Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
RILEY
After I rush to the auto shop and open every shutter in anticipation of the client’s arrival, I send a mass text to all three of my mechanics.
Sure, there’s a ten percent chance that someone will surprise me and get here on time, but I’m not willing to risk it. I’d rather send an alert and hedge my bets.
“What do I need first?” I mutter out loud. “Shoot. I forgot to ask the client to describe the issue.”
Because of that one pesky question, my mechanics and I can’t prepare to receive the car. We’ll have to fly in blind.
I make a beeline for the tool cabinet when I start skidding on the ground.
“Ah!” I windmill my arms and rock back and forth, fighting to remain upright. Gravity pulls me down anyway and I slam hard on my back.
Dazed, I stare at the ceiling, out of breath.
“Boss!” Footsteps pound the ground.
A moment later, three faces appear in my line of vision.
One face is young and sharp with a mop-like haircut and brown eyes.
The other face is full with pudgy cheeks and a scraggly mustache.
The third face is older with deep wrinkles carved around his mouth and wispy grey hair.
“Can you get up?” Jimmy asks, reaching a hand down.
Carlos offers a hand too.
The words ‘I don’t need your help’ spring to my lips. I don’t want to appear weak in front of my team, especially as a woman.
But something Nat said in my kitchen this morning echoes back to me.
‘In hockey, the roles are clear. I do my part and I trust my teammates to do theirs.’
If giant men skating at a bajillion miles an hour on frozen water chasing a tiny black disc can trust each other to do their part and play as a team, then I can lean on my mechanics when I need to as well.
Reaching up, I accept both Carlos and Jimmy’s hand.
The men pull me to my feet.
“Are you hurt?” Jimmy asks, looking me over.
Blade walks around me, his eyes sliding down my body. “She looks good to me.”
Jimmy smacks him on the back of the head.
“Ow! Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just saying that she’s not bleeding or anything.”
My lips tremble and panic starts to lose its grip on my throat.
“We got your message, Boss,” Carlos says. “What did they say about the brake job?”
“It’s because of your crappy work,” Blade accuses.
Carlos’s eyes narrow angrily. “I did what I always do. The brakes were fixed. The Boss signed off on it.”
“Blade, don’t throw around accusations. We don’t know why the customer broke down this morning. It’s useless to go around pointing fingers without having the full information.”
Carlos folds his arms over his chest. “What she said.”
Blade rolls his eyes, which is his signature teenaged move.
“When is the tow coming?” Jimmy asks me.
“They said twenty minutes…” I check my watch. “Half an hour ago.”
“Tows are always late. It might be another thirty to forty minutes.”
Blade glances out the door. “I see them coming up the street now!”
I move briskly. “Blade, can you clean that oil spill? We can’t afford for any more people to slip on that and get hurt.”
“Where does that oil keep coming from?” Jimmy shakes his head. “It’s like there’s an oil fairy in here playing tricks.”
“That’s not important right now. Jimmy, can you get the logbooks from the cupboard in my office?”
“On it, Boss.”
“Carlos?”
“Yes, Boss?”
“You’re with me.”
I move closer to the shutters and watch as the Mack truck towing the vehicle releases it onto our lawn. I still prefer airplanes to vehicles, but those trucks are a beautiful sight to behold.
Once the car has been safely released, the Mack truck leaves.
The driver honks on his way out.
Carlos waves. “Thanks, ‘Berto!”
The doors on the familiar blue car burst open and two people step into view. I recognize the woman as our former client, but the man with the beer belly and bald head is new.
The woman’s husband slams his door shut and the entire car rocks from the force of it. He stomps up the incline to the door where Carlos and I are standing.
“Are you that scamming female mechanic who took money from my wife without fixing our car?” he snarls.
I notice Blade in the corner of my eye. His hand is tensing over the broom as if he takes personal offense to the man’s tone.
“I’m Riley Carter and this is one of our mechanics. Can you explain what happened?”
“You and these low-rate mechanics broke my wife’s car. That’s what happened.”
Carlos’s hands tighten into fists. “We fixed it good and proper. The brakes were working fine when she left.”
“Carlos.”
My mechanic backs off, but I can sense him steaming.
The customer’s face turns a mottled red. “Are you saying we’re lying?”
“That’s not what we’re saying at all.” I turn slightly. “Carlos, do a scan while I talk to the customers.”
Carlos huffs outside with the scanning tool.
“Can you explain what happened?” I ask.
“The car malfunctioned when I was trying to stop,” the man snaps. “I slammed on the brakes, but it’s like someone else was driving. It wouldn’t respond.”
“Did you feel a tug or hear any noises?”
“There was no noise,” his wife answers. With a sheepish duck of her head, she mumbles, “He pushed on the brakes but, instead of stopping, the wheels continued to turn.”
