Trust

by George V. Higgins

  “It isn’t much, is it,” Earl said. “How long would the starter pay last? And what would you make after that?”

  “Three months, they said,” Charlene said. “Then I would get fifteen more.”

  “ ‘If there’s an opening, after three months,’ ” Mrs. Arnold said. “They didn’t promise you, would be. I told her and told her, and told her again. I said: ‘Charlene, that’s not enough. If Timmy was here, instead of Saigon, Timmy would tell you that, too.’ I don’t know who’s, which one of them’s taking the biggest chance. Her over here, mooning at cars that she just can’t afford, or Timmy over there with people shooting at him.”

  “Oh, Ma,” Charlene said, “cut it out. Timmy’s an embassy guard. He’s not out where the fighting is, people’re getting shot. You read his letters, Ma, and you know, Timmy’s just plain bored.”

  Mrs. Arnold said: “Huh. Timmy doesn’t know enough, get scared when he should. Don’t surprise me, he isn’t. He’s got no sense, either. Not an atom of sense. Just like the people in charge of the country—not an atom of sense. Americans should mind our own business, just stay home and go to work. What those Chinamen’re up to shouldn’t bother us at all.”

  Charlene sighed. “Mister Beale,” she said, “do you see any way? Any way at all?”

  Earl cleared his throat. “Charlene,” he said, “and Mrs. Arnold, let me assure you something. There’s no point, I’ve got no reason, sit and lie to you.” Charlene looked hopeful. Mrs. Arnold showed a small, grim smile. Earl shook his head. “No, Mrs. Arnold,” he said, “now you’ve got to listen, now. This is the truth I’m telling you, no matter what you think. If I sell you a car that I know you can’t afford, and I help you get financing, knowing you can’t keep it up, well, that won’t do me any good. It will hurt me, in fact. If you default on a loan that I vouched for you to get, the next time that I take a buyer in to get a loan, the bank is going to turn him down, no matter he can pay. And why will the bank do that? Because you didn’t pay on yours. So there’s no percentage in it for me, get you in some big fat mess. This is how I make my living, day in and day out. I’d rather lose a nice commission, I can live without, ’n get it and then find out that I can’t make any more.

  “Now,” he said, “Charlene, I got to be honest with you. I know you love that neat hardtop. I want you to be happy. But this job that you’re describing won’t carry the payments until you graduate in June and go on, a better job. Unless, and I don’t know this, you can make a big down payment. Just how much can you pay down?”

  Charlene glanced at her mother again. She looked back at Earl. “I,” she said, “Ma finally said, if you could find a way, she would let me borrow some of Timmy’s money. Not all of it, but some.”

  “Which Charlene has got to pay back,” Mrs. Arnold said, “before he gets home, October. And that’s how I decided how much I would let her use. By figuring up just how much is the most she can pay back, along with the bank payments.”

  “You don’t need to tell him that, Ma,” Charlene said. “He don’t care about that stuff.”

  “Well, and how much is that, then?” Earl said.

  Charlene said, “Five hundred dollars, sir.”

  “Okay,” Earl said, “let’s do the numbers.” He moved his pad in front of him and took his ballpoint out. “After you folks left today, I went and checked the book. I wasn’t sure the figures, so I went and looked them up. That car out there that you drove is a ’sixty-five. It’s only two years old, and the mileage on it’s low. This is good news for some buyer, but it may not be for you. That car listed new for thirty-eight, almost four thousand dollars. The Blue Book, which is what all the dealers use for prices, the Blue Book says that model, year, in good condition runs around twenty-six hundred bucks. Which isn’t chicken feed.” He wrote the figures on the pad. Mrs. Arnold scowled. Charlene continued to look hopeful.

  “Now,” he said, “you don’t have a trade-in. Most people don’t know this, but I’ll let you in on a secret. If we don’t have to take your worn-out car in trade, and maybe lose some money on it by the time we get it fixed enough to sell it, someone else, we’re in a position to sweeten things a little. Which means”—he paused and looked at them—“I can knock two hundred off that twenty-six I mentioned.” Charlene smiled.

