Chapter One

 

<><> Chris <><>

 

“Chris Loman, you’re the biggest pig I’ve ever met! Total dog!”

“Thanks for the compliment, now get out,” I say, leaning over Donna Dividi and opening her door. It creaks endlessly on the hinge.

Huffing and rolling her eyes simultaneously, a talent she’s mastered, Donna squares herself to face me. “Nice. Some gentleman.”

“When I see a lady around, I’ll use my manners. Out.”

“Screw you.”

“You wish.” I know it’s mean, but I’m tired of playing games with this girl. It’s been going on for years now, on and off. There has to be more than this. My level of respect for her is at ground zero. Then again, did I ever respect her? Don’t think so.

“You can rot. I never want to see your fucking face again.”

“Fine by me.” I lean away, afraid she’ll either try to kiss me or hurt me. I’m never quite sure with Donna. She does neither, just gets out and turns to stare me down.

“You’ll never have this again, ever.” She waves a hand down the length of her curvy body like some game-show hostess. “Ever!”

The slamming door jars me as I grip the wheel, prepared to peel away – but not just yet. Instead, I wait. She has a tendency of coming back to throw a few more insults just for the hell of it, but that’s not why I’m waiting. Although I’m not a gentleman to her face, I’m actually waiting to make sure she gets home okay since technically she’s my responsibility until our date’s over. Still waiting. The porch light goes out, my cue to leave. This song-and-dance is beyond tired.

The clock on the dashboard of my ancient Bronco reads 9:22 p.m. It’s early, the possibilities of the night still ahead of me. Cruising down Swan Street, everyone in Buffalo under the age of twenty-five is standing in line to get into a club. Slowing down near the Cat ‘n Cradle Pub, I scan the line to check for anyone familiar as the crowd scowls at the noise my truck’s making. Hell, everyone in a ten-mile radius can hear the sorry-ass sound of my missing muffler. Fell off two days ago and I haven’t gotten around to fixing it yet.

Slowing right down now, I spy Marcy Tisdale and Kimmy Cooper standing in line with their eyes locked on mine. Kimmy’s on her phone, no doubt talking to Donna. Yep, definitely talking to Donna since she’s giving me the finger. Whatever.

Peeling away, the sound I produce escalates as I leave them in my dust. Passing Pearl Street, I take a right onto Franklin, rounding Niagara Square until I reach Carolina Street. I make a left into the lot of Conner’s Towing and Auto Body, spotting Simon’s purple Mustang parked in the corner. His dad owns the shop and Simon is being groomed to take it over. Must be nice knowing your destiny at the ripe age of twenty-one. Makes things a hell of a lot easier when you don’t have to constantly search for meaning and purpose like I always seem to do.

“Lo!” Simon shouts when he sees me.

“Hey, what’s goin’ on?”

Simon shoves his hands in his pockets as he comes out of the office and crosses the asphalt. His pants are so low I can see his boxers underneath – not like I want to. Never understood that prison low-rider pants trend, but whatever. Who am I to judge?

“Heard you comin’ from a block away, man. Gotta get that thing fixed. Musta woke up the entire hood.”

“Got any spare mufflers?”

“For a Bronco? Maybe. I can check.”

“Thanks.”

“Wanna drum up some business with me?”

“What, you mean troll for illegally parked cars?”

“Yeah. It’s dead around here. My dad took off an hour ago. Wants me to close up at eleven. I can probably fit in one more tow.”

“Sure. About the muffler, I’m serious, can you get one?”

“I’ll try. Seventy-five bucks and it’s yours if I do. You have to help me put it on too.”

“Done.”

Sitting in the passenger seat of the fully torqued tow-truck, we jet back toward downtown in search of free money. Simon’ll see an illegally parked car, hoist it up as fast as he can, and tow it to a lot on the outskirts of town where the owner will have to pick it up in the morning and pay a hefty fee. Simon gets a sixty percent cut, which, after gas money and time invested, really pays off.

“So, how come you’re with me tonight and not the skank?”

“Easy, Simon.”

“What? She is, am I right?” He glances over and grins innocently. His hat’s resting high on his forehead, right at his hairline. It used to be navy with white meshing, but now it’s faded and dingy. Dark motor oil fingerprints cover the peak and a couple of smudges run across the Conner’s Towing logo. His shirt’s not much better. Simon never was one to worry about his image. He’s owned that stained Buffalo Sabres shirt since we were fourteen.

“Didn’t you have a date?” he pries, still on the subject.

“Broke up.”

“Again? Fuck. I can’t keep up. That’s why I’m single, man, no time for that bullshit.” Simon’s the wisecracking guy of our group. Being a ‘ginger’ with red hair and fair skin, along with about a million freckles that look like they belong on a seven-year-old, car grease is a permanent fixture under his fingernails. No wonder he’s compulsively single. His last girlfriend was a piece of work. She was physically abusive, always giving him pinches, slaps, and nasty comments until one day he sort of hit his limit and dumped her right in front of her entire family. Just got up from the backyard lawn chair, nodded to her dad who was standing at the grill with a flipper, nodded at her mean mom, all her bratty cousins, her fat aunts and uncles, her tramp of a sister, and her crotchety grandparents. He announced he was finished with her and would be leaving now. As he left, he told the girl never to call him again and went out the back gate. When he told us this story, he said you could hear a pin drop on the patio as everyone stared with open mouths. Simon’s been enjoying the single life ever since.

