Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Just as I’m heading over to point out the vending machine to the customer, Frank motions me to the garage, and I beeline for him instead. “The fuel filter needs replacing, and the head gasket is in bad shape.”
“That’ll go over really well,” I mutter.
Most customers don’t like being told bad news or paying an arm and a leg to get work done on their cars, especially costly engine parts. But maybe it’ll only be a drop in the bucket for this guy, whose shoes are so expensive-looking he could probably afford several pairs.
“What is it?” the man asks as we approach, presenting a united front.
“Have you noticed any smoke leaking from your tailpipe or your car overheating?”
“Maybe I’ve smelled some fumes recently, but I didn’t think anything of it.”
I nod. “That’s one of the signs your head gasket needs replacing.”
He winces. “Will I be able to make it home?”
Frank shrugs. “Hard to tell how many miles you got left before it conks out on you or damages your engine.”
“It’s not something you want to mess with,” I add. “Lucky you pulled off the freeway when you did.”
“This isn’t some sort of schtick, is it?” The man looks between us as he stands. “To drum up more business?”
“You’re joking, right?” I clench my jaw at the entitled comment. “Feel free to take your chances out on the road.”
“Sorry, that was uncalled for. I’m just stressing.” He holds up his hands and takes a step back. “How long will it take to fix?”
“We’ll need to order the part,” I say, then defer to Frank.
“Should be here in the morning, and you’ll be ready to hit the road again sometime tomorrow afternoon,” Frank adds.
“Well, fuck.” The man pushes his fingers through his hair. “Suppose I don’t have a choice.”
“We aren’t the worst town to break down in,” Frank mumbles. “Though some might disagree.”
I narrow my eyes at Frank, who’s always been curious about other locales but has never done much traveling. “He’s only teasing.”
The man nods, then glances out the window. “Where can I stay around here…? I don’t even know the name of this town.”
“Aqua Vista.” I throw Frank a pointed look. “Don’t you have some work to do?”
He snickers as he heads toward the garage. Truth be told, the pumps help keep our heads above water. Not that we don’t have a steady flow of customers for oil changes and the like. But we’ve had to count our pennies during the leaner months.
“What did he mean by that?” the man asks, his eyes trained on his car in the bay.
“Just that we’re more of a pass-through town. Nothing special, even with the beach in one direction and the foothills of the Santa Lucia mountains in the other. Too many other places in California to head for a vacation spot.” We aren’t Big Sur by any stretch, but there’s not a bad view anywhere you look. “Most old-timers don’t want us to become a flashy tourist location anyway, and others like to spread rumors that our town is cursed.”
His eyes grow wide. “Cursed?”
“A ridiculous old wives’ tale, but that’s a small town for you.” I shouldn’t have mentioned it, but Frank had reminded me.
“Figures,” he mutters under his breath, but I don’t call him on it. “So, a place to stay?”
“There’s a motel up the road.”
“How far is the walk?”
“Not too bad.” I point behind me to the hills. “About a mile.”
He lifts his cell. “Place to grab a bite to eat?”
“A few options, including my brother’s bar. I’m headed there myself for dinner.” I glance at my watch. “You want, I can drive you to the motel and then to get some grub.”
“That would be great. Are you sure?” he asks, and I nod. He unlocks his phone and taps at the screen, likely texting someone. “I’ll just need to grab my bag.”
He follows me to the garage, and as he opens his back seat, I head over to Frank. “You order that part?”
“Yup.”
“Okay. Gonna get him set up at the motel, then head over to see Johnny.” Frank tries to hide his smirk. “Hey, it’s called being hospitable.”
“Not at all because he’s a looker?”
“Even if he is, it doesn’t mean anything.” Frank is more of a horndog than me, so his comment is laughable. “Mind the cash register for me until Mike shows for the night shift?”
“Will do.”
I lead the stranger to my truck. “The name’s Jack, and yours?”
He glances up at the sign, maybe putting together that I own the place. My dad ran Jack of All Trades for most of my life. “Uh, Aaron.”
“Hop in, Aaron.” I open my truck door, and he slides in the passenger side.
“Mae owns Inn the Doghouse and the Hydrant Motel, which is a bit cheaper, but I don’t expect you to have that problem.”