Rent -A- Wrecks

By Grancy Crosborn

For johnson chambers it was a normal, if hot, summer day at the car rental agency. He liked his job, even though his verbally abusive boss didn’t much care for him. when a large, loud prospective client came in, smelling of alcohol and demanding a big, new car, johnson sensed the normal part of his day was over.

after much back and forth, and with chambers’ boss getting involved over the phone, the rental transaction went through, and a brand new lincoln town car went tearing out of the lot.

when johnson received a late night call at home saying that same lincoln had been involved in a horrible crash, he had no idea how much his life was going to change. not only his, but all the people drawn into the car crash web.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Grancy Crosborn
• Release date: Apr 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301052264

Book preview

Rent –A- Wrecks

© 2012 by Grancy Crosborn

Smashwords Edition

Revised February 2018

Cover design: Motherspider

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters,

places and incidents either are products of the

author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Chapter 1

As Johnson Chambers sat slouched in his underwear at the kitchen table he thought about his morning coffee and realized that today it was just too hot. He loved coffee to start his day but just knew it wouldn’t go down well this morning. Even for Biloxi in late June, it was close to record breaking temperatures. 102 Fahrenheit and everything sweated.

Yesterday’s Sun Herald was folded on the table and he glanced through trying to catch up on what news he’d missed. Johnson liked to keep up on things, and this early part of the morning was often his best chance. The rest of the day would quickly pick up steam, he’d have things to do and things on his mind, and next you knew he’d be back at this table again and another 24 hours would be gone. Not even sure where.

It was still early, another hour before he had to be at work. Traffic would be a bit lighter as for sure some folks would take the day off because of the heat. Still, there was usually some delay getting anywhere near downtown Biloxi. Delay is a relative term of course: Biloxi, with a population under 50,000, never had ‘real’ traffic jams like any of its larger neighbors. Johnson however was always punctual. His boss, Fred Allen Fulton, didn’t take to staff coming in late, and these days it was only Johnson and the car jockey kid Lucas working day shift so Fred Allen always knew if anyone was late. Especially since many nights Fred Allen would sleep down at the office, being too drunk to go home and face the family. When you were part owner of the business you could do that sort of thing.

It was a good business too, Johnson thought. An Alias Car Rental agency that Fred Allen owned with his father-in-law. Fred Allen seemed to run it though, and Johnson could remember maybe twice in the six years he’d been there seeing the father-in-law at the office. Both times Johnson noticed there was some tension between the two men. The father- in-law always treated Johnson okay though. Better than Fred Allen did, come to think of it.

It really did seem to be a good business. They’d often get fancy new cars in, and it wasn’t too long before Fred Allen was borrowing one to drive home or take on a trip. Johnson got the use of the cars too, but it was usually the sub compact models, and usually the ones without air conditioning. It struck him as odd how many rental cars they had without air. In Biloxi. It’s not like the customers wanted them. Most would get mad if you tried to stick them with no air. Even if it was the last car available, they would still get mad. It didn’t make sense to get the customers riled up over something like this. They could easily just request all their cars with air conditioning. Fred Allen never took a car without it. Of course, the Corvettes, Land Rovers, and other high end cars he used mostly came with climate control anyway. And a lot of other features – features that Johnson didn’t get to sample. Fred Allen didn’t know how good he had it, or maybe he just didn’t care about others who didn’t have it so good. He had a nice house, almost a mansion really, up in the Beach Boulevard district, and he had a lovely wife. Johnson had met her once, and both he and Lisha agreed that the woman seemed too good a catch for Fred Allen. Guess that’s how things worked out when you married the daughter of the boss.

He checked his watch. Time to go and Lisha wasn’t up yet. He called her name and heard a soft acknowledgment. He’d see her tonight unless her shift in the care center ran late, but that didn’t happen too often since she’d moved to early day shift.

