His Uptown Girl (5 page)

Georgette poked at her salmon with her fork. “I suppose,” she said. It was possible, but unlikely. Bob And Bart's was nowhere near the route between Tyler's home and his office downtown. The only way Tyler, or anyone, for that matter, would have run into her was if they already knew she was there, because it wasn't the type of neighborhood any of her acquaintances would normally ever go to.

She cleared her throat. “I meant, what were you doing there in the first place? It's kind of out of your way, isn't it?”

Tyler flashed her his most charming smile—a smile clearly meant to distract her from their conversation. “It might be a little out of my way, but I felt like taking an indirect route that day.”

Indirect, nothing. His little side trip doubled his commute.

Unless he had been following her…

“Was there any particular reason you felt like going out of your way? Did you see my car when I was on the way to work or anything?”

“Yes, actually, I did see your car. That's why I stopped in. When I walked in the door, I was certainly surprised to see you. And what a getup!”

She noted that he avoided any mention of when he'd seen her car. She was positive it wasn't in the parking lot. It was long before that. A long, long time before that. Possibly when she was backing out of the garage at
home. He could have been behind her the whole time, following her, and she wouldn't have noticed. Of course, if she accused him of following her, he would never admit it.

She narrowed her eyes. “Lots of people wear uniforms and the like, you know.”

Tyler choked on his mouthful, swallowed, coughed and cleared his throat. “But not like that. I could see you doing accounting, but why are you delivering parts?”

Georgette's heart skipped a beat. She wasn't ready for anyone she knew, especially someone so close to her father, to know what she was doing. But she'd been caught and now it was time to defend her choices.

“I don't deliver parts. I work in the shop, fixing things. Getting my hands dirty.” Georgette laid her knife and fork down, and clasped those hands in front of her. “And that's exactly the job I wanted. I'm only doing the accounting because I couldn't get one without the other.”

Tyler shook his head. “You should be working for your father.”

Been there, done that. She hated her father manipulating her like a puppet on a string. This was her first chance at independence, and nothing was going to take it away from her. Nothing. “Maybe. But for now, this is what I want to do.”

“What could that two-bit outfit possibly be paying you to make it worth your while?”

Georgette sighed. She wasn't there for the money. The allowance her father gave her for the hour a day she spent managing his charities was more than double her full-time salary. It was one more thing her father used
to control her, paying her for her loyalty. It made her feel as if she was being bought, and she hated herself for it.

“Auto mechanics is a hobby for me, so I consider this a hobby that pays.”

“You know what your father would say if he found out, don't you?”

She shuddered at the thought. He would consider what she was doing pure defiance, and in a way, it was. But it was also the only place where she was out from under her father's thumb. Even though she'd told Tyler she considered it a hobby, she worked hard at her job and when the day was done, she was at peace with herself and with God, and she could sleep well at night.

She raised one hand up, pressing into the tiny cross, something else her father didn't approve of. “I don't think I'm ready to tell Daddy the specifics yet.” In fact, she didn't know if she would ever be ready to tell him. But at the same time, she knew that one day she would have to. To think otherwise was unrealistic.

“Tell me, Georgette, does anyone else know? Besides me?”

Her breath caught in her throat. “I don't know,” she muttered, at least she hoped and prayed no one knew. That Tyler knew was not in her favor.

He leaned forward toward her, over the table. “I could help you keep your secret.”

Her heart began to pound. She didn't trust Tyler, but he had her between a rock and a hard place. Perhaps graciousness on her part would evoke a similar response. “Could you? I'd really appreciate that.” She wondered nervously what he would ask for in return. She had
nothing to offer. To offer money would be an insult. Any work he would ever need done to his car was best done by the dealership where he bought it.

“But in return, there's something you can do for me.”

Here it was. She leaned closer to Tyler. “What do you have in mind?”

Tyler sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I need to attend a number of functions, and it doesn't look good for me to go alone. I need you there as my companion. Your father would be pleased to see us together, you know, in the past, he's encouraged me to spend time with you.”

Georgette forced herself to breathe. Tyler came from old money, but that wasn't enough for Tyler. He was ambitious, which shouldn't have been bad, except that like her father, Tyler didn't care who he stepped on.

“I don't know…” she let her voice trail off, trying to give herself more time to think.

Tyler tipped his head to one side. “You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours.”

