Chapter 11

I woke up and looked at the clock. It read ten o'clock. It was dark outside, so it must be ten at night. I flipped the TV on and turned to the local constant news channel. I watched for a half hour before a blurb about a condo being attacked and finding some dead ex-convicts holding guns in the parking lot came on.

The next was a spot about a shooting in the general aviation area of the airport that left an international underworld gangster and his bodyguard dead. The police didn't have any leads as to who might have been responsible for the murders, but the man was known to have many enemies. A woman and limousine that had been with Carlo Agosto disappeared and no one knew their identity.

Everything actually seemed to be working out. All the guns for hire who had been lured by Carlo would hopefully know that they couldn't collect from him now that he was dead, so Chuck Miller might be safe. I shut the TV off and went back to sleep holding the petite Peanut.

Peanut was shaking me to tell me that she was rested and wanted breakfast. She told me that she had made coffee, so there was no excuse not to get up. It was still dark outside so I looked at the clock and saw that it was only five thirty. We had slept almost twenty hours straight.

I quickly showered, but didn't shave. I put the wig with the glasses on, and almost busted up laughing at the image. Butch was going to have a fit. I put the .308 barrel with the silencer into my sports bag and wished that I had another bag to put the bundles of money in. I ended up putting it behind the closet wall with the rifle and the 'Baby' Glock 26. I put a long knit shirt on so that I could wear a regular clip-on holster. I felt like I needed to carry a weapon, and this one seemed right for me.

We had breakfast at our favorite diner and treated ourselves to steak and eggs once again. We had bought a morning paper and read all about the strange attack on the condo with the four dead men in the parking lot. The police were theorizing that the men in the parking lot were possibly killed because of the attack on the condo building.

There was a link to the other story about Carlo Agosto and his bodyguard being murdered at the airport. There was some evidence that the dead men in the condo parking area were employed by Carlo Agosto. The reporter said he had attempted to talk to Carlo's new wife, the former Sandra Meretti, daughter of Bonito Meretti, but she was unable to speak with anyone.

Well, son of a gun; Sandra got married. I wondered when that happened.

We were leaving the diner when a couple of State Troopers motioned me over to them. One asked, "You're carrying a weapon and it isn't concealed very well. Do you have a permit for that?"

I showed them my permit and they asked to see the pistol. I pulled it, dropped the magazine, and ejected the chambered round. I handed the gun to him butt first, and he smiled. "You at least know how to handle a weapon. A lot of permit holders don't learn about the gun they have." I put the ejected round back into the magazine while he looked at the gun.

The other Trooper wrote the serial number of the gun on a notepad, and went to his car with my permit. I could see him typing on his in-car computer. It only took a few minutes before he came back to us and handed my permit back. The other officer handed my gun back, so I reseated the magazine, chambered a round, and put the pistol back into the holster. That Trooper said, "Thank you for allowing us to do our job, Mr. Harrison. Have a good day."

I told Peanut that I would have to begin wearing a sport coat so that a concealed weapon would be concealed. We drove to Butch's shop and he was just arriving. He hollered, "Ready for a real work day? I have a bunch of errands that I could use Peanut for, and you, my man, could do some glad handing for me with some customers. How about sticking around at least for this morning? If you have something for the boys in the little shop, take it back there and trade them for your other stuff." He kept trying to keep from laughing at my appearance. He added, "Take the glasses off and put the cap away. That's almost too much."

I went to the gun shop and handed the barrel to the guy who seemed to be in charge. He asked, "Can we reuse this or should we melt it?"

I told him, "Salvage the device on the end, and melting the rest would probably be a good idea."

The man handed me another barrel with a silencer and then gave me two boxes with .22 automatics that had screw on silencers. The guy showed me that each pistol held nine rounds and worked with shorts, longs, and long rifle cartridges. He showed me the simple safety and told me to keep the silencers off the guns and in a separate area when they were being stored. He said, "You know silencers can only be possessed by a certain class of gun dealers. You might get Butch to help you get registered, but you'll have to decide on a name."

I took my sports bag back to the Edge and put it into one of the 'secret' compartments. I took my clip-on holster off and put it in there too.

Peanut had a couple boxes of parts and a sheet of paper listing where the parts were going. She grabbed a set of keys from a board, loaded the boxes of parts in the back of a pickup, and left.

