Moments later, bored, they all got out of the car. They walked around, looked up and down the highway for any sign of a tow truck, sat on the trunk, threw rocks into the desert darkness.
A half hour passed. Forty-five minutes. An hour. “That’s it,” Reyn said. “I’ve had enough of this shit.” He called AAA again, angrily berating the person on the other end of the line. When he finally got off the phone, he was livid. “She said they contacted Mojave Towing and that the truck should have been here by now but that it’s been a busy night and it could be up to another hour.”
“Fuck!” Gary screamed into the night as loud as he could. He stomped around the dirt and gravel by the side of the road. His muscles hurt, he was so tense. His head was pounding. All he could think about was Joan, and every scenario he’d imagined in the wake of her aborted phone call involved violence, punishment and pain.
“That sounds cathartic,” Brian said in response to his outburst. “Let me try it. Cunt!”
“You’re an asshole,” Stacy told him. “Asshole!” she screamed.
“Dick!” Reyn yelled.
And then they were all shouting obscenities into the darkness, stopping only when a pickup truck sped by. Brian, Reyn and Stacy were laughing, and even Gary had to admit that it felt good to vent. He was still overcome with discouragement and anxiety, but there must have been something to the idea of primal scream therapy because he felt a little less hopeless than he had before.
“Want to start the car and see if we can make it?” Brian asked when they had stopped laughing and calmed down. “If it was just the thermostat or a temperature gauge, we can probably—”
“No,” Reyn said firmly.
“Suit yourself.”
A while later, the tow truck arrived, slowing as it approached them, yellow lights strobing on the roof of the cab and casting strange shadows on the desert rocks and brush off the side of the road.
According to the white patch sewn into his dark coveralls, the driver’s name was John. He asked what had happened, and Reyn handed over his AAA card and gave a detailed explanation of how the engine had at first felt sluggish; then the temperature light had come on, steam had started to engulf the hood and the car had begun to slow.
The driver nodded. He ran the AAA card through a handheld reader. “This here’s only good for five free miles,” he said. “There ain’t nothing within five miles.”
“I know,” Reyn said. “I’ll pay for the rest.”
“You have a Visa or MasterCard?”
Gary felt a sudden chill. They were alone here on the highway. In the desert. In the dark. What if this guy wasn’t who he said he was? What if he was crazy?
But Reyn seemed to have no qualms. He opened his wallet, took out a credit card and handed it over.
“Where do you want me to tow it?” the man asked.
Gary wondered if there was room for all of them in the truck’s cab. Would some of them have to stay here and wait for another ride? He didn’t like the idea of them splitting up. He didn’t trust this guy.
John.
“Is there any kind of twenty-four-hour garage you can take it to?”
“Our station’s the closest, but at night we only do the towing. Everything else is closed. Even the gas pumps. The garage don’t open for repairs until eight.”
Stacy stepped forward. “Do you think you can take a look at it for us?” she asked, putting on an almost coquettish voice Gary had never heard her use. He glanced over at Reyn, who was looking at Stacy, stone-faced.
“I might be able to check it out when we get there,” John allowed. “Let you know the damage.”
Reyn shot Stacy a look of irritation, then turned to the tow truck driver. “What do you think it might be?”
“Well…” The man walked over to the front of the car. The hood was still open, and he glanced under it for a second, then went and got a halogen light from a box in the back of his truck, hung it off a hole on the hood’s interior and peeked inside the engine compartment. He asked Reyn to start the car, checked a few things, then told him to shut off the engine. He slid under the car on his back, wrench and flashlight in hand, then slid back out a moment later. “Can’t say for sure,” he said, “but it looks to me like it’s your water pump.”
“All right,” Reyn said. “Tow it to your garage.”
The driver told Reyn to leave the keys in the ignition, asked everyone to get out of the way, and manuevered his truck until it was directly in front of the car. He got out, unhooked the tow bar, then pulled a lever that let out the winch cable. It took more than a few minutes, but finally the car was lifted onto the flat back of the truck, blocks shoved under its rear wheels.
“You all can get in,” he said. “It’s time to go.”
There was a narrow backseat behind the driver and passenger, and Gary, Reyn and Brian crawled back there while Stacy sat in front with John.
What if he’s crazy? Gary thought again.
Then they were on the highway and turning around. Reyn kept glancing through the rear window to make sure the car was not falling off the back of the truck. Two exits and fifteen minutes later, they were pulling off the highway and onto a side road toward the glowing orange ball of a 76 station. MOJAVE TOWING AND CAR REPAIR read the sign over the dark garage behind the pumps.
The tow truck stopped. They got out as Reyn’s car was being lowered to the ground.
“I guess you all can wait here until morning,” John said. He gestured toward the building. “Office is open. Not much to do, but we have a black-and-white TV in there. Used to be, we could only get one station, but with that converter box, we get quite a few now. Watch what you want. There’s a vending machine around the corner if you get thirsty, but drinks cost a buck and it only takes quarters.”
“Where are the other cars?” Brian asked.
“What other cars?”
“The Triple A woman told me you were late because it had been a busy night,” Reyn explained. “I guess we thought there’d be other cars.”
John grinned. “Naw. I just told her that when she called back and bitched at me. Truth is, I fell asleep.”
What if he’s crazy?
“So you don’t have to pick up more vehicles?”
“Not yet. Not unless someone calls.”
“Are you the mechanic here?” Reyn asked. “Or just the driver?”
“Mechanic. One of ’em.” He’d finished lowering the car and unhooking the tow bar and chains. He unlocked the garage door behind the car, and with a loud, metallic roar, the door rolled up into the ceiling. The keys were still in Reyn’s car, and the mechanic got in, pulling it into the first bay. There was a pit in the concrete beneath the car, and after getting out, John grabbed some tools and went below.
“Water pump,” he confirmed a few moments later, emerging with grease on his hands. “I had to know. I was curious.”
“Can you fix that?” Reyn asked.
“Yeah, but, like I said, we ain’t open until eight.”
“Well, can you tell me how much it’s going to cost?”
“About a hundred parts, a hundred and fifty or so labor.”
Gary thought he could hear his friend’s sharp intake of breath. He felt guilty, because this probably wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t dragged everyone out here on this wild-goose chase to begin with—or, if it had, it would have occurred somewhere in the Los Angeles metropolitan area, probably in the daytime, and wouldn’t have cost anywhere near as much.
He wondered if he ought to offer to pay part of it but didn’t know how to even broach that subject until Reyn said, “I’m almost maxed out on my Visa. I only have a hundred or so left.”