I swooped the car into Estacado’s parking lot, spraying more gravel when I came to a screeching halt in front of the building. The car rocked back, and I killed the engine. My heart was pounding so hard I saw spots. Stump was scrambling for balance in the seat, and once she’d gotten stable she glared up at me.
“Blame her,” I said, jerking a thumb at Viv. “You scared the poo out of me,” I said.
“Well then, we’re even.” She took a deep breath and fluffed at her hair.
I looked up then at the automotive to see three men staring, slack-jawed, at us.
“Stay in the car,” I told Stump.
I picked up my purse and went into the building. “I’m looking for Marty,” I said.
The three remained frozen, staring at me. Then slowly, two of them lifted their fingers to point at the third.
“Marty, I need an inspection sticker,” I said. I gave him a wide-eyed look that I hoped conveyed my meaning. “A sticker.”
He stared a few more seconds, then said, “Well, we know your brakes work, at any rate.”
“Yeah, uh, sorry about that. I was in a hurry because I just realized my sticker was past due and I didn’t want to take the chance of getting a ticket for that.”
The four of us stood in silence for a moment. I hoped the other non-pertinent facts of the moment — that doing approximately twice the speed limit and nearly running the Monster Carlo through the front windows of Estacado Auto Repair, thereby killing three people were also ways of catching negative attention from the authorities — would remain unsaid.
Finally, Marty cleared his throat. “Well, we’re required to see your insurance card.”
I went back out to the car. Viv was standing beside it, looking a bit dazed but none the worse for wear. I pulled the insurance card out of the glove box and handed it to him, then petted Stump to reassure her after our Lubbock Motor Speedway performance.
She was over it, though. She curled up in the sunshine and went to sleep. Resilient, that girl is.
Back in the office, the other two men were gone, presumably out to the bays where cars waited on lifts.
“I have to call this in and make sure it’s current,” he said.
I looked at Viv. I’d never heard of this before.
He went behind the counter and into an office and closed the door.
I set my keys on the counter and hesitated. I looked back at Viv.
“Do they do that? Have they ever done that with you? I thought if you just handed them the card they took it.”
She shrugged. “Is it legit?”
“Yeah,” I said, defensively. “Pretty sure.”
The problem was, I wasn’t always great about taking care of the petty details of life, like paying bills on time. I was getting better. But I’d screwed up enough times in my life that I was only maybe eighty percent confident that I was on top of everything at any given moment.
I leaned my head against the door. Nothing.
I turned back to Viv and jumped when I saw one of the two guys standing there, watching me.
“Oh!” I put my hand to my chest. “Sorry. I was just — he said he had to call it in and make sure it was current. Is that what you usually do?”
He shrugged. “I guess so. I can go ahead and get started, though.”
I turned back to the door, wondering how much a ticket for no sticker and no insurance would cost. Hundreds and hundreds, no doubt. And maybe more hundreds.
I stepped up to the door and leaned my ear against it.
The door opened and I almost fell inside. “Oh!” I said again. “Sorry. Any problems?”
“None at all. You’re right as rain.”
“Okay, well, that’s good. I recently switched companies and…” I looked at the counter. “Where are my keys?”
“The guy took them.” Viv nodded toward the parking lot. Which was now empty.
“He took my car?”
Marty laughed. “Calm down. He’s not stealing it. He’s just testing the brakes and the — ”
“He took my Stump!?”
I ran out to the parking lot and looked both directions. Half a block further “down yonder” I could see the Monster Carlo driving away.
“Oh no!” I said, imagining the unholy noise Stump was going to make when she saw a strange man driving away with her. I hoped she didn’t tear a hole in the seat.
“See?!” I shouted to Viv. “I knew I shouldn’t have brought her. Never again!”
“Would you relax? Look, he’s just driving down the street. She’s fine.”
I saw brake lights. The car came to a screeching halt in the middle of the road. Then he pulled over and made a wide u-turn.
They were about fifty yards away when I heard Stump’s ear-splitting cries.
The guy sped up as he got closer.
“What…?” Marty said.
“My dog,” I said, trying to sound like it was no big deal. “She has separation anxiety issues.”
He was silent for a moment. “That’s one dog?”
“I know, right?” Viv said. “She caused a riot the other night.”
The guy jumped out of my car, looking haunted. “I don’t know what’s the matter with your dog — ”
“Nothing. It’s okay, she just likes to stay close to me.”
Stump’s horrifying racket shot up an octave when she saw me. I ran around to the passenger door and lifted her. “Shhh, you’re okay.”
“I didn’t touch her,” the guy said. “She was just asleep on the seat, then she woke up and saw me, and started screaming. I swear.”
“Oh, I believe you,” I assured him. “She’s — ” I tucked her tight to my side so one ear was covered, and covered the other ear with my hand. She reduced the noise to an occasional yip. “She is a bit…tightly wound.
“Real tight,” Viv said. She reached over and scratched Stump’s head, though, so neither of us took offense.
The four of us stood there silently for a few seconds, and the guy shuddered. “You’re sure she’s okay?”
“Oh, she’s fine. See?”
