“Great,” I grunt through a grin. “What’s your name?”
I get through entering all his personal information, then jog outside to take a picture of the VIN number on my cell phone. Once I search that, all the specific model details pop up and I scroll through those. I haven’t worked on many Mercedes in my life, but hopefully whatever is wrong with this one is something simple. I want this loser out of my shop just as much as he doesn’t want to be here.
“Alright, I’m going to pull your car into the garage and check out a few things.” I grab his keys, round the desk, and point toward the waiting area. “We’ve got coffee, soda, and some snacks over there. Feel free to dig in. I’ll be out as soon as I can, hopefully with some good news.”
As soon as the door shuts behind me, I’m on a mission.
Car in the shop—check.
Car on the lift—check.
Lift raised up—check.
As soon as I step under the car, I immediately see the source of the noise. He fucking ran over a gnarly tree branch, which has gotten wedged up beside the oil pan, and what he was hearing was probably the rattling from it bouncing against the metal. I put on a pair of gloves, because I’d rather not burn myself or get a splinter, and pull the jagged end of the branch with all my might. Damn thing is in there pretty good, but I get it out quick. I don’t see any other damage under the car, or on the body, so I decide to wrap up this visit. If he has any more issues on his way to wherever he’s going, that’s his problem.
Branch in hand, I head for the waiting area. “I think I found your problem. Did you play chicken with a tree?”
“No.” I guess he doesn’t find my attempt at a joke as funny as it sounded in my head. “I don’t remember hitting anything.”
“Well, I checked out everything I could see and saw no other issues.” I toss the branch into the recycling bin under the counter and tug off my gloves. “Since all I did was some landscaping, I don’t need to charge you for anything other than our shop minimum labor charge. How does one hundred and fifty dollars sound?”
“Fine. Whatever.” Asshole pulls a credit card from his wallet and hands it over. “Could’ve been worse I guess.”
I run the card, have him sign the slip, then print out a receipt. “Stay away from any more branches and you should be fine.”
“What are you doing here?”
Just as the customer spins around, I look up to see my girls standing inside the front door. Hazel has a tight grip on Alyssa’s leg, like she’s trying to hide from the big bad wolf, and Alyssa’s face is white like she’s seen a ghost.
“Are you—” I start but am cut off by the customer who steps toward the girls.
“I was coming to see you. Everything went down so fast and I needed to talk to you, but when I tried to call, I couldn’t get through. You must’ve blocked my number.”
“You can’t be here.” Alyssa is shaking her head.
I step around him and stand beside Alyssa, behind Hazel. I rest one hand on Hazel’s shoulder and grab Alyssa’s free hand with the other. All of my attention is on my girls. “What’s going on?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” the customer snaps. “Why are you touching my girlfriend?”
Alyssa is still shaking her head back and forth, and her body has started to tremble too.
“Babe,” I squeeze her hand, hoping she can hear me, “I need you to tell me what’s going on.”
Her eyes lock on mine and she gives me a small smile, so I know she’s okay, but as soon as she looks over at the grouch, fire builds in her gaze and she’s about to explode.
“Hazel,” I bend down to scoop up my princess and prop her on my hip, “how about you color me and Alyssa some pictures? Your coloring book and crayons are in my office, okay?”
“Okay, daddy.” I zip around the counter, drop Hazel at my desk, get her settled with her coloring supplies, then shut the door behind me so she hopefully doesn’t have to hear whatever explosion is about to happen out here.
“Now who is going to tell me what the fuck is going on here?”
“I don’t know what you’re doing here,” Alyssa snaps at the customer, “but you need to go home. You and the floozy are having a baby, remember?”
“No,” he snaps back.
“Holy shit.” I know who this is.
“Babe, this is Christopher.” Alyssa steps to my side, grabs my hand, then kisses my cheek. “And he was just leaving.”