He got up and looked out the window. The sun wasn’t coming up on this side of the house yet so it was still bearable. He loved the little garden that Lisha had put together out back. It had grown now to cover most of their small back yard area. He hadn’t been interested in it at the start but as he watched first the flowers that came up, and then the vegetables sprouting, he came around and now he was out there helping her whenever he got a chance. He didn’t have the knack that she did though. She had some mighty colorful flowers and even orchids that he heard were hard to care for. And some of the vegetables were magnificent; big, luscious tomatoes like he’d never seen in the store, and man, they were good. He helped her out but he followed her directions because he was kind of scared he’d mess things up if left on his own. Though he didn’t tell her, he was also a little scared of the snakes that occasionally slithered their way through the yard on their way to who knew where. Didn’t seem to bother Lisha a bit though, so he wasn’t going to let her know they shook him up. He thought they mostly looked like Mississippi green water snakes and small garter snakes, which were apparently non venomous, but they still creeped him out if they got close.



Chambers’ family history in and around Biloxi loosely mirrored the city itself. Mississippi became a state in 1817 and over the next forty years slowly evolved into a favorite resort for southerners in the surrounding states. There were a number of fine hotels that sprang up to cater to these tourists, and in one, The Magnolia, descendants of Johnson Chambers worked in the back kitchens.

In 1861 Mississippi ceded from the Union and the civil war had begun. Like most of the country Mississippi suffered during this time, but within a year Biloxi had surrendered to Union Naval forces and reconstruction began. Some of the Chambers’ descendants remained in their jobs, such as at The Magnolia Hotel, but had little to do with the war, aside from trying to stay out of its way.

By the turn of the century, Biloxi had become the seafood capital of the world. There were as many as forty seafood processing plants around the city. A number of Chambers’ forefathers worked in those canneries, many as free men.

Hurricanes have ravished the gulf coast, including Biloxi, over the decades, but the most vicious took place exactly one year prior to the birth of Johnson Chambers. It was hurricane Camille and it hit August 17, 1969. It was a crippling blow and though Biloxians rebuilt, as they always had, it was a long tough road.

In 1992 the state of Mississippi allowed legal riverboat gambling and the improvement to the economy was immediate and dramatic. Johnson Chambers was a twenty two year old man with a bright future ahead and it couldn’t have been a better time to be in Biloxi.



The drive into town was pretty much as he’d anticipated. The traffic was light, but steady. Everybody on the road seemed pretty laid back – no swearing angry drivers, nobody rushing to cut in front of you. This much heat did seem to mellow everybody out a bit and Johnson was grateful for that. He didn’t like confrontation too much, and he especially didn’t like it to start off his day.

He turned off Hangar Street onto Meadow Drive and pulled into the employee space with his name on it. Fred Allen had made a big deal about giving him his own name plate for the parking spot. He told Johnson this was a big step up in the company. Once again Johnson figured that Fred Allen thought he must be a pretty simple fellow. A parking spot and a name tag in a place where the whole lot, the whole damn business, was nothing but parking spots and cars. He noted in passing to Fred Allen that maybe a small raise might be a better step up in the company, but he got only a snort and a dismissive wave in response.

As he got out of his car - a Ford Focus with no air - he couldn’t see Fred Allen’s vehicle. He was pretty sure the boss was driving a brand new Cadillac SUV lately and it wasn’t here. First time in a while it looked like Fred Allen might have made it home.

Johnson unlocked the front door of the office and hurried to the back where the alarm panel was beeping. He keyed in the code with only a few seconds to spare, and cursed Fred Allen as he did so. There was only a twenty second time delay from when you opened the door, tripped the contact and had to get back to the alarm and key in the correct code. He’d almost missed it a couple of times, and in fact once he had punched in a wrong digit and before he could correct it, the alarm sounded. A god awful sound it was too. The alarm company had to call Fred Allen as he was the only designated responder if there was a break. He came flying down all mad as hell calling Johnson a spastic and a dummy. Johnson took the occasion to remind his boss, for about the hundredth time, that the delay should be set higher, maybe 45 seconds, or a minute even, to give a person a chance to deactivate the alarm without having to rush. Fred Allen, as usual, would have nothing to do with it. He reminded Johnson that if he wasn’t so stupid, or careless, or if he kept his mind on the job, these things wouldn’t happen. Johnson, for his part didn’t mention that of the thirteen false alarms set off in the past year, nine had been caused by Fred Allen himself, one by the car jockey Lucas, and one by a naked young woman that Fred Allen had invited into the office after hours.

