by J A Scooter
Peter allowed his face to blanche at the lecture on staff management as he began to act out his pretended reaction, “$500? Who do you think I am, J.D. Rockefeller?”
Then the bamboo screen, that inscrutable face of the east, he had developed in his youth slipped over his face to mask his true reaction. Slipping into overdrive his mind raced. ‘I have to keep up the façade of being aware of my lack of money and lack of business acumen. It would not do for Ted to know the truth. I am so pleased that the seeds I planted months ago have taken root and now I am being told what I already know’
“Wipe that blank look from your face, Old Scrooge. You can afford it many times over.”
‘If only you knew the truth, Ted, if only you knew the truth!’ Peter did not speak his thoughts. Instead he continued his pretense of being poor. “But I still owe so much on the business.” Ted knew how he had started with a partner who had died in a car accident shortly after his marriage. His widow was not pressing Peter for money but he felt honor bound to pay her as quickly as possible.
“Mavis rang me the other day to tell me she wanted to keep an interest in the business.” Ted made Peter sit and listen. “She’s not short of money. In fact, she’s very well off now the insurance has been finalized.”
Wise accountant, he continued, “She’s prepared to leave the remaining $100,000 in the firm and just draw say 25% of the net profit each year if that’s okay with you?”
Stretching across, he patted Peter’s arm, “Can’t you see Mavis is prepared to be a sleeping partner?” Then Ted’s serious mood broke and he looked around. “By the look of this flat you’ve even prepared for this to happen.” He laughed at his own joke.
Peter returned to the workshop floor and wandered around pleased that his plotting was bearing fruit. Easily he slipped into the almost penniless character that he wished to portray. His mind continued racing and inwardly he grinned - no huge debt hanging over his head - a sleeping partner only interested in drawing a quarter of the profit.
That figure was manageable and most fair – no one suspected that the amount owed would not even scratch the surface of his wealth.
Mavis had worked as their secretary while they got on their feet. She and Ken had been married only a few months when he had been killed in a car crash and she had never returned to the workshop and their only dealings had been through Ted.
“Ted wants you,” Joe ordered Peter upstairs confident in his new role as foreman.
He’d been with Peter since he’d first opened and he impressed Peter with his workmanship, his attitude to the other workers and the paternal care that he took with apprentices. He was the senior in the workshop and his readiness to assist the other workers made him a popular leader. His ability to cuss in fluent Italian was a source of merriment and teasing.
Joe believed his grey hair gave him the right to treat Peter as a son even though he was so much shorter and stockier than Peter. “I’ll be alright down here. I won’t rape any female customers or burn the workshop down.” He rumbled with laughter. “There’ll be no strike. There’s a sense of excitement in the workshop. Everyone can sense a change. Get up there,” he propelled Peter towards the stairs, “and see what Ted wants.”
“So, Joe is your new foreman. I'm not surprised. You’ve made a good choice. He’s a thinker as well as a doer.” Ted leaned back in his chair, “Coffee’s coming, courtesy of Joe. He’s really taken off. The best thing you’ve done.”
Peter was surprised things had changed so quickly. The coffee tasted different. Everything was different. The sun was even shining.
“Now, about Jennifer...” Carefully Ted assumed a pose of father as he scanned Peter’s face over the top of his glasses and held up his hand to stop Peter’s interruption.
“I'm talking to you as one of your best friends and we, Bob and I, decided I’d be the one to give you this lecture. Oh,” Ted read Peter’s reaction correctly, “you're surprised we’ve been talking about you. Well, you’ve had us both worried stiff. You're like a steam engine on the boil every time Jennifer doesn’t do what you want or expect. You blow off steam and then, if that’s not enough, like a faulty boiler you explode.”
Leaning closer Ted smiled kindly, “This is the first girl you’ve ever been interested in and you’ve fallen - fallen hard without any experience on which to draw.”
He grinned, “Now for some advice.”
