by H. M. Mann
Marion smiled. “Is there?”
Gloria put on her coat. “Okay, I know you meddle out of your concern for me and Angel, but this is different.”
“Sure,” Gloria said. “Sure.”
Gloria opened the door. “It is different, Mama.”
Marion closed the door. “And the next time she’s says I’m meddling,” she whispered, “I’ll just say I’m concerned.”
40
That is not a car, Johnny thought as he approached the Cadillac. That is a silver fishing trawler with a black leather interior and a landau roof. He opened the door, which was as wide as he was tall, and slid into the seat. I take that back. This is a wide-body limo. I could fit the Vega into the front seat. I could probably put a football team in the trunk. This car could eat a Hummer and still be hungry.
Johnny discovered that the Fleetwood had two stereos, two air-conditioners (the one in the back sputtered), room for four Armstrongs across in the back seat, and arm rests in the front and in the back. It even had foot rests in the back, which Johnny pronounced the coolest thing since Etch-a-Sketch, the Ginsu knife, and the Chia Pet.
He turned the key, and an earthquake erupted around him, sending several scowling cats tearing away from the Caddy in all directions. Johnny worried if the lanes on Williamson Road were wide enough as he pulled out into traffic. I should have a “WIDE LOAD” sign on this thing. I’ll bet I’m creating potholes wherever I go.
At the first stoplight, he turned on both stereos at the same time to WQMG, Earth, Wind & Fire’s version of “I Got to Get you into my Life” sending tremors of dust throughout the car’s interior. He had to circle his apartment building several times before landing and taxiing across the street between two telephone poles. Then he loaded up his entire collected worldly goods, mostly clothing and bedding, into the trunk in less than ten minutes.
It all fit.
He left the couch, bed, table, the crappy desk for his laptop, and even the dish, the fork, and the spoon in the kitchen. All condiments remained safely in the fridge. He emptied the change and the ring from his “bowl of change” into his pocket. On his way out, he grabbed the vacuum Gloria gave him, tossed it into the back seat, and decided never to unpack.
Some people live out of a suitcase, he thought. I live out of a ’75 Cadillac.
Though somewhat depressed that all his “treasures” fit so easily into one-third of a car, he drove across town toward the old Pizza Hut building, passing by Gloria’s house on Melrose. What would she think if she saw me driving this? he thought. This thing could run over Paul’s Prius with ease, and I’d say, “Who put that speed bump there?” So what if it only gets five gallons to the mile—
Johnny’s eyes darted to the gas gauge, the needle safely above the halfway mark.
He parked in the empty lot beside the “FOR SALE” sign. After committing “Hall Associates” to memory, he wandered around the property, peering through windows, and generally looking suspicious to anyone driving by. He saw no oven. He saw no walk-in refrigerator. He saw no cash register. He saw no make table. He saw nothing but Pizza Hut colors splashed everywhere around a long red counter.
Johnny decided he would need a lot of paint.
And an oven.
And everything else.
I’m in trouble, Johnny thought.
And for the first time in many years, Johnny Holiday was right.
41
Gloria directed Paul to Johnny’s apartment.
“Where are we going?” Paul asked.
“To see a friend,” Gloria said.
“Who?” Paul asked.
“A friend, and don’t ask any more questions, okay?” Gloria said. “And when we get there, you stay in the car.”
Gloria didn’t see the Vega as Paul parked the Prius, but that didn’t bother her. She did see a “FOR RENT” sign out front, but that didn’t bother her. She did see Johnny’s door wide open to the world, and that didn’t bother her. When she went inside, looked around, and didn’t find him—that bothered her.
She stood in his empty closet. He took his clothes, his sheet, and his computer.
She looked into his empty fridge. Nothing different here. Maybe he’s just doing a lot of laundry today … and he took his laptop to do some writing.
A wiry old white man with a cane stepped through the doorway into Johnny’s living room. “You looking to rent the place?”
