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He’s definitely not from around here. The people here don’t use words like ‘recoup’ and ‘incur’. In fact, they’d think you’re a snob if you used words like that.
“I’m not saying it makes sense. Kenny, the owner, made that rule years ago after some guy didn’t pay him. I don’t know the whole story. All I know is that from then on, he required a credit card be on file for every customer.”
“Well, I don’t have one.”
“You don’t have a credit card? Not even one?”
“No. And I don’t plan to get one. So I guess my only option is to prepay whatever this Kenny guy feels is enough to cover his losses if I fail to show up, which isn’t going to happen because I need the motorcycle.”
“Kenny isn’t here so I can’t check with him but I could ask Jesse. He’s running the place for his dad for a few months.”
Kyle’s brows rise. “That guy’s running the place?”
“Yeah.” I laugh a little. “He doesn’t handle the business side of things. He just works on the cars. He’s actually a really good mechanic. I’m sure he can fix your motorcycle.” I get up from the chair. “Let me ask how much he wants. I’ll be right back.”
I go explain the situation to Jesse, then return to the office. I catch Kyle watching me walk in. I’m wearing a blue cotton sundress that hits just above the knee. It’s sleeveless so shows off my tan. When I’m not at work, I spend a lot of time outside. I hang out on the back patio of the house and read or listen to music. The less time I have to spend in that old stinky house the better.
“He said $500 should be enough. If not, you can pay the rest when you pick it up.”
“Five hundred? That’s it?” Kyle gets his wallet out, a sleek black leather wallet that looks expensive. His t-shirt looks expensive too. It’s just a basic white t-shirt but the fabric looks soft and smooth, like it’s a high quality cotton or some kind of cotton blend.
“Things are cheaper in a small town.”
“Guess so.” He places five crisp hundred dollar bills on the desk. “I’d pay at least twice that in—” He coughs.
“In where? Where are you from?”
“California. The Los Angeles area.”
“Really? You don’t look like a California guy.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just always pictured California guys having blond hair and blue eyes. Like those surfer guys in the movies.”
“I’m not originally from there.”
“Where’d you grow up?”
He motions to my computer. “Could we finish this up? I’d like to get going.”
“Yeah, sure.” I turn and face my monitor and type his first name into the form. “Last name?”
He pauses, then flips open his wallet. “Shadwick. Kyle Shadwick.”
I laugh. “Did you forget your name for a minute?”
“No.” He puts his wallet away. “I was just checking how much cash I had left.”
“Hey, you didn’t notice any nausea or dizziness from that bump on your head, did you?”
“No. I’m fine.”
Leaning toward him, I check out his bandage. It’s tinged with blood.
“You need a new bandage. When we’re done here, I’ll get one from my car and put a new one on.” I sit back. “Since you refuse to get stitches.”
“I don’t need stitches.”
