Chapter 18
Logan
Iknock on the door to Mrs.Borst’s breezeway where she has her upholstery shop, and wait a few moments before she opens the door. She stares at me through the screen with a hard look on her face.
“You didn’t take me not answering your calls as a response?”
Shit. I decide to play dumb.
“I thought you might not have heard the phone ring, ma’am.”
“I heard it. I have that caller ID thingy, so I was screening.”
Not a good sign. Time to cut to the chase.
“What do I need to do to get this interior and upholstery finished on time, Mrs.Borst? You going to up the price on me after we already made a deal?”
She shakes her head, her steel-gray curls not budging an inch. “Not for all the money in the world am I touching those panels or seats until your little hussy of a girlfriend apologizes to my cousin and second cousin for what she said about my godson being inbred. That wasn’t Minnie’s fault. She didn’t know she and Lyle were related until after she was pregnant.”
Fucking hell. “With all due respect, ma’am, that has nothing to do with the job you said you’d finish for me.”
She crosses her arms, thimble still on her bony finger. “That’s where you’re wrong. No apology, no job.”
I want to grab the old woman by the shoulders and shake her, but there’s no way I’d ever put my hands on a woman in anger. If I didn’t believe in that right down to the marrow of my bones, I would have decked Tricia myself for the shit she was spewing at Banner.
“The job for the apology. That’s your stipulation?”
“That’s right. And since you said you need this stuff pretty danged quick, you don’t have a lot of time to waste screwing around.”
“I’ll take everything I brought you back right now, and we’re done.”
Her jaw drops open.
There’s no way in hell I’m going to ask Banner to apologize to Tricia, especially not with the black eye Banner had to work hard to cover up this morning.
“What?” Mrs. Borst’s tone isn’t nearly as forceful as it was only moments ago.
“You weren’t there, and I’m sure the story you got from Tricia wasn’t the whole truth. If it was, you’d realize you’re burning a bridge that doesn’t need to be burned.”
Her brows wing down into a deep vee. “You need me more than I need you, Brantley. Don’t forget about that. Who else do you think can upholster your fancy car seats and fix up those interior pieces in this short of time for this price?”
“I guess I’m about to find out, ma’am, because I’ll no longer be needing your services. I’ll take my property now and pay you for what you did, but we’re done.”
“Five hundred dollars and you can take them.”
“Let me see how much you finished first.”
She steps aside, and I walk into the breezeway to see the pieces of the car interior all over the breezeway workshop.
I cut my gaze to her. “You did the panels and one seat? And you want five hundred dollars?”
She shrugs. “I did the dash too. Don’t forget that. The rest is for sunk costs.”
Keeping my temper in check, I pull out my wallet and peel off the cash. It’s a hit to my budget, but the project is too important to risk.
Mrs. Borst tucks the bills away. “Go on and get your crap out of my workshop.” She spins on the heel of her house shoes and leaves the breezeway to head inside the house.
I load all the pieces into the back of my truck before covering them with a tarp, all the while cussing her up and down in my head.So much for being a professional, Mrs.Borst.