Gloria shook her head, and her heart sank. It’s for rent? Johnny has really moved out? “No. Um, just looking for Johnny Holiday.”
“He owe you money, too?” the man asked.
“No.” He skipped out on his rent? That doesn’t sound like Johnny. “He told me he paid on time every time for three years.”
“Oh, he did,” the man said. “Only tenant I’ve ever had to do that.” He looked at the walls. “It’s the damages, you know, the stuff I’ll have to fix, this stuff.” He pointed the cane at the futon. “Have to haul all that out of here.”
The man won’t do any such thing, Gloria thought. He’ll leave it where it is and rent this place out as furnished and probably charge double. “Do you know where Johnny went?”
The man cocked his head behind him. “Neighbors say he loaded up a Cadillac and left out of here maybe thirty minutes ago. The building supervisor called to tell me he was vacating just an hour ago, so I came over and—”
“He left in a what?” Gloria asked.
“They said it looked like an old hearse, but they were sure Cadillac made it.” The man looked at the walls. “Do you, uh, know where he might be?”
“No. Um, how much does he owe you?”
“Well, if all this furniture is staying, I suppose I could cancel most of his debt, and I’ll have to take his damage deposit,” the man said. “Place needs some cleaning.”
Gloria walked past the man and leaned up against the wall in the hallway. You’ll be the first to know, he says. I’m actually almost last to know. Thanks a lot, Johnny. Go on. Run away, I don’t care. You were crazy anyway!
She bounced her forehead against the wall. Serves me right, though. Johnny loved me, and I ran away. I love someone for the first time, and I scare him away. Where is he?
She looked at Paul, who was watching her from the car. Paul, for all his arrogance, is a better investment anyway. Even though I can’t stand him.
Forget Johnny.
On the way home, Paul asked, “Was your friend there?”
“I told you not to ask any questions,” Gloria said.
“You seem … distressed,” Paul said.
Gloria was distressed, but she was not about to share her business with a stranger. Okay, I shared some of my business with Johnny before I really knew him, but that was different. I had already been flirting with him for months before that.
Oh yeah. I’m supposed to be forgetting Johnny.
“Just take me home,” she said.
“Okay,” Paul said.
Gloria’s fleeting thoughts flashed by faster than the scenery thanks to the Prius’s two-squirrel engine, and she found herself comparing Johnny to Paul in the strangest ways.
Paul is listening to NPR and humming, even though there’s only a news program on. Must be a French thing. Johnny would have the radio on to Vibe 100, and we’d be jamming to some old school soul right now, making the Vega literally rock and sway. Yeah, Johnny and I spoke the same music.
Paul has a huge, square chin that juts up into the air. His neck must get tired of looking so arrogant. Johnny had a small, rounded chin that usually pointed down … so he could admire my shoes.
Paul has hairy knuckles. They look as if they’re covered with little, black spiders. Johnny’s only hairy on his head and legs. They look like little, black spiders, too. Hmm. Must be a guy thing.
Paul dresses for success, his entire ensemble matching, his pants creased sharp. Paul is an advertisement. Johnny matched in a “sweats-go-with-everything” way and he didn’t know what a crease was. Johnny was the �
�before” picture on a makeover show.
Paul smells nice, not sure what his cologne is, probably something exotic. Johnny smelled like pizza and Old Spice morning, noon, and night.
Paul works in the past, doesn’t like talking about his past, and definitely has a future. Johnny worked in the present, lived in the present, dreamed about his past, and doesn’t much like talking about the future.
Paul drives like an old lady, hands at the two and ten positions, his foot alternating from the brake to the gas pedal, and I’m about to get whiplash! Johnny had one arm out the window, the other hand lightly grasping the steering wheel at the bottom, his foot rarely touching either pedal. Johnny used to say that he and the Vega were “one.”
Paul pouts. Johnny smiled, even when he was pouting.
