Penniless Hearts

by Eve Gaal

  “Formal charges?”

  * * *

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Ron stood holding the box of Just for Men, wondering if he should do a touch-up, or a full application. Tomorrow he had to meet with Darin and some of the Globe's higher-ups regarding Tina's harassment claim. The box clearly stated a few warnings about allergies. Eschewing the patch test, he forgot he had allergies to certain chemicals like ammonia.

  Soon Ron's face blistered around his hairline and his head itched like crazy. He tried putting lotion on it, but the lotion only exasperated the problem, making his hair look like an unwashed greasy mop. Instead of looking younger, he looked like a sweating pervert with fogged up glasses, red puffy blisters and reddish brown hair that he carefully plastered over the oozing open sores on his forehead.

  When the top brass saw him later, they all made jokes about Ron looking like he caught a sexually transmittable disease. He overheard the Classified Advertising Director whisper, “Tell him to get the body-condom, next time,” followed by humiliating laughter, when he stepped into the elevator. Not wanting to shake hands, his boss pulled him aside and told him to take a few days off to get some rest. Two hours later Ron called Darin.

  “Hey Darin, its Ron, your pal from the Globe,” he shouted confidently, not pausing to listen for a reply. “Remember, I'm Tina's manager?” Again, he waited and though he knew Darin was on the other end of the line, silence began to erode his false bravado. With a normal tone of voice he added, “You were in my foursome at our charity tournament.”

  Darin's voice finally broke through the monologue, “Of course I remember, but I'd rather forget that tournament. My score really sucked.” He laughed adding, “You hit a couple birdies though. What's up? Please don't tell me it's another tournament, I just played at Naniloa. The sand traps and palm trees drove me nuts.”

  “No worries—actually I just wondered if we could get together today, to talk about your Toys for Tots ad campaign.”

  “You mean for Martin Toyota?” Darin asked, confused about the word 'today'. Darin figured Ron wasn't clear on his area codes and didn't realize he had dialed his Hilo store. No wonder she quit, he thought—this dude was a worn down pencil in a world full of typewriters.

  “Yes, the one with the Martians,” Ron chuckled.

  Darin listened to Ron snickering at his greatest concept and he didn't like it. The Martian idea had brought him tons of customers and that Penny woman had taken that idea and adapted it to create a masterpiece. Not to mention Tina's role in ironing out the details, proofing the disclosures and making sure it was perfect. This guy was an ass. Moreover, a stupid ass.

  “Ron,” Darin said impatiently. “I'm kind of busy interviewing managers for my store in Hawaii right now, so I can't meet with you unless you're flying out here anytime soon. Anyway, I'm thinking of selling Martin Toyota over there since I'm doing fine right here. The whole island hopping thing is driving me insane. Do you know anyone who might want a successful dealership?” Now it was Darin's turn to chuckle, because he knew Martin happened to be the newspaper's biggest account.

  Listening quietly, but determined to save the business, Ron remembered his boss telling him to take a few days off. Glancing at his watch, he said, “Actually, I should be in Hilo on Thursday, Darin. How's one o'clock?”

  Darin didn't want to hang up on the guy, but he didn't have time for nonsense. “Okay, he said, “but I don't think you caught what I said. I'm selling the place, all 20,000 square feet of showroom and all my flooring.”

  Desperation mixed with Ron's perspiration, and he wanted to sound self-assured. “How's one o'clock on Thursday?” he repeated.

  Are asses as stubborn as mules? Darin wondered. He had met many people in his business and sometimes he felt sorry for how senseless some of them were. Like the grocery clerk with five kids and a wife who didn't work, who insisted on buying the truck with the huge monthly payments, even though it only seated three people. Or the little old lady who brought her car into service every week because of a mysterious sound, that turned out to be a bingo blotter rolling around in her trunk. Or tactfully up selling the four-hundred pound man and his matching wife who apparently wanted to relive prom night in the tiniest economy car ever advertised. Even worse was not being able to deny a ten-year loan to the ninety-five year old man who wanted the most expensive car on the lot. Sometimes he felt like a psychologist trying to make everyone happy, but occasionally he'd meet people who were so far off the charts he wanted to turn their problems over to someone else.

  He needed a customer service department. A place any customer could complain to their hearts content and feel better afterwards. They'd feel so good, they'd beg for a car. Like counseling or therapy, people could unload their automotive woes on a great listener who would log notes into a giant computer. Eventually, his dealership would know everything about all the customers. After listening to all their problems for years and years, they would start feeling like part of the Martin family. They would buy all their cars from his dealership and he would make tons more money.

