My Bad Boy Boss's Secret Baby

There was a time the phone would be ringing off the hook from opening to closing. However, I had recently fallen somewhat in public estimation. Turned out those couple of ex-employees had a lot of friends, as well as the ability to really hold a grudge. I could have kept them on. Only then the garage would have had to shut down entirely. They would still be out of work, along with the rest of the mechanics and me. It really was amazing how blinded people could be sometimes.

It had been one such former friend who had tried to serve me free beer on my walk of shame. Things like that happened a lot. Considering some of them were Iraq Vets, I counted

myself lucky it only went as far as beer bottles. Still, I would prefer a solid punch to the face I could see coming to the drive-bys. Seemed more honest somehow.

I kept an eye on the trainee kids through the window between the office and the shop floor. Making sure no one did anything stupid. At least nothing that might leave a permanent scar, like not making sure the battery was disconnected before trying to change the distributor cap.

Wonder of wonders and miracle of miracles the phone actually rang. Its imitated jingle sounding like the choirs of heaven.

“Chad’s Auto, not a problem too big.”

“Shouldn’t that be no problem too big?” John asked.

“Probably, but I like to aim high,” I joked.

“Very admirable.”

“I do my best. Most of my DnD characters were Chaotic Good.”

“Oh, I remember,” John said. We had been close since high school.

I could almost hear him roll his eyes from the other end of the digitally facilitated conversation. Such was the deep and profound friendship we shared. There were times I wondered if we had been fraternal twins separated at birth.

“How have you been?” I asked.

“Can’t complain. I was wondering if you’d like to go for a drink later.”

“Sure, just one condition.”

“Name it,” John said amiably.

“We don’t go anywhere the mechanics go. I’m not really in the mood to get my nose broken again. I also can’t afford it.”

He chuckled. “I must say, they did a good job of straightening it.”

“Oh yeah, Doc. Emily is the best but also very expensive.”

“Isn’t that always just the way?” John said, with a theatrical sigh.

“In my experience, yeah.”

“Weird the cops should have been so hard on you,” John mused.

I shrugged even though he couldn’t see. The night my former employees attacked me had been crazy. “Jim and Hank are popular guys. More than I can say for myself at the moment.”

“I’m your Huckleberry,” John said, doing his best approximation of a Georgian, “I’ve also become a fan of the all-day happy hour at La Muerte Grande.”

“The big death?” I asked, translating quickly and scratching at my chin.

“Yeah, pretty sure it was a mistranslation,” John said quickly, “Google translate has a lot to answer for.”

“No argument there. Sounds good. See you there after closing.”

“Don’t do anything I would do,” John warned playfully.

“Never been a problem before,” I said, with a wink I was sure he could sense through the satellite link.

I hung up the phone and glanced out at the trainees. With no cars in the shop, one of the mechanics had them cleaning. It was busywork, but it would do. I sat down in my rolling chair with a sigh.

It was going to be a long, dull day.Chapter Three - NinaIt was surprising how relaxing flying could be. Particularly for someone who’d never done it before. I like to go fast but tended to draw the line at vehicles that could achieve lift-off. The fastest I’d ever driven was on a restored 1971 Vincent Black Shadow. Dad gave Uncle Jake hell for that one.

Daddy had convinced Uncle Jake — a race car driver — to give me driving lessons, thought that wasn’t quite what he had in mind. It was daddy’s fault, really, he should have been more specific. It was still the most fun thing I’d ever done up to that point.

I hadn’t seen Auntie Blair in years. Apparently, there had been some unpleasantness I was too young to know about, and she had disappeared from the scene. It was a bit surprising then that Daddy would let me stay with her. Still, I had the feeling that had more to do with context, Auntie Blair being the only family we had in El Paso.

It was easy to spot Auntie Blair in the vast expanses of the airport parking lot. She was still driving the pumpkin—a classically beautiful VW bug with an orange body and green roof. No doubt a souvenir from one of her many crazy adventures. Auntie Blair’s wild indiscretions were the stuff of family legends. Though, as with all tales, I took it for granted that there would be a degree of exaggeration involved.