Maybe to him, it was back-scratching. To Georgette, it sounded an awful lot like extortion.

But until she could figure out a way to approach her father, she didn't have any choice. By not dealing with the problem sooner, she had set herself up to become an easy victim.

“I can't believe that you, of all people, would be unable to find a date. I'm sure there are any number of women who want to go out with you.”

“Maybe. But it looks better if I go to these things with the same person. It gives me a reputation for stability and maturity.”

Georgette's blood boiled. What Tyler looked like on
the outside to strangers was more important to him than anything.

Bob would never have behaved in such a manner. Even though Bob wasn't in the upper echelons of the corporate world, he was still a successful business owner. He was a good Christian man, and he made an income he was comfortable with. His entire business was built on one thing. Doing honest work in order to satisfy his customers.

The only one Tyler wanted to satisfy was himself, no matter what the cost.

“How many times? Does today count?”

“Today we're negotiating. Does this mean you agree?”

For now, Georgette didn't have a choice. Soon she would find an appropriate time to tell her father, on her own terms, but until the time was right, she would have to put up with Tyler.

“I agree,” she muttered, then pushed the plate containing her half-eaten meal slightly forward on the tabletop. “Do you mind if we leave? I'm not as hungry as I thought I was.”

Tyler signaled the waiter for the bill, but continued eating. “Great. Today is Monday. I've got to go to a wild-life fund-raiser on Wednesday. I'll pick you up at five-thirty. It's a dinner engagement. Dress appropriately.”

G
eorgette pushed a little more sawdust over the spill with the toe of her workboot. “It should be absorbed by tomorrow,” she mumbled to Bart, who reached out to run his finger along the seal of the leaky oil filter of the car on the hoist above them.

Bob appeared beside her. “Did you find out what's wrong?”

Georgette nodded. “I don't know where she went to change the oil, and I don't know how they could have done it, but the O-ring was twisted and it wrecked the seal. That's what's been causing the leak.”

Bart looked up and watched as another drop leaked out. “Mrs. Jablonski is going to be happy. She was so afraid of what it would cost to fix, she's just been adding more oil instead of bringing it in. The only reason she finally came was because her neighbors were complaining about the growing puddle on the street.” All we have to charge her for is changing the filter.”

“You mean you're not even going to charge her for the full oil-change package?” Her father's mechanic
charged a service fee just to look at any vehicle, then took the money off the cost of the repair later. However, if nothing was done, they kept the money for their time, which was only fair.

“Naw. It took under a minute to see what the problem was. Besides, we never charge for estimates.”

“But how are you going to make money on this, then?”

“Mrs. Jablonski is living on a pension. We'll get back our time in the markup on the new filter we're going to give her, so it's not like we're losing anything. The only reason she brought it here is because my mother told her I would look at it and fix it for a fair price. I'm not doing it for free. I'm just being reasonable.”

“But…” She let her voice trail off. An oil filter wasn't free, but it was still an inexpensive item. She couldn't imagine there was much markup on it. It might pay for one minute worth of their time, when calculating all the expenses that went with running a business. Georgette turned to Bart. “And you agree with this decision?”

Bart shrugged his shoulders. “I don't do anything to contradict a promise made by Bob's mama. This, you too, will learn.” He turned to Bob. “Don't forget to give Mrs. Jablonski the seniors' discount.”

In response, Bob nodded.

All Georgette could do was stare.

Her father had always drilled into her head to get top dollar, no matter what. Charity work, when plainly labeled
charity,
was different. Her father received his rewards in publicity, product placement and good will. But in business, her father refused to open any doors where people might take advantage, and that meant no favors. The point of being in business wasn't merely to survive. He risked money to make money, and he pro
tected his investments. The first thing her father had taught her was that nice guys always finished last.

Georgette looked around her. The building that housed the auto repair shop was old—showing both wear and age. The lobby and the washrooms had been renovated at least once, and the walls needed another couple of coats of paint. And that was just for starters. For their modest requirements, the building was adequate, but not much more.

She couldn't see that either Bart or Bob were doing much better personally.

Bart had just purchased a new vehicle, but it was only a mid-priced minivan. Yet, he was proud of his family-man vehicle. Bob's car was also mid-priced, mid-sized and three years old, a year older than any car her father ever owned. For two men who were risking everything they had to keep their business going, they weren't very far ahead.

