Greg utters a strange fluttering hum from within his diaphragm. It is the sound of pent up joy escaping. The flood of endorphins swoons through Greg. Donny could relate to that sudden burst of instant gratification.
Donny was.already finishing up a conversation with Ben.
"Allright dude," Donny says, "See you soon."
Greg wistfully casts his eyes toward the horizon, as he ambles over. Everything looked perfect at this moment. Pointless matters were beyond his grip now. They did not matter. Who cared if Donny owed him money? Greg had a cute girl on his mind, and everything else seemed to blur beyond that limited realm. Her lips had been so soft, like the skin of some delectable fruit. Greg thought of those lips covering other certain appendages, and his arousal continued unfettered.
"Who's that?" Donny asks as he hands the phone back, "I wanted to ask before, but you seem preoccupied."
"That's Rebecca. She's the lady I was telling you about," Greg says, pointing vaguely over his shoulder in the general direction of the van, "She's the mother. It was her daughter I saved."
Donny's face lights up with wonder. "Oh, snap!! You've got it in good with her, huh Greg?"
The smile refuses to fade from Greg. "What can I say?" Greg says with a comedic blowing of hot air on his fingernails, and brushing them on his jacket, "She's very grateful."
"You guys were totally making out," Donny says with sophomoric jest, "In the middle of morning traffic, and everything. She's a hottie,"
"Yeah," Greg says with a wishful sigh. Little Greg was all primed and warmed up from Rebecca's impromptu excursion. Greg turned away from Donny discreetly, until the feeling passed. It was never hard to extinguish a boner when around a guy. Greg was certainly straight as an arrow.
"Yet another change in plans, my friend," Greg says with gusto, "Give Ben a call and let him know we will await our towing conveyance, upon which our car will be moved and repaired shortly."
Donny lights another cigarette and cackles at Greg's theatrics.
"How much is the damage?" Donny asks, "What's it gonna run ya?"
"Rebecca's paying for it," Greg says, barely containing his excitement.
"Damn, dude," Donny says with a touch of envy, "She really wants you."
"Yeah, I'm just glad she's got low standards," Greg says flatly.
There is a pause of silence as this joke runs aground. Then both men burst out into fresh waves of laughter. The mere sound of Donny's amusement makes Greg laugh all the harder. Greg never recalled Donny laughing so much before. Maybe the medicine really was jump-starting his emotional switch-board. It was a good thing.
"She's your Sugar-Mama!!" Donny says, wiping a faint tear from his eye, "She wants your balls, dude!!"
"Well, she can have 'em," Greg says, feeling likewise tears flowing, "They're as blue as can be, man!!"
Donny was taking a drag, and snorts out a painful cloud of stalled smoke, and scattered embers. Donny pitches the cigarette as the laughter threatens make him pass out. Finally, the comedy peters out, and both men can recover.
"I feel great," Greg says, inhaling deeply of the cool morning air, "Thing's are finally going my way, man."
"I'd feel pretty good, too, having a babe like that to look forward to," Donny says with slight admiration, "You deserve it, Greg. You're a good man."
Donny offers his hand, which Greg clasps firmly. As their hands fall back to their sides, Greg hears the throaty growl of the tow truck approaching.

 Greg exchanged a brief explanation of what had happened. The driver suggested he pop the hood and Greg did so. Greg felt somewhat sheepish at the realization they had not even bothered to examine the engine. As it turns out, it was simply another blown water hose. The smoke was actually steam, where the antifreeze hit the hot engine block. It would be a relatively easy fix. The Lebaron had one thing going for it: It was a midsize car, and had relatively easy access to most of the important components, the water hose being one of them. Why, it almost appeared as though the manufacturers had anticipated frequent repairs to that modelImagine that?
    In a rare showmanship of charity, the driver offered to forego the towing, if Greg would simply put some water in the radiator. That would be enough to get the car across town into the shop. Greg ultimately decided to heir on the side of caution, and go with the tow after all. Driving the crippled car in such a state, even temporarily, would have disastrous possible effects. Greg was not yet ready to part with the car, at least until he found a suitable replacement for the fucking piece of shit. Besides, a certain lovely lady was fitting the bill this outing. In no time flat, Greg's pitiful vehicle was raised and secured by the able hands of the driver. There was room enough for them both in the towing truck. Being the larger of them, Greg elected to sit in front. Donny sidled back into the rear passenger seat without complaint. HIs small frame did not take up much space.
    Greg chatted amiably enough with the driver. They discussed the usual fare, things like weather, (decent) and the economy (terrible). It was easy to talk to anybody, and most initial conversations were the same icebreakers. Greg had fallen back into the habit of conversing as much with people as he possible could. It was only natural. People had a general need for interaction, and were always willing to shoot the shit. It was especially helpful in the Pawn and Payday. It was always better to see a friendly smile and greeting than to have a blank-faced owner following you around the store with his eyes, saying nothing. It embarrassed Greg to admit that he had run his shop in just such a way priorly. 
    The mechanic informed Greg that it would most likely be done by Monday. They didn't have a full time crew on staff for the weekends, and those that did work were already swamped with numerous repairs that took precedence over Greg's newly acquired problem. The owner of the business stopped in long enough to comment about Greg's philanthropic luck.
"That Rebecca Drake, she's paying for all this, right?" The owner said in unconcealed disbelief.
"That's right," Greg says, with a cocky grin, "She's fittin' the bill."
    The owner whistles and puts his hands in his pockets. He leisurely leans against the doorway and tilts his gaze at Greg, giving him a once-over.
"You are one lucky sonata bitch," The owner says in macho showmanship, "That's one fine piece of ass."
    Before Greg can respond, the owner turns around and walks away. It's just as well, Greg didn't know how to address such a comment without insulting Rebecca, or the man. Greg could detect the jealousness in the guy's demeanor. Perhaps the owner hadn't gotten laid in awhile (which was the same boat Greg sailed in for far too long).
The loaner car was a 2005 Toyota, and to say Greg was pleased is an understatement. Donny sat in the corner as everything was planned out. He only spoke when they were finally rolling out of the garage in the Toyota.
    "Now this is riding in style," Donny says, cranking his side of the double-sided temperature control to a low setting.

part 36: http://www.ebaumsworld.com/user/blog/artman4444/view=82345042