Butch turned to me while handing me a stack of papers. "These are customers that are coming in to pick up their cars. Kathy will handle the collections, while you get the car and go over what's on the invoice. The cars are all in the fenced lot and the keys are on the board behind Kathy. I put the key board there so we can all check out her tatas a couple of times a day." Kathy threw a pen at Butch.

The man said, "I have to get a car ready for testing at Daytona. We get a bonus if I finish it today. You know me, the original 'bonus baby'."

Butch left, and Kathy said, "Most of these customers are older folks and won't take their cars anywhere else. Butch has the other side of the building for normal repairs, but these people want to make sure Butch works on their cars. He really doesn't, but he does check the work. You can go to the other service desk and check people in if you get bored. Just write up what they ask for, and give the service request and the keys to the shop foreman. They'll take it from there."

A woman drove into the drop-off area and looked ready to cry. She had two little ones in toddler seats in the back. After looking around and not seeing someone she recognized, she told me, "The directional signals and a bunch of gauges aren't working. I'm afraid the car will just die and I'll be stranded."

I thought to check the fuse panel first, so I had to find that. It was under the driver's side of the dash, so I got down on my back and found it, but I also noticed that both wiring harness connectors were loose, with one completely apart. I shoved them both back together hard enough to hear and feel them click, telling me that they were locked.

I started the car and tried the directional and both worked. The other gauges appeared to all be working now as well. Going to the lady who was talking to the two little ones, I asked, "Have you had this car into a dealer lately?"

The lady said no, and thanked me for fixing her problem. She said, "I have to get to the lawyer's office to finish with the divorce papers. I have to get that lout out of my life. I'm worried that he might hurt me and hurt the kids in the process."

I told her, "Don't let your husband near your car, and make sure you use the alarm. You have a fancy car so read your owner's manual and reset the code for the alarm. You could have had an accident if your car had died in traffic."

When she left, Kathy said, "That's Nancy Van Buren, or at least she was. She married a Tarrington who sucks up her family's money and does nothing but drink and carouse all the time. He probably did that to her car. I hope she listens to you."

An older couple stepped out of a taxi and went to see Kathy. Kathy handed me a copy of the invoice, and I went out for the older model Cadillac and brought it to the service entrance. I went over each item the shop had worked on, and repeated the notes on the invoice. The man was happy, and said, "I see Butch did an oil change just like always. That's why I trade here."

I delivered six cars and wrote service tickets on a dozen. I did another on the spot repair for a lady who couldn't get her new windshield wiper on the arm. She was going to try to pay me, but I waved her off and said Butch would never make her pay to just help her. She gave me a hug and drove away happy.

Kathy sent me to a Subway for Butch, her, Peanut, the shop foreman, and myself. She told me, "I called in an order. They're used to me. You'll be getting about twenty sandwiches because some of the guys always put their order in. I collect, so here's cash for all you're getting."

I drove the Edge to get the Subways and then brought a big box full of sandwiches marked with what they were. Kathy used a Sharpie, wrote names on the various sandwiches, and handed me one. She said, "I figured you for a roast beef. I might have gotten you a meatball if you had a uniform shirt on because they drip everywhere."

Kathy had this perfectly timed, as Peanut came walking in the door with signed receipts and some checks. She went to Kathy to give her the receipts, and then right to the box of sandwiches. She took hers, and said, "Come to the lunchroom and you can buy me a Coke."

Kathy wanted me to put the box of sandwiches on the lunchroom counter, so I took them with me. Peanut and I had just sat down when Butch came in, pulled his latex work gloves off, went to the bathroom, and then sat down with his sandwich while pulling his phone out. He grinned as he made the call. Our side of the conversation was, "Your car is ready. Bring the bonus money and get this thing out of here. I need the space." He hung up on the call. "That guy said there was no way we would have the car done. Not only is it done, but we've checked everything twice."

We were eating when he said to me, "I have a late model stock car you could run if you wanted to. I also have two outlaw cars that only need some minor work. I also know of a driver who would cream her jeans to drive for you."

Peanut stuck her tongue out at him, and asked, "How much do you want for the twenty-two car? That one has the better engine. The idiot who bought and instantly wrecked it shouldn't be allowed on a track until he repeats the driving classes again."

