Part 2Ex-Wife Mocked Me for Being a Mechanic, I Crashed Her Stock

With the extra position on, David gripped his phone and fanned the air in front of his nose in disgust.

"That cheap motor oil smell is genuinely nauseating."

He looked around, his gaze sweeping over the spotless street and the planted median beside it.

"Fixing a leaking wreck like this in a neighborhood like this is a blight on the community."

David turned toward the corner, where a municipal patrol officer stood in uniform.

He raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

The officer had been making his rounds. One look at David and the brand-new convertible behind him, and he came over at a jog.

"Sir, is there something I can help you with?"

David pointed at me.

"Get this mechanic out of here. He's blocking the road illegally, there's oil all over the ground, and he's ruining the quality of life for taxpayers like us."

The officer's face went stiff and official. He turned and marched over to me.

"Sir, this is an upscale business district. Private roadside repairs are prohibited. I need your license, registration, and proof of insurance right now."

He pulled a citation pad and pen off his belt, all business.

I fished out a black leather wallet and slid out my license, registration, and insurance card.

As the documents came free, the corner of a stiff card came with them.

It bore the supercar maker's gold-foil emblem and, in small type, the words Owner Certification.

I handed the documents over.

"The car had a temporary fault. It will start in a minute."

Sarah took a step forward on her stiletto heels and let out a shrill laugh.

"Still putting on an act to dodge a fine? That heap was probably cobbled together from junkyard parts, and you expect us to believe it'll be running any minute. If you ask me, he deserves the maximum fine on the books!"

The officer took the documents, glanced at the name on the license, Leo Carter, and started scribbling on the citation pad.

He tore off a copy and slapped it against my windshield.

"Illegal obstruction and damage to the public environment. Six hundred dollars. You have ten minutes to move this car or I'm calling the city tow truck."

The bystanders who had been busy in their trading apps burst out laughing.

The middle-aged woman covered her mouth, delighted. "Six hundred? Is everything he's wearing even worth sixty?"

A young man in a suit shook his head.

"Just move it already. Don't jinx the rest of us standing here.

"Mr. Ashford moves hundreds of thousands in a minute. Can you afford to hold him up?"

I reached over, pulled the citation off the windshield, glanced at the amount, then folded it and slipped it into my pocket without expression.

I lifted my wrist and checked the time.

My scheduled unwind had less than ten minutes left to run.

David watched me and let out a cold laugh.

"Checking the time won't help. The tow company isn't going to waive the fee because you're poor. Whatever pitiful savings you have are getting zeroed out today."

Sarah hooked her arm through David's.

"Darling, don't waste your time on some bottom-feeder. Our lawyer should be here any minute."

A black executive van came down the street and pulled smoothly to the curb.

The side of it carried the logo of a well-known law firm in the city.

The door slid open and a man in a dark suit stepped out with a black briefcase.

He straightened his tie and walked straight toward Sarah and David.