Because they were nice guys.

But as far as she could tell, even though Bob worked hard, he was happy. And Georgette was happy working for him.

That was why she was taking the risk she was now taking, and why she had accepted Tyler's terms for his silence in keeping her secret from her father. For the first time in her life, she was happy. She was doing something she wanted to do, dealing with people who had nothing to gain by knowing her.

Besides, it didn't seem like her father's world held anything Bob would want. He was conscientious and honest, and lived his life the way God wanted him to. The more she came to know Bob as she worked with him, the more she liked him both personally and professionally. She couldn't say the same about Tyler.

Georgette sighed. For now, she was simply
George the Mechanic
. But tonight, she would again have to become
Georgette the Fake
to help Tyler rub elbows to further himself and his business ventures. She'd much rather help Bob with his business ventures, but he didn't need a pretty showpiece. He needed a good mechanic and a proficient bookkeeper, not to mention some extra money for renovations.

She had the money, but she couldn't give it to him without revealing her background. She also knew he'd find the gift insulting. For now, all she could do to help him was be the best mechanic and best employee she could be.

“I should be finished this in twenty minutes. What have you got for me next?”

“Every large job we have right now is waiting for parts. I've got the orders lined up on the board. Just take the next up, Bart and I will do the same, and by tomorrow we should be all caught up and ready for when the backlog of parts comes in.”

She kept busy all day, but when the day was done, she felt satisfied about her contribution.

She unzipped her coveralls, stepped out of them, made a quick inspection to see if they were still acceptable for one more day without a trip through the washing machine, then hung them on the hook at her station.

As she squatted and reached into the bottom of her tool caddy to retrieve her purse, footsteps echoed on the concrete floor behind her. She turned to see Bob towering above her.

“I'm sorry I didn't catch you sooner. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind staying an hour later tonight to finish up the last order on the board. Tonight is
Wednesday, practice night for the worship team. I've got be out of here at six-thirty, and I had really wanted to get everything done so we'll be ready for tomorrow morning. I'll pay you overtime. I don't expect you to do it for nothing.”

Georgette's heart sank. “I'm so sorry. Any other day, I'd love to stay. But tonight I have to be somewhere at five-thirty, and I can't.” She checked her watch. It was four-thirty on the dot, and even leaving on time, she was pressing her luck. By the time she made the trip across town in rush-hour traffic, including her quick change back into her skirt and blouse in the washroom at the gas station, which left only fifteen minutes to shower, wash, dry her hair and run the curling iron through it, and scramble into the dress, hose and accessories that she'd already set aside.

“Oh. Sorry. Don't worry about it. I'll just come back after the practice is over and finish up.”

“You'd do that?”

“They just called and said they needed the car tomorrow morning, so I said I would do it. I try not to make promises I can't keep.”

Georgette stepped closer, “You put in such long hours. I know you're often here at six-thirty in the morning to take people's cars in before they go to work when you're not scheduled to be in until seven.” Frequently he even stayed very late to get a job done, which it appeared would happen again tonight. “How about if I come in early tomorrow?”

Bob shook his head. “No. You're going on a date tonight, and I don't want you to ruin your evening by cutting your night short so you can come in early.”

Georgette bit back a smile. Needing to go home early
would work in her favor. “I really didn't plan to be out late, anyway. I'm sure Tyler will understand.”

He stiffened. “Tyler seems very understanding. I know a lot of guys who wouldn't want their wives or girlfriends doing a job like this.”

Not to mention daughters. Her father immediately came to mind, as both an understatement and a confirmation of Bob's statement.

She looked up at Bob. “Actually, I really hate going out to the kind of places Tyler and I are going tonight. It's a big animal shelter fund-raiser and even though I know it's a worthy cause, I'd still rather just make a donation than get all dressed up and go to a banquet with people I don't care about seeing. They're only there to see who's currently with whom, and to try to make an impression. Even if we didn't have this project at work, I have something in my garage at home I'd be doing. It's something I've been working on for a long time.” Strangely, she found that her new job hadn't lessened her joy in fixing up the old pickup truck. If she kept it up, the old beast would be running very soon.

Bob smiled, and his eyes became unfocused. “Yeah. I have a project like that.” He smiled and looked off into the distance for a few seconds. Suddenly, he recollected himself. “I'm keeping you. You're going to be late.”