“It’s over with Donna for good this time,” I say.

“Yeah, and I’m gonna go to Harvard. As if.”

“Seriously, being with her is holding us both back. I’m the reason she stuck around last year when she could have gone to Penn State. Look what that got her.”

“You should never have gotten back together with her after she slept with Luke Dupuis. Biggest mistake of you life, Lo.”

“Whatever.”

“Hold on, hold on, what’ve we got here?” Simon pulls the tow-truck over and idles behind a silver Prius. He points to a sign, “No parking zone from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. clear as day. Jackpot.” Swiveling the wheel, he pulls around the car and aligns himself with the front bumper. “Time me,” he hollers and jumps out with a Yeehaw!

Like a hogtie in a rodeo, Simon is speedy and efficient. He’s done this task countless times with his dad since childhood. Just as he’s finishing up, the sound of someone yelling 'Hey!' drifts through my open window and the voice is definitely female. Glancing in the side mirror, it’s impossible not to notice the three girls running up the sidewalk toward us.

“Simon, you’ve got company!”

Simon stands just as the girls reach the tow-truck. I’m watching it all unfold as I lean out my window.

“You can’t take my car!” The pretty black girl shrieks in disbelief.

Simon points up to the sign. “Can’t you read?”

The car owner peers over at her friends, a waif blond and a tall brunette. My eyes scan the blond from head to tow, but linger on the brunette. She’s wearing this black dress that makes her look about six feet tall, plus she’s wearing heels. I’m a sucker for heels. Still, she’s kind of…what’s the word…sophisticated or something.

“But it’s my mom’s car! Please, can you give me a break?”

“It ain’t my job to bail you out of doing the right thing. It’s my job to tow illegally parked cars away and your car qualifies.”

The girl shoots her friends a look of concern, practically begging for a little help. I notice the brunette again. She seems quiet. Her beauty is very understated – the opposite of Donna’s in your face sexuality. Still, I’m noticing her that’s for sure. I get an even better view when she steps forward.

“Excuse me, but there has to be something we can do to make a compromise. What if we pay you fifty dollars to leave the car?” She’s got my full attention now and Simon’s too. She sounds all studious and proper, probably offering money her parents have given her for a night out. All three look the part of spoiled daddy’s girls. She may be beautiful, but she’s a total nerd. Definitely not my type.

“Fifty bucks?” Simon swivels to look at the car owner. “Seriously? Your car can get me way more than that. Not a chance.”

The skinny blond steps in front of Miss Nerd. “Hey, this is harassment. We were only parked here for a minute while we ran to the bank. You’re totally scamming us and you know it.”

“We got ourselves a spitfire here, Lo!”

My smile widens and then disappears when I notice the brunette’s stern look blasting daggers in my direction.

“Listen,” says the car owner, stepping closer to Simon. She’s wearing a dress that shows off every inch of her overly curvy assets. “I’m trying to save for college and can’t afford to throw my money away on something like this.” I detect a slight Jamaican accent laced in the sentence.

Ouch! As Simon straightens, I know her words have inadvertently struck a nerve with him.

“Well la-di-dah. Aren’t you special.”

“Pardon?”

“You think just ‘cause you’re gonna go to college that the rules don’t apply to you? The answer’s still no. I’ve gotta go now. Unlike you, I have to work for a living.”

The tall brunette steps forward again, front and center. “Look, we can make this situation better. It doesn’t have to be like this you know. My friend wasn’t trying to insult you, we just want to reach an agreement, that’s all. Please, leave her car alone and take the fifty dollars. Please!”

“Nope.”

“You are so mean! Don’t you feel bad when you ruin people’s lives!” The brunette hollers and throws her hands up in the air like this whole thing is crazy.

The driver comes rushing up to Simon. “Yeah, you’re the meanest jerk ever!”

As soon as her pleading turns hostile, I jump out, hoping to calm the rising tension between them. She’s up in his face now. “My friend is right, this is harassment!”

“Simon, maybe we should let them go.”

“Why?”

I shrug. Explaining the virtues of being nice to someone like Simon is a lost cause. “We can get another car, man. No big deal.”

Simon locks eyes with the car owner again. “No, Lo, this is the car I want.”

“Whatever, bro. It’s your job. I’m just along for the ride.”

“You said it. Get in, buddy.” Simon leads the charge, hopping back into the tow-truck without looking back.

“Please don’t do this,” the car owner pleads through my open window. She’s leaning right in now, begging him. It’s sad and I feel for her. Simon can be ruthless and tonight is a prime example.

“Redshaw’s lot on Tonawanda Street. That’s where you’ll find your car. Night, ladies.” Simon has the nerve to tip his hat and smile his infamous smile, making matters worse.

Sorrow and sheer hatred seethe as the girl steps back. Simon eases his truck into traffic, careful not to rock the precious cargo. He laughs, “High school chicks are like children, I swear. See the look on her face?”

Glancing in the side mirror, I lock eyes with the brunette mystery girl. She’s standing stationary, her image growing smaller as we drive away. I’m left wondering if I’ll ever see her again, which has me questioning everything about the kind of girl I’m attracted to.