The mechanic spoke clearly, but all Wayne Tisdale heard was: “The AC’s blowin’ real cool now, but here’s how I’m gonna fleece you for another $250. The brakes, they’re in bad shape.”

I will not be the butt of a joke, Wayne thought. Not today.

“I anticipated your latest ploy to empty my pockets, Grease Monkey,” Wayne said. “So I brought my auto-expert friend Nathan. Just try to get one past the keeper today you miserable wretch.”

The mechanic smiled, casually running his gangrenous tongue through his missing teeth, his lazy eye leering at the cougar who’d just walked in.

Nathan smirked. “Wayne, I hate to say, he’s right on. One thing I’m worried about, Shawn,” he said lightly tracing the signature on Shawn’s name tag, making everyone a little nervous.

“Yup.”

“Could you take a look at the pedal? It’s making a creaking sound.”

“Has the vacuum been compromised?”

“You tell me.”

“That’ll be extra.”

“I’m worth it,” Nathan said with a playful wink.

“Son of a bitch,” Wayne muttered under his breath.