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The sight of a tow truck magically appearing on what I’m pretty sure is the main road of the tiny town seems like a blessing; however, in my experience, blessings are really just burdens waiting to be unearthed.
Fuck, I could easily make a spreadsheet using events from this past year alone to prove that point.
I cautiously watch the older automobile creep closer, an unfamiliar sense of dread being drudged up each time the tires roll across the barely paved path. It stops far enough ahead of me to be clearly visible as the person gets out yet not close enough to be of any actual help.
And given the unclear weapon the middle-aged male grabs from the flatbed of his truck before heading my direction, I get the feeling helping me isn’t at all what he intends to do.
Chapter 2
Nolan
Another day, another brat stuck in the mud because mommy and daddy didn’t teach them any fucking survival skills.
Probably shouldn’t complain.
Towing keeps the shop open just as much as fixing their foreign piece of shits do.
Not that I hate all foreign cars.
Just most.
A lot like people.
Bracing the wood planks against my broad shoulder, I unhurriedly stroll in the direction of the black Benz stuck right off the main road while fighting the urge to smile.
If The Kid was with me, he’d be rambling off its damn specs by now.
Year.
Horsepower.
Top speed.
Torque.
Weight.
Grip.
Dimensions.
Best tires.
Recommended maintenance schedule.
How the damn thing he’s never driven handles dry versus wet land.
Kid’s practically a certified genius when it comes to cars.
He credits getting it from his old man, but the truth is he didn’t.
Yeah, alright, Big K knew some shit about cars.
Afterall, he taught me when I was The Kid’s age now, and The Kid was still playing with Hot Wheels, but the shit Kipp can do? Big K wouldn’t have been able to do that without the help of a Genie and three fucking magic wishes.
May the old drunk bastard get a drop of water in hell.
But only one.