  Earl held up his right hand in the Stop gesture. “Don’t smile yet, Charlene,” he said. “I haven’t finished yet. You’ve got five hundred dollars. Good. On twenty-four that’s a good start—at least it looks like one. But I wouldn’t let you put it all down on the purchase price, the car. Because you’re going to need insurance, plus the fees for number plates. I’d be on the safe side and make sure I had enough. Since you’re under twenty-six, and you’ll be driving it, even if your mother owns it—which is what I would suggest—those insurance costs are high. I’d say put down three hundred.” He wrote that on the pad. “Which means you finance twenty-one. Twenty-one hundred dollars.”

  “Now,” he said, “twenty-one hundred at eight percent for two years, just let me check the tables here.” He opened the top drawer of his desk and took out a plasticized card. “Is one-oh-one fifty a month.”

  “Eight percent?” Mrs. Arnold said. “I seen an ad in the paper, and on the TV too, that auto loans are cheaper’s that. Six or seven, I thought.”

  “On new cars, Mrs. Arnold,” Earl said. “That hardtop’s used. And that’s for three years also, thirty-six payments, which the banks won’t write for used cars—two years, twenty-four months, is the highest they will go.

  “Now, Charlene,” he said, “you’re going to need gas. Car with no gas in it, well, won’t get you very far. You’re going to need snow tires pretty soon, too, which that car, coming from California, doesn’t have. Snow tires are expensive. You’re going to have to have the oil changed, and filters, and all that sort of thing. And all that stuff costs money. Next year about this time, you’ll get a new insurance bill. And there’s the excise tax you pay, just for owning it. Now, you may not’ve thought of this, but I think you really should. Owning a car, keeping it up, costs money. Steadily. If you get through a given month without having to spend at least sixty, seventy dollars, in addition to your payment, you can count yourself lucky. And if I was you I’d save that money, for next month when you may need it.”

  Mrs. Arnold shook her head. “Mister,” she said, “I don’t care what you say, and I don’t care what she says. This girl cannot afford that car. There’s no two ways about it: she just can’t afford that car.”

  Charlene looked at Earl. Her eyes were brimming. “She’s wrong, isn’t she,” she said. “There is a way, I know. I just got to have that car. You showed me yourself, you showed her, how much easier it’d be if I had a car for school.” She turned to her mother. “And I mean it, Ma, I will work. And I will get better marks.” She looked back at Earl. “Tell her that she’s wrong, please? Tell her there’s a way. You just left something out. Tell her that she’s wrong.”

  Earl shook his head. “She’s dead right, Charlene,” he said. “I hate to say it but it’s true. You can’t afford that car, and even though I’d make some money, selling it to you, I have to tell you I don’t want to. I think it’s a big mistake, and I left nothing out.”

  Charlene slumped in the chair and covered her face with her hands. Her body shook and she made quiet sobbing sounds.

  Mrs. Arnold’s face showed mingled triumph and anger. “I knew I was right,” she said. “I knew it all along. And I’m glad you finally told her. But I got to say I don’t thank you for stringing her along.” She put her arm around her daughter’s shoulder and patted her on the arm. “There, there, darlin’,” she said, “you’ll get over this. Stop your cryin’ now, just stop. And tell yourself that come next summer, you get a good job, then you can get yourself a car.” She looked at Earl again. “This was a bad thing to do, mister,” she said. “You got this poor girl’s hopes all up, and then just smashed them for her. I’m glad you finally wound up on my side in this whole thi
ng, but I sure God wished you didn’t have to rile her all up first.”

  “Mrs. Arnold,” Earl said, “you haven’t let me finish. I meant every word I said, to the both of you. I do think Charlene could get better grades in school, if she had a car. I think that your life would be easier at least, if she had a car. I’m on her side, not on yours, where those things are concerned. Charlene’s dead right about your need. You need to have a car.”

  Charlene put her hands down. Her cheeks were wet. “Ma’s right,” she said angrily. “You just strung me along, and now you’re doing it some more. What good’s it do for you to say that, about how I’m right? You just told us we’re too poor for me to have a car. Well, we knew we didn’t have much. Didn’t need you, tell us that. And we don’t need you now, you bastard, to sit there and rub it in.”