Pausing he became serious, “Listen carefully and get yourself together. Take it slowly, very slowly. Be like the cat stalking the timid bird. One quick movement and the bird will be off and away and the cat is left hungry.” He took another sip from his coffee.
Quickly Peter interrupted. “I want more than a quick fling. Jennifer means so much more...”
“Don’t tell me your troubles,” laughing, Ted cut Peter off. “I'm not your Father Confessor you know. Just take it slowly and no more explosions. That green-eyed jealousy of yours will cause a lot of trouble if you don’t stop and think.”
Ted was right. If only he could control his jealousy but Jennifer meant...
Ted’s tone suddenly changed, “Now, about your books. They're bloody disgraceful.” Angrily he thrust page after page under Peter’s nose, “How the hell am I supposed to decipher your writing amidst all those greasy thumbprints? I don’t need glasses I need binoculars and a quick course in detective work.”
Glaring fixedly at Peter Ted announced, “You will have to get a secretary book-keeper.” Finished, he sat back and waited.
Although inwardly grinning at how his planning was coming to a head, Peter looked shell-shocked. Ted had already boosted the wages' ledger but he wanted more. The news about Mavis and the debt was good but the way Ted was spending money Peter, still in his act of being a penniless workshop owner, believed he would be bankrupt in a week.
His alter ego had taken over his mind as he continued to conceal his true worth from Ted.
The jangle of the phone interrupted them.
“Bob’s here and wants to see you both. He’s on his way up.”
Horrified, Peter knew that Bob would ask for the use of this accommodation when nothing else was available.
“Good Lord. So, you’ve gone up in the world. What a pad you have here.” All bounce and good humor, Bob breezed in. “This is where you entertain Mrs. Williams and your other attractive customers.”
His eyes gleamed and he licked his lips, “What a sly one you are and to think you didn’t tell me.”
Slapping Peter on the back, he continued. “You really are secretive, you old fox. A pity that you have to come through the workshop - you slipped up there. The entrance should be from the street.”
His lecherous laugh told Peter what he had in mind. “No beer in the fridge - that’s something you’ll have to remedy if Ted and I are to come again - but there’s enough food in the freezer for a buffet for hundreds. Large bed,” he bounced up and down on it before adding with a leer, “soft too. Clothes are in the cupboards including two sets of pajamas. You’ve thought of everything.”
Then as an afterthought, grinning he added, “Bet I know something you have forgotten.” He dived into the bathroom, “My God, there are 6 toothbrushes. Do you intend entertaining a bloody harem?”
Typically, Bob equated everything with sex. He wouldn’t understand, even if Peter bothered to explain, that the toothbrushes had been a pack left as a gift by one of Peter’s commercial traveler customers but Bob was off again. “Come on, you two. Leave those books. I'm starving”
The lunch hour stretched out to two hours but Ted wouldn’t allow Peter to leave, “Your foreman is earning his wage. Work will wait. Relax. Enjoy yourself.”
He and Bob were prepared to linger but Peter was obviously nervous. Eventually, they made their way to the workshop and Bob left, allowing them to continue with the books.
“Now, the next thing for today, you're about to call a meeting of all your workers. You're paying far too much tax and losing too much money on recalls. Th
e workers should’ve done fiddly little things so the owners complained.
“No matter how hard you try, you can’t inspect every job as it is completed. The men have to do better.” Ted stared at Peter across the table and smiled when he saw Peter nodding his approval.
“The cure? Make each worker a 'job finished' inspector. You're coming downstairs now to tell the workers they have a 25% share of net profits from today.”
Still hiding behind his façade as a poor businessman Peter was quick to retort, “You're mad.”
“No I'm just a 'hard headed bean counter' who, with Bob, is your best friend. While you're recovering from that, you're about to finalize the purchase of the motel the other side of the BMW dealership next door.
“You’ve so much money lying in the bank from this business that’s doing nothing. Soon the taxman will be asking questions. You're about to spread your wings and fly.” Noticing Peter’s look, he added, “Don’t you trust me?”
