Flaws and All by Shana Burton Read Free Book Online Page B

right smack in the hood. The dank, dark carport, the oil-stained concrete slab of a parking lot, and the pile of junk cars rusting in the back were almost more than Sullivan could stomach. If her car hadn’t cut off during the last three traffic lights, she would’ve risked driving home. The only thing worse than breaking down on the highway, however, would be breaking down in this neighborhood.
    As Sullivan inched closer to the entrance, she felt something thick and sticky wadded to the bottom of her heels. With her pride reduced to ashes, she scraped the gum off her shoe and walked in. She spied two long legs encased in blue coveralls extending from underneath a black Caprice. She coughed to get the person’s attention.
    A young man rolled out from underneath the car. He looked up at her and rubbed his oil-doused hands on his uniform. He spit out a toothpick. “Can I help you?”
    His face had thug written all over it. Sullivan didn’t know whether to answer his question or to run for her life. She clutched her purse. “Are you Mike?”
    He unraveled the ends of one of his cornrows. “Who wants to know?”
    â€œI do. My car over there”—she pointed to her white BMW—“is acting weird. My husband told me to bring it here and let Mike check it out.”
    The man staggered to his feet. “Hand me the keys. I’ll take a look at it.”
    Sullivan sized him up. “Are you Mike?” she asked again.
    â€œI’m Vaughn. Mike’s not here.”
    Sullivan crossed her arms in front of her. “I think I’ll wait for Mike.”
    â€œSuit yourself, but it’s gon’ be a while.” He disappeared underneath the car again.
    Sullivan checked her watch. Patience was not one of her virtues. She thought she heard gunshots fired in the distance. A few minutes later, sirens blared, and she saw an ambulance zoom by. Car or no car, she had no intention of sticking around long enough to be in need of an ambulance herself. “Excuse me . . . Van.”
    â€œVaughn,” he repeated from beneath the car.
    â€œRight. Do you know who I am?”
    He rolled out and took another look at her. “Nope.”
    â€œI’m Sullivan Webb, wife of Pastor Charles Webb,” she boasted. He showed no sign of being impressed or even having heard of either them. “Surely you’re familiar with Mount Zion Ministries.”
    â€œIs that a church or something?”
    â€œIt’s not a church, it’s the largest church in Savannah, and one of the most prominent churches in Georgia.” Vaughn’s expression didn’t change. Sullivan, not used to being in a place where Charles’s name carried no clout, was flustered. “The point is that I’m a very important person.”
    He reached into his pocket and pulled out another toothpick. “And?”
    â€œAnd . . .” Sullivan didn’t know what else to say. Being treated like the common folks was a new experience for her, and she was compelled to drop the haughty attitude. “And I think I’ll take you up on your offer now,” she added quickly.
    Vaughn stood up and held out his hand, waiting for the keys. She dropped the keys in his opened palm, but still clung to her clutch bag. He chuckled and said, “Lady, I don’t want nothing you got.”
    Sullivan kept a close eye on him as he wheeled her BMW into the carport. Vaughn left the engine running while he popped the hood open and began his inspection. “When’s the last time you had a tune-up?”
    â€œI don’t know. That’s my husband’s domain. I just drive it.”
    â€œIt looks like you’re due for one, but that’s not the problem. It’s the vacuum valve,” he explained, bent under the hood of the car, tinkering with the knobs and wires that were as foreign to Sullivan as the car itself.
    â€œJust tell me how long and how much it’s going to