Wait for Me (12 page)

“And how are you going to have children if you don’t get married?” Mrs. Singh asked.

She blushed.

“No daughter of mine is going to-” Mrs. Singh objected, her voice loud and strained.

“I’m thinking of adopting. I already have the paperwork,” she announced.

“Adopting?”

Mrs. Singh sank to her chair, defeated.

“I would prefer a grandchild of my own flesh,” Mr. Singh said. “Even if he isn’t fully Indian.”

His throat was drier than the desert and he reached for his glass. He could feel the intense gaze of Anjali’s father, burning him as he took a sip.

“What is your job, Thomas? Can you support a family?” Mr. Singh asked.

“This isn’t happening,” Anjali muttered as she picked up her chair.

“I’m a mechanic, Sir. I just bought an auto repair shop.”

“Ninety percent of new businesses fail within the first year, Thomas.”

“Dad, that’s not true. It’s more like fifty percent.”

Ignoring her, Mr. Singh continued, “You should do something safe. Something that will allow you to provide for my daughter and her children.”

“I appreciate your opinion, Sir, but this is my dream. I get to be my own boss. I get to call the shots. I’m in complete control of my life.”

“Dream? Dream?”

Mr. Singh laughed derisively.

“Dreams are for children and women. Men-real men-put aside their dreams to provide for their family. If your foolish dream is more important than my daughter’s happiness, then you are not the man for her.”

“Daddy!”

His chair grazed the floor as he stood. Jaw clamped shut, he simply turned and walked out the front door.

***

I can’t believe this is happening.

She wrenched open her front door and ran down the steps.

“Tommy, wait!”

His hand gripped the handle. He remained standing there as she rushed toward him.

“Tommy, I’m so sorry about dinner.”

She blinked away the tears that seemed determined to fall.

His shoulders remained stiff. He had every right to be angry with her father.

And with her.

“My parents are old-fashioned. And overbearing, I know.”

He released the handle and faced her.

“Why didn’t you tell them about me?” he demanded.

“Because I knew they would react this way.”

She ran her fingers through her hair.

“They worry about me being single. My father wants me to be married so I have someone to take care of me. My mother wants me to give her grandchildren.”

His eyes followed her hands as she twisted her hair in a bun.

“They’re wacky but it’s only because they love me.”

“Like Mikey?”

She shook her head.

“Not even close.”

“Do you regret last night?”

She buried her hands in her face.

“Oh, why did it have to be the dining room table?”

His arms wrapped around her. She buried her face in his chest, savoring his scent.

“I don’t think I can look them in the eye while having dinner.”

His chest vibrated just before he erupted in a laugh.

“That’s only the beginning, Honey.”

His hands gripped her bottom. His cock, hard as steel, pressed against her belly.

“I intend to take you in every single room,” he promised.

Her knees felt weak. Her fingers dug into his arms.

His lips brushed her ear.

“On your knees.”

Her womb clenched.

“Against the wall.”

Her panties captured a flood of wetness.

“Bent over.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Mmm. You like that best, don’t you?”

He nibbled on her ear.

“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of fucking you.”

He released her and stepped back, an odd look on his face.

“Tommy? Something wrong?”

“No, Honey. I’d better stop before your father comes out here with a shotgun.”

He stepped back.

“I think I’ll call it a night. I’ve got a big day ahead of me tomorrow.”

Chapter Thirteen

Tom’s eyes fluttered open before his alarm went off. He turned to his side, disappointed when his arm landed on empty space.

You are not the man for her
echoed in his head. Last night those words had been an insult.

Today, it was a challenge.

You’re right, Mr. Singh. But that’s going to change.

Starting today.

Full of energy, he hopped out of bed and whistled a happy tune. Half an hour later, he turned on the light in his office and sat down at his desk. Papers were strewn all over his desk, covering the wood.

I need to clean off this desk. Better add it to the list.

He moved some papers and found his list.

To Do List

-Sign new contract with Cintas. Check prices for Coveralls?

-Sign new contract with American Kleen Up

-Sign new contract with ? Antifreeze recycling company.(Need to find out who Mr. Everett used).

He scribbled ‘Clean off my desk’ then turned on the computer. He found Cintas’ website and clicked on the link to Coveralls.

Hmm. Very soft in Navy. This one is Fire resistant in Dark Navy. Another one in Liberty Blue.

He scrolled through each listing.

All UL 2112 Certified. This last one is ASTM 1506. Flame Resistant. Also in Navy. All those metal buttons. Not sure whether or not that would be a hazard.

He rubbed his jaw.

What’s the difference between UL 2112 and ASTM 1506?

Typing in each code, he searched Google. UL 2112 is certified for flash fire protection, arc flash protection and fire resistance.

Then why the fuck did they list the fourth one as Fire Resistant when all of them are?

Shaking his head, he went back to the tab that displayed Cintas Coveralls.

Simple is best. The first one in Navy blue.

He jotted down the code then called the local Cintas. After explaining that he was the new owner of Everett’s Auto Body Shop, he arranged to go in and sign a new contract. He jotted down the cost of the new uniform rental and cleaning service.

A muffled honk drew his attention away from his list. He pushed up the large roller door, wincing at the high pitched whine.

Have to remember to oil this door. Better add it to the list.

“Anjali? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to be your first customer. I need my oil changed,” she replied.

“Honey, that’s sweet of you, but I’m not going to charge you for an oil change.”

“Don’t be silly. I insist.”

“Anjali—”

“—You’re not going to make any money unless you charge your customers.”

She handed him her credit card.

“Honey—”

“Do you address all your customers that way?” she asked.