Stump chose that moment to yawn hugely. When her mouth opened, the guy took a step back, his hands raised in defense. Then he realized she was yawning and relaxed a bit. She finished the routine with a little yip, though, and he jumped.
I gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry she scared you.”
Marty laughed. “Tough guy like him? He can’t get scared that easily.”
“Oh, I was scared alright,” the guy said, nodding. “You should have heard her.” He turned to me. “You might want to just hold her while I finish the inspection, though. Just to be on the safe side.”
“Yeah, about that,” I said. “See, I said I wanted an inspection sticker. Just the sticker.”
The guy nodded. “Yeah, I know. So you can hold her while I drive around the block and check the brakes and turn signals and stuff.”
I took a deep breath and smiled again, although this time it felt distinctly less good-natured. “See, the thing is, I’m almost positive it will pass. Almost positive. But if it doesn’t…what happens then?”
“Well, you don’t get your sticker. You fix whatever’s wrong and bring it back. And there’s no charge if it doesn’t pass, of course.”
“But then I have to drive home without a current sticker.”
“Well, we can take a look at whatever we find — if we find anything. It might be that it’s something easy to fix. We can take care of it right away and then you’ll be good to go.”
“Yes, but what if it’s not easy to fix?”
Marty and the guy both kind of sighed. I could tell I was getting on their nerves. I was kind of getting on my own nerves.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just — I heard that you were sometimes a little flexible on the regulations. You know.” I raised my eyebrows. “You know, just a little. Flexible?”
“Flexible?” the guy asked. “Flexible how?”
I frowned. This was s
o much more awkward than I was prepared for. “Nothing major. I just heard that Estacado Auto will give you exactly what you ask for. If you ask for an inspection, you get an inspection. If you ask for an inspection sticker, you get the sticker.”
Marty laughed. “Is that right?”
The guy gave Marty a look, and something passed silently between them. He frowned heavily, then backed up, his hands held in the air. “I don’t want no part of this.” He looked from me to Marty. “You hear me? No part. I tried to do a clean inspection, by the book. I’m not issuing no sticker for no car I didn’t do a full inspection on. You got me?” He pointed at Marty. “No part.”
Marty laughed. “Xavier, don’t worry about it, man. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not going to, either.” He frowned at all of us, then turned, one hand raised in farewell. “Not gonna happen.”
“It’s okay. Don’t get yourself upset.”
But Xavier was back in the garage by now, having washed his hands of us.
“Jeez Louise,” Viv said. “Stump’s not the only one who’s tightly wound.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to upset him.”
“Aw, he’s okay,” Marty said with a wave toward the garage. “He’s just got out of the pen, and he’s a little snakebit. Not anxious to go back anytime soon.”
The pen. Penitentiary. Well, that explained a few things.
Marty took my keys. “How about I take a look at your car? I bet it’ll pass.” He winked at me.
While we waited, I walked over to the garage and found Xavier, who was busily wiping down hand tools.
“Listen,” I said. “I’m really sorry about all that. I didn’t realize it was that big a deal. I was just worried about getting a ticket, and I wasn’t sure I could pay for a ticket.”
He gave me a look. “You’re worried about you getting a ticket? But you’re okay asking me to do something that’ll get me in a lot more trouble than a ticket?”
“I honestly didn’t — I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was that big a deal.” I repeated. My excuse sounded lame, and I knew it.
He laid one wrench into a box and picked up another, glared at me, and said nothing.
“Yes, well, I’m sorry.” I tucked Stump closer to me and turned away.
The car didn’t pass inspection. The left turn signal was out.
“I can fix it, but not today,” Marty said. “They don’t make parts for this model anymore. Have to get them made special from this outfit out of state.”
“What do I do?” I looked around in desperation. I now had a car I couldn’t legally drive.
“Okay, here’s what we can do. I’ll give you this receipt that shows you tried to get it legal. If you get pulled over, just show them this. They hardly ever give tickets when they know you’re trying to do something about it.”
“Hardly ever.” That was little comfort.
“Hardly ever,” Marty echoed.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into buying this car,” I said to Viv. “One day and I’m already about to get a ticket.”
“You just bought this car?” Marty said. “Well, this ought to be covered by the dealer, then. Take it back to them and get them to fix the turn signal and give you the sticker. That ought to be covered by your warranty. I thought you’d maybe inherited it from your grandmother or…great-grandmother or something.”
“When is your car going to be fixed?” I asked Viv.
“It’s not broken. It’s just getting some routine — ”
“When will it be available for you to drive again?”
She sulked. “Tomorrow. Maybe. Probably Thursday or Friday, though.”
I sighed. “Well, we have to get home somehow. I guess I’ll take my chances with this — this thing. Maybe I can make it down the highway without anyone looking too closely and still get the sticker this evening.”
My heart hammered the entire length of Clovis Highway. The Monster Carlo wasn’t exactly inconspicuous as it was. It was well after seven o’clock, but the light was still good and I felt like my windshield had a flashing neon sign that said, “Ticket me!” on it. We passed two cop cars, and I died a little bit both times.
