if she didn't admit to most of her past
life openly, especially when it would help someone else, like at an
A.A. meeting. Even then she liked to work up to the worst parts.
People liked to act as if they were cool with anything. Hey it's the
eighties, they'd say But really you never knew. Of course, an
audience of recovering alcoholics and addicts tended to be a much
more tolerant crowd than, say the PTA.
Garret knew. She would never enter into a close
relationship with a man without telling him her history. He had taken
the news of her past almost too well. She suspected it thrilled him a
little, to be with such a former bad girl.
For the most part, it was safer to just keep your
mouth shut about certain things. Flower George had taught her that,
too. But then again, if the story of her past came out, so be it.
Might even be liberating. One less thing to hide. Another advantage
she had was that stacked against all she'd been through, there
weren't that many big deals.
She slid the tire toward her and stuck her fingers
through the center hub hole. Lifting a tire out of a trunk was
awkward. No leverage could be applied; she had to rely solely on arm
muscles. She could have asked one of the guys to help, but she never
did unless it was something they would be asking for help with if the
situation were reversed. Like putting a standard transmission back in
after a clutch job or setting a cylinder head down over a new gasket.
Nobody was ever going to accuse her of not pulling her weight.
Her size made it necessary for her to employ a
variety of tricks when lifting. If a vehicle was on the rack, she
could handle even one-ton truck tires by balancing them on her leg
first and then bouncing them to the ground. But for now all she could
do was grunt a little and heave. Fortunately the Mercedes rim was an
alloy and lighter than its steel counterparts.
She leaned the spare against the back bumper and shut
the trunk. The inside of the rim was dirty with old grease and road
grit, further proving her theory that Frank had pulled a switcheroo.
The shop's brand of wheel weights were still hammered firmly on the
inside lip of the rim. She jacked up the back of the Mercedes, zipped
off the lug bolts with her air gun, and put the wheel she had already
balanced back on the car. It would have been less work just to
balance the swapped spare, but there was principle involved, and that
always took precedence over effort.
She rolled the tire that had been on the car into the
office and leaned it against the wall. She was letting the jack down
when Frank and Lou walked up the driveway holding Styrofoam cups from
the bakery next door.
Lou had a cup in each hand. "All set?" he
asked, handing her one already doctored just the way she liked it.
"Take it away" she said.
After Fahoosy left, Lou went back in the office to
reconcile the morning's books and figure out his next gas load. A
moment later he called Munch's name. She came to the doorway.
He pointed at Fahoosy's spare. "What's this
about?"
" The detail guys must have forgotten to put that
back into Fahoosy's trunk. They'll have to call him later. He can
pick it up when he comes in to make good on the check he gave them."
"This is the kind of shit I'm talking about,"
he said. "You go out of your way to find trouble."
Chapter 11
M unch started
to offer a defense but stopped when the phone rang. Lou answered with
the standard "Bel-Air Texaco." She took the opportunity to
walk away. She grabbed the key to a Ford Mustang off the work order
and read the customer's complaint. The engine was stalling at
stop-lights, cutting out on acceleration, and idling roughly. Sounded
like it had a misfiring cylinder.
The Mustang was parked next to Pauley's wash stall by
the north driveway There was a hose there and it was in a far corner
of the lot.
According to Lou, bad luck and financial reversals
had hounded Pauley for years. He'd once even owned his own gas
station but had lost it to the tax
life openly, especially when it would help someone else, like at an
A.A. meeting. Even then she liked to work up to the worst parts.
People liked to act as if they were cool with anything. Hey it's the
eighties, they'd say But really you never knew. Of course, an
audience of recovering alcoholics and addicts tended to be a much
more tolerant crowd than, say the PTA.
Garret knew. She would never enter into a close
relationship with a man without telling him her history. He had taken
the news of her past almost too well. She suspected it thrilled him a
little, to be with such a former bad girl.
For the most part, it was safer to just keep your
mouth shut about certain things. Flower George had taught her that,
too. But then again, if the story of her past came out, so be it.
Might even be liberating. One less thing to hide. Another advantage
she had was that stacked against all she'd been through, there
weren't that many big deals.
She slid the tire toward her and stuck her fingers
through the center hub hole. Lifting a tire out of a trunk was
awkward. No leverage could be applied; she had to rely solely on arm
muscles. She could have asked one of the guys to help, but she never
did unless it was something they would be asking for help with if the
situation were reversed. Like putting a standard transmission back in
after a clutch job or setting a cylinder head down over a new gasket.
Nobody was ever going to accuse her of not pulling her weight.
Her size made it necessary for her to employ a
variety of tricks when lifting. If a vehicle was on the rack, she
could handle even one-ton truck tires by balancing them on her leg
first and then bouncing them to the ground. But for now all she could
do was grunt a little and heave. Fortunately the Mercedes rim was an
alloy and lighter than its steel counterparts.
She leaned the spare against the back bumper and shut
the trunk. The inside of the rim was dirty with old grease and road
grit, further proving her theory that Frank had pulled a switcheroo.
The shop's brand of wheel weights were still hammered firmly on the
inside lip of the rim. She jacked up the back of the Mercedes, zipped
off the lug bolts with her air gun, and put the wheel she had already
balanced back on the car. It would have been less work just to
balance the swapped spare, but there was principle involved, and that
always took precedence over effort.
She rolled the tire that had been on the car into the
office and leaned it against the wall. She was letting the jack down
when Frank and Lou walked up the driveway holding Styrofoam cups from
the bakery next door.
Lou had a cup in each hand. "All set?" he
asked, handing her one already doctored just the way she liked it.
"Take it away" she said.
After Fahoosy left, Lou went back in the office to
reconcile the morning's books and figure out his next gas load. A
moment later he called Munch's name. She came to the doorway.
He pointed at Fahoosy's spare. "What's this
about?"
" The detail guys must have forgotten to put that
back into Fahoosy's trunk. They'll have to call him later. He can
pick it up when he comes in to make good on the check he gave them."
"This is the kind of shit I'm talking about,"
he said. "You go out of your way to find trouble."
Chapter 11
M unch started
to offer a defense but stopped when the phone rang. Lou answered with
the standard "Bel-Air Texaco." She took the opportunity to
walk away. She grabbed the key to a Ford Mustang off the work order
and read the customer's complaint. The engine was stalling at
stop-lights, cutting out on acceleration, and idling roughly. Sounded
like it had a misfiring cylinder.
The Mustang was parked next to Pauley's wash stall by
the north driveway There was a hose there and it was in a far corner
of the lot.
According to Lou, bad luck and financial reversals
had hounded Pauley for years. He'd once even owned his own gas
station but had lost it to the tax
Similar Books
