“I am,” Melinda said, totally serious.
“Any way I can persuade you not to?”
“Make me a full partner in this one.”
The man looked at her, seeing she was serious. “I’ve thought of that. But 10 P.M. Friday night isn’t the time to discuss it. How about Monday morning?”
“Alan, are you playing games with me?”
“No, I’m trying to protect a business it’s taken me ten years to establish in this town,” the older man said. “If you ever set up shop by yourself, you just might drive me out of business. Now, get the hell out of here, enjoy the weekend, and I’ll talk with you Monday morning.”
“You got it, bossman,” she said giving him a hug.
“Partner,” he corrected. “Now go home and get some rest.”
“Yes, sir!” Melinda saluted him, then left the studio. That familiar hollow feeling returned to her when she closed the door behind her. She glanced at her car, thought of her apartment and shivered. For six months, since the day she left Jace and Susan, she had dreaded returning to the loneliness of her apartment. The only time she seemed to escape the feeling was when she worked.
“Friday night, the weekend,” she said aloud to herself when she climbed into the car and started it. “A girl shouldn’t be alone on the weekend.”
She pulled from the parking lot and wheeled onto the street. At first, she thought she would eventually adjust to Jace’s rejection, that they might be able to live as a normal brother and sister. But since Jace’s marriage four months ago, her brother had grown even more distant. She hadn’t seen him in three months and he seemed happy with things that way.
Melinda remembered her numerous ventures to the town’s few singles bars. She didn’t mind finding a man for a one-night stand. She was a healthy woman who needed and enjoyed sex — hell, she loved it. But, to date, the singles bars hadn’t produced one man. Sure she found partners to share her bed for a night, but they weren’t men. They were boys, caring little that they satisfied her, only that they had a vagina to blow their loads into. She only made her way to the disco scene now when that deep itchy urge between her thighs could no longer be eased with a dildo.
Jace, and then Robert, and their similar sexual appetites had spoiled her. She couldn’t be satisfied by a male who simply climbed atop her naked body and humped his cock into her cunt until he came. She needed more, needed a real man.
Deciding to take a shortcut home, she wheeled her car through the town’s business district. The office buildings loomed above her; the streets were deserted. The scene only added to her depressed mood.
She wished she were back at school. There, at least, she had an easy way to meet men. The business world, especially the world of photographers only provided an endless line of males who were interested in a quickie fuck to boost their male egos. She didn’t mind married men. She did mind the impression they always left that they were doing something dirty, something wicked. Sex wasn’t dirty to her and she didn’t like helping them participate in their little games.
The engine of her car coughed and sputtered. Then it died.
Melinda eased the gliding car over to the curb and parked. Repeatedly she tried to start the motor, but with no success. Finally giving up, she glanced around her. The emptiness of the streets brought an unreasoning chill to her spine.
At the end of the block came a dim light from a telephone booth. She remembered all the safety rules about driver in distress, but she didn’t feel like waiting in the car until some patrol car came by. She didn’t want to spend the night locked in the car worrying about muggers and rapists. Setter to call a service station and get some help.
Checking her purse, she found three quarters, enough for three calls. Sucking in a deep breath and trying to banish images of assailants hiding in the shadows, she walked to the phone.
“Sorry, lady, we can’t help you,” the first service station attendant said. “We are only a self-service station.”
The second refused to help, explaining he closed in five minutes and didn’t have an assistant to leave at the station while he drove to find her.
Looking at her last quarter, Melinda ran her finger over the service stations listed in the yellow pages. None of them seemed to offer a promise of aid. It wasn’t worth the risk of wasting her last quarter. She bit her lower lip and decided to do what she dreaded.
Depositing her last quarter, she dialed Jace’s number.
The phone rang once, twice, three times. Melinda felt her stomach sink.
What if Susan and Jace were in the city, or out to a movie.
Four, five. Maybe Alan was still at the office? Six, seven.
“Hello,” a man’s voice came over the receiver.
“Jace,” she said, feeling uneasy about talking with her brother, “this is Melinda, my car’s broken down near the corner of Wattson and Green. I can’t get a wrecker out to help me.”
“Who is this? I missed your name?”
“Who is this?” Melinda realized she wasn’t talking with Jace. “Is this the Tuning residence?”
“Yes, this is Phil Howard, Susan’s brother,” the voice said. “Jace and Susan are in the city for the evening. They won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.”
“Oh,” Melinda mumbled.
“Who is this?” Phil Howard asked again.
“Melinda… Melinda Tuning, Jace’s sister,” she said, trying to think of something to do.
“And your car’s broke down at the corner of Watson and Green,” he said. “If you don’t mind a stranger helping out, I’d be glad to stand in for Jace. I’m not a super mechanic, but I’d be glad to see what I can do.”
“Mr. Howard, I really don’t want to bother you,” Melinda replied. “Perhaps if you could call…”
“No problem at all,” he cut in. “Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll be over. See you.”
“Mr. Howard,” she started to say and was answered by a click on the other end of the line. With a doubtful shake of her head, Melinda walked back to the car to wait.
Melinda studied the man working under the hood of her car by the beam of a flashlight. A thick mop of deep, red hair framed a very handsome face. He looked up at her and smiled.
“You’ve got carburetor trouble. Your engine is flooding out. I can’t do much except blow out the excess gas right now. It needs a carburetor kit,” he said. “Trouble is until this is fixed, it will keep dying.”
“But can you get it started?” she asked.
“I think so. When I get this gas out of here, we’ll give it a try.” He leaned into the engine and tinkered some more. “Sorry I took so long getting here. But in my haste to play the white knight, I forgot I didn’t know my way around the town. I had to find a gas station that was open this late and get directions.”
She smiled. “I’m just sorry you had to go to so much trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” he answered, rising and wiping his hands on a soiled rag. “I was going stir-crazy with Susan and Jace gone. I think you can start it now.”
Melinda handed him the flashlight and slipped behind the wheel. She turned the key in the ignition. The engine turned over a couple times, then caught.
“Keep your foot on the gas,” Phil warned as he closed the hood. “If you don’t, it’s liable to flood again.”
“If it does, what do I do?” she asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “I’ll be right behind you. I’m going to follow you to your home just to make sure you get there.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she protested, feeling a bit embarrassed by the whole situation.
“Yes, I do,” he insisted. “This carburetor is in bad shape.”
She nodded, realizing he wouldn’t be put off. Phil climbed into his car and waved her on.
Without incident, Melinda pulled into her apartment complex parking lot at midnight. Phil wheeled in behind her. Climbing from her car, she walked to his.
“I don’t know how to thank you, Mr. Howard,” she said. “I really felt helpless.”
“You can start by calling me Phil,” he said. “After all, we’re sort of relatives now.”