Ghost Town by Cherie Claire

Author:Cherie Claire [Claire, Cherie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cherie Claire
Published: 2017-06-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

My window replacement I was assured would be forty-five minutes at best has turned into a long morning and my anger buddy has returned full force. Not only is the money I made reviewing three hotels going to Boudreaux’s Auto Shop but the man in charge speaks to me like I’m a child. I’m standing at the counter to inquire once again how long this will take now that noon is approaching but Boudreaux won’t glance my way. He’s busy filling out a form and for the life of me I’m stumped why people don’t get how one little “I’ll be right with you” will calm me faster than a shot of bourbon. He doesn’t look up and my chest gets tighter and tighter and I’m ready to reach through this window and stab Boudreaux with the pen he’s using.

Finally, I’ve had enough.

“Am I invisible or do you just like treating women this horribly?”

Boudreaux looks at me — finally — and acts like I’m crazy. “Excuse me?”

“I’m standing here at this counter and you can’t give me the time of day?”

I hear my voice rising but I don’t care. I think back on what Eric taught me, that only the squeaking wheel gets the grease, although as a writer I really hate clichés.

Boudreaux looks back at his paper. “I’m working on a client’s car at the moment.”

I’m not going down with this. No sir.

“And I’m a client who you said would have a car within an hour. Again, am I invisible? Because if I am, or that form is more important than my business, I am happy to bring my service elsewhere.”

A woman behind me applauds and says, “You tell him sister,” and Boudreaux becomes almost flustered. Almost. He sighs and puts down the clipboard.

“What is your name again?”

This sends me over the edge. I can feel myself falling into the abyss like Thelma and Louise.

“Just give me the keys,” I say, holding out my hand. “I’m done with this horrible customer service and I’m done waiting. Oh, and I’m a local journalist so you can best believe I’ll be spreading this around.”

This spurs Boudreaux into action. He opens the door and walks into the lobby, looking me in the eye this time.

“I’m sorry. We’ve been very busy this morning. Give me your name and I’ll check on it ASAP.”

I shake my head incredulously. “How do you not know my name? I’ve been here for hours, constantly asking about my Toyota.”

His eyes light up and there’s a semblance of a kind smile emerging. “The broken window. It’s being worked on right now.”

“I’ve heard that numerous times already, been here since daybreak.”

He holds his hands up to placate me — that or he’s afraid I’m going to hit him. “I had to order the window from the dealership and it took a while to get here.”

“More like you guys took your time retrieving it from the dealership.”

Again, I’ve derailed the man, placing me on top of the situation. Damn, this feels good.

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