The Mechanic Ch. 02

A story about a woman who wants more than she has but finally makes a mistake that convinces her husband that what he thought was the truth, is all a lie.

Edited by Lady Cibelle. From her comments, this story took a major turn for the better.

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I drove most of that day and stopped at a small out of the way motel for the night. The next morning, I continued and drove all that day, my body still aching and my head pounding. The second night, I stopped at a roadside park and slept in the car. I was aching and it was uncomfortable as all hell but I saved a few bucks that I would need soon. By the following day, I was a thousand miles away from the scene of my humiliation and when I came to a fairly large town, I felt that was far enough.

I drove around until I found a free clinic and had myself checked over. I still had my insurance from work and I used it. Seems I had a mild concussion and two cracked ribs. The rest was just bruising and sore muscles and the Doctor on staff told me that fortunately, I was going to live. I sarcastically asked him why that was fortunate and he just laughed. He advised me to take some time and let my body heal. I needed to find work, so I asked him if he knew of any places where a master mechanic could find work. He gave me a name which I was able to check out a day or so later.

Based on his lead, I was lucky and landed a job with a custom car dealer named Josh Fields. I felt that my luck was changing when I found out that he bought and sold luxury cars, detailed them and put them in tip-top shape and then sold them for a nice profit. Most he got from Europe or Asia as used cars, saving a bunch of money on import taxes, and then sold them to US buyers. He made a lot of money at that business and as soon as he found I was more than just a simple mechanic, he began to use me more and more. Based on my work, he paid a decent enough salary to keep me happy. I was able to make him even more money since I knew the best way to accomplish his goals. We got on great and I soon found myself enjoying my work.

That first month, I took my check, cashed it and kept a third of it. I took the remaining cash, put it into an oversized envelope and addressed it to Heather Prentice at our old address. I drove a hundred miles in the opposite direction to mail it so there would be no way to trace it back to me. I just dropped it into a mailbox and drove away. I did that every two weeks after that and continued for the next two years, each envelope containing more money that the one before. No two envelopes came from the same place so there was no way to find me. I didn't want to be found. Other than the first one I sent, I never included anything in the envelope but cash. The first one had a slip of paper with my name on it, my reasons for leaving, and a statement saying the cash was for my daughter's care. I was very clear that the money was for Polly and whatever was left should be used for her care. I wanted it documented that I was not abandoning my obligations for my daughter. But after that first envelope, I said nothing more.

I found a nice place to live close to work that I could afford, with a small kitchen and everything I needed to be comfortable. I moved in and began my new life. I furnished it slowly with odds and ends that I found at garage sales and in advertisements and I was pleased with my purchases. I had a nice little bachelor pad that suited me just fine.

The only thing I brought with me from my past was my intention to change things. I remembered my failure to defend myself that night when everything went to hell. I knew that there were three or four guys that night, but they were just regular guys. They had no skills or training when they kicked my ass. It was just them and their fists and feet. But I wanted to be sure that the next time I was in that kind of situation, I would make anyone who tried to take me on pay a heavy price. I signed up at the local gym for martial arts training, explained my purpose and my goals to the Sensei, and I pursued it obsessively from that day forward.

In the meantime, I also took whatever courses Josh recommended to me. They were all designed to allow me to work on his cars and I soon found that there wasn't a lot of differences between them and a regular American car. Just more of the same and some minor differences that made little, if any, difference. In truth, most of the differences between European, Asian, and American cars was hype and arrogance. If it was foreign built and cost a bunch of money it had to be better; right? Wrong! The parts cost more but were actually made by the same people who put different labels on the ones with the higher prices. Since I knew that, I often made Josh even more money but using those parts. They were perfectly good and performed the same as the labeled parts.