Once again, she checked her watch. It was getting later by the minute, yet she wasn't motivated to hurry. “I guess,” she replied.

“I'll take you up on that offer another day. Goodnight, George.”

She nodded. “Sure. Goodnight, Bob.”

 

Randy Reynolds did the same thing he always did at the end of a good practice. He headed right into Adri
an's kitchen, grabbed first choice of the donuts, poured a fresh cup of coffee, then sauntered back into Adrian's den while everyone tidied up their music and put their instruments away.

“Hey, Randy, you could always help, you know,” Bob called out.

Randy turned toward his best friend, took a bite out of the donut, then waved it at Bob as he spoke. “You're only saying that because taking down the drum set takes the longest.”

“Which means you should help me every week instead of stuffing your face.”

Randy pressed his hand onto his stomach, being careful not to smear any of the icing from the donut onto his shirt. “I'm a growing boy.”

Celeste shook her head while she wound up one of the patch cords. “I don't know how you stay so slim; you eat so much junk food.”

Randy grinned. “It's a gift. Besides, this might be my only chance to get my favorite donuts for a whole week, at least for free. Did you see Bob's new girlfriend at church Sunday night? She likes the same kind of donuts I do.”

“She's not my girlfriend,” Bob muttered as he started disassembling the stool. “She's my new light-duty mechanic.”

Randy snorted. “And that's why you took her to church? My boss never takes me to church.”

“That's different.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It's true. She's my employee. She works for me and that's all.”

Randy tried not to laugh, but failed. “Methinks thou doth protest too much,” he chortled.

Bob sighed as he tucked the seat into the case. “I'm not protesting. I'm stating a fact. Besides, she's got a boyfriend, and tonight he's taking her to a fund-raising banquet downtown.”

Randy froze. “Don't you think that's a little strange?”

“No. Lots of people go to those kind of things. It's how they raise money for worthy causes.”

Randy noticed that both Adrian and Paul had suddenly become silent, and were watching his conversation with Bob. So they wouldn't listen in, Randy shoveled the rest of the donut into his mouth, set his coffee mug on Paul's amp, and shuffled in closer to Bob.

“When I asked if you thought it was strange that she was going to something like that, I didn't mean that it's a bad thing to give money to help the animals. I meant, it's not your average mechanic-type person who goes to things like that. I saw mention of that event in the community pages in the paper, and it's pretty pricey. When's the last time you went to a fund-raising banquet like that?”

Bob opened his mouth to reply, but Randy quickly raised one hand to silence him.

“You don't have to tell me. I know the answer. The answer is never. When you make a donation, you just make a donation. Not only that, but those things usually run hundreds of dollars a plate. I'm not saying that it's not a good thing to do, but you see a lot of people who are there for the same reason as the Pharisee on the street showing how wonderful he was to everyone who cared to look.”

Bob's eyebrows knotted.

“What?” Randy asked.

“Funny you should say that. George said something very similar, only she didn't spell it out quite like you did. She's only going because her boyfriend wants to go.”

Randy whistled between his teeth. “Your low-paid new mechanic must have a very rich boyfriend to go to stuff like that.”

Bob squirmed. “She's not that low-paid. I'm paying her what we can afford, until we see if this works out. It's also an entry-level position.”

“I think you know what I meant.”

Bob's voice dropped to a gravelly mumble. “Who she goes out with is not my concern.”

Randy moved even closer and lowered the volume of his voice even more. “Are you sure about this boyfriend? I saw the way she looked at you Sunday night. She likes you.”

Bob stiffened. “She looks up to me as her boss and as someone who shares her love of mechanics. I have to admit it's kind of flattering, but that's it. You're taking it wrong.”

“I don't know. I think—”

Paul's voice boomed behind him. “Will you two quit whispering and get finished? Randy, you're parked behind me in the driveway. I want to go home sometime tonight.”

Randy stood. “Sorry.” He tucked the pieces of the stand into the case, and turned around. “I'll be right back,” he said to Bob. “Don't go away.”

Randy followed Paul outside, and put his hand on the door of Paul's car, preventing Paul from opening it. “Before you leave, I want to talk to you about last Sunday night.”

Paul turned around. “Sunday night? You mean when
Bob brought that girl to church? He said she was his new mechanic.”