Butch said, "Let me talk to Buddy to see if he wants to get into some fun racing. You're an instructor, Peanut, so you could get Buddy started doing some mini-stock and see how well he learns. He used to be the wild child driver among our gang of four. He might still have it."

As she looked around at the room full of car people, Peanut said, "Oh, please let this clown be a car junkie too. I could fall for him; I'll give him my virginity if he loves to race."

Every mechanic began laughing, whistling, and hollering with that. Peanut stood up and said, "Okay, Braggarts, which one of you have ever been between my legs? Come on tell me. I've probably blown all of you at one time or another to get you to help me with a car, but who's fucked me?"

There was no sound, so the girl known as 'Peanut' hugged me, and said, "See, you could get a reward."

I loved this little girl who, if she were a he, would have balls so big that she couldn't walk. I think every guy in the room knew it too.

Butch said, "Come to the office. I have to work on something and could use your advice. There is a pile of parts to be delivered again, Peanut. I'm glad you're back around. We need a runner like you."

I watched the girl skip out of the shop with a hand full of tickets before backing a pickup into a bay to load the parts.

Butch and I got a cup of fresh coffee and sat in his office. He said, "I love to race and did pretty good at it. My wife, Jean, is a decent driver, but I won't let her get into anything faster than a mini. She thinks she can beat Peanut on the tracks, but I'm not sure. Peanut can drive anything and do it well. She holds all the local track records, and has raced at most of the venues around the state. Do you know that you could race every weekend at a different track here in Florida? You need to know which tracks pay the best prize money and don't rob you when entering races"

Butch continued with, "Peanut loves the winged open cars because she is such a good driver that she spooks other drivers into making mistakes. I don't think she's ever wrecked a car so bad, the owner wanted to trash it. Sure, she has crashes, but the little monster knows how to minimize the wrecks. She's a pro."

Butch sat back with a smile, and said, "I'm so happy that you're back home and now even happier you're a part of what I do. Damn, Buddy, I want us to make up for a lot of years we didn't get to play together. Christ, we've been terrorizing playgrounds since we were about five."

"Here's what I have. I have two wrecked winged cars, a late model that's decent, and a couple of minis to play with. You gave me too much money for everything, and then didn't use a lot. I've sort of figured out what's been going on. Give me another fifty and I'll put both winged cars and the minis into racing condition, a full-size tractor trailer, plus a bunch of volunteer gear heads to keep you racing. Do this for me for a year, and let's see if we can get some major sponsor money. Hell fire, we could get into some of the Sprint stuff if we want. Trucks are easy but it gets pricey after that. You're going to have to let my wife drive your cars sometimes and you have to make sure she remains safe so she can be mother to our kids. I'll help on expenses but I want to see the store's name on top. What do you think, want to take over the racing shack and bring us some fame and misfortune? You do know that Jean is a good wrench and will corral the kids while she works on the race cars, don't you?"

I was about to roll on the floor from laughing so hard.

"What's so funny, Asshole?"

"You have been talking me, the guys, and everyone around you into new ventures and misadventures since we tried to put a lawn mower motor on a tricycle, Butch. Who would believe that you're still doing it twenty years later? Sure, let me buy into this, and let's see what kind of fun we can all have. Do we need to get cars for Benny and Harold too?"

"Not yet, but they will want to be a part of it. Sharon might want to race, but Benny isn't going to let her while she's pregnant. June thinks racing is neat, but also thinks that she doesn't want to get grease under her fingernails. She has always said she likes to make the drivers nice and relaxed before and after the race. That woman has always been the group's slut."

I laughed and said, "You guys were always a little off kilter from the rest of the world. I love you all."

Butch was nodding and saying, "I know, we are one lovable bunch."

The two of us walked back to what he called the racing shack. This was a fairly large concrete block building with an added-on pole barn type structure to hold whatever it needed to hold. There were two lifts where a car could be put into the air, in addition to work areas for other cars.

The first slot had a late model car that looked like it had seen a lot of bumping and rubbing. The next two slots were taken up with wrecked winged outlaw cars. A banged up Sprint racing pickup was in a slot, and then the last place was taken up by what I knew was a mini-stock. The barn area had another mini and some late model parts. An interesting item was a group of engines that all looked like small block GM 350s in various states of rebuild.