Five Star Automotive was on the left side of the road. I drove past, turned right, then right again two more times, until I was able to park on the street at the side of the place.
It was already closed. “Seriously?!” I was done in. “I don’t think I can drive that thing one more minute. Let’s call a cab.”
“What about your G-Ma? Maybe she can loan us her car.”
“It’s broken down, too, remember?”
“It must be fixed now,” she said. “It was sitting at her office when we drove past.”
“It was? I didn’t even notice.”
We walked over to the Executive Inn and I opened the office door.
“Don’t be bringing that dog into my office,” G-Ma said from her rocking chair.
I bit back a sigh and stood in the doorway. “Hi, G-Ma. How are you?”
“Fine,” she said, in a way that meant she was clearly not fine and clearly still mad. “What do you need?”
I decided to forgo any pretense that I was here to check on her welfare only. “I need a ride home. We both do.” I gestured toward Viv with a tilt of my head. “I bought a new car next door but it’s — it needs a few details updated before I can drive it home.”
“Then you ought to keep your trade-in until it’s ready for you.”
I explained about buying the car the day before and how we’d come to be driving it today.
“What about her car?” G-Ma did the same head tilt thing at Viv that I had done.
“It’s in the shop,” I said, at the same time Viv said, “It’s having routine maintenance done.”
“There’s something wrong with it,” I said, loudly. I knew there was no quicker way to get G-Ma into a happy and generous mood. Viv would just have to suck it up. “We’re stranded over here and we need your help to get home.”
G-Ma smiled. “Is that right?”
I risked a glance at Viv. She was glaring at me with thin lips.
“Just go with it,” I said through clenched teeth.
Viv gave me another look, then reached into her handbag. “I can pay for your gas money.” She held up a hundred-dollar bill.
G-Ma grabbed her purse from under the counter and said, “I don’t need your money. Let’s get going.”
She put up a cardboard sign that said, “Back directly,” gave me strict instructions to keep Stump securely in my lap so she didn’t poo on the car seat (in G-Ma’s mind, dogs were nothing but spewing fountains of poo covered in fur) and drove cheerfully back toward Belle Court.
Once we got there, Viv said, “Virgie, I insist on paying you for the gas. You’ve done us a big favor and I appreciate it.”
“I don’t need your money,” G-Ma said. She sounded less convincing this time, though.
Viv sighed. “I know you don’t. But it’s the right thing to do. Please. Allow me to do the right thing.”
G-Ma was silent.
Viv got out of the car, opened G-Ma’s door, and handed her the money. When G-Ma reached for it, Viv grabbed her hand, leaned close, and whispered something into G-Ma’s ear.
G-Ma sat back, still silent.
“What?” I asked.
“I told her thank you for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow, Salem.”
G-Ma was silent as we drove out of Belle Court. I wanted to ask what Viv had said, but something about the look on G-Ma’s face kept me silent.
I noticed we weren’t heading toward Trailertopia, but back down Clovis Highway.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Back to the motel. You can just use my car until you get yours taken care of.”
“Seriously? You’re letting me borrow the Lincoln?”
This was a full-blown miracle. I could have had it certified by the Vatican, if they knew ho
w much G-Ma loved that Lincoln and how little she trusted anyone else with it.
“Yeah, just be careful with it. You know. Go the speed limit.” She frowned like she was already regretting the decision. “You have to get to work tomorrow and everything. So this will be easier than me carting you all over town.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I kept my mouth shut to avoid saying anything to change her mind. The Lincoln was still a bit big for my tastes, but certainly smaller than the Monster Carlo. Driving it to work tomorrow would be a lot less stressful.
G-Ma pulled up to the motel and looked at me and Stump. “Wait here,” she said.
As she went in, I texted Viv. “What in the world did you say to G-Ma?”
A few seconds later, she answered. “That you loved her and put up with her craziness and helped her every time you could, and that she ought not blame you for doing something to protect her.”
I felt a sudden burning in my nose and swallowed a lump in my throat. “Thanks,” I texted back.
A few seconds later, my phone dinged again. “I might have called her an old fool, I don’t remember.”
G-Ma came out with three thick towels and laid them all out on the passenger seat. Then she motioned for me to lay Stump there.
I did as I was told and gave her a hug. “Thank you, G-Ma. This is very generous of you.”
“Yes, well. Get out of here. I don’t want you driving it after dark.”
Chapter Nine
Again with the Dumpsters
Wednesday morning, I woke up so nervous about driving G-Ma’s car that I actually wished I had the Monster Carlo back. If I dinged that thing, it wouldn’t even be noticeable, much less set off the family drama to end all family dramas. I went to the tiny second bedroom of my trailer and lit my candles, intending to devote my morning devotional time to praying for the Blood of Jesus to protect G-Ma’s Lincoln, and therefore my own life.
I always read the daily Bible verse first because in my experience there was almost always something in the verse to address whatever my freakout of the day was about.
Today, though, it let me down.
Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven. Luke 6:37 (ESV)
I frowned. What did that mean? Did that mean I was going to need forgiveness soon?
Caught in the Crotchfire Page 19
