Few Kinds of Wrong Read Free

dark-grey button-down shirts with Collins Motors embroidered in red on the front left and a light grey nametag on the right, along with black pants — were made of wrinkle-free material.
    He frowns at the safety pin in my shirt. “Couldn’t find a sewing needle?”
    â€œBecause I don’t have one.” I look down at the shirt. “It’s not that bad. I was going to staple it.”
    Bryce shakes his head. He is the only person I know who polishes his workboots, even if they never seem clean enough for him. A weird line of work for a neat freak, but Bryce is one of the best mechanics I know. He’s just slower than everyone else.
    â€œSo, he starts today?” Bryce asks, talking about my soon-to-be ex-husband, Jamie. He picks up a couple of work orders and shuffles through them.
    â€œYup. I can’t believe I have to put up with him working here.”
    â€œNot for long, I can bet.” His mouth moves a little, making what passes for a smile from him. “But I can’t believe you have to put up with it either.”
    â€œIf I knew that investing in the company would mean I’d have to work with him—”
    â€œJack would have lost the business. You know damn well he wouldn’t take the money from me.”
    Three and a half years ago, Dad had decided it was a good time to expand, but he moved too much too fast, and when the cost of labour and materials skyrocketed, Dad had two choices: take my money or go under. So Jamie and I combined the $20,000 I had and the $5000 Jamie’s parents gave him to become part owners of Collins Motors.
    â€œBut why did I have to let Jamie in on the investment? Now I’m stuck with his terms or he’s going to go after fifty percent.”
    â€œI don’t understand why he wants a job here anyway. Not like he likes cars or knows anything about them.” Bryce doesn’t look up from the work order he’s writing on.
    â€œNo. Maybe he just wants to torture me. Doesn’t matter why, I suppose. Twenty percent and a full-time job is what he wants and that’s what I’m stuck with.”
    â€œHe won’t be around long,” Bryce says. “You wait and see.”
    I want to believe him but think back to a year before, when Bryce said the words, “He’ll be okay.”
    â€œMaybe,” I say and head off to the lunchroom to boil the kettle.
    The rest of the morning flies and by eleven, I’m dismantling the dashboard of a Ford Windstar in order to replace the bulb in the speedometer. The job is frustrating and to make matters worse, the minivan I’m working in smells like something has long since died inside it. The stench hit me when I opened the door, making my eyes water. I hold my breath as long as I can before leaning out of the car to take another deep breath of fresh air. I won’t dare get too close to the fast food bags strewn over the back seat and piled up on the floor.
    Something touches my leg and I exhale a blast of air with a start and a squeal.
    â€œHi, partner,” Jamie says as I look out of the van.
    â€œI’m busy.”
    â€œI see.” He leans down and looks in the van. “Can I help?”
    â€œNo. Go see Bryce. He’ll tell you what to do. Maybe you can try something easy, like change a tire or something.”
    â€œYeah, I’d like to learn how to do that.” Jamie smiles and I want him away from me. I hate him too much to like that smile.
    I try to return to the dashboard but I want to know where Jamie is and what he’s doing. I lean out of the van and see Jamie talking to Bryce. Jamie is grinning and Bryce’s face can best be described as a scowl.
    Looking at Jamie
studying a work order Bryce is pointing at, I realize that both the men I loved will now be in the garage — one in the flesh and the other in memories represented by a horrible place on the floor next to the toolbox I won’t let anyone close.
    I