Floaters by Kelli Owen

Author:Kelli Owen [Owen, Kelli]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gypsy Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Steven Booker left Allouez and drove north on East 2nd toward the FedEx Ground hub in Superior. He’d only had forty drops and half as many pickups, light for a Friday, and was heading back to park the truck for the weekend. As the owner/operator of a ten-route delivery business, subcontracted to FedEx, Steven knew that while the deliveries were done for the day, the paperwork was not. He needed to go over mileage and schedule downtime for the trucks due for preventative maintenance services. He grabbed his phone and dialed his manager, tossing the phone back into the cup holder and hitting the button on his blue tooth headgear.

“Hey Steve, what’s up?” His manager picked up on the first ring.

Prompt and efficient, Steve always liked that about him. The manager usually drove the short route, and would have been driving except for the cast on his leg, which meant he was desk and Steven was driver in reversed roles for the next eight weeks.

“Hey Doug. I’m done with your route. Not much to that one is there?” He didn’t wait for an answer on the rhetorical question. “I’m going to park back at the hub and head over to the office. Can you hop on the cloud and check mileages and PMs. Call Otto and get them scheduled. Then I can just deal with the weekly reports when I get back and… Oh hey, hang on.”

The truck chugged black smoke and lurched, dropping speed from forty-five to barely crawling along at fifteen like he’d slammed the brakes.

“Whoa.” Steve let off the gas and pulled the truck to the side of the road, coasting rather than purposely braking, as he listened to the engine and watched the dash gauges for any indication of what was going on.

“Steve?”

“I’m okay. Truck just decided it wasn’t. When was the last time your truck was in?”

“It was just down last week for new injectors.”

“Oh this had better not be a warranty problem. I’m so done with that guy and his faulty injectors.” Steve turned the truck off and set the flashers to blink. “I’ll call ya back. I gotta call Otto.”

Steve didn’t wait for an answer, disconnected the call and speed dialed Schantz’ Shop.

“Schantz’s,” The gruff voice trying so hard to be friendly was unmistakable.

“Otto. It’s Steve. Doug’s truck just blew up out on East 2nd. Can you come look at it?”

“Dead dead and needs a tow, or just gimpy?”

“Gimpy. Maybe. It blew black smoke and slammed me forward as the speed dropped to about fifteen real sudden. Who did the injectors last week? It wasn’t that punk mechanic you have, was it? His work is always coming back.”

“Nah, I fired him a while back for being a lippy bitch. I’ll hop in the service truck and be out in a few. Where you at?”

“Northbound lane on East 2nd. Right before the Nemadji river bridge.”

“Okay. I’ll be out.”

Steve hit the button on his headgear to disconnect the call and slammed a fist against the steering wheel.

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