We'll see about that. C. Curtis. " Apparently his wife hadn't taken the video and he was looking to share the misery. I was actually impressed that he'd managed to spell everything correctly. I just finished my second cup when Tyler's motorcycle rumbled into the driveway.
He was alone this time, wearing a grin that suggested trouble was about to become my new hobby. "Uncle Nick, you need to see this. " He handed me his phone, showing Curtis's Facebook page. There was a long post about psychotic ex-husbands and dangerous individuals who threaten innocent people. According to Curtis's version of events, I was an unstable veteran I had never served with anger management issues, probably accurate, who had threatened to eliminate him and his girlfriend. Creative interpretation.
"He's trying to get ahead of the story," Tyler explained, "make himself look like the sufferer. " "How's that working out for him? " Tyler scrolled down to the comments. They were brutal. Apparently, being caught on video at a cheap motel doesn't generate much sympathy, even when you're claiming to be the sufferer. "People aren't buying it, but he's got some supporters, mostly other cheating husbands, looks like. " I handed the phone back. "Time for phase two. " Curtis owned Brennan Motors, a used car lot on the south side of town that specialized in selling overpriced vehicles to people with bad credit and worse judgment.
It was the kind of place that advertised no credit, no problem, and meant yes, credit problems, yes, our problem now. I drove over there in my old Dodge, the engine making that grinding noise that sounded like my marriage dying in slow motion. The lot was full of cars that had seen better decades, all sporting bright yellow price tags that probably violated several consumer protection laws. Curtis was in his office, visible through the big glass windows that faced the lot. He was on the phone, gesturing wildly with his free hand.
Probably talking to a lawyer about restraining orders and maltreatment charges. I parked right in front of his office and got out slowly, making sure he could see me coming. His face went pale when he spotted me through the window. He said something quick into the phone and hung up. The office door had a little bell that chimed when I opened it.
Curtis was standing behind his desk like it was a fortress, his hands shaking slightly. "You can't be here," he said. "I'll call the police. " "This is a public business," I replied, looking around at the cheap furniture and motivational posters. "I'm a potential customer. " "What do you want? " I sat down in the chair across from his desk, taking my time to get comfortable. "I want to buy a car, something reliable, something that won't break down when I need it most. " Curtis's eye twitched.
"We don't have anything in your price range. " "You don't know my price range. " "Look, Nick, I'm sorry about how things happened, but Amber and I we're in love, real love, something you probably wouldn't understand. " I leaned back in the chair. "Real love? Is that what you call afternoon motels and lying to your wife? " "My marriage was over long before I met Amber. " "Funny, your wife seemed pretty surprised by that video. " Curtis's face flushed red. "You had no right to film us. That was a private moment. " "In a public parking lot, at a motel, in broad daylight. " I stood up slowly.
"Nothing private about it. " "What do you want from me? " I walked over to the window that looked out on the car lot. Curtis's pride and joy was parked right outside. A restored 1969 Camaro SS, cherry red with racing stripes. He'd spent 2 years working on that car, according to the local newspaper article that had featured him as businessman of the month last year. "Nice car," I said.