Butch pointed out, "The guys come in after hours and try to do a little at a time to rebuild or modify engines. It's all a work of love. Tell them you are going to race regularly, and I'll have to hire extra men because my old guys will all be in here building cars. I have the big tractor-trailer rig, two big enclosed trailers, and a couple of open trailers for the minis. We have tires for everything right now, but you'll go through a lot of rubber on the winged cars. You'll go through tires and equipment fast if you feel lucky and want to race in the Sprint truck division. I'm not saying you wouldn't win, but Peanut has a tendency to be a little pushy if the competition pushes her. You gotta watch her or she'll be kicking some guy in the balls every race. She does have a rep and backs it up. She'll race fair and do the bumpin' and rubbin' with the rest but she's death on guys who try to put her out of the race. Jean's like that, and she's big enough to make you know you did wrong."

"Let's do it, Butch. I'll pay for some of the labor so the guys will feel rewarded. I think we might not win that much but if we were to go into this as a team effort we'll have a hell of a lot of fun."

Butch said, "That's the idea. We'll have a lot of fun while we test the waters. It'll give us all a chance to re-connect and be that fearsome foursome again. You remember how those three girls used to hang around with us all the time. You never did connect but everyone knew you were on your way into the Marines as soon as you graduated. I'm still amazed at how each of us got hooked up with the women we did."

We went back into the shop where Butch showed me the next three cars he would have had me drive. He said, "I figured on you needing about ten cars to get done what you wanted to do, but you didn't use but a few. We'll wholesale those cars to the local lots and use the money for your racing company."

Peanut came back and handed her paperwork and checks in. She came over to me to ask me what I thought about racing, and Butch gave it away. "The guy has bought into the whole deal. You better be ready to begin tearing both of those winged cars down to get them on the track. I think you'll be able to race at least two events every week. You have some research to do to find out which ones will pay the best. You also need to get the longer track suits so you can push the truck too."

Peanut danced around, and said, "Hold that thought. I'm so excited that I'm about to pee in my pants."

The last hour Butch was open for business was nothing but talk of racing, as Peanut was going nuts running back and forth between the race shack and the main building.

Butch pulled her to a halt, and held her while she wiggled and tried to fight him off. Peanuts listened to Butch as he spoke to her when she finally settled down.

"Every person in this building loves you to death, Peanuts, but you have to remember that we all have to work for a living. Buddy is going to pop for some extra labor hours so you can get a car or two ready for something nearby. We all want to get back into racing, but we all also have this habit of enjoying eating. This is the deal. I made arrangements for you to teach racing Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. We'll have a few two-seater minis with all the protection for teaching and for Buddy to drive. Your first student is going to be Buddy, and he wants to learn it all. Jean wants to drive again, so she'll need a refresher. You're going to be one busy babe for a while. I'll give you ten hours a week practice time, and then all the other hours in the day are mine to run your ass off. So what if you fuck up and wreck something; it'll be just like before, go lay across Buddy's knees for your spanking and truly know we'll both cover it this time."

Peanut was looking at Butch and me before she went to her knees, and said, "Okay, who do I blow first?"

Butch and I roared with laughter while Peanut stayed on her knees with tears in her eyes. She said, "I'll do Jean instead of you, and I'll catch Buddy when he's not paying attention. Honest, Butch, I think I see a future for the first time in my life. Oh please, let me prove that I can drive."

I drove on the way home because I thought she might be too hyper to stay in control of herself. We stopped at Walmart where I bought her a phone. She said she had been without a phone for almost six months. I paid her service charges for a year so that she wouldn't have to worry about it right away.

We went by Publix and bought some chicken and pork country ribs along with some barbeque sauce. We had the ribs with some veggies and microwave baked potato. We ate until we were satisfied and then I said, "Let's run over to the short track and watch the Friday night disasters. You need to check in with the other drivers to see where the money is."

On the way Peanut asked, "How do you know about racing and the money the guys make?"

"It's easy babe, the track only pays so much for a win and place but even the mini guys are spending a few grand every week for tires, fuel, and parts. There has to be a source somewhere so you guys do some heavy betting and some of the sponsors kick in money on a race or two. It's the same as when I raced flat track bikes and motocross. There isn't any money in the sport but there's money in the off track stuff. Let's watch these guys do some serious racing and plan on giving me mini lessons next week. I want you to know I plan on racing next weekend somewhere."