Paul’s voice is like no other I’ve ever heard. It’s pungent, aromatic, flavorful. Johnny’s voice was like sand paper—the fine kind—most of the time, and occasionally he sounded like butter.
Paul’s hair is … longer than mine! Johnny’s beard … was longer than Paul’s hair! Am I attracted to hairy men or what?
The Prius hummed to a stop. “When will—”
“No questions,” Gloria interrupted. She opened her door.
“Okay, then tell me when Angel usually comes home from school,” Paul said.
I should have told him “no talking whatsoever.” Gloria relented. “She’s usually home by three, but today isn’t a good day, okay? Give her a few days to process you, all right? I know she’s still pretty hurt by the things you said last night.”
“I will give her the weekend and then visit her at three o’ clock on Monday,” Paul said.
“I said I’d call you. Don’t come over until I call you.”
Paul looked away. “I do not like this arrangement.”
“Neither do I,” Gloria said. She got out and peered inside. “But it’s the only arrangement I’m comfortable with.” She closed the door without having to slam her hip into it, smiled, and went inside.
“You found him!” Marion said, smiling.
Gloria shook her head. “He’s already moved out of his apartment.” She hung up her coat.
“But you were smiling when you started up the walk,” Marion said.
“Because Paul’s door shut the first time,” Gloria said, “unlike that Vega.” She moved past Marion to the kitchen.
“How do you know he’s already moved out?” Marion asked, following.
“I was in his apartment, Mama,” Gloria said. “His clothes were gone.” She sat and drummed her fingers on the table. “Clothes gone, man gone.”
“Well, maybe he’s donating them to Goodwill,” Marion said, sitting across from Gloria and holding tightly to a coffee mug.
Gloria rolled her eyes. “I doubt Goodwill would take Johnny’s clothes back.” Oh, that was harsh. True, but harsh.
“So you’re just giving up?” Marion asked. “That’s it? Search for him for an hour and then quit?”
“Johnny obviously doesn’t want to be found, now does he?” Gloria said. “It’s plain to me that he’s done with me.”
Marion stood over the sink and looked out the window. “Nothing is over unless you want it to be over.”
“So … maybe I want it to be over,” Gloria said. “Maybe I want to get back to my old life.”
“Your old, quiet, boring life,” Marion said with a sigh.
True, but at least I knew what to expect every day. “I was happier then.”
Marion shook her head. “No, you weren’t.”
True, but at least I had total control of my life. “I just need a little time to regroup, Mama, that’s all, and the more boring, quiet, and dull the better. For me and for Angel.”
“You’re going to miss that man, Gloria,” Marion said. “I already do.”
So do I! But I can’t just fall apart like one of those stupid wenches in Johnny’s stupid book. “Well, I don’t miss him at all, and I know Angel doesn’t miss him a lick either.” That only might be true. She’s hard to read sometimes.
“You’re going to miss that man, Gloria,” Marion said, and she stood, shaking her head and walking out of the kitchen and into the hallway.
“Where are you going, Mama?” Gloria asked, following at Marion’s heels. “We could make us some lunch.”
Marion didn’t stop. “I’m feeling old all of a sudden. I’m going to take a nap.” She trudged up the first few steps.
“Is that how you deal with your problems?” Gloria asked with a laugh.
Marion continued upstairs and didn’t look back. “That wasn’t funny.”
Why is it wise when she says it but only mean when I say it? “Have a nice nap, Mama.”
Marion shut her door.
She couldn’t miss Johnny that much, Gloria thought. All she did was fuss at him and make fun of his car.
Gloria curled up at one end of the loveseat. Of course she has fussed with me as long as I can remember and made fun of my lack of a car—
Gloria heard a familiar scratchy song starting upstairs. Oh, c’mon, Mama. Don’t pull out your Billie Holiday records now! Using Lady Day to make me feel worse just isn’t fair! “I’m a Fool to Want You” blared from Marion’s old record player upstairs. Okay, okay, Mama misses him. She’ll get over it.
