Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
“Go on. This won’t take but a few minutes. Ol’ man McCoy enjoys your company, considering his grandson being out of town for as long as he has this time around. I’m sure he likes the company as much as you do.” Denny is talking about Gabe, Mr. McCoy’s one and only grandson. He talks about him wistfully on my days off. Days where I have gone over to his house once a week since we formed our friendship. Bernie works fast, a smooth talker in making someone feel like you need them in your life, and vice versa. We’ll sit down in his living room and chat. When I noticed his pile of firewood was dwindling, I got to work on bringing more in. That’s when he told me about his grandson. He waited until the second time I visited him at his house to drop that little bombshell.
“I like the company, too,” Mr. McCoy admitted earlier he enjoyed my company. Gabe has been out of town in a neighboring state, dealing with a natural disaster, a flooding. I guess the relief money was too good for him to pass up. Bernie likes to joke that we probably passed one another on the interstate. Doubtful, as I was coming from the south and Gabe was heading to the west-ish area of Vermont. Ugh, directions never were my strong suit, and still aren’t, as my drive to Plaine Hills was a disaster. Anyway, Gabe McCoy owns McCoy Auto and Towing. He’s the owner but has a few guys to run the shop while he is out on the road making extra money. The way his grandfather tells the story, he’s using the money he makes to help buy another tow truck and a new bay for his shop. Right now, with him out of town, the guys are using a car tow dolly. Not the best, yet they’re making it work. It’s not like the small town needs a tow truck driver every day. It’d help all the guys take shifts for being on call. Of course, this is all Bernie’s version. Thankfully, I haven’t needed any assistance in the mechanic department or needed a tow.
“More coffee?” I ask the customers sitting at the bar after grabbing the pot to refill Bernie’s cup. It’s a wonder I’m not addicted to what seems to be everyone’s go-to around here. Back home, they’d choose between sweet tea, coffee, or juice. Here it seems like they only ever ask for coffee, and on the rare occurrence, water.
“Yes, please.” I take care of them and then head to Bernie, doing the same to a few other customers along the way who sit in Olive’s section, since right now, all I have is Mr. McCoy, until the next hungry patron walks through the glass double doors.
“Alright, Bernie, I’m all yours.” I make it to his table, slide into my seat with a sigh, and pour his coffee sitting down. My body is loving the small reprieve.
“Good. Next time, we’ll eat together. I feel like a damn fool eating with a pretty woman in front of me, when she isn’t doing the same,” he grumbles. I quirk a smile, having no problem hanging out with him while his food doesn’t get cold, plus Denny won’t take too much longer, so we’ll be eating together.
“Tell me about what’s on the agenda today,” I change the subject. He responds, and we talk until my food is placed in front of me. I wolf it down, hunger hitting me because I’ve been up for several hours, and when it’s time for Mr. McCoy to go, his hand reaches out to mine and squeezes it gently.
Each time, I have to suck back the tears that threaten to fall.
He has no idea what a simple touch means, a hug, or even having a conversation that’s not one-sided or where the other person isn’t beating you down. It’s all I could ever want, here in this tiny corner of the world, away from my parents, who never cared, and finding my own way. I’m finally breathing freely for the first time ever.
2
GABE
“Goddamn motherfucking, cock-sucking son of a bitch,” I say under my breath, looking down at the palm of my hand. There’s a jagged cut beneath my thumb. The dirt and grease are not helping matters, and now I’ve got to add stopping by a walk-in clinic to my never-ending to-do list. This day started bad and is turning worse by the hour, between putting this car on a winch, my phone ringing incessantly in my chest pocket, and the onlookers watching my every move. I’m ready to throw my tools into my truck and blow this popsicle stand. Except I can’t, and I won’t. There’s too much on the line, too much money I’ll lose, plus I’m not looking to get blackballed if I walk off the job.