“Oh, I trust you, but all this is a shock. I know that I should stop my complaining.” Peter knew Ted’s ideas were sound as he had planted the ideas in Ted’s mind months previously. Ted had merely voiced what Peter had been considering.
“I suggest you ring Joe and tell him to shut the shop and tell the workers there is an urgent meeting for everyone in the lunch room.
“We’ll both meet with the workers if you wish, so tell him I’ll be at the meeting. Perhaps he can get the room a bit decent,” they laughed and Peter rang the workshop.
The workers had innumerable questions, which Ted answered, showing them how much they benefited from a rise in productivity and explaining how each, even the apprentices, would benefit according to their seniority.
Peter could only smile as he and Ted made their way upstairs and left the meeting in charge of Joe.
As the two friends made their way up the stairs, they could hear Joe’s words to the workers. “This is our business now so no lagging off and no returns because the job wasn’t done well in the first place. We're all partners so we all work hard to make a huge profit.”
“Ted, I have a renewal of that truck contract here. I need your advice. It’s with that transport business based in Bathurst. We have to collect their new prime-movers from the factory, spray them in company colors and deliver them to Bathurst.”
Silently Ted studied the papers before sighing. “There’s a lot of work here and it’s spread over a considerable time. Will you be able to handle it?”
“It’ll mean a lot of driving to Bathurst but I thought I’d drive up on Friday nights after work when necessary and fly or train back on the Saturday morning. It’ll be tough for a while but then it would even itself out.”
The prospect of all the extra work did not worry Peter.
“You're taking on a lot.” Handing the papers back he smacked the table as though he had suddenly made up his mind. “You're going to have a secretary, someone who knows book-keeping and will order you about.”
Peter tried to interrupt but ignoring him Ted continued, “I have the right person in mind. One of my staff has retired and would love a couple of day’s work a week and besides this secretary will take no nonsense from Bob.”
Knowing Bob as well as Ted did, Peter laughed. He could see Bob drooling all over the poor girl, pawing her legs or her shoulders - whatever he could touch while sneaking looks down the front of her dresses and blouses.
“Mark will be here first thing tomorrow.” Ted’s laughter became a hoot as Peter sank into the chair in surprise.
“I must tell Bob you’ve a new secretary tonight. By the time I’ve described her, he’ll be panting at the door come sunrise.” Wiping the tears from his eyes, he asked, “Will we see you Friday?”
“No. The first truck for the new contract arrives tomorrow and I’ll be rather busy.” There was no point in telling Ted of his plans for the weekend.
“Well, for God’s sake, be careful when you drive those trucks to Bathurst. You’ll have been working all day. No accidents or I’ll strangle you.”
Laughing he added, “I don’t relish having that 'cream puff', Bob, all to myself.”
“Cream puff?”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t seen through his act about women? He’s as scared of them as you are. He’s all hot air. If one of them accepted his outrageous suggestions he’d run a mile,” Ted grinned at Peter’s surprise. “Now take care. There’s more than Bob and I who have an interest in you.”
Peter believed he was talking of the workers but there was no need to tell Ted he would be careful.
Mark became the secretary and Bob arrived as expected, ready to impress and left crestfallen, mumbling that he would get his own back on Ted.
The workshop ran perfectly and the place seemed abuzz with a new enthusiasm and attention to detail.
Eventually, Wednesday morning arrived - with a clear blue sky and perfect sunshine. Peter arrived early in the street outside Jennifer’s unit and continually gazed at his watch willing the time to pass so he could knock on her door.
“Come in, the door’s open. I wondered how long you’d wait in the car.” Jennifer’s green eyes twinkled as she admitted that she’d been watching him.
“You little minx,” Peter hoisted her into his embrace and chastely kissed her hair before letting her back down.
Hand-in-hand they left and Peter tossed her the car keys. “I have this as a test drive so hammer it as much as you like and we’ll return it to the dealer when we’ve finished kicking tires.”
