LEVERAGE
Stuart fidgeted with his tie. The room sweltered. Larry stood by the door, angled toward escape. Jimmy held up the far wall behind his lady-killer sunglasses, probably sleeping. Missy was draped across the leather couch, eyes drifting to the window. Amid this small crew of idiots, Marty spoke from his pulpit. He droned about sales and the poor economy. Peddling used cars stood as a tough gig at the best of times. In the middle of a summer heat wave, even the veterans struggled to make book.
“Now, get out there and move some junk.” Marty tried to sound inspirational. The team trudged off.
Stuart caught Larry’s arm just before he slipped away. “I have a better idea.” He nodded to the left. “Jimmy, come here.”
“What’s up, Stu?” asked the voice behind the shades.
“Let’s blow off the day. ‘Gun Runner’ and ‘Gun Runner Too’ are playing at the Cineplex. Think about it. Air conditioning, explosions and hot chicks. There ain’t no sucker looking for wheels today.”
“What about Marty?” Larry asked.
“Screw him,” said Jimmy. “He’ll be sleeping in his office all day, hiding from his wife. The bastard even has a beer fridge in there.”
“Fuckups One and Two are taking Andy on delivery up Route 9. They’ll milk that all day.”
“That leaves poor Missy to hold down the fort.” Larry grinned eagerly. The day’s potential increased considerably.
The friends revelled in the comfort of the cool darkness within the theatre. The movies boomed in exposition and ridiculousness. It was right up their alley. All men became pimply fourteen-year-olds in the face of a great action flick. Hero and villain battled from duelling cars against a backdrop of destruction and noise. Ah, yes! A glorious moment of timeless violence.
A cell phone rang from behind them, shrill and loud. Then a beep as it was silenced. Stuart could not believe it. Of all the rude gall. You gotta be kidding me. His heart was already pumping hard from excitement of the screen. He stood up and turned to face the perpetrator. What he saw stopped him cold.
Missy. Rumpled clothing, flashes of skin. The rest told itself.
Something cold settled in his stomach.
Leverage.
He sat with it for a moment. Marty was an idiot. Always had been. This just made it official.
“Gladys won’t be happy, Marty.” He watched Marty’s face go through its calculations. Then past the one where he remembered Stuart was supposed to be on the lot. Arrogance won, as it always did.
THE ART OF THE DEAL
Andy needed this sale in the worst way. The summer sales slump at the dealership continued and he’d be the first to get the axe. Marty was pretty clear on that point. It wasn’t personal. He was just low man.
It was just Bill, Fred, and himself in the office. Back from the Route 9 fiasco, they’d found the shop locked up, Marty gone, the place untended.
“Where the hell is Missy?” Andy asked the empty showroom.
Bill and Fred didn’t say anything and headed for the coffee pot. They knew exactly where Missy was, or at least who she was with. Gladys would be on the horn to Big Daddy the minute she got wind of her husband’s dalliances.
The door chime rang. In walked a young couple reeking of need, affordably-priced need. Andy looked at the Dynamic Duo and they nodded. Let the fresh meat have this one. Besides, there’d be no real commission from the look of these two. Java and air conditioning ruled the day.
Andy wandered over, flashed his best smile and offered his hand.
“Hey folks! Hot one, eh? I’m Andy. Can I help you?”
The man looked at him warily and shook the sweaty hand. “I’m Tom. The missus needs a car to get around in while I’m at work.” The woman didn’t say anything or even make eye contact.
“What’s your budget?”
“A thousand bucks, all in.”
Andy did his best to hide his disappointment. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Bill and Fred chuckling at his misfortune. Bastards.
There was only one car to show Tom and his silent bride. It was a lemon, more fibreglass repair than original parts. It was a write-off that Marty scored on the sly. It was a wonder it ran as well as it did. At the very least, it probably wasn’t roadworthy. Lipstick on a pig was all the love it got.
Andy didn’t offer these facts. He needed the sale. Besides, caveat emptor.
Tom took every advantage of Andy’s nervousness. Andy dickered away his commission to make the sale happen. Hopefully, it was enough to stave off execution.
On the hood of the jalopy, the deal was done with a stroke of a pen. Andy’s hasty signature stared up at him with victory. He spared a thin smile. Tom caught him.
“What the hell are you smiling about?” he asked.
