Christmas Boss

Chapter Three

They turned the corner where vehicles were being weighed. "Each one is weighed going in and then again going out, once the vehicles have been unloaded and the difference is subtracted. They're handed a ticket which they then take to the cashier where their ID is scanned and if they check out, they're handed cold, hard, cash."

He whistled. "Wow."

She nodded. "Yes, we're a cash intensive business. The trick is never to run out of money."

"Aren't you afraid of getting robbed?"

"We have several security measures in place—an undercover security guard and working cameras. We do thorough background checks and mandatory drug tests on potential hires with random checks as needed throughout employment. The police come by often. Honesty and integrity are very desirable virtues in a business like this."

In the line and to their left, was a red Ford truck with a trailer hooked to the back of it. Both the truck and trailer were piled sky-high with nothing but ancient vacuum cleaners of every make and model. Bungee cords were laced through them, securing the load.

Vivacious pointed. "Notice anything weird about those old vacuum cleaners?"

Tim frowned. "No. Should I?"

"Their electric cords are cut off. Smart scrappers separate their metals. I'm pretty sure their next load will be nothing but vacuum power cords. We buy the cords as number two copper wire which is worth more than steel. And if they really wanted more bang for their buck, they'd bust those suckers open and get the motors out. Motors get more than steel too—actually everything gets more than steel. But it's a lot of work busting open that many vacuums. So there you go. That's the beauty of metals—it's all about what you're willing to put in or not. Either way, you make money."

The truck's driver honked at them and the two occupants waved. Vivacious waved but kept walking.

"Should have known that was Marc and Charlene. They're some of our best customers. One day when they first started coming in, Marc was overpaid for a load. Marc could have kept the money and no one would have been the wiser. But he didn't keep it. Instead, he showed Herbie the error and gave him the overage back. His honesty endeared Marc to Herbie forever and solidified Marcus's reputation as a man to be trusted. So we give Marc and Charlene corporate rates for their metals."

"Outstanding."

"Isn't it? I'm of the opinion that honesty should be rewarded."

They entered the building where forklifts darted back and forth, beeping little horns whenever they had to back up. The place was alive with action. A big, yellow tabby ambled their way. Stripping off her glove and stooping down, Vivacious made coo-coo sounds and snapped her fingers. "C'mere Sunshine. How's my girl? Catch any mice today?"

Totally ignoring her, Sunshine sashayed over to Tim, curling her tail sensuously around his leg. He bent down and ran a hand across the soft fur. "Hey, sweetheart. Aren't you just a pretty little thing? Yes, you are, yes, you are."

Sunshine should feel ashamed for throwing herself at that man. And listen to that embarrassingly loud purr—no pride, Vivacious thought irritably. Miffed and feeling a tad bit childish, she said, "She smells Herbie on you. She's his cat. That's the only reason she's that friendly. Usually she wouldn't have anything to do with you."

Tim gave her a smug, knowing look as he picked up Sunshine. Holding her in his strong arms, he stroked her head and Sunshine purred even louder, the pink tongue lolling out of her feline mouth in shameless pleasure.

Little hussy! "Okay, Tim, play time's over—we've got work to do." She tried to take the cat out of his arms. Unfortunately, Sunshine was having none of that. She hissed and clawed at her, growling deep in her throat, warning Vivacious to leave her alone.

"Let me put her down before you hurt her," Timothy said.

"Hurt her? She was trying to hurt me! If I weren't wearing gloves, my hands would be shredded to ribbons by now."

Once on the ground, Sunshine hissed at Vivacious again and then scampered away.

"Are you always this jealous?"

That stopped her and it also made her mad. "Jealous? Why would I be jealous over a stupid cat? This is a place of employment not a petting zoo. Come on."

Ignoring his chuckle, she followed the dull sound of heavy metal hitting heavy metal and came upon an older man tossing forty pound motors into a steel bin like they were Frisbees.

She stood off to the side, waiting for him to notice them. When he did, he cried, "Baby! You're late. Didn't think you'd come and see about me."

"You know better," she said and gave him a warm hug. "Tim, this is Herbie. He's the one who lent you the fancy clothes. He's also the yard manager."

They shook hands. Tim said, "Not my usual style but I thank you anyway."

"Tim doesn't like getting his hands dirty," Vivacious cut in.

Herbie rocked back on his heels. "Is that so?"

She was pleased to see the blush blooming on his cheeks. He said, "That's a bit of an exaggeration, I'm afraid."

"He likes office work." She let that sink in before adding, "By the way, he's taking over until Gert gets back."

"So I heard." News travelled fast in her close-knit facility. Herbie looked Tim up and down. "We really could use a man like you in the yard. Sure you wanna be stuck in the office?"

Vivacious grabbed Tim's arm and started dragging him away as she tossed over her shoulder, "Sorry, I've got dibs on him." She led him to a long workbench and tossed a pair of gloves at him which he caught with ease. "Put those on."

Holding up one of the gloves, his nose wrinkled in distaste. "You expect me to wear these?"

"Keeps your hands from getting dirty—well sometimes—and that's what you want though, right? Clean hands?"

"We haven't finished the tour. Why do I need work gloves?"

Vivacious picked up a screwdriver. "You're going to break down an old-fashioned rotary phone that one of my neighbors gave me. I'll show you how to separate the different metals—"

"Me?"

"Yes, you. And oh, here's a—" She reached around his big body and got a delicious whiff of man scent. She cleared her throat. "A magnet—the metal recycler's best friend. Tells the difference between ferrous and nonferrous."

"Uh, Miss Cruise, I really need to get back to the office. Gert wants to show me how to do payroll."

"Sorry, but anyone who works here must know how to do a breakdown. It'll give you a better understanding of metals and how they function in the many everyday products we use. Don't worry, I'll be right here, directing you every step of the way." She had to admit that she was enjoying his discomfiture. Mr. Pretty Boy.

Resigned to his fate and not looking too happy about it either, he shoved the gloves over his big hands. "Okay, you're the boss."

She smiled wickedly. "And don't you forget it."

"I'm sure you won't let me."

###

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