“We had a deal,” he fires at me.
I slowly nod, acknowledging him.
“Yes, we did, but that deal went out the window last Thursday night, when you got beaten up so badly I wasn’t sure whether you were gonna live or die.”
When he realizes his efforts at staring me down have little impact, he turns his head away.
“I’ll tell her tonight,” he concedes, mumbling.
Yeah…except, I’m not so sure he’ll find some way to get out of it or whether he’ll tell her everything.
I pull my phone from my pocket and start typing in a text.
He says he wants to tell you what happened, do you have any time now?
“What are you doing?”
“I’m just checking to see if your mom is around,” I inform him as I get to my feet and move to the stairs.“No time like the present.”
I hear a muttered,“Such fucking bullshit,”behind me, and stop on the top step.
“Thought you said you wanted to work on the Chevy,” I toss over my shoulder.“I’ve got an hour and a half before my next customer shows up.Enough time to take off the hood, and lube every damn bolt and screw holding that engine block down.It’ll take a lot of prep work before we’re even ready to lift that engine out.”
When I continue down the steps, I hear his footfalls behind me.
Smart kid.
“Boss,he insists on talking to you.”
I lift my head and look over Manuel’s shoulder to where Don Merrick is pacing outside my office.
“Why the fuck does he need to talk to me?”
“He wants us to send the bill to his office.I explained to him we require payment when the vehicle is collected, but he didn’t seem too happy about that response.”
I grab the rag I keep in my back pocket and wipe my hands.
“Fine.Can you give Remi a hand making sure the hoses are drained, while I deal with him?”
I jerk my chin at Merrick, and notice the man has stopped pacing and is blatantly looking in our direction.
“Sure thing, Boss.”
Behind me, I hear Manuel asking the boy how far he’s gotten, as I make my way over to my office.
“You wanted to talk to me?Is there a problem with your bill?”
“Yes, there is.I’ve always had my bills sent to my office,” he declares arrogantly.
“Not by me,” I point out.
“That’s ridiculous,” he scoffs.“I don’t see why not; the dealership always does.”
I shrug and flip my hands palms up.“Then perhaps it would’ve been a better option to take your vehicle there.I don’t accept delayed payment from anyone who walks in off the street.And, unless you’re perhaps a loyal customer in good standing, I won’t budge on that.”
“I’m hardly anyone.I’m the mayor of this town.”
“I’m aware, and I was able to slip the work on your Mercedes into my already busy schedule by merit of your importance to this town.”I almost choke on those words, but they help me make my point.“Just like the salary you take home is partly paid by my taxes—which I always pay on time, by the way—mysalary, and that of my employees, is dependent on the timely payment for the work we deliver.”
