Taken By a Mafia King

I'm lying on the couch, watching my favorite series for the hundredth time, when someone knocks. I glance at the time – it's almost midnight. Who could that be? I pause the DVD player, annoyed that I've missed my favorite scene. "Who is it?" I ask, checking the clock above the TV again. "We're looking for the mechanic," a male voice replies. "Come back tomorrow at 10 am. It's almost midnight. I closed the workshop almost 5 hours ago," I respond. There's silence. Who needs a car mechanic at this ungodly hour? Just as I'm about to press play, there's a loud knock on the door. I've told my neighbors countless times not to direct people to my house. Stupid neighbors. "Open the damn door. We need to see the mechanic," a deep voice growls. If I wasn't so annoyed, I'd almost be charmed by it. "Come back tomorrow at 10 am. I'll see what I can do, since regular clients have booked appointments," I reply. "Open the damn door, young lady," the voice threatens, but I'm not having it. Just because they're going to pay me doesn't mean they can disrespect me like that. I press play and watch my favorite scene, but they continue banging on the door. I'm so fed up; if I had a gun, I'd open the door and shoot and kill the guy. I walk over to the door, and as soon as I open it, the atmosphere changes. A tall, powerful guy is standing there, looking at me like he's about to explode. He's so annoyed that if he was a cartoon character, I'd see smoke coming out of his ears, but guess what? I'm also pissed. "How can I help you, mister?" I ask him. "I need to see the mechanic, right now," he commands. "You're looking at the mechanic, and I told you to come back tomorrow morning at 10 am. Which part do you find hard to understand? You look like a clever guy," I reply, really pissed. He doesn't answer; instead, I hear someone laughing. "I'm not here for your stupid games. I said I need to see the mechanic," he growls, still looking pissed and very handsome, I must say. "Come back tomorrow; I need to rest," I tell him, closing the door, but he blocks it with his expensive shoe. Rich people think they can order us around just because they're loaded. "Hello. My friend here doesn't know how to speak. We're on our way to Free State. We have a very important meeting, and our car broke down. We really need your help. We have to be there by 10 am, so can you kindly call the mechanic for us?" he says, smiling. "I'm the mechanic," I reply. I get that a lot. A 24-year-old female mechanic isn't common. "Okay, can you please help us?" he asks, smiling like he doesn't believe me. "Okay, let me change into my overalls. Give me 5 minutes," I say. If he hadn't asked so nicely, I wouldn't have helped them. "I'm not going to allow you to fix my car," Mr. Deep Voice comments when I'm heading to my room. I change and take the car keys; I'm not going to use their car. I don't even know why I'm going with them at this time of night. I take my dad's Toyota Tazz and tell them to follow me. Ten minutes later, I open the roller door at the garage. They drive in, and I'm surprised to see a Toyota Conquest. No wonder it's giving them problems; these cars are very old. I turn to the driver, since he's the one driving; he'll tell me what's up. I look at the car because the driver doesn't know what's wrong. It's the starter. They're so lucky I have new starters here because most of my clients drive this model, and their most common problem is the starter, so to make things simple, I buy a lot of starters for them. "Here's your check," the driver tells me, handing it over. I'm so pissed that I don't even look at it; I put it in my pocket. They leave; I lock up and head home. As soon as I get home, I head straight to my room and fall asleep immediately.