Jeremiah let the land line ring as he took a few gulps from his cold coffee. On the fifth ring he grabbed the phone, collapsing onto the stool behind the parts counter. “Desert Sands,” he answered, sounding only mildly annoyed. He listened intently for a moment, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “All four tires, you say?” He lay sprawled over the back of the stool, long arms and legs hanging like an unstrung marionette as he cradled the phone against his shoulder. “Those would be your valve stems, I’m guessing.”
Austin leaned in.
“Uh-huh.” Jeremiah continued to nod. “You still have the valves?” He listened, holding the phone away from his ear slightly. “Lined up on the sidewalk, huh?” He continued nodding and glanced over at Austin with a grim smile.
“Yeah, yeah I hear ya, that does seem terribly inconvenient.” He listened for another minute, rolling his eyes. “We’re on our way.”
Jeremiah hung up the phone and untangled himself from the stool and phone cord. “You ever replace a valve stem?” He downed the rest of his cold coffee and set the dirty “World’s Greasiest Gramma” mug on a parts shelf behind him.
“What was that about?”
Jeremiah chuckled. “Somebody pulled the valves on Bruce’s wheels. He’s got four flats and a meeting in LA Monday morning.”
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“All four?”
“Apparently he pissed someone off,” Jeremiah shrugged, smiling.
It would be too easy to tell Bruce that his jilted high school flame, one Miss Smashley of the Freakin’ Batmobile bumper car clan, had recently special ordered a valve stem remover, and even taken the time to crouch down beside Jeremiah in her cute little strawberry print dress, just to make sure that she knew how to work it properly. Jeremiah was not entirely shocked that she had followed through, but he was slightly miffed that she had not stopped by to brag.
It wasn’t a tough job; more annoying, really. All he had to do was screw the valves back in and run a compressor line from the truck to re-inflate the tires. It would take him an hour, tops, if he wanted to do it, but he had been planning on getting a few hours of work done on the Mantis. Sunday afternoon was as close as he had to a legitimate day off. He sidled through to the shop, and rifling through one of the tool chest drawers, pulled out a small cross-like tool that Austin recognized from the night before. “You think you can run over and fix the flats?”
Austin shrugged. He glanced down at the tool, a little grimier than Ashley’s but fairly simple. “Nah, I can do it,” he said, feeling somewhat flattered that Jeremiah would even bother to ask. He marked his page in the manual and slid it to the corner of the desk. “You mind if I leave Jynx here? She won’t be any trouble.”
Jeremiah glanced out at the back lot, where Jynx was reclined in his leather chair, scrolling through her new tablet. “Nah, that’s fine.” He unclipped the truck keys from his belt and tossed them over the counter. “Just hurry it up.”