Free A Place Called Wiregrass by Michael Morris Page B

engine drew kids from every corner.
    Looking at Miss Claudia’s big Lincoln parked in my driveway, I couldn’t help but think how out of place such luxury looked at Westgate Trailer Park. Half of my home was the same size as that car.
    When I had shaken my head no to Miss Claudia’s first offer, she stood firm. “Mercy, Erma Lee. If I can’t do this, what can I do? Me with this bum hip, how much driving you think I’ll be doing?” With a toss of the keys she sealed the deal. “You’re taking the car, and that’s all there is to it.”
    “Well, hey, Gerald,” Kasi said as she slipped through the growing throng of kids.
    He nodded and, without looking back up, asked, “Where’s your old man hiding these days?”
    She took a deep drag off her cigarette and bent down to the side mirror on the door of my Monte Carlo. “He’s working a job up in Huntsville. Getting paid time and a half. I told him just keep them checks coming, baby,” she said, stretching the ends of her platinum hair.
    Gerald ignored Kasi, and she eventually slid over towards Cher and me. “Cher, baby, why don’t you run over and help Laurel get ready for skating?”
    Cher looked at her and then glanced at me. I knew she didn’t want Kasi to know I had to give my permission first.
    When she walked in front of the kids gathered on the street, Cher flung her hair over her shoulder and never said a word. I worried she was getting a big head because we had that shiny Lincoln parked in our lot.
    Kasi stood next to me dragging on a cigarette and pulling at her denim miniskirt. The diesel engine of the tow truck hummed along with the crickets of early evening. The noisy mixture made me nervous, and I tried to think of somethingto say to Kasi. I never did know how to act around women like her, the flirty kind that hid behind a pile of makeup and had big breasts that hung out every which a way.
    “He’ll fix it up for you now.” She laid hard on the word now and took another drag. “Me and Ricky met him down at the Moose Lodge one night,” Kasi said while smoke escaped her black-lined lips. “He sure can dance. Gerald I mean, not Ricky.”
    “I hope it won’t cost me a pile of money,” I whispered.
    “He’ll do you right. He’s fast with his hands.”
    I shot my eyes towards Kasi, wondering if she was talking from personal experience.
    “Works on them cars day and night,” she added.
    “I expect his wife gets tired of all that working.” I shocked myself by bringing up the mechanic’s home life. It was at times like this when I wished I was equipped with a built-in tape recorder and could recapture dumb words by pressing a rewind button.
    Another long drag on the cigarette, and then her head flung backwards as though she was looking for the first evening star. Oh great, I thought. Now she’s going to make it worse by asking me if I’m interested. I hated games women like her played.
    “You’re not going to believe this. He’s a widow,” Kasi said. Rings of smoke escaped with each word.
    “Widower?”
    “You know, his wife died. He won’t talk about it. And all Miss Trellis would say is that it was tragic.” Another long dramatic drag of nicotine. “You know how the old bat is, making you beg for answers. Well, she can kiss my tail before I beg anything out of her grubby little mouth. You heard what she done when Laurel rode her bike up by the office the other day? She went and…”
    “I believe that’s got it.”
    I didn’t even hear him walk up. He was wiping his hands together, I guess hoping the grease would somehow disappear. Fearing he heard my earlier comments about his marital status, I felt a streak of heat roll up my neck.
    “You got my work numbers to call when it’s ready?” I was busy pulling my ponytail across the base of my neck. Not allowing myself to look at his walnut-shaped eyes, I looked down at the circle of dirt he was standing in.
    When he casually walked away, he stuck his hand up in the air and