As he finished turning on the lights, Lucas came sauntering into the building. As usual he seemed relaxed and without a care in the world. Even for a twenty-one year old he dressed casually, almost sloppily, which annoyed Johnson a little. After all, Lucas did interact with the customers when he brought up their cars, and it wasn’t the best image. Didn’t bother Lucas, and it didn’t seem to bother Fred Allen either, so Johnson wasn’t going to make it an issue. Anyway, he liked Lucas. The kid was kind of funny even though he was always baiting Johnson about something or other. He was always trying to push his buttons but Johnson usually just laughed him off.

Morning, Lucas.

Heya, JohnJohn, how’s it going my man?

That nickname Lucas had hung on him was one thing he didn’t like about the kid. Made Johnson seem like he was five years old. He had wanted to say something but it was too late. Now Fred Allen was starting to call him JohnJohn too, and thought it was just the funniest thing.

I’m fine Lucas. You have a lot of cars to move up front this morning?

Don’t know.

Well, didn’t you check the client list last night before you left?

The young man shook his head slowly. C’mon man. I was in a hurry. Had a big date. Plus Fred Allen let me take that GM SUV out there. It was really, ya know, boss, and I did no damage, so I’ll be good fer another one soon. He paused. That Focus out there, is that what you had?

Johnson said nothing.

Damnit, does it have air?

Johnson said nothing.

Oh, JohnJohn, that is really the shits. Like a hundred degrees and you got no cool air. That is truly the shits. I mean don’t you think?

Johnson turned and walked to his desk. He had been tempted to respond, but he knew Lucas was baiting him again, and besides what could he say? The kid was pretty much on the money. It was the shits.

Lucas came behind the counter and sat near Johnson’s desk. I don’t know fer sure but I’m wondering if Mr. F. treats you like that ‘cause you’re a black man. Don’t you think?

Johnson and Lucas had talked about race before. Lucas was about as white bread as you could get but Johnson sensed no racism in the lad at all. He had some flaws for sure, but that didn’t seem to be one of them.

Johnson smiled at the younger man. You know Lucas, Mr. F treats you like shit too, and if you was any whiter, I think you’d disappear.

Lucas laughed loudly. You always say that and I never know what you mean. But JohnJohn, I got the big SUV last night.

Yeah, yeah, you did. Must be you have the goods on the boss. You see him down here with one of his playmates or something?

Lucas laughed again, more heartily. Geez, I’d never talk about that kind of thing. What you think I am?

I know what you are, young man. And you couldn’t keep your mouth shut ten seconds about that kinda thing. Unless it was made worth your while.

Lucas was still laughing, but he rose quickly from the chair and then hustled off towards the main doors. Gotta check some cars, boss. See ya later.

Johnson smiled just as the phone rang. It was Fred Allen Fulton.

Chambers, it’s Fred Allen. You and Lucas both in on time?

Yes sir.

Chambers, check the SUV Lucas had last night. Make sure there’s nothing wrong with it.

Yes sir.

I feel like shit, so I won’t be in for probably the whole day. You got an emergency you can’t handle, call me. On my cell.

Yes sir.

You got all that?

Yes sir.

The phone went dead and Johnson Chambers looked forward to a pleasant day without the boss around.

Chapter 2

Fred Allan Fulton hung up the phone, rolled over in bed and looked again at the very young woman lying asleep beside him. Well, jeezuz, she was better looking than a lot of them. He could remember waking up next to some real uninviting stuff, a few even scaring the shit out of him. Truth be told, some of them might actually have been men. He just never remembered the night before, and in some cases, maybe that was best.

