The 'Cousins'

Part Seventy-Eight: The Wheel's Turn.

Donovan threw back his head and roared with laughter. "Mayor Fawley, that's a joke for sure. Where's Walt now?"

"Chad thinks he's in the motel."

Donovan rose from the desk speaking while he walked to his own office. "You can't say this is a normal day. We'll need to run the office between us Maisie until we get a replacement for Tod. You OK for now?'

"Sure chief, no problems."

"Good girl," Donovan closed the door to his own office behind him. Maisie stood staring at the closed door. Cold. Icy. Unconvinced.

                                                   *   *   *

With so much to catch up on together over the past two years and even more to talk about the future developments of Fishers, the truck's cab was eerily quiet regarding conversation. The only sounds were the swish of the tires on the tarmac, the roar of the 7-litre engine and a rattle of a clipboard in a door pocket. Wayne sat back in the passenger seat looking fixedly forwards while Greg over-concentrated his attention on negotiating the slip roads to bring them westbound on the I-80. They knew there were important matters to discuss, but were both wary of making the wrong overture.

Greg settled the truck into the middle lane; nose to tail traffic ahead, behind and either side of them. Wayne eventually broke the awkward silence.

"Look at all that traffic. All of it burning oil, fossil fuel!  And every time they add a new lane to the freeways, General Motors push out another million cars to fill it up just as quick."

Greg entered the spirit of Wayne's argument. "That's why the oil lobby over here is the strongest of them all. You're not going to change it. The lobby has its very own President in George Dubbya."

It was meant as a light-hearted comment; however it raised no smirk from Wayne who lifted a finger to point upwards to stress his next opinion. 

"But it all has to change. Oil's running out and we have to find an alternative energy source, one that won't muss up the climate. We can't live like ostriches with our heads in the sand for much longer."

The heaviness of the atmosphere in the cab increased. Greg thought Wayne was referring to converting waste cooking oil as an answer to the problem, but he did not reply; expressing in a toneless whistle his surprise at the vehemence of Wayne's retort. The Floridian picked up on it and playfully punched Greg's arm.

"Sorry about that. It gets me going. Before we hit the freeway slip roads and traffic back there you were about to tell me how you quit seafaring and took up business."  Wayne's tone was friendly and the atmosphere lightened a little.

"Quite a lucky break really. I was already disenchanted with sea-life and thinking about doing something else without knowing what. I fancied myself as a JR Ewing wheeler dealer."

Wayne laughed and began humming the theme tune from the Dallas TV show to show that he was relaxing.

"On my last ship I was big-buddies with a guy called Graham. He was the other deck cadet and a year younger than me. It was a real shit-house of a ship that one, badly maintained, old unreliable equipment, every day brought a new situation and we cadets got the worst of everything. We became real close, like brothers, but more so. We were always together. Look for one of us and you'd find both."

"How did Graham get you into business if you were both in the same boat at the same time."

"Patience, I'm coming to that. Graham's father had built a successful trading business from nothing and wanted Graham to come into it after he left school. Graham had other ideas; he wanted independence and reckoned he'd found it at sea. He had his own reasons for wanting to be on his own and away from his family."