As time passed, Josh and I became close friends and he began to trust me to make some of his deliveries. He knew I talked to the buyers, explained a lot of special features, showed them ways to get the best performance from their expensive toys, and give them the assurances they wanted. They began to ask for me and I began making the deliveries and I found that I enjoyed talking to the customers and telling them about their new machines. We all benefited and it was a good deal for Josh, the customers and me.

I met a lot of good people during my two years there. Some became friends and I began to socialize more. There were two or three nice bar and grills that I went to with my friends and there were girls at most of them that seemed to be regular patrons. One place I frequented more than the others had a group of girls that usually came in once or twice a week. Up to that point, I had stayed away from dating or socializing with the opposite sex but I was a man and I found myself craving company other than the men I usually went with.

After several times seeing them there, I finally introduced myself to one of them that caught my eye. Her name was Shawn and she was a redhead with that wonderful pale skin that tells you they are true redheads, and deep green eyes. She had legs that seemed to go forever, a waist that was so small I thought I could touch my own fingers if I put both hands around it, breasts that were truly outstanding and hips that wiggled when she walked. OK, she was one sexy woman!

I asked her to dance and she accepted. We found we had a lot in common, both of us with spouses that were more trouble than they were worth. Shawn wasn't divorced but her husband had run off with another woman and she was simply waiting for the legal time limit before divorcing him. She said she had a few months to go. At first, I just told her I was separated and had no intentions of going back, but after a while I told her about Heather and why I left and I told her about Polly. She listened and told me she understood. She eventually introduced me to her two year old son, Bill. We dated often and things began to get serious. I was happy with her and with her son and I just let it develop. I knew I would have to make some decision soon but for now, I was happy.

We found a lot to talk about and we got together several more times and we knew we were going to make love. When we did, it was sweet and wonderful and as we lay together, our hands clasped, we agreed that we wanted to continue our relationship. Where it might go was up for grabs but I was willing to try. We began to spend most of our time together and I got to know and love her young son. She would stay over at my place when Billy was with one of his friends for a sleepover. Those nights were some of the best I had ever experienced. We would make love, lay together and talk, make love again and finally fall asleep in each other's arms. I had never felt this way about anyone, including Heather. I realized that one day as I was returning from a night with Shawn. I think that was when I knew it was over with Heather.

A few weeks later, Josh had a buyer for a Mercedes sedan that he had shipped from Germany. I had gone over it and found only a few minor problems which were easily corrected. It had no air conditioner as was usual with cars that had been made for German domestic consumption. I put one in, tuned the engine and checked all of the critical points. When I was satisfied, I let Josh know it was ready. When I did, he asked me if I wanted to deliver it myself. It would be a three day trip and he wanted someone he trusted to make it. There was a lot of money involved and I would be carrying a cashier's check back with me.

I was at loose ends since Shawn was gone to visit her mother and wouldn't be back for a week, so I decided this might be a blessing in disguise since I was lonely and sad with her gone. I actually missed her and Billy more than I had thought possible. I needed something to occupy my mind so I told Josh that I would take the delivery and he was pleased. He even offered a bonus, so I accepted the assignment happily.

I wasn't paying much attention to the destination when I told Josh that I would be glad to do it for him. A few days off and on the road were a pleasant diversion and sort of a vacation for me. It wasn't until I got the directions that I realized where the delivery was to be: it was the town where I came from that night I ran away. Oh, shit! Did I want to do this now? My life was almost perfect: I was happy with Shawn, I had a great job with a decent boss and I had almost forgotten the humiliation that my wife dealt me. I decided then that maybe it was time for me to go back again; back to the scene of my humiliation, yes, but more importantly, the home of my daughter. I wanted so much to see her again. And it was finally time to divorce my cheating wife! I left the next day, not sure of what I felt.

