As always, comments/criticisms are greatly appreciated.
Starter
© 2008, Jamil Ragland. All rights reserved.
“Try it now, Rob!” Will yelled, wiping sweat away from his forehead. The ignition sputtered, turning over for a brief moment before gasping. Rob tried again, the pathetic noise grating on Will’s nerves.
“What thee fuck now?” he said, lifting the hood. A searing burst of steam hit him in the face, knocking him back onto the work bench. “All right Rob, I don’t know what’s up with this thing. I’m eating lunch now; we’ll try again in a few. Will grabbed his grinder and sat on a box of oil. The phone rang as he chewed through his first bite. They can wait,” he said to no one.
“Hello?” came a slow southern drawl from the office adjacent to the shop. Will sighed. He forgot Steven was back there. Steven would never let the phone ring more than twice, not if it meant missing a customer. Will was glad for his devotion, most of the time. “It’s your wife,” he said, a silvery tuft of hair poking through the door frame. Will placed his sandwich down, bracing himself for whatever catastrophe was on the other end.
“Hello? Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. All right. Again? All right. Yup, bye.” He lit a cigarette, drawing in deeply.
“What’s going on?” Steven asked, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling with interest. None of your goddamn business, Will wanted to say. But he couldn’t afford for Steven to get upset and retire just yet. Someone had to watch the pumps during the day.
“Nothin, wife’s headed out of town for the weekend. Her sister’s having some big blowout party. They’re probably going to take turns blowing every guy there.” Rob snickered in the corner. “It wouldn’t surprise me.”
“Mm-hm,” Steven said. Will hated when he did that. Why ask if that’s the response? “What’s wrong with the Buick?”
“I don’t know, damn thing won’t start. Me and Rob’ll take another look at it after lunch.”
“Why didn’t you get me anything?”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I put the gas s check in the mail, they should be delivering a load tomorrow morning,: Steven said, hobbling towards the cash register.
Will walked towards the garage doors, blowing smoke into the hazy noon sky. The Buick was the only car within a mile. “We should just rip the fuckin’ pumps out, we don’t make any money on that shit anyway.”
“I’m too old to be a mechanic. If you get rid of ‘em, you’d have to get rid of me too!” Steven said.
“Exactly,” Will muttered. He turned back to face the Buick. He’d been working on it the whole morning, and it had him stumped. None of the usual tests turned up anything, and everything seemed normal. He found some camaraderie in the hulking black car. Everything was fucked up, and he didn’t know why either.
“I swear, Rob,” he said, flicking is cigarette away, “if it weren’t for the woman who drove this, I’d junk this thing myself. She is fuck-ing hot.”
“That short little lady?”
“Did you see the **** on her? I’ve always wanted to fuck a chick with big **** like that.”
“I don’t think your wife would like that,” Rob said.
“So? I don’t like my wife. All right, you done eating? Let’s finish this damn thing.”
The two worked for hours, trying everything they could think of, and Will’s frustration only grew as their options diminished. Jobs like this made him wish that he’d gone to college. He understood now why his father had been so happy when he’d offered to buy the place from him. Will had always known that owning a business wasn’t the paid vacation people thought it was, but he was still surprised by the drudgery of it. Dumb employees and even dumber customers, day in and day out. His father had owned the place for thirty years, and he was ready to quit after four.
“Try it one more time, Rob. If it doesn’t work, I’ll call her up and tell her to take it to the dealer.” He turned the ignition, and the engine groaned. Rob shook his head from behind the windshield. “Fuck.”
Will slammed the hood and walked into the office. No woman was worth this kind of aggravation. “Hello Jennifer? This is Will, from Citgo. Yeah, I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. We’ll tow it back to your house on Monday, and from there you can take it to the dealer. What’s that? Well we don’t do that, that’s why I told you to find one…tonight? Um…I’m sorry, there’s another call. I have to call you back,” he said quickly.
“What was all that about?” Steven asked.
“I just called that Jennifer chick to tell her we couldn’t fix her car. She asked me if I could pick her up from work then, and I told her we don’t do that, and then she said we could go to dinner together afterwards. Right out of the clear blue sky.”
“Mm-hm. Don’t do it, she’ll be nothing but a headache.”
“And how do you know that?”
Steven shrugged. “I can just tell. She looks like the type.”
“I got plenty of headaches already, I can handle one more for **** like those.” Steven shook his head, walking away. “He never knows what the fuck he’s talking about,” he said to Rob.
“Looks like you got your wish, Will.”
He sucked his teeth. “Shut up, will ya? You’re just as bad as Steven. I’m not actually going to do it.”
“You’re not?”
“I hate my wife, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to get a divorce. No matter where I take that chick, I know one of my wife’s friends will see us. She’s always bar-hopping, so she has thousands of them.”
“Oh well, then. Hey, it’s time to clock out. Have a good weekend,” Rob said.
“Hey Steven, Watch the pumps until the night guy shows up. I’m gonna dump the trash.” Will walked slowly, cradling the garbage container. Have a good weekend alone again, he thought. He knew his wife liked to party, he’d met her at a bar. That was six long years ago. But what if she finds out? Where will I go? What about the business? Should I be dating customers? I’m married, I shouldn’t be dating at all!
Steven was waiting at the garage door when he returned. “Your wife called, she wants you to call her back. The night kid’s here, so I’m heading home.”
“All right.” They were done for the day, but he still had a phone call to make. Will stood in the empty garage, staring at the Buick. He could see himself in the passenger side, windows rolled down, heading out for a night on the town. Jennifer would be wearing a low-cut dress, the same charcoal black as the car. It didn’t even have to be Jennifer driving, it could be anyone. So long as they took him far away.
He stepped back into the office, catching a glimpse of his wife’s picture. She’s not that bad, he thought. He often thought he was confusing his frustration with his job with her. He smoked in the house and always left his plate on the table, and she never yelled. It wasn’t so bad. They were both still relatively young, so why not party while they still could? She complained when he went to the topless bars with his friends, but she still let him go. I still do love her, he thought. But do I like her? He glanced at the picture again, then at the work order with Jennifer’s phone number on it. One more call, then I’m out of here. He picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
