Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 108862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“Yup.” I twist my hands in my rag. “But it won’t stay aligned.”
His face twists, not following.
I point underneath. “Control-arm bushing’s got play in it. So if I align it like this, then you’re paying us to straighten something that’ll wander again. We should fix what’s causing it first.”
He squints at the car, then crouches slightly, like he’s actually trying to somehow spot what I’m pointing at. “That so?” he asks. “That’s what you’d do?”
“That’s what I’m telling you to do.”
He straightens up and looks at me.
Something cold enters his eyes. “Do I know you?”
My jaw sets. “Do you?”
He gives it another few seconds of thought, looking me over. I can’t wait for it to dawn on him. To see the flash in his eyes.
Then he says, “You must get that a lot. Familiar face. Reminds me of this handsome chap at my office. Does scheduling. All the ladies have a thing for him, even though he’s married to a man. Nice husband, too. Met him once. Just has that kind of charm.” He chuckles and backs off. “Fine, let’s do what you recommend. I do appreciate a man who tells me what actually needs to get done … who gets to the point. Too many businesses, they’re soft. Afraid to be direct.” He puts his hands on his hips. “Can’t run a business if you’re worrying about everyone’s feelings, know what I mean?”
I stare back, silent.
He leans in. “Case and point. Just came from somewhere else in this town, little errand at some hardware store, and the owner couldn’t just give me a straight answer to save his life. That’s the trouble with these small-town operations. Half can’t say whether they’re running a business or just making friends and convincing locals they know what the hell they’re doing.”
I feel an itch under my skin.
“Got a shining exception, though,” he says with a proud smile. “Flower guy in town. Good kid. Talented. Very accommodating. Been using him for years.” He sighs. “But I got tired of having my assistants reinvent the wheel every time I need some bouquets for an event, so I finally put him under contract.”
I work my jaw, staring this man down.
“I mean, he was free to say no.” He chuckles. “No one said he had to sign. But what’s a guy like that gonna do? He understood the relationship we’ve got. He makes reliable money from me. He gives me preferred pricing. We’re both happy.”
“You sure about that?”
He comes out of his head for a second, looking at me. “Huh?”
I face him. “Do you respect Wyatt?”
He pauses.
For a while.
“Of course I do.”
“Then why don’t you talk about him like you do?”
He turns completely to me like there’s something new on my face. Like he’s actually seeing a person instead of a mechanic. “Did I in some way indicate I don’t respect him?”
“You’ve known me ten minutes, and you trust my knowledge about what to do with your car.” I nod toward the garage door, as if Wyatt’s right there. “Then you spent ten seconds ranting about a guy you’ve hired for years like he’s some kid you’re training.”
Someone drops a wrench nearby. Loud clang.
Neither of us flinch.
“Right,” he says finally, still rigid, pensive, staring at me. “I … perhaps should’ve rethought my words. Calling him a kid. I guess everyone’s a kid, in some respect, when you get to a certain age.”
This dude can’t be more than ten years older than either of us. It isn’t “age” this bastard’s talking about. It’s bank account size.
Then he nods. “And yes. I do trust you. I know when a man’s … worth my trust.” He lifts his eyebrows. “And so I’ll trust you to do your honest work with my car and be out of your way.”
Joel was hovering too close and quickly dives in. “I’ll take you to the waiting room,” he says, somewhat out of breath, listening to all of this and knowing exactly what’s gotten me hot.
I don’t acknowledge Grant any further.
He doesn’t stay in the waiting room. Job will take hours.
After the guy fucks off to get lunch around the corner or strut down the street sizing up the rest of the town, I get busy. Joel goes to the computer. Supplier’s got what we need. Forty-five minutes out. Ordered.
Then I’m doing my honest work.
Second the part arrives, I get busy with Carl as we replace the whole control arm assembly, then perform the alignment. Whole time, I’ve got no thoughts. Can’t have any. If I start, I’m gonna do something bad. My goal right now is treating this stupid prick like a customer and getting the job done. Believe it or not, I ain’t in the business of doing something careless—or unethical—that’ll cause his vehicle to go sideways on the highway and put his or others’ lives in danger.