Few Kinds of Wrong Read Online Free PDF Page A

simple about a keyless entry problem,” Bryce said, straightening up. “That’s a complicated system. Could be one of a dozen things.”
    â€œReally?” The question surprised me. I didn’t think he knew enough even to question Bryce on the keyless entry.
    Bryce looked Jamie up and down, from the tip of his shiny leather loafers to the white collar on his perfectly pressed shirt. “We’ll start with the oil. We’ll change that then see where we go from there. That’s always your first check with a keyless entry problem.”
    As I watched Bryce talk to Jamie, I noticed three guys come up behind them, standing there with grins on their faces. Jamie was nodding to Bryce while Ray, Alan, and Rick were all looking at the same spark plug Alan was holding while looking at Bryce from the corners of their eyes. I walked over to see the same spark plug. Jamie turned to watch me.
    â€œHow’s the gap there?” I asked Alan and smiled. Stupid question no one ever asks a mechanic. That’s why we have feeler gauges to measure the gaps in spark plugs, but I was sure Jamie didn’t know that. I’d have been shocked if Jamie even knew the thing Alan was holding was called a spark plug.
    â€œLooking good,” Alan said and winked.
    We all stared at the spark plug but I watched Jamie too. He was still looking at me, at least until Bryce smacked him on the arm.
    â€œYou want to do this or not?” Bryce asked, making Jamie turn back to him.
    â€œOh, yeah. Sorry.”
    â€œI’d check the gear oil too,” Rick said. “Goddamned dirty old thing to do, but I’ve seen that fuck up a keyless entry system before.”
    Three and a half hours later, Jamie’s perfect outfit was blotched with oil and sweat and he smelled like he’d taken a bath in gasoline and gear oil. Bryce had told him there were no extra coveralls for him to wear.
    â€œNow, I think we should replace the battery in the remote transmitter,” Bryce said.
    â€œWhat?” Jamie asked.
    â€œMost likely the battery in the transmitter needs to be replaced.”
    Jamie turned when he heard us laughing. For a second he looked hurt, but only for a second, before his big, Jamie grin came back on his face.
    â€œSure.” He nodded. “The battery. Of course.” His smile broadened. He turned so he addressed Bryce and the rest of us too. “You know I could have just replaced the battery, but I learned how to change the oil, and checked the gear oil, and bled the brakes. Thanks, Bryce. I’m learning a lot.”
    In my bay I wipe my hand on my coveralls then pick up a wrench. “It’s all that good stuff that pisses me off. It makes it hard to hate him. And Nan loves him so much. I bet he made her happy with his visits.” I look straight at Bryce. “Why can’t he change into someone awful?”
    â€œHe’s not going to change. Maybe you’ll have to.” And Bryce is gone, walking back to the office before I can reply. My voice of reason and of few words.
    I decide to let this one go, not even to mention Jamie’s visits to Nan when I see Mom again. They all expect me to be upset and I won’t give them the satisfaction. I don’t have to feel angry about every little thing he does. I realize my hand hurts and look down to see that my hand is clasped around the wrench so tightly it’s digging into my fingers.
    If variety is the spice of life then I must lead a bland existence. A creature of habit, Dad called me. Set in my ways, Jamie’s always said of me. No matter what you label it, I work all day during the week from eight to whenever I finish up, except for my standing date with Nan on Tuesday afternoons. Saturday mornings I work until noon then have brunch with the girls at Bernie’s Pub and Restaurant. Sunday afternoons I visit Mom, at least since Dad passed away.
    The only difference in my schedule now is that I go out