  “Charlene,” Earl said, “you’re not listening. You do need a car. You can’t swing the Impala. But that Impala’s not the only car outside this office. There’s a car that you can afford. It’s right outside the door. The man drove it in here today, right after you folks left. He told me that his mother needs to have an operation and he had to sell his car to get money now, today. I bought it from him on the spot. And you can own that car. You can drive it out today, if you can get insurance and the plates.” He looked at his watch. “Although it’s pretty late for that. I doubt you could pull it off. Well, still, it can be yours today. I’ll put a set of plates on it and drive it to your house. I can’t let you use the plates this weekend—that’s against the rules. But on Monday, when they’re open, you can get yourself insured, and then go down and get your plates. By noon I’ll bet on Monday you can drive out and have lunch.”

  Charlene jumped out of the chair and ran to the door. She left it open when she went out into the yard, squealing. Mrs. Arnold scowled at Earl. “All right, mister,” she said, “you got more tricks in your bag’n even I dreamed that you had. Just what would the payments be on this new goddamned temptation?”

  “Nothin’,” Earl said.

  She stared at him. “Nothin’? What new kind of bunk is this? What’re you pulling on us now? Treatin’ us like suckers.”

  “Same answer,” Earl said, “nothin’. Zero payments, zero months, and zero interest, too.”

  “There’s a catch in here somewhere,” Mrs. Arnold said. “There’s got to be a catch. I know that there’s a catch in there. I just can’t see what it is.”

  “Mrs. Arnold,” he said, “there’s no catch, believe me. That Ford, that’s a Ford there she’s looking at, that Ford is twelve years old. True, it’s only got forty-odd thousand miles on it, but it’s still an old, old car. And to someone who’s been a little luckier than you and Charlene’ve been, someone who’s got some free cash, well, they just won’t look at it. It’s got some rust. It needs a new muffler. It just isn’t as pretty as that maroon job that she first saw, and somebody with that kind of money, who can afford to spend it, well, he wants pretty too.

  “But,” Earl said, “and I won’t deny this, I had Charlene in mind when I bought it from the guy. For someone in Charlene’s position, and in your position, too, that Ford hardtop out there could be just about the perfect car. It runs all right. Does burn some oil, but all old cars do that. It’s got a new inspection sticker so the running gear’s all right—if it wasn’t all right then the car would not have passed. I don’t know but I would guess when it gets cold, new battery.

  “But still,” he said, “add all that up: a Midas muffler, okay? Fifteen bucks, including labor, cheaper’n I can sell one. A battery from Western Auto? Maybe eighteen more. If she can learn to keep the oil up, and buy cheap stuff by the case, maybe forty cents a week’ll keep it fat and happy. Can she drive it to New York every day? Nope. Can she drive it to school every day, and you to the doctor, and store? Sure can. What’ll the excise tax probably be? Ten or twelve bucks, I would guess. And since no bank’s involved in the deal, you don’t need collision insurance—price there drops to about sixty bucks. Will it last her three, four years? No, indeed it won’t. But will it last her until she can get a job, and a better one? If she’s careful with it, sure. No trouble at all.”

  “And what about your price, to buy it?” she said. “I bet I know what that is. I bet I can guess it right off. To the penny. Your price right down to the penny.”

  Charlene came bounding back into the office. “Oh, Ma,” she said, “come and see it. It’s just beautiful, it’s just beautiful. Can we start it up, Mister Beale? And maybe go out for a ride?”

  Mrs. Arnold turned to face her. There was a small smile on her face. “Charlene,” she said, patting the chair, “now you just sit down here a minute. Mister Beale here and I, we’ve just been having a chat. And I want to finish that chat here and now, because he’s got me real curious.”

  Charlene sat down. “You mean it, Ma?” she said.

  Mrs. Arnold nodded. She patted Charlene on the thigh. She looked back at Earl. “Okay, Mister Beale,” she said, grinning, “did I guess right? Yes, I did.”

  “This isn’t fair,” Earl said. “You want me to tell you if you guessed right. But I don’t know what you guessed.”

  Mrs. Arnold nodded serenely. “That’s all right,” she said. “Im an honest woman. Been one all my life. You just tell me what the price is, and I’ll tell you, I guessed right.”

  Earl shook his head, smiling ruefully. “Well, Mrs. Arnold,” he said, “I’m glad they’re not all tough as you. I suppose you don’t believe me if I say when I bought that car, that I had Charlene in mind?”

  Mrs. Arnold smiled broadly. “Probably not,” she said.

