Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(110)
Beau’s older brother was getting on my last nerve. I’d expected to show up at the auto shop on Monday morning, park my truck in the back, grab the keys to a loaner, and be on my way. Nope.
As soon as I’d arrived, Cletus had come flying out of the garage to reprimand me about how and where I’d parked my truck. He made me park it again, and again. Then he’d parked it. Then he’d changed his mind and told me to park it where I’d originally parked it in the first place.
Now, for some incomprehensible reason that only made sense in Cletus Winston’s head, he needed me to complete new paperwork.
“I do not understand why I need to fill out new paperwork. Just give me the keys.” My feet dragged as I followed him into the garage. “You’ve known me since I was three. What do you think I’m going to do? And where are we going?”
“Our cloud broke,” he said and kept on walking. “The paperwork is upstairs, not in the downstairs waiting area. Furthermore, I’d prefer to remain ignorant regarding your plans for my automobile. I like sleeping at night. It’s not your plans I need, it’s your phone number, email address, and credit card number.”
“The cloud doesn't break, Cletus. You have my number and email on your phone, saved in your contacts. Besides, Beau knows my credit card number by heart.” My steps stalled and I looked at Beau for support.
He presently stood next to an old Honda Civic, its hood up. He shrugged. A good-natured, unconcerned smile hanging on his features, Beau gestured that I should follow his brother up the stairs to the auto shop business office.
“Are you coming? Or have you changed your mind about the loaner car?” Cletus had turned on the bottom step, one hand on his hip, casting an impatient look at me—at me!—and then at the vintage digital Casio watch on his wrist. “I ain’t got all day, Hank. This broken cloud business has impacted more than just you.”
Grumbling, I moved to follow once more, my sour mood turning bitter. What in the name of mashed potatoes and crickets was his problem with me? We used to get along fine—never good friends, but fine acquaintances. A few years past, I’d become persona non grata. It had happened before the business with Charlotte’s ex and Carli. Whatever it was, I’d have to nail him down about it.
The last person I needed as an enemy—especially seeing as how things were so precarious with the Buckleys, Charlotte, and her kids—was Cletus Winston.
Making a tsking sound, he turned and climbed the stairs. I followed, frustrated but silent. In truth, I was in a hurry. Charlotte hadn’t messaged me after I left her house on Sunday. I’d texted her a few times, tried calling with no answer, and stayed up until almost 3:00 AM, hoping she’d send something. Nope. Nothing.
Inhaling deeply had grown increasingly difficult as her silence stretched. If she doesn’t want to see me again, if I’m not allowed to see or spend time with Kimmy and Sonya and Joshua—
I gave my head a quick shake to clear it, not allowing myself to consider the possibility. If I thought about the possibility, I’d stop breathing all together. Weeks ago, she’d accused me of using wizardry to seduce her, but Charlotte and her kids had been the ones to cast a spell on me. They were magic, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Sonya and her corn cob outfit. It fit, but it could be better. I wanted to add more corn silk.
And then there was Frankie. We still hadn’t been properly introduced. His grandma hadn’t let him go the whole time I’d been making breakfast. What if we never were?
“You’ll need to fill everything out in triplicate this time,” Cletus said mildly. “And the form has been lengthened. I’ll need next of kin information, insurance—auto, property, and health; dental, too, if you have it—as well as a survey completed at the back so we can better meet the needs of our customers.”
“I have things to do, Cletus,” I seethed, but was careful to keep my voice level. “This is not the day for me to fill out forms in triplicate. And I have no interest in completing a survey.” I scowled at his backside.
Was it me, or was he taking a ridiculously long time to climb these stairs? If he went any slower, he’d be going backward.
“You cannot drive off the lot with a car not in your name until we have the proper paperwork on file, Hank Weller. I don't want to be liable for an impromptu trip to Canada.”
Finally, cresting the landing, he paused and withdrew a metal ring that must've held at least a hundred keys.
My eyes swelled. “Jesus, Cletus. Do you need all those keys?”
“No,” he said, flicking through the metal disks slower than he’d climbed the stairs. “Most of these don’t do anything.”
What the hell? “Then why do you carry them?”
“They’re decoys.”
“Decoys? How many do you use?”
Apparently, he found the one he needed. Separating it from the others, he placed his hand on the doorknob. “Five are real, the rest are decoys. Now—oh. Look at that. It was already unlocked.”
My jaw ground together so tight, I was in danger of cracking a filling. What was next? A feather quill to complete the forms in triplicate? Or would he expect me to chisel stone tablets?
He turned the knob and I didn’t know whether to laugh or shout. I was close to doing both, but then the door opened and my gaze immediately connected with Charlotte’s.