I know I will.
Gloria closed her eyes and hummed along with Billie. And I’m a fool to have wanted you at all, Johnny Holiday. I’ll be better off without you.
A single tear slid down her cheek.
I just wish I could forget you.
42
Before returning to AB Auto Repair and Towing, Johnny stopped at the Williamson Road Branch library and researched the old Pizza Hut building. He checked out Hall Associates’ business property listings and found: “Well Maintained Property at a central location. 1628 sq. ft. for only $195,000!!!”
It’s an empty freaking building! Johnny screamed in his mind. I could buy three nice houses with yards for that amount! What, are the fixtures made of gold? Does it have an indoor lap pool and a hot tub on the roof? Is it a self-cleaning building?
He found a simple online mortgage calculator and plugged in a $195,000 loan with no down payment and five percent interest over fifteen years. Fifteen hundred a month! I’d need to sell over two hundred pizzas just to pay the note, and that doesn’t even include all the rest of the stuff I’ll need!
Johnny tried to calm down and eventually did, consoling himself with the knowledge that many American dreams are, indeed, expensive.
The expenses mounted as Johnny researched what he’d need just to open his business, a snatch of scratch paper recording the damage:
Building $195,000
Remanufactured Middleby Marshall oven $24,000
Randell Pizza Prep Table $3,995
Leer Walk-In Cooler $4,560
Royal Cash Register $120
Neon Pizza sign $303
Only about a quarter million, Johnny thought. And that doesn’t even count delivery bags, utensils, pans, pots, cleaning supplies, flour, yeast, sauce, toppings, the mouse-shaped boxes I’ll need … and tax … can’t forget the tax … oh, and insurance … a safe … napkins … restoring the Vega …
At least, he thought happily, I won’t need a time clock.
Johnny figured that he’d need at least $300,000 to get started.
Johnny also decided that folks playing the lottery weren’t entirely wasting their time waiting in line at Quick-E Marts.
Where I met a beautiful woman with interesting hands …
He shook off Gloria’s hands and plugged $300,000 into the mortgage calculator using the same figures as before. Only twenty-four hundred a month for the whole ball of dough. That’s about 400 pizzas a month or about 100 per week, twenty a day, say two an hour …
Johnny decided that would be feasible.
He also decided to play the next lottery often, just to be safe.
He then researched Small Business Administration (SBA) l
oans and learned that the government, in its general lack of wisdom and general lack of funds, did not actually give out SBA loans. The SBA only negotiated with local banks to provide the funds—as if local banks had any money to lend either.
He clicked around the SBA website until he came to the “Requirements” page. When the librarian turned her head, he sneaked a piece of paper from the copy machine. “Provide a written description of your business, including the following information,” Johnny whispered. He wrote:
Type of organization: Pizza Joint
Date of information: Today
Location: Roanoke, VA
Product or service: Pizza
Brief history: None
Proposed Future Operation: Yes
Competition: None—no one delivers to this part of Roanoke … okay, Domino’s, Pizza Hut, and Papa John’s are close by for carryout orders
Customers: Hopefully!
Suppliers: Food Lion and maybe Kroger
If Kroger doesn’t mind me raiding its salad bar on a moment’s notice when I run out of banana peppers.
“Give a description of how loan funds will be used,” Johnny whispered. That librarian is eyeing me. Act casual. “Should include purpose, amount and type of loan,” he whispered into the keyboard. Johnny wrote:
Purpose: To buy property, get ovens, counters, ingredients, advertising, etc., and get my Vega fixed
Amount: $300,000
Type: SBA
“Give a description of collateral offered to secure the loan, including equity in the business, borrowed funds and available cash.” Johnny frowned and wrote:
Equity: None
Borrowed Funds: None
Available Cash: about $27
“Provide complete financial statements for the past three years and current interim financial statements.” What do I do here? Send a blank spreadsheet?