Chapter 15
“Hey, bro,” Fred said as he waved to Henry as he scoured the shelves in the automotive department at Drummonds looking for the product he wanted to recommend to Mr. Boucher.
“Hey, late riser. It’s about time you got to work.” Henry came down the aisle and leaned against the shelving unit behind Fred.
Fred grabbed the item he was looking for “It’s not my fault you don’t work in the cool department that opens at seven AM every day, regardless of things like Boxing Day sales. How’s it going in crazy land?”
Henry huffed. “Crazy is the right word for it. We ran out of the stand mixer that was on sale by nine AM.”
Fred chuckled and shook his head. It was never a good day when the discounted item intended to lure in the after Christmas shoppers ran out before the customers who didn’t want to stand outside in the cold, dark morning showed up at a reasonable hour.
“So does that mean lots of irritated women or men?”
“Both,” Henry said with a laugh. “There are some unhappy female shoppers and then, there are men who are unhappy to have to report back home that they did not get the item. But the most unfortunate shoppers are the men who have had to endure a lecture about ‘I told you we needed to be here earlier’ all the way out of the store.”
“I take it you heard a few of those?”
“Boy, did I.”
“But I guess the good news is that you now know another item that is a great door crasher for these sales days.” That was always something Henry, as the manager of the home goods department, was looking for – the draw, the loss leader featured item. Something that would get customers in the door.
“I sure do.” He tipped his head and studied Fred for a second. “How are you doing today? And I don’t mean in the automotive department. I mean you, personally.”
Fred shrugged. “Better than yesterday and worse than before Steve showed up. I sent out the email about the worship team lead position being open before I came to work, and I got an offer to join the kids worship group about half an hour ago.”
“Are you going to take it?”
Fred shook his head. “Nah… I don’t know. I mean, Madison has been attending so I’d still have to see Steve and Esther.”
Henry ran his hand through his hair. “Sorry, man. I really thought giving her a choice would have solved things.”
“It’s not your fault.” Again, he shook his head.
“The way she replied to me on Christmas Day made me think you might have been right about that, but we’re now nearly forty-eight hours past that, and I haven’t heard anything from her.
” Not a peep. Not that he had expected to if she didn’t want to move past friendship.
But his heart had hoped that she would drop Steve and jump into his arms. He turned to go back to the automotive desk. “I need to get this to the customer.”
“Yeah, I should get back to my section, too, to see how things are going. But Fred?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t give up hope just yet. It’s only been forty-eight hours.”
“Six years and forty-eight hours you mean.” He muttered as he headed back to Mr. Boucher.
“I found it,” he called as he got close to the checkout desk. “This should fix up that bike so it looks good as new and not as girly.”
Mr. Boucher’s daughter had gotten a new bike for Christmas, and her old one was going to her little brother – who refused to ride anything pink.
Fred couldn’t blame him. He had nothing against the colour himself, but there were other boys who did, and they’d likely make fun of the kid for riding a pink bike. It was dumb. But that’s how things went in little boy land more often than not.
“Wesley will be forever grateful,” Mr. Boucher replied. “You say this is easy to use?”
“Yep. I’ve used it myself a few times.” He dug out his phone and scrolled through his apps.
“I think I have a link to a how-to video saved for this product. If you don’t mind sharing your number, I can text it to you.
I’ll delete your number as soon as I’ve sent it.
” Some people got a little fidgety over giving out their cell number.
He couldn’t blame them. There were enough scammers and spammers in the world to make you want to throw your phone over the falls some days.
As it turned out, Mr. Boucher wasn’t one of those. He happily shared his number and couldn’t stop talking about how helpful Fred had been. He wasn’t a soft talker, so Fred could still hear his commendations even after the door to the garage closed behind him.
“Yo, Fredster,” Parker called to him from bay one.
“You available to play with us on New Year’s Eve at the Waterwheel?
It’s an early show. They close for a private event at nine.
Sean mentioned you do a family thing that night, but I was hopin’ you’d be able to squeeze in a session before that.
I haven’t replied to the offer of the time slot – so if you’re in, I’m doing it. And if you’re not, I’m out.”
“You haven’t found anyone else to play with you yet?
” Parker had told Fred that they were actively looking for a permanent replacement for their guitarist. Well, as permanent as they could find, that is.