“Only single men,” he replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

She chuckled and took a seat in the small waiting area. He gave her a ticket to fill out while he positioned her car over The Pit. Another customer wandered in and he spent a few minutes diagnosing his problem. After ringing up the work order, he climbed into the pit and changed Anjali’s oil. He carried the used motor oil to the recycling canister.

The second container is almost full. Why haven’t they picked up the first one yet?

Making a mental note to call the recycling company later, he dumped the oil into the canister. He checked her tire pressure then checked her fluids.

Transmission fluid fine.

Brake fluid fine.

Power steering fluid looks good.

“All right, Honey, oil’s been changed and everything looks good. I still don’t feel comfortable—”

“—Business is business,” she interrupted.

Resigned, he swiped her card.

“How about dinner tomorrow night?” she asked.

He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss.

“Sounds great,” he said.

He returned her keys and she backed out of the shop. He rotated a set of tires and replaced worn out brake pads. During a lull, he returned to the office and called American Kleen Up, the oil recycling company. A receptionist listened politely and promised someone would return his call.

After a busy day, he trudged upstairs. He tossed a frozen dinner into the microwave. He dropped his uniform in the corner and took a long hot shower.

Somehow his to-do-list had gotten longer instead of shorter.

Tomorrow I’ll finish that list and my reward will be a night with Anjali.

The next day he barely had time to leave a message with American Kleen Up before a steady stream of customers kept him busy. In the afternoon, they finally returned his call.

“Mr. Keller, I’m afraid we are no longer doing business with your Auto Shop.”

“I’m the new owner. I realize I have to sign a new contract. I’m ready to do that right now. But I want to know why your company didn’t pick up the oil under Mr. Everett’s contract.”

The manager of American Kleen Up seemed to consider his question.

“Perhaps you are not aware, but we randomly test the used motor oil sent to our facility.”

“No, I didn’t know that. What does that have to do-”

“The last container of oil we received from your shop was contaminated with antifreeze.”

A stone formed in his stomach.

“We sent a certified letter to Mr. Everett, informing him of our intent to report this to the EPA and terminate our contract.”

“The
EPA
?” His voice was strained.

The stone grew heavier.

“We have to follow the laws, Mr. Keller.”

“Of—of course you do. But I’m not like that. I would never—”

“—Our company is not interested in doing business with Everett’s Auto Body Shop, Mr. Keller. Good-bye.”

He stared at the phone. The heavy stone sank to the pit of his stomach.

What the fuck am I going to do with all that contaminated oil? The existing container is almost full. I can’t do any more oil changes until I get a new container.

He shut his eyes and slumped against his chair.

I need to close the shop. I didn’t even make it two fucking days.

Shoulders sagging, he struggled to pull down the large roller door. Had Mr. Singh been right about him?

He shuffled back to his office and dropped in his office chair. Anjali believed in him and he wasn’t going to disappoint her. He straightened in his chair.

How can I fix this?

His fingers drummed against the desk top.

I need an empty oil container. I need a new recycling company.

He did a search on the Internet and found two prospective companies. He called each one and explained his situation. Each receptionist jotted down his information and promised someone would call him back before closing.

“Please, I need someone to call me today.”

He winced at the desperation in his voice.

After receiving a hollow assurance, he hung up the phone. Feeling defeated, he wandered aimlessly around his shop.

Did I make the wrong choice? Was this just a foolish dream?

He picked up a bottle of motor oil and returned it to the supply area. Deciding that keeping busy would keep him from his depressing thoughts, he cleaned up the Shop. At five o’clock, Auto Body Kleen Up returned his call.

“I understand your situation, Mr. Keller, but my guys are close to quitting time. I don’t have anybody who can deliver your oil canister today. I can get it to you sometime Thursday.”

“Thursday
?”

A wave of nausea washed over him.

My business won’t survive being closed that long.

“Well…I…suppose you can drive up here tonight and pick up an empty canister. You could sign the contract too.”

“Thank you, Mr. Smith.”

You just saved my business.

“
What’s your address?”

He jotted down the address.

Three hours away. I should be back by midnight.

“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Smith. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

He grabbed the documents establishing he was the new owner and drove to Auto Body Kleen Up. His cell phone lay forgotten, buried under a pile of papers.

Wednesday morning he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a line of customers waiting outside his shop. His new oil canister was halfway full by mid afternoon. While he took a short lunch break between customers, he sat at his desk. A red flashing light caught his attention. He moved a paper and found his cell phone.

Missed calls: 3.

Anjali. Dinner last night. Fuck.

He called her cell phone.

“Honey, I’m
so
sorry
. I had some big problems at work. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I was worried, Tommy. Why didn’t you just call and let me know?” she asked.

“I forgot my cell. I had to go pick up something. Didn’t get home until midnight. Sorry, Honey.”

His throat felt thick.

“It’s okay, Tommy. You can make it up to me Friday night. I made reservations for us at Mikey’s restaurant.”

He released the breath he was holding.

“What are we celebrating?”

“My birthday.”

“Birthday? I’ll definitely be there…Honey?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for being understanding. You’re the best,” he said softly.

“Tommy.” Her voice was breathless.

“Customer. Gotta go. See you Friday, Honey.”

***

Excited about her dinner plans, Anjali returned the phone to the cradle. She checked her word count and was pleasantly surprised to find that she had typed five thousand words.

At this rate, I’ll finish a week ahead of schedule. Moving here was the best decision I ever made.

Ding-Dong.

Peeking out the window, she saw Jiji’s car parked in her driveway. She hurried down the stairs and rushed to the front door.