Dumb Luck Page 10

  “I can’t think of anything that would please me more.” He looked over my shoulder and outside. “And today’s the big day—now the sign is up. Isn’t it a beauty?”

  “How much did it cost?”

  “Gotta spend money to make money,” he answered.

  I’ll cut to the chase and just say it was not at all bad. My dad sold a Toyota to a man who had been by a couple of times before. It was mostly signing paperwork and it all looked a lot like school, but I guess it got the job done. The man seemed happy to get the car at a price he liked. My dad acted like the two of them were old buddies, but when he left, he admitted to me, “Truth is, I hardly made a cent on that sale. But sometimes you have to keep the inventory moving. It’s all about momentum.”

  Kevin talked to a couple of casual car shoppers who arrived on foot. “Never a good sign,” my dad said. In the end, they also walked away. Next, Carew was a bit too aggressive with a pretty young woman who arrived in a blue Honda looking for something for off-road driving. She was steered toward a green Subaru Outback wagon. You could tell Carew was a bit too pushy and she didn’t last long on the lot.

  When a rather paunchy guy in an old Cadillac rolled up to the office during noon hour, while Kevin and Carew were on lunch, my dad said, “Come on, watch the old master at work.”

  When my dad saw the golf clubs in the back seat of the Caddie, he launched into a spiel about golf courses and golf. I never knew him to have played the game in his life but he sounded like an expert. Pretty soon, Herman, the Caddie driver, was telling a golf story that lost me within thirty seconds.

  But my dad seemed enthralled. I just hovered in the background and started to wonder what Taylor was doing in school today. So I checked my phone and saw I had two messages. One from Taylor, one from Kayla, both asking me where I was. I decided to answer neither. Instead, I followed my dad and Herman to the black Escalade with the tinted windows at the front of the lot. My dad already had the keys with him. He had “read” Herman, even before the man had gotten out of his car. Within minutes, Herman was in the driver’s seat and my father was climbing in beside him. You’d think they were a couple of old buddies, heading off for a vacation.

  The window rolled down on my dad’s side and he leaned out and shouted to me, “Brandon, keep an eye on things until we get back.”

  It was a funny feeling. Both scary but somehow very cool. I was in charge of the business—for right now, at least. Kevin and Carew were gone. My dad was gone. I retreated to the office and sat down at my father’s desk. I studied the business card with my name on it and then saw a whole box of them on the table.

  I knew that I had enough money that I didn’t really have to work at all. The trouble is, I knew I had to do something. Maybe this would be ... fun. Well, maybe it would be interesting, at least. Hell of a lot better than school. And I didn’t mind the idea of helping my father. He could be a pain in the ass—all opinions and sometimes bossy—but he was my father.

  The phone rang and I answered. Someone looking for a late-model Toyota. I didn’t have a clue but suggested the caller come have a look. Oops. Wrong thing to say. He hung up without saying goodbye. Okay, another lesson learned. “Always give the customer what they want,” I remembered Dad saying, “even if you don’t have it.”

  I decided not to tell my father about the phone call.

  And then a very rusty-looking old Chevy Malibu pulled in and a woman of about thirty got out. I walked out and greeted her.

  “Hey,” I said. “Can I help you?”

  She smiled a kind of sad, desperate smile. “Yeah,” she said. “Not much life left in the old beast here,” she said pointing at her car. “I need something to replace it but I don’t have much money. So I’m looking for something basic but reliable. Do you think you can help?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Let’s look around.”

  “Oh, thanks,” she said. “If I don’t have a car, I’ll lose my job. If you could help me find something, that would be fabulous.”

  “I’m Brandon, by the way.”

  “I’m Faye. Nice to meet you.”

  So we started walking toward the back of the lot where the cheaper cars were. I really didn’t know what was there in the way of expensive or inexpensive cars, but she seemed happy to be following me. She seemed to believe I knew what I was doing. “What kind of work do you do?” I asked.