The motel room, on the other hand, was a lot worse than he usually stayed in. This had old, wood paneling walls, warped and dusty, with shag carpeting that may or may not once have been a teal green tone. All together very unappealing and not what a married, middle aged, hungover man wanted to see first thing in the morning. He could easily picture throwing up again as he was pretty sure he had done a couple of times during the night.

He got up and looked out the one grimy little window in the room. Nice sunny day, but it looked hazy with all the heat. Christ! Where the hell was he? No recollection of driving to this dilapidated old dump. From the brief view of the landscape they looked to be on the outskirts of town, but who the hell knew? He scratched himself then fell back into the bed looking towards a leisurely day.

The woman beside him stirred and looked over at him with sleep still in her eyes.

Hi, lover man.

Jeezuz. Lover man? The night couldn’t have been all bad. Staring more closely at the body of his bedmate, it was clear she was no more than twenty five, probably a lot younger. Either way, likely less than half his age. And much, much less than half his weight. Surprised he hadn’t crushed her. He’d always been a big man, even played a bit of college ball, but since then he’d allowed himself to go to fat. Promised himself he would whip himself back in shape but it never happened and over the years it just got worse. He was closing in on 250 pounds now, and his wife had started making snide remarks about it. This didn’t help their already moribund sex life. He just laughed it off, blaming it on their lifestyle and all the heavy meals and drinking. He knew that something had to be done or he was prime material for a massive heart attack. Today though wasn’t the time to worry about that. He leaned over to stroke the girl’s hair. As he did so he was hoping he hadn’t made one of his famous and frequent promises to marry this one.

******

Napoleon Morrisett, father-in-law of the overweight, middle aged, hungover man at the motel called the car rental agency looking for Fred Allen.

So sorry, Mr. Morrisett. Mister Fred isn’t in the office right now. Johnson was a bit taken aback. The old man almost never called the agency, and Johnson didn’t have any idea where Fred Allen was, nor any idea what he should tell his father-in-law.

When might you be expecting him in then Johnson? Morrisett had an edge to his voice that Johnson had not encountered before. He was still polite yet…

He didn’t leave any message as to when he might be by, Mr. Morrisett. I’m sure he’ll be along. Mr. Fred always has a lot of things to take care of. This sounded implausible even as he said the words, and Johnson wished he could take them back. I mean…

Yes Johnson, I think I know just what you mean. Have our boy call me as soon as he gets in, you hear?

Of course, Mr. Morrisett. I will do that as soon as he gets in.

Thank you so much, Johnson. Good morning. Morrisett’s tone was once more placid as he hung up. It didn’t ease Johnson’s mind any though. How the hell was he going to square this? He didn’t want to piss off the old man, but he knew Fred Allen could be brutal if this was handled wrong. He’d find a way to blame Johnson, no matter what the problem, and he didn’t think the old man would be calling if there wasn’t a problem. Then he remembered: Fred Allen told him to call him on his cell phone if there was something he couldn’t handle. Well, this certainly qualified, and once he passed on the message it would be out of Johnson’s hands.



The Morrissett family history began over a hundred years before and it was, to say the least, colorful. Napoleon had traced back to a great great grandfather who happened to have the same first name. Apparently the first Napoleon was quite a swashbuckler and had his hand in some liquor distribution in the late 1700’s. There was no railway line to speak of and so most of the liquor, mainly whiskey, was transported around by river boat. The original Napoleon had a steady booze cruise running from suppliers in Kentucky down to Biloxi, New Orleans and smaller coastal ports. It was lucrative but dangerous. There were many attempts to rob the cargo with Napoleon and his crew under attack often. Some of the fights were vicious: a mere two weeks before Napoleon had decided to hang up his spurs their boat was attacked in port at New Orleans by a crazed and drunken group of sailors who had gotten bored being landlocked. By the time the police arrived, three of the attacking sailors were dead, two more were missing limbs and Napoleon Morrissett was lying