Behind the Smile

25

The sign on the side of the battered tow truck said Johnson's 24 hr. Service 7 Days/Week. 

He was always on call, but seldom called. In this part of the country, you could still enlist the aid of a farmer and his tractor to drag you out of any ditch you might drive into.

The motor on the wench whined and protested, but the front wheels of the patrol car inched off the ground. J.J. worked without saying much. Only Hayden remained to keep him company while the strobing bar of yellow lights atop the old wrecker threw its beam upon the charred ruins.

"Where d'ya want me to drop 'er off?" J.J. asked in a high-pitched nasally voice.

The mechanic removed his stained ball cap and mopped his forehead with a dingy rag from his coverall pocket. There was grease beneath his nails and in the lines and cuts of his work-scarred hands.

"Behind the office," Hayden said, as J.J. climbed into the battered truck.

What in the hell was going on, he wondered as he watched the old heap drive off? This day had been the worst of his life. He thought of Maisie and her talk of Job's curse. At the time, he'd merely scoffed at her rambling, but now it felt as if the edges of a looming shadow were darkening his soul.

Here in the middle of Podunk Nowhere Big City suddenly felt out of his league.

Three hours until daylight.

He'd go home, he decided, pour himself a stiff drink, and sort it out tomorrow.