“Nothing. It’s just been a slim week. I appreciate the business, Tom. Enjoy the car.”
The man harrumphed and left Andy to his paperwork. He opened the door for his wife and helped her into the car. She seemed to be having difficulty. He didn’t see it until she turned sideways.
“How far along is she?” asked Andy.
“Three months. It’s our first. We’re going car-seat shopping next.”
Andy went white. Shit. All he could picture was the wreck of this car when he first saw it. Shit. Shit. Shit.
He needed this sale. The contract was done and Marty would notice if the numbers didn’t add up.
“Tom?”
“What now? We gotta get going.”
“There’s something you need to know about this car.”
Ten minutes later, Andy stared at a pile of shredded contract. Nearby, Bill and Fred were laughing their asses off.
HELL HATH NO FURY
Gladys pulled up to her father’s lot, put the car in park and sat in the air conditioning for a moment, resting her wrists on top of the steering wheel. She checked her face in the mirror, grabbed her handbag and got out of the car and into the sweltering oven of the late afternoon. Everything went orange in the late sun, the shop windows throwing it back at her. She opened the side door and walked inside.
“Hello, boys. Where’s my darling husband?”
Stuart let his eyes drift the length of her. Gladys paid attention to the little details – dressed for somewhere better than this, heels on a waxed showroom floor. She caught his appraisal and smiled thinly.
“Hello, Gladys. Marty’s out taking a customer for a test drive.” He lied of course, and badly.
She looked around at the quiet room. Larry and Jimmy made themselves busy futzing with price and spec signs, deliberately avoiding eye contact. Bill and Fred had long since split the scene.
“Really? With these jokers hanging around, he took the walk-in himself? Hmm.”
The seed planted, Stuart walked over to the main window and scraped a spot off the glass with his thumbnail. His back to her, he counted silently down from ten. Women like Gladys didn’t stay ignored.
“Where’s Missy?” she asked.
He turned around and walked past her towards the coffee machine. “That’s a very good question, Gladys.” He started pouring. “Want one?”
Gladys sighed with irritation. “No, thank you.”
Stuart drew a glass of ice water from the cooler and handed it to her. She nodded and drank. The air conditioning made the air dry. When she was finished, she crushed the paper cup and tossed it back at him. He caught it one-handed and dropped it in the trash. Gladys then leaned back on her elbows against the hood of a gas-guzzler and placed one foot, bent-knee, against the tire. Her dress, a moment before proper and befitting her station, took an air of sensuality that made Stuart realize just how far out of his league she was.
“Marty’s screwing her, isn’t he, Stuart?”
He swallowed hard. “Without a doubt.”
“It’s a long summer, Stuart.”
He wasn’t sure if that was a threat or an invitation. He didn’t ask.
Her comment hung as Andy pulled up in a demo car, tossed the dealer plate on the dash, and came through the door in that loose-limbed way of his. All elbows and forward lean.
“Good afternoon, ma’am.” The boss’s wife and the owner’s daughter, she might as well have been the queen of the place. Big Daddy certainly thought so, even if Marty didn’t.
Gladys stood and smoothed the front of her dress. “It’s Gladys, Andy. Ma’am is for old people.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am– I mean, Gladys.”
She looked at the young man a moment longer than she needed to. He’d given the car away rather than sell a lemon to a pregnant woman. She’d heard every word. Stuart watched her file it somewhere useful.
“College kid, right? Business?”
“Yes, Commerce and Marketing, actually. This’ll be my last year.”
“Very good,” she said. “Come with me, Andy. We have a call to make. Have you met my father?”
She took Andy, stunned, by the hand and headed towards Marty’s office.
Stuart stopped her with his hand on her arm. Gladys turned and kissed him deeply. “That’s what you always wanted, Stuart. That and more?” She patted him on the cheek, straightened his tie with two fingers, smoothed his lapel once like she was finishing a thought, and turned away before he could answer. Already moving, already done with him.
A grin opened on Stuart’s face. Not the grin he’d worn all day – the one he’d practiced. This one surprised him. “What about Missy, Gladys?”
“What about her?” She didn’t look back. “I’m sure she’ll land on her feet. Girls like her always do. I plan to be a little more ‘hands-on’ around here.” She turned back to Andy, still holding his hand. “Let’s call Big Daddy.”