Jennifer didn’t demur but swung behind the steering wheel and laughing drove off into the traffic at a furious rate.
“Steady on. There are speed cameras everywhere. Don’t get booked,” were Peter’s wry comments.
Not bothering to reply, Jennifer played a symphony on the gearlever keeping the engine humming and using the car’s capabilities well.
Taking no notice of where she was taking him, Peter just sat there enjoying her perfume and her close proximity. The spell was broken when she parked the car and turned to stare at him. “Peter, I don’t think we really need to go kicking tires. Can we return this to the dealer and help me negotiate a good deal?”
Leaning across to hug her, Peter kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding through her shocked lips to battle her sweetness. They parted to gather their breath and he got out of the car without saying a word. He opened the driver’s door and stood so close to her it was as if they shared one body. His arms held her and his lips again claimed her, “Jennifer, Jennifer,” and his lips sank onto her neck as he quietly whispered, “I love you so.”
Peter drove the car to the dealer beside his workshop and parked it carefully, battling off the sales staff until he led Jennifer into the Manager’s Office.
“Hey, Jack, I believe you're retiring in a few days so today you’ve a chance to make a big impression. This young lady, Jennifer Blake, is somewhat interested in purchasing one of your cars but, why, I would never know. I'm sure the Japanese make better cars than the Germans.”
Peter’s laugh and Jack’s answer made Jennifer realize they were the best of friends.
“Jennifer? May I call you Jennifer? How did you get involved with a ruffian like this? My God, be careful of him. He can be really wicked.”
Jack’s smile told Jennifer how much he admired Peter.
“Let’s leave him here while we study the various cars and I can take you for a test drive.”
Taking Jennifer by the arm, he began to lead her out the door only to find Peter blocking the doorway.
“What? Do you think I'm stupid - allowing you to show Jennifer anything and to take her for a test drive? I'm neither senile nor stupid. My mother warned me about new car salesmen.”
Laughing, the three of them went out to 'kick tires'.
“Here’s an excellent little unit.” Jack started his spiel.
“Jennifer’s a rev head. You should see how she handled the demo you lent me. Now, Jennifer, what would you like to see?�
� Peter was going to be in control.
“I like the look of that little green model. I like the color.”
“Wait until I get some plates and we can take it for a drive,” Jack was about to move off.
“Oh, no, you don’t, Jack. You're trying to pass off a hard-to-shift model onto my innocent young friend here. Take us to the specialist showroom and let’s look there.”
Jack shrugged and asked Jennifer, “How much do you want to spend?”
Before Jennifer could answer Peter laughed, “As little as possible.”
The three walked into the rear of the showroom where the absolute top of the line stood - a Mini Cooper S, leather upholstery, climate control, high fidelity sound - every option possible and again British racing green.
Peter was quiet while Jack went though his spiel and showed Jennifer all the bits and pieces. The bonnet went up and Jennifer showed surprising knowledge of the engine parts. Under the lights and on the red-carpeted floor it was both immaculate and desirable and Peter, watching Jennifer carefully, knew she was captivated.
“Peter, I love it, but sadly I can’t afford it. It’s a dream.” Her voice tapered off wistfully.
Peter led her out of the showroom. “How much do you want to spend, sweetheart?” The word slipped out and Jennifer gazed at him for some time before finding her voice.
“$30,000 maximum insured and registered and that is a long way from the price of that car.”
“Oh, you haven’t done much tire kicking, have you? Come on, let’s twist Jack’s arm. This’ll be fun. Let me do the bargaining, please, Jennifer.”
Over coffee, the bargaining began. It was obvious to Jennifer that Jack wouldn’t drop the price of the car enough for her to purchase it until Peter demanded he speak to the Head Office.
“Back soon. Don’t run away. We don’t want to buy the business but Jack expects us to pay top dollar for a car they’ve not been able to move,” were Peter’s words as he dragged Jack off.