“I almost crashed into the car in front of me! Your shoddy work would’ve cost me thousands!”
“I’m very sorry to hear that.”
“You need to explain what happened to our car. It was working fine before this. My wife said all she asked you guys to do was change the brake pads and now the check engine light is on, and we have all these issues!”
I inhale through my nose and let it out. Carlos did good work and I signed off on the job. I trust my mechanics and I also trust myself.
“Jimmy, the logbooks?” I stretch out a hand without removing my gaze from the couple.
Jimmy sets the book in my upturned palm.
“Mr….” I arch a brow.
“Derwin.”
“Mr. Derwin. We do a scan on each car that comes in, every time it comes in. So we’ll need to do another scan to be sure, but I have a suspicion about what happened.”
I flip open the page. “Here it is. We flagged a problem with the trouble codes and told your wife that we recommended changing the wiring for the ABS wheel speed sensor—that’s the anti-lock braking system—for both rear wheels.”
The man grunts.
“Your wife expressed that you didn’t have the funds to address the issue and she asked us to only adjust the brake pads. We warned her that we’d need to move that part in order to reach the brakes and thus it could be further compromised. She signed off on it. Is that right, ma’am?”
I stare at the woman as calmly as I can despite my racing heart.
“Yes, I… uh, technically. Yes.” She darts a quick, nervous look at her husband.
Mr. Derwin’s eyes bulge. In a burst, he yells at me, “You deceived my wife into signing something, but that doesn’t mean you’re innocent. You said it yourself. You removed a part of our car to get to the brakes and that’s when you broke it!”
Carlos hustles back into view with his tablet in hand.
I divert my attention to him.
“It’s the ABS wheel speed sensor wiring,” he says in a low voice.
“Mr. Derwin, the mechanic just confirmed that the issue was, indeed, the compromised brake sensor wires. If you look here,” I try to show him my book, “this was outlined in the original scan. Which means your car had this problem before your wife brought it in.”
He throws his hands up, refusing to look at the book. “I don’t believe you explained it this thoroughly to my wife. You took advantage of the fact that she’s a woman and doesn’t understand all this car stuff.”
“Our boss is a woman too,” Jimmy says. “And she’s not a liar. She explained everything to that lady.” He points to Mr. Derwin’s wife. “I saw her sign and put the waiver in the glove compartment.”
“What a ridiculous lie! There’s no such thing in the glove compartment.”
“Yes, there is,” Jimmy insists, his face reddening.
Mr. Derwin takes a long look at Jimmy. “Aren’t you that guy who got fired from the factory for sleeping on the job? I see only liars and hooligans are working at this shop.”
“Who are you calling a hooligan?” Blade demands, stomping over.
I step forward before things can escalate. “Mr. Derwin.”
The man cuts me with a dark look.
“Why don’t we check the glove compartment?”
“For what? Nothing’s there.”
“Then you won’t mind us checking.”
With a huff, Mr. Derwin marches outside and wrenches the car door open.
The rest of us follow.
The older man rifles around in the glove compartment for a minute, his expression thunderous.
And then, in a snap, his jaw slackens and his taut eyebrows climb to the top of his head. He brings out a folded paper.
His wife squeezes her eyes shut and makes herself so small that I can practically hear her praying to disappear.
Mr. Derwin reads the waiver, looks through the scanner trouble codes that we printed and then glances at the ground. His shoulders slump like all the air seeping out of a balloon.
“Since you’re a returning customer, we’ll gladly take a look at your vehicle and replace the ABS speed sensor wiring like we recommended to your wife last time.”
Mr. Derwin pounds his chest with a fist and croaks. “T-that won’t be necessary.”
“Honey,” his wife whispers.
“We’re leaving!” Mr. Derwin snaps.
Blade, Carlos, Jimmy and I watch as the couple sprints across the lawn.
“Why didn’t you tell me about that blasted waiver?” Mr. Derwin scolds his wife.
“You were so upset. I-I didn’t know how to tell you…”
Their voices get fainter until they turn the corner and disappear from view.
The moment they’re gone, I fold forward and grab my knees, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“That was crazy,” Carlos mumbles.
“You were awesome, Boss.” Jimmy gives me a thumbs up.
“I’m just glad it’s over.”
“Imagine if we didn’t have those logbooks?” Carlos shakes his head and whistles low.
“Or if we didn’t have that waiver?” Blade adds.
Jimmy shudders. “If we did things the old way, we wouldn’t have any evidence and this would have been a big stink.”
Carlos whirls around. “Where’s my logbook? I feel like I should be writing all this down.”
“Me too.” Blade scrambles after him.
I watch them pick up their logbooks with new appreciation—the very same logbooks that they rejected when I first arrived. And it strikes me in that moment.
I will always love fixing planes but… I really, really enjoy managing an auto shop.