Page 48 of Two Wrongs

“I’m certified on accounting software, and I got my Associates degree in accounting. I can handle all of that, as long as you don’t expect me to do anything with the cars,” I say.

Griffin laughs as he holds open the door to his office. “No, I actually want to keep my business.”

The phone starts to ring, and he starts to dig through piles of paperwork to find it. I can hear noise coming through the phone, but I wouldn’t have been able to understand even half of the conversation since Griffin does little more than grunt his replies. Whatever is asked, he scribbles the information down on a random scrap of paper, which immediately gets lost in the piles once he sets it down.

“You know, I think part of the reason you’re losing money is all of this,” I say and gesture to the chaos inside.

I shoo him out of the office. “I’m going to spend some time making sense of this mess and getting it organized, then I’ll dig into the finances.”

The phone rings again, and I rip it out of his hand. “Hale Automotive,” I greet the customer.

“Hello. Do you guys tow cars?” an older man asks.

I put my hand over the receiver. “Do you tow cars?” I ask Griffin.

He nods, so I take my hand off the phone and continue. “Yes sir.”

“Oh heavens, thank you. My engine overheated and my roadside assistance says there’s no providers in the area.”

I continue gathering his information and write it down on an actual clean sheet of paper before I hand it over to Griffin. He strolls to the door and shouts out into the shop, “Julio you’ve got a pick up at the Qwick Stop on highway seventeen.”

“Why isn’t your towing services listed with the roadside assistance providers?” I ask.

Griffin scratches his stubble and shrugs. “Everyone in town just kinda knows we do it.”

“You don’t have a website either, do you?” I can tell he doesn’t just by the look he’s giving me.

“Wow, okay. I’ve got a lot of work to do. Go fix something, and I’m going to fix all of this.”

* * *

I work through lunch,trying to find Griffin’s desk under all the random pieces of paper. There are appointments, reminders to order supplies, and notes for customers scribbled on any available scrap of paper. I’m so focused on the database I’m building to log every note, I don’t hear the door opening.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” I look up and see Charlie standing in the doorway.

“Building a database? Sure, I’ve made a lot of them.” I put the papers I’ve entered into a file box I found in the supply closet.

He comes into the office and closes the door. “Not here at work. Here, with Griffin. Have you thought about how this is going to impact Liam? Are you ready to deal with that?”

I fight the urge to laugh. “All I thought about for months was Liam. Where is he? What is he doing? Why doesn’t he want me? I made myself sick over it. Literally.”

I grab my purse and dump it onto the desk. I find a prescription bottle and throw it at him. “This one is for anxiety attacks.” I reach for another one and launch it at him too. “This one is for depression.” The last bottle rolls across the desk, and I toss that one at him as well. “That one is so that I can sleep. I developed a nice case of insomnia always waiting up for Liam on the nights he didn’t come home.”

Charlie just stands there, not speaking. Even that is pissing me off. “What? Nothing more to say? Tell me, how much more am I supposed to give him?”

The door bursts open and slams into the wall with a bang. “What the fuck is goin on in here? I can hear Wren shouting from the auto bay over Julio’s horrible rap music.”

I quickly shove my things back into my bag and pull the strap over my shoulder. “Ask Charlie. It’s late, and I’ve got to go talk to Donovan. The system I’ve set up is pretty self explanatory, I’m sure you guys can figure it out, because this isn’t going to work.”

I’m not sure what I expect when I rush out the door, but I didn’t think I’d just leave without having to explain myself to Griffin. After all the talk about me being his, I guess I thought maybe he cared a little.

After I walk to the insurance office and grab my car, I head straight to the bar. Happy hour is in full swing when I arrive, and it’ll be a couple hours before business is slow enough to be able to talk to Donovan about getting more hours.

He examines me when I walk in, two hours before my shift is supposed to start, and gestures to the end of the bar with a jerk of his head. I go over to wait for him to finish up with the customers he’s serving.

“I’ve got some spare shirts in my office. I heard Carl shut down the insurance agency. You’ll need some more hours I’m guessing?”

I nod. I should have factored in the town’s propensity for gossip before I worried about having to start this conversation with him.

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