  “And that when I bought it, just an hour or so ago, I made up my mind on the spot that if you two could swing it I would let it go to you for cost plus twenty bucks? Because I like this kid, and I do think she needs a car?”

  Charlene bounced in the chair. “Charlene,” Mrs. Arnold said, patting her again, “now you just be still now, while Mister Beale’s soft-soaping us. No, Mister Beale,” she said, “I don’t think I would. But I will be polite now, and I’ll say: ‘Of course I do.’ How much does it cost?”

  “Three hundred bucks,” Earl said.

  Mrs. Arnold stared at him. Charlene’s mouth dropped open. Earl grinned. “Now it’s my turn, Mrs. Arnold, and you promised you’d be honest. I told you twenty over my cost, which was two hundred eighty bucks. If you think that’s a funny price, well, I can’t say I blame you. But here is what happened, how I got to that: I gave him two seventy-five for the car itself. The other five was for the gas he just put in. Two eighty plus twenty’s three hundred. Three hundred’s my price to you.”

  “And there’s no catch,” Mrs. Arnold said. “You’re not gonna spring something later. Something that costs us more money.”

  “Nope,” Earl said, “that’s all there is. Three hundred and she’s yours. Take her home this afternoon and get her out of here before my boss comes in tomorrow, and makes me raise the price. And since you still haven’t told me your guess, I’m gonna guess at your guess. It was five hundred, right? Five hundred bucks, on the nose?”

  Mrs. Arnold swallowed and nodded. “That’s what it was,” she said. “Once you knew how much we had with us, that’s what I figured it was.”

  “Well, you see, Mrs. Arnold,” Earl said, getting a bill of sale from the drawer, “I agree that you sure can’t trust many, especially my line of work. But now and then, you got to agree now, one of us plays by the rules. Some of us do tell the truth. I happen to think it’s the only way. I need my conscience clear to sleep.”

  The driveway of the brown three-decker on Balsam Street in West Roxbury was two tracks of cement leading in from the street. Earl crouched to remove the dealer plate from the Crown Victoria. When he stood up with the plate under his arm, Charlene grabbed him, spun him to face her, hugged him, and stood on the tiptoes of her white vinyl boots to kiss him repeatedly on the face, ending with the lips. The last one was a fairly long kiss, that she emphasized with her tongu
e, and by writhing against his torso.

  Mrs. Arnold took her by the shoulder and pulled her away. “Now you cut that out, Charlene,” she said. “You just cut that out right now.” Mrs. Arnold’s face was very red as Charlene, without letting go of Earl, stepped back half a pace. “Honestly,” Mrs. Arnold said.

  “ ‘Honestly,’ ” Charlene said, mimicking her mother, and then, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mister Beale. I love you lots and lots. Oooh, thank you just so much.” She gave him another hug, and a more chaste kiss.

  He gently disengaged her hands from his upper arms and stepped diagonally back from her. He tried to look sheepish. He looked at Mrs. Arnold. “Well, Mrs. Arnold,” he said, “I’ve sold a few cars in my time, and like to think at least I’ve pleased some of my customers. But I’ve got to tell you, ma’am, she’s the first one, ever kissed me.”

  “Yeah,” Mrs. Arnold said, getting a restraining grip on Charlene’s arm. “Well, I appreciate it, too. Not quite that much, but I thank you. I might have misjudged you. I’d invite you in for coffee, but I’m afraid what this one might do.”

  He laughed. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ve got to start back anyway. The boss in special situations like this doesn’t mind us putting the sign up, but it does say twenty minutes is how long that we’ll be closed. So I do have to start back.”

  “Do you want us to call you a cab?” Charlene said.

  “Huh,” Mrs. Arnold said, “walk to Worcester and back, ’fore he’d get here.”

  “No,” Earl said, “but thanks for asking. I hope you enjoy the car.”

  On the walk back he stopped at a doughnut shop and bought two large coffees, one black and one with cream and sugar. He carried them back to the office, unlocked the door, and went in. He did not remove the CLOSED sign from the door; he locked it behind him. He put the bag of coffees on Fritchie’s desk, opened it and took out the one with cream and sugar. He sat down at his desk, opened the container and began to drink, staring vacantly straight ahead, his forehead furrowed. Then he nodded once and put the cup down.