel. “Coast to coast. Me, some cheap beer, and a playlist of absolute bangers. Life choices? Questionable. Vibes? Immaculate.”
He couldn’t wait to rub this in someone’s face. Grabbing his phone, he dialed the only person who’d both roast him alive and still show up to see the disaster in person: Venus.
“Yo, V, get your fine ass over here,” he said the second she picked up. “I’ve got a surprise that’s gonna blow your mind. And no, it’s not another half-dead houseplant I forgot to water.”
Venus’s voice crackled through the speaker, sharp as a whip and twice as deadly. “Vlad, if this is another one of your harebrained schemes, I swear I’m gonna tie you to a chair and make you watch paint dry. Where’s ‘here,’ anyway? Your sad excuse for a garage?”
“You know it, babe. Move fast. This is a once-in-a-lifetime kinda deal.”
She sighed, dramatic as ever. “Fine. But if I show up and it’s a box of expired ramen, I’m setting it on fire. With you in it.”
Twenty minutes later, Venus strutted into the garage like she owned the place. Her dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail, her leather jacket slung over a tight tank top, and her boots clicked with every step like she was walking down a runway instead of a grease-stained floor. She stopped dead when she saw the motorhome, crossing her arms and raising a perfectly arched brow.
“Vladimir,” she said, dragging out his full name like a disappointed parent. “What in the actual hell is this rust-bucket death trap?”
Vlad grinned, spreading his arms wide like a game show host. “This, my dear Venus, is freedom on wheels. A 1973 GMC motorhome, snagged for a steal. We’re talkin’ cross-country adventures, late-night stargazing, maybe a little skinny-dipping in some random lake. You in or what?”
Venus circled the van, her eyes narrowing as she took in the peeling paint, the dented fender, and the suspiciously flat tires. “I’m in for exactly nothing until you explain why you thought buying a rolling tetanus shot was a good idea. Did you even check if this thing runs, or were you too busy fantasizing about being some hippie road warrior?”
“Hey, it’s got character!” Vlad protested, patting the hood like it was a loyal dog. “And yeah, I haven’t started her up yet, but I’ve got a good feeling. Gut instinct, V. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand plenty,” she shot back, stepping closer with a smirk that could cut glass. “I understand that you’re a walking disaster with a heart of gold and zero common sense. This thing’s gonna break down on the side of Route 66, and I’m gonna have to hitchhike us outta there while you cry over your ‘freedom machine.’”
Vlad clutched his chest, feigning offense. “Ouch, woman. You wound me. Can’t you just, I dunno, admire my entrepreneurial spirit for like five seconds?”
Venus laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down Vlad’s spine. She stepped even closer, her boots brushing against his scuffed sneakers, and tilted her head to look up at him through thick lashes. “Admire? Oh, I’ll do more than that if you play your cards right, hotshot. But first, let’s see if this heap of junk has any redeeming qualities. Show me the inside.”
Vlad’s heart did a little flip as he fumbled with the side door, swinging it open with a creak that echoed through the garage. The interior was a time capsule of questionable design choices—shag carpet in a nauseating shade of orange, wood paneling that screamed “divorce settlement,” and a faint musty smell that suggested it hadn’t been aired out since Nixon was in office.
“Ta-da!” he said, gesturing inside like it was a penthouse suite. “Cozy, right?”
Venus climbed in without hesitation, her movements smooth and deliberate. She ran a finger along the counter, inspecting the dust with a grimace. “Cozy is one word for it. ‘Health hazard’ is another. But…” She turned to face him, her smirk returning as she leaned against the tiny dinette table. “I can work with this. Question is, can you keep up?”
Vlad swallowed hard, stepping inside to close the distance between them. “Keep up? V, I’m a goddamn marathon runner when it comes to you.”
Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she grabbed the front of his shirt, tugging him closer. “Big talk for a guy who can’t even keep his laundry sorted. Let’s see if you’ve got the stamina to back it up.”
Before Vlad could come up with a witty retort, Venus’s lips were on his, fierce and demanding. She kissed like she lived—full throttle, no apologies. Her hands slid up his chest, fingers curling into his hair as she backed him against the van’s wall with a thud. Vlad groaned into her mouth, his hands finding her hips, pulling her closer as the heat between them ignited faster than a match to gasoline.
“Damn, V,” he breathed when she pulled back just enough to nip at his jawline. “You don’t mess around, do you?”
“Never,” she purred, her voice a dangerous whisper as she pressed herself against him, her thigh slipping between his. “I call the shots, Vlad. You just hang on for the ride. Think you can handle that?”
“Handle it? I’m begging for it,” he managed, his voice rough as his hands roamed her back, fingers digging into the leather of her jacket. “You’re gonna be the death of me, and I’m gonna die happy.”
Venus chuckled, low and wicked, as she shoved him down onto the ancient bench seat, straddling his lap with an ease that made his head spin. “Good boy. Now let’s see how much trouble we can get into before this junker falls apart.”
Their laughter mingled with gasps as clothes started to shift—her jacket hitting the floor, his shirt halfway up his chest—when the van suddenly shuddered beneath them. A deep, guttural rumble roared to life, the engine growling without anyone touching a key. They froze, Venus still perched on Vlad’s lap, her hands gripping his shoulders as strange, flickering lights danced across the dashboard up front.
“What the—” Vlad started, but he was cut off by a cold, robotic voice echoing through the interior.
“System activated. Initiating protocol sequence. Welcome, operators.”
Venus’s eyes widened, her grip tightening. “Vlad, what the hell did you buy?”
“I… I don’t know!” he stammered, half-dressed and wide-eyed as the lights pulsed faster, casting eerie shadows across their tangled limbs. “I thought it was just a van!”
Venus shot him a look that could melt steel, her voice dripping with exasperation even as adrenaline pumped through her. “Just a van, my ass. We’re in some sci-fi bullshit now, and I’m blaming you. Buckle up, lover boy. Something tells me this ride’s about to get a whole lot weirder.”
And as the robotic voice droned on about “calibrating parameters,” Vlad and Venus sat there, caught between lust and sheer bewilderment, realizing they’d stumbled into something far bigger—and way freakier—than a simple fixer-upper.
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