I made the trip, taking my time and finally arrived. I found the address of the buyer and delivered the car to a gentleman on the West side of town, a side I had never bothered to visit since I could never afford anything there. I knew the man well, but only by reputation: it was Carl Cunningham, the owner of the construction company where his son Drake worked, but he had no idea who I was. As I read the address and the name, I swallowed my sudden flash of anger, remembering that Carl probably had no idea of what a shit his son was. He probably knew very little about Drake's life and how much of an asshole he really was since he had retired and left the running of the business to Drake.

I pulled into the driveway of a large home located on an estate of probably twenty five acres of prime real estate in a suburb that boasted only grand estates. I had to announce myself at the gate and wait till the huge steel-barred barrier moved back to allow my access. I drove up the shaded drive and stopped where a waiting man indicated. As I jumped down from my truck, he introduced himself as the man I had come to see. I simply nodded and gave him my first name only.

He told me to go ahead and get started. I backed the car off the flatbed, Carl inspected it inside and out, I went on a test drive with him and I gave him the paperwork with the certification and the warranty. At that point, as he was reading the contract, he told me that the car was a gift for his son.

"This is for my son. He's a big help to me in my business and this is sort of a thank you. He's been after me to get one like this. He's trying to impress some woman, I think and he intends on giving her his old Mercedes. I don't understand him sometimes. She's married, although I think her husband ran off on her but Drake seems to be spending all his time with her. Beats me why he doesn't go after one that doesn't have all that baggage. She even has a kid. How about that?"

I kept my mouth shut and decided to take what information I could get. I made a comment just to keep him talking.

"Hard to understand some people. Why'd her husband run off?"

"I've got no clue. Drake said something about him being a coward and too afraid to stick around. And he was cheating on her, as Drake tells it, but Drake is a good man; he'll do right by her if she chooses to take him."

OK, so daddy didn't really know what a shit his son was. Not surprising. Too bad though; dad seemed like an OK sort of man. And wasn't it interesting that my faithful wife was spending her time with the man that ran her husband off? And he was giving her a car? In payment for what? I just nodded as men do when talking about other men's problems with women.

"Maybe so. Not my concern though, sir; I just work on these cars. I can't afford one of my own anyway."

We made the deal; he gave me a cashier's check for the full amount and drove me back to my truck. I shook hands and drove away and with absolutely no prior intention, drove over to my old neighborhood and parked the flatbed down the street from my old trailer. I sat there, not knowing what to do. I had a lot to think about now. It appears that with me gone, old Drake was having a go of it. Maybe the only way to get into Heather's pants wasn't to get her drunk. Maybe he had the secret after all, and maybe that night wasn't the first or the only time with him. Maybe the first time was much earlier. Maybe what I thought that night, that she had too much to drink, was really just her doing what she wanted to do anyway.

But now, two years later, there I sat, looking at my past and trying not to let it get to me. The toys and the swing set did cause me some real grief which refused to pass. I had trouble breathing for a few minutes and my face was flushed and I was sweating like a pig but I began to find some degree of control. I took several deep breaths, closed my eyes and concentrated on the fine setting of the computer control of the gas injection sequence of the. . . . . . The panic attack I was having finally passed and I was almost calm again. That's when her van passed me, moved down the road further before pulling into the driveway. I knew it was her as soon as I saw it. It was the same old Toyota van with the same license plate.

I slid down in the cab so that only my eyes were visible peering over the dashboard. If she looked this way, it would appear that the truck was empty. I watched as she climbed out of the van and walked quickly up the steps to the door, looking neither left nor right. She seemed to be pretty chipper. I wondered where she was working now. Although if she were smart, she wouldn't bother. I was sending her quite a bit more than she needed to take care of our daughter. She opened the door and went inside, closing the door behind her.

I slid back up and was thinking that I should drive away as fast as I could when her mother's Mercedes sedan pulled up and stopped. I watched as Grace stepped out, opened the back door and helped my daughter out of the car. Polly let Grace lift her out and then I watched spellbound as she ran to the steps, went up like a whirlwind and standing on tip toes, opened the door and went inside. Grandma Grace watched her with a smile until Heather stuck her head out the door and waved. Grandma got back in her Mercedes and drove away.