  “I’m a waitress. Work late nights sometimes. Can’t have a car breaking down on me late at night or making me late for work.”

  “I know the feeling,” I said. This from a guy who didn’t have a driver’s license.

  “What about this one?” she asked. She was looking at an older Ford Focus with a dent in the car door and a not-so-great-looking paint job. The price was on the info sheet in the window with the year and the mileage. So I just read it off to her and she seemed pleased. “Can I drive it?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I said. I tried the door. It was open. “Sit in it and see how it feels. I’ll go find the keys.”

  “Thanks.”

  Inside the office, I discovered my dad was a wizard of organization when it came to car keys. I found the Focus keys which were clearly labeled and returned in no time. I handed them to her. “I can’t leave the lot right now, so you take it for a spin. Might not be much gas in it, so don’t go too far.” I knew that with used cars on a lot, no one ever left much gas in the tank.

  I watched as she drove off, taking the turn onto the highway a bit tight and jumping the rear of the car up over the curb.

  I began to wonder what had happened to my dad and Herman as I walked around the lot, waiting.

  After a while, Kevin and Carew came back from lunch and made small talk with me about football, but I couldn’t do much to keep up my side of the conversation. Then Faye was pulling back into the lot, bumping the front wheel up over the curb this time. Carew started to go out and greet her but I tapped my chest like an old pro at this and indicated this was my customer. Carew just smiled and allowed me to proceed.

  “I’ll take it,” Faye said. “Can I get it today?”

  “Um,” I said. “Sure. That’s great.”

  “What will you give me for my car?”

  “Not sure. But we’ll give it a look. My dad will be back shortly and we’ll do up the paperwork.”

  I led her inside and made her a coffee. She seemed much less nervous now. “Thanks for this. I wasn’t sure I could find anything I could afford.”

  “Glad I could help,” I said, again pretending I knew what I was doing. And feeling rather pleased with myself.

  When my dad arrived back in the Escalade, he and Herman laughed and shook hands, and my dad handed him a card. Then Herman drove off in his old Caddie. When Dad came in, I introduced him to Faye and explained that she wanted the Focus wagon and wanted to know what we could give her for her old car. Dad sent Kevin out to check out her car and sat Faye down with the paperwork.

  I went back outside and, when my dad and Faye emerged a while later, she thanked me for being so helpful. “You’re a lifesaver,” she said. “I haven’t had good experiences buying a car before and you made this so easy.”

  A short while later, she was actually driving her newly purchased car from the lot.

  “You sold your first car, son,” my dad said. “How’s it feel?”

  “Great,” I said. “That was easy.”

  “Well, you did sell her the cheapest one on the lot,” he added.

  “It was the one she wanted. The customer is always right, yeah?”

  He shook his head. “The customer is rarely right. But you did good. Did she even drive it?”

  “Yep.”

  “Ouch,” he said. “No license plates. Did you get a photocopy of her driver’s license?”

  “No. But she just wanted a test drive and I couldn’t leave the place.”

&nb
sp; “You got a few things to learn,” he said. “But I’ll get you up to speed.”

  Another car had pulled in then and my dad walked away toward the new arrival. Despite his mild criticism, I felt good. Yep. I sold my first car and I felt like I had actually helped someone out. It felt okay.

  chaptertwentytwo

  I sold one more car that first week. One. To an elderly man who was very hard of hearing. I didn’t really sell it to him. He saw the Dodge truck on the lot and it was a deep shade of blue that he liked.

  “That’s the truck of my dreams,” he said before I could utter one word of information about the three-year-old vehicle. “I’ll take it.”

  The man said his name was Farley and that he wanted to pay cash. We went inside and my dad coached me through the paperwork. He got mad at me a couple of times because my writing was sloppy and I was bad at taking directions. Farley looked at me in a concerned way but didn’t say anything.

  Finally, the paperwork was done and my dad went out to greet another customer. I was to finish up with Farley.

