The 'Cousins'

Part Fifteen: Greg Finds his Reason and Makes Plans

A/N: This is a rather short chapter that concludes the scene where Jess ran out of Greg's motel room. I wish to dedicate this to Haylee, who says she lives in the bush in Australia who is not only a good writer, but made me a fine book cover for a book of short stories.

The idea did not arrive suddenly; it seeped slowly into Greg's consciousness.  But It was ideal, so perfect a reason that he immediately seized and clung on to it.  He had found the answer to his and Jess’s question.  Greg felt the blood pound in his ears as he said loudly,  ‘I am doing this because I was shafted big time by the Bailey’s and I know somebody or some people are trying to shaft Jess.'  Greg clenched his fist and almost shouted,  ‘and that, I will not let happen!’ 

Greg tingled all over with resolution. He now knew why he was doing this and it was as much for himself as it was for Jess.  In a strange way he felt it would right the wrong done to him by his ex-wife and her family.

The buzzing of his cell phone disrupted his introspection and he rushed over to the table by the door to ferret for the instrument among the jumble where he emptied his pockets on coming into the room.   Greg picked up his phone hoping for a call from Jess; only to scowl when he saw it was a confusing text from Bill Elbury. ‘X4gt WnFshr B’      

Greg pondered this gibberish with dismay, muttering through his teeth. ‘Why the hell doesn’t he phone?’  

Greg was ‘old school’ and had not brought the text-abbreviated lexicon into his regular communications.  He preferred to make a call, to speak to somebody rather than send these soulless text messages.  His initial annoyance dissipated in a wry smile a few seconds later when Bill’s message finally became clear to him ‘ Don’t forget Wayne Fisher, Bill.’  

Greg now had something positive to occupy his mind.  He pulled his small, black address book from his briefcase to find Wayne’s number and tap it into his keypad. He smiled sardonically when Wayne’s familiar southern drawl answered his call.

‘Wayne Fisher.’

‘Wayne it’s Greg, Greg Mitchell.’

They exchanged banter and pleasantries for several minutes before becoming serious when Greg outlined his plan. Greg asked for Wayne’s help and advice in setting up a bio-diesel plant in Bamptonville.  He was completely open about giving Wayne a full account of his intentions. He mocked Wayne for his manner of speech, but he fully respected the southerner as an astute and competent businessman; more than that, he was an acquaintance that enjoyed Greg’s respect. Greg heard a whistling in his earpiece as Wayne exhaled and  asked.

‘Let me get this right. You want me to help you set up a bio-diesel plant for you to give to a kid you bumped in your car so he can run it and put himself through College?’   Put like that it sounded odd to Greg, even more so when he heard Wayne’s next question.

‘.. am I to understand you’ve not met this kid before you bumped him, so you don’t know anything about him, his family or even if he wants to do this kind of work?’

Greg gulped and began to feel a little silly as he replied. ‘Well Yeah! I suppose that’s what it amounts to.’  Greg heard the whistling sound in his ear again, louder this time before Wayne replied.

‘My God, what’s happened to you man?  Are you sick or something? Where’s the steel-hearted entrepreneur we all know and detest so much?  You sound almost human.’

Greg shuffled his feet in discomfort, some of his hardness returned.

‘OK, OK, enough of the psychoanalysis. Can you help me or do I have to get heavy with you.’  Wayne laughed.