It wasn’t like they were famous with lots of gigs.
Just a few nights at the Waterwheel with another location popping up randomly.
“Flyer’s out, post is up. But not one single nibble on it. Maybe after all the holidays are done, it’ll get some action.” He peeked around the hood of the car he was working on at Fred. “I’m kinda desperate here. Aunt Patty will be disappointed if she doesn’t have music on New Year's Eve.”
Fred smiled at how the guy who acted so tough was such a softy when it came to his aunt. “Well, I’d hate to disappoint her. What time do we start?”
“Six.”
“So, six to nine is the gig?”
“Yep,” the answer came from inside the engine area. “Can’t thank you enough.”
“How are you set for this week?”
“There’s another group in. Some new duo called Heather and Skye.
They’re pretty good actually.” His tools stopped clanking on whatever he was working on, and he righted himself to look at Fred.
“I’ll know a schedule for January by the end of December, so do you mind if I text it to you and you can tell me if you can fill any of the spots? ”
“I don’t mind at all. If I can help, I will.” Fred tapped on the side of the car before moving towards his own bay. A purple Mustang was just being driven onto his lift. He whistled softly. It was a beauty, and he knew exactly to whom it belonged.
“They wouldn’t let me drive it up there,” Ginny Drummond said from where she stood near the computer at bay three.
Fred chuckled. “Rules are rules, Mrs. Drummond.”
She huffed softly. “I know, but it’s a bit fun to see the young guys fumble with their words as they try to follow the rules while saying no to the boss’s wife.”
“I see they didn’t follow all of the rules since you’re here rather than in the waiting room.”
She chuckled. “I found your runner to be very accommodating on that front – as long as I did NOT drive my car onto the lift and allowed him to do it. He’s going to escort me into the store as soon as my Prissy is in the air. He’s a great kid.”
“He is, and he seems to be fitting in really well.” Fred opened up the computer to look at the order for her car. “Just an oil change today, Mrs. Drummond?”
“Check the rest of the fluids and the tires, and make sure the windshield wipers get replaced, and I like that purple washer fluid. Don’t give me that green stuff.”
There was always a list of requests from Mrs. Drummond. She was sweet but exacting – and she liked what she liked and was sure to tell you what it was. “Of course; we only use the green in the summer,” he assured her.
“Well, it doesn’t work as well as the purple even in the summer,” she argued.
Fred’s brow furrowed. “I’ve never had an issue with the green fluid.”
The lady next to him, cleared her throat. “My husband says the same thing, but I’m partial to the purple.”
Ah, yes, the lady did have an affinity for all things purple. “I’ll make a note in your file to only ever use the purple. Will that help?”
She smiled. “See, this is why I’m always happy to have you work on my cars. You know how to treat a lady right.”
Chris stood near her, waiting to escort her into the store.
“One more thing, Fred,” she said. “When you’re done with Prissy, my husband said he wanted to talk to you.”
Fred blinked. What did the boss want to say to him? He couldn’t think of anything he had done that would land him in the boss’s office.
“Oh, don’t worry. It’s nothing bad,” she said before she left him.
“The boss wants to talk to you?” Parker had come over to where Fred was while the car he had finished was waiting to be backed out. And now he was taking a turn around the underside of the Mustang to admire it.
“Apparently. But it’s nothing bad.” Or so Mrs. Drummond had said.
“Let’s hope so. It wouldn’t be the same around here without you.” He shrugged when Fred shot him a what-do-you-mean glance. “I’m pretty sure none of the others play guitar.” He grinned and left Fred to chuckle over that as he set up what he needed to service Mrs. Drummond’s car .
After he had drained the oil, changed the filter, filled it, topped up all the other fluids, tested the lights, checked the tires, switched out the wiper blades, AND had Chris back the car out of the garage BEFORE anyone told Mrs. Drummond her car was ready – just to make sure she didn’t try to come do it herself – he cleaned his hands and headed toward the main office area.
Upon reaching Mr. Drummonds’ door, he paused to straighten his uniform. Then, he knocked.
“Come in, Fred,” the man called. “Can I get you anything? Coffee?” He smirked as he made the offer.
“You know I won’t pass up a good coffee.” And the man knew his coffee. They had had more than one conversation about best roasts, grinds, and methods of brewing.