  “Sorry that took so long,” I said to him.

  He waved a hand. “I’ve got all the time in the world since my wife died. That man your father?”

  “Yep. And my boss.”

  “That’s a tough one.”

  I nodded. Things had started out well but I could feel tension mounting after Carew was fired. Kevin had been Carew’s friend and he resented my intrusion. “I’m just learning the ropes,” I told Farley. “I think I’ll be fine.” As I was talking to him, he studied my face like he was genuinely worried about me and I wondered why. That’s when I realized he reminded me of my grandfather, who I had not seen in at least ten years.

  “Well, I guess I need to pay you,” he said, shifting the subject and standing up to reach into his pocket.

  I handed him the sales sheet with the full amount and he put on his glasses and squinted at it. He pulled out a thick wad of bills and started peeling hundreds off of it. I’d never seen so much cash in one place and it made me think of my own fortune—what it would look like if it was sitting in a pile as real cash and not just a number in a bank account. There was a deep furrow in Farley’s brow as he pulled off one bill at a time and began to pile them on the desk. “It’s my wife’s money, really. Life insurance. It was her idea, not mine. About me treating myself to a new truck, I mean.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  “Well, I miss her. She said that I should buy something I’d always wanted with the insurance money when she died. She said I’d feel better.” He stalled in his count for a second and then continued piling the bills. “But I don’t. I like the truck and it’s one I always wanted but could never afford. But it’s not something I’m going to enjoy without her around.”

  I didn’t know what to say. He finished stacking the bills and tidied the pile. “There,” he said. “That should about do it. You should count it yourself.”

  But I didn’t want to do that. “No. It’s good.”

  I handed him the keys to the truck and he let out a deep sigh. “Well, at least I have the truck,” he said and tried to smile.

  I walked him out to his new vehicle and handed him my card. He looked at it like I’d given him a gift. “Still new at this job, eh?”

  I nodded.

  He held out his hand and I shook it. “You’re a hell of a car salesman, bud,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  Farley drove off and left me feeling oddly alone and abandoned.

  When my dad came in, he saw the cash on the desk and smiled. “Good work, son,” he said. But it was the last kind thing he said to me that day.

  The rest of the afternoon was consumed with phone calls and what my dad called “complications.” Sold cars that were giving customers trouble. A problem with the bank. Property taxes due. Car repair bills for clunkers being reconditioned for resale. On and on it went. I was on the sidelines but it wasn’t fun to watch.

  I didn’t go to school at all that week. I hadn’t told Carver that I had actually dropped out. But it was over, I knew that.

  Kayla stopped by the car lot on Wednesday after school and let on that everything was okay with her, but she seemed nervous around my dad and apologized for coming to see me at work. “Come any time,” I said as she was leaving, but that made my father frown. That damn frown of his was becoming awfully familiar.

  The next day, Taylor picked me up after work and Kevin’s jaw dropped nearly to the ground as he watched me get in her car. She gave me a present: a driver’s handbook. “Brandon, you need to learn to drive. Study this. I’ll coach you.” There was that word again. “You pass this written test and you get a learner’s permit. I’ll pick the car you need and you’ll be able to drive it as long as a licensed driver is along. That would be me. Or whomever you decide to date. Just make sure she has a license. But first we need to teach you how to kiss.”

  Taylor was always in charge and always full of surprises. By the time she dropped me off at home, I was rather blissed-out by the kissing lesson, but she insisted it was just that, a lesson and nothing more. “Learning to drive is just like learning to kiss,” she said. This made absolutely no sense to me—but who was I to disagree? She gave me one final peck on the cheek and then slapped the book in my hand. “Read the damn book. Over and over. There will be a quiz the next time I see you. And I think you should call Chelsea. She’s been asking about you.”

  My mom seemed rather happy when I arrived home but didn’t pay much attention to me, just said there was food as usual in the fridge and that my dad would be home quite late that night. No surprise on either front. But she seemed more distant, and happier than usual.