I sat there for another twenty minutes and watched as Polly came out the back door and started playing with the swing and her toys. After a few minutes, another little girl came over and the two of them played together. I was mesmerized, watching my daughter, understanding that I had missed her more than I knew. She was now almost four but she seemed to have changed so much in the two years I had been away. How was I going to be able to just drive off again and leave her? I couldn't!

I drove away with tears in my eyes and a pain growing in my chest. I drove around to the Motel Six and got a room for the night, using cash to make the reservation. No credit cards: I hadn't had one since the night I left. Too easy to trace if someone had a mind to. I wouldn't have put it past Drake to try to find out where I was and make sure I didn't come back. Well, maybe I would let him and his friends know I was back in town. Maybe I would. The pain I was feeling now was loss; the loss of my daughter and my place in her life. I needed to do something to get rid of the pain!

I sat in that motel room, the past rewinding in my head as the details of my humiliation played over and over. Each time, I got just a little more angry and I felt my control fighting a losing battle. I waited until about ten that evening before I gave up and gave in to my inner fire. I drove downtown to Towner's Bar and Grill where Drake and his crew would probably be sitting and holding court. I walked in, looked around and spotted Drake and a couple of his guys sitting at a table in the back. I felt the joy of anticipation well up in my gut and I welcomed the feeling. It began to ease the pain that had taken root earlier.

The bar was only sparsely occupied this night and that was to my advantage. I walked slowly up to the bar and ordered a beer on tap. I could watch the table in the mirror behind the bar and I could see Drake's table clearly. I sipped my beer and waited. It took only a few more minutes before someone walked up to Drake, pointed toward the bar and said something. There was some snickering and I watched Drake look over my way and smiled to myself. Now we would see what we would see.

One of the things I learned in Martial Arts training was that patience was a virtue in so many ways. The other thing was that anger was a tool and could be used to fuel one's actions. It was always an advantage to he who controlled it. I had learned control from my Sensei and I used it to control my anger, the anger that had been growing ever since his dad mentioned his son and my wife. I patiently nursed it all evening as I sat in that motel room and I let it simmer as I drove down to this place. Now, it was a clear, white-hot flame burning gloriously in my chest and in my mind. I stoked it a few more times just to be sure it remained hot and clean. All it took was the picture of Drake sitting there.

Drake sent one of his minions first to check me out. I decided on my plan of action and waited patiently as he walked up behind me, put a hand on my shoulder and spoke.

"Hey, don't I know you? Ain't you that chicken shit that ran away a couple of years ago leaving his wife and kid alone? Jesse, pussy-assed Prentice, ain't it?"

I didn't even put my beer down. I just turned and said with a smile, "You got me. What can I do for you, friend?"

He laughed and walked back to Drake's table, told him who I was and then watched as Drake got up and headed my way. So far, so good. I put the glass down and gathered my body under me so that I had both feet ready to hit the floor as I turned to face him. Position and anticipation were the key things in a confrontation, and a confrontation is what I was hoping for. I needed some backup so over my shoulder, I said to the bartender, one that I remembered from the past "Make sure you remember who starts this, Jim. I have no intention of that being me and I want an interested observer who sees everything. Do you understand?"

The bartender looked over my shoulder at Drake and nodded. "I hear you clear, Jesse. I understand, but I hope you know what the hell you're doing."

"Count on it." With that, I closed my eyes and let my training come to the front of my mind. My Sensei had drummed that into my head over the course of my training: Don't think; let your body remember and let it act! Now I had to do just that. There were four of them and only one of me, just like that night when my life changed forever. My emphasis on training with my Sensei had been on reactive defense: that was defense by reacting to another's offense and using the other's anger or actions to defeat him. My Sensei told me I was very good at it and now I would have to put it to the test in the real world. This was not a controlled training facility.