The 'Cousins'

Part Twenty-Three: Melissa Spreads a Rumour.

Timeline: Late Afternoon, Thursday, 19th April. We join Greg as he drives home from Larksville in the truck he's just bought from Al Yocum's garage.

Al Yocum and his team had made a good job of servicing the F-350, it ran and smelled as sweet as a mountain stream on its new tyres. They had not only serviced the vehicle, but cleaned it up inside and out. The throaty roar of the engine seemed to echo the truck's pleasure at its new lease on life. It was as if it felt good about itself again, like a horse after a careful grooming. Greg switched the radio to a country music station and the swish of the tyres accompanied Dolly Parton as she sang 'Jolene'. The truck seemed happy and with the sun lowering in the sky, casting longer shadows from the West, Greg too felt more at ease.

It had been a full and memorable day starting out with meeting the mayor in the morning and finishing up with Bill Elbury shocking him by revealing he was almost a dollar millionaire in the afternoon.

Greg felt a twinge of pique that Wayne Fisher felt he was being held back by their contract. Greg's mind could see himself again the day they signed. He had forced his own way on the deal, on the grounds that he was taking the biggest risk by putting his money into an unproven venture. Wayne was thereafter meant to stay beholden in gratitude to him forever, to jump when Greg said jump. After all said and done he, Greg Mitchell, was the big man; everybody else took a secondary place. It had been the way Greg was, and how he had always worked. He couldn't remember now why he had been in such a hurry to get this particular deal completed, but he had forced the pace on the final negotiations and not taken any 'No's' or 'Maybe's. Greg recalled he had dressed the part of a youthful business tycoon in a tailored summer suit with silk shirt, matching tie and Italian shoes. He relived the thrill of the kill remembering how he had twisted the last dime of benefit for himself out of the deal and screwed the operation down tight; to exercise a level of control his minimal investment in loans and shares did not truthfully warrant. Greg had put seventy-five grand into the business with another five grand spent in legal fees. Wayne had put everything he had including himself into it and turned Greg's investment into more than ten times that amount in only 2 years. Greg had not considered Wayne personally or for that matter any of the other people with whom he had conducted business before. For Greg, the deal alone was what mattered. His concern for any other parties involved was merely whether or not he considered them capable of delivering their part of the bargain. It was small wonder Wayne wanted out of their contract; it had to be stifling him.

'What a bloody pompous, self-indulgent cretin you were that day Mitchell.' Greg mumbled under his breath and cringed with embarrassment at the memory of the person he had been just a short time ago. Jess floated next into his thoughts and Greg wondered if meeting Jess had changed his views on life generally.

He definitely saw things differently now after his divorce. He had no inclination to make deals for their own sake anymore or only for the benefit people who did not deserve the rewards that followed his successful endeavours. The buzz wasn't with him any longer. Instead, he seemed drawn more towards fixing deals that knocked down the barriers that held people like Jess back in life; folks that deserved better fortune than fate or circumstance was handing them. He savoured the genuine pleasure he found he could bring to others now- like the big-eyed, grateful smiles that Jess gave him. Of course he would change the contract with Wayne. The thought that there was also a job for him at Fisher's was exciting- a big job, one that he could do. Living in Florida could be great; maybe he could take Jess down there with him and the boy could finish his education in the Sunshine State? It was a great idea.

Greg was getting carried away with himself and quickly dismissed these day dreams and flights of fancy as he approached the lines of chicken sheds on the northern outskirts of Bamptonville. Here he met up with a line of slow moving traffic and needed to concentrate on his driving.