  I ate and retreated to my room—my fantasy world—to check text messages and e-mails. I had changed e-mail addresses and learned to filter out the unsolicited mail, but enjoyed those flirtatious messages from girls and women who considered themselves my friends, even though we’d never met. My liquor supply had been replenished and I’d sip a bit and then write an e-mail or have a live online chat with some of my favorite “friends.” I knew I was wandering into a weird little fantasy world, but it was a world seemingly of my own creation and I was sure no harm would come of it.

  By the time I was headed for bed, though, the bliss of the kissing lesson and the evening of online flirting began to wear off and I found myself thinking of Farley and the sadness in him over the loss of his wife. The even sadder part was thinking of him owning the truck of his dreams but no one to share it with. And that made me think of my grandfather, also a widower, who I didn’t even know how to contact.

  And then I had this weird vision of me—maybe it was the booze—but it was so real. I saw me as an old man, living alone in a big fancy house somewhere on an island with palm trees and warm breezes. But I was all alone and I was the saddest person in the world.

  chaptertwentythree

  My dad insisted I work on Saturday and that sucked. Worse yet, I sold two fairly expensive cars, allowing him to say, “See, you put in that extra effort and it pays off.” But nothing really paid off for me. There was no salary, it was explained, because I was a partner. No longer a silent, but an active partner. “So the better the company does, the more profit will be there for both of us.”

  But it was all wrong. Selling cars was not my life’s work. By Saturday evening I was tired and sullen. I missed seeing other kids at school. I had to admit I missed some things about school. Not the work. Just the whole scene of being with people more or less my own age. And now that I was selling cars with my father, I had absolutely no sense of my own future. (Other than ending up as that sad old man in a posh house on an island.)

  Sometimes when I went home, I would check my investments online—the ones set up for me by Les Cranmore, who I now dubbed “Less is More” because it turned out that mutual funds he had invested in had gone up in value
by nearly two percent in the last couple of weeks. I discovered that this amounted to nearly $50,000. I was pretty sure this had to be wrong but I pulled out a calculator and went over the numbers. My money had made more money and I hadn’t done a damn thing. I hadn’t lifted a finger. So why the hell was I selling used cars?

  That night I took Chelsea out on a date. Kind of a last-minute thing. I phoned her cell and she answered. I actually think she was already on a date somewhere with a guy but she didn’t let on. Whoever he was got ditched in favor of me because Chelsea was at my door within a half hour. She was alone in her father’s Audi and I could tell she’d been drinking.

  When she kissed me, I tried to kiss her the way that Taylor had taught me and realized it wasn’t quite the same feeling for me. When it came to kissing, Taylor was like an A-plus and Chelsea was a B-minus. But I didn’t let on. Instead, I took a swig from the bottle of wine Chelsea had in her front seat. “Don’t you know, you’re not supposed to drink and drive,” I told her, only half seriously. “It’s in the driver’s manual.”

  “Then I’ll drive and you drink,” she said as we pulled away. “Where to?”

  “The Dome,” I said. It was a nightclub near downtown.

  “They won’t let me in,” she said. I was old enough and had my ID but Chelsea was a year younger and not old enough to legally drink or be allowed into bars.

  “Yes, they will,” I said. Taylor had coached me exactly how to approach the doorman and how much to offer. I took another slug of wine and smiled a big shit-eating smile.

  We got in without a problem and I bought us some more drinks and we danced to the music, which was so loud we couldn’t possibly have a conversation with each other. This was fine since neither one of us was great at conversations and we really didn’t have that much in common. Chelsea took some pictures with her cell phone and before the evening was out, they were being circulated to her friends from school and appearing on Facebook and beyond. “It’s all about social media,” is the way Chelsea explained it. And I had kind of bought into Taylor’s way of seeing the world. Buzz. Be cool. Look cool. Look uninterested. Be seen in the right place with the right people. That was the road toward adding the fame to the fortune.