  Ron might be an ass, but indirectly he had given him a great idea. He loved new ideas. Ideas were the backbone of his business– the fuel that drove Americans. “Yes,” he finally said, “Hold on, I'll have you make an appointment with my appointment setter.” Darin handed the phone to Tina.

  “Hi Ron, this is Tina.”

  * * *

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Sitting on the lanai at the Hyatt, Carl enjoyed watching all the bikini-clad women rub suntan lotion over their shimmering bodies. Settling into the idea of being in a smorgasbord of oil-slicked flesh in skimpy bathing suits, Carl's outlook regarding everything changed faster than he could change channels with the hotel remote. Maybe he would head down to Waikiki beach and look around. Heck, it couldn't hurt, and maybe he'd have some fun too. Reaching into the pocket of his best pants, he pulled out some change and a piece of paper. Unfolding it, he recognized Penny's cursive handwriting.

  “Daddy, I bet you're reading this in church. (I put this note in your nice pants because I knew you'd wear them to church.) Anyway, I just got home from this amazing date with this super cool guy called Dan. He's a pilot for American Airlines and who knows he might be the one. I'm even taking a week off to go with him to Hawaii. (You were sleeping– I tried to tell you.) I'll be home Christmas day. Oh, you might want to water those plants on the kitchen window. I hope you figured out the meal plan I made for you. I haven't been impulsive for a while, but I guess it's like the old me. Say a prayer so it all works out. I love you. Pen. P.S. I love John, but I need to look around, especially with all your talk about marriage and kids. Need to be sure.”

  God he loved that kid. Nothing to worry about, just as he thought. Couples holding hands walked by on the sand and Carl daydreamed of Penny, and how she might be enjoying herself in the same way. She deserved a vacation from that Tina woman and that boss who heaped extra work on her when she least expected it.

  Maybe it was time for John to move on and find someone new. Everyone loved John, but he didn't have any goals. He seemed complacent, and afraid of commitment. Why didn't he ask Penny to marry him a long time ago? It made him think of his wife and the way she used to ask him about things, she wanted done around the house. She'd say, “Carl honey, what are you waiting for…Christmas?”

  * * *

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Cinders fell from the sky and started landing on trees, leaving bare trunks clamoring toward heaven. The desperate tropical trees were unable to avoid the ravaging heat and windy turbulence sent smoke blowing down into Hilo. At Darin's dealership, frustrated sales people ran around trying to keep vehicles clean from the ash that rained down from the volcanic eruption. Two lot boys walked out, saying they'd rather flip burgers than re-wipe the same black and red cars. Even the guy Darin interviewed for GM bitched about small flakes of residue on his Italian suit. (Dressing to impress and then bringing attention to it didn't do anythi
ng for Darin.) The factory rep complained about the soot on her laptop case. The service department hummed with flat, melting tires needing repairs, but the sound of service writers shouting about too many cars in the service drive sounded like music to his ears.

  Darin loved excitement. Adrenaline pumped through his veins from living near Mount Kilauea, where Mother Nature's passion growled and tumbled out into the ocean in the form of hot molten lava. In Hawaii, he didn't have to compete with forty-nine states and all the mainland corporate mumbo-jumbo. His sales quotas were based on transient college students, locals and seasonal but wealthy homeowners. Spending too much time in California made him crazy. He needed to get back into the rush of his favorite outdoor adventures. Extreme sports rocked his world and made his heart pump like an oil derrick. Parasailing, scuba, hunting and hang gliding were just some of the nearby sports he could pursue. He watched Tina quietly working the phones and taking notes in front of him.

  “Have you seen this?” She asked, shoving statistical information into his hand. “Do you want me to file it?”

  Looking at the report with large red numbers made him sad. His father had worked so hard to make their dealership the best place to buy a car. Restless and unnerved by the recent sales figures, he looked down at his Bruno Magli driving moccasins and thought back to his lean years when his father pushed him for his own good. Babysitting these ridiculous, spoiled rich kids who thought they could get by selling one car a month, while sleeping on the beach, wasn't going to cut it. He was onto their bullshit. If they didn't sell one or two cars, they'd use his phone lines to get money wired from their parents in Connecticut. Darin wanted them to have a fire in their belly–a passion and a reason for staying motivated. His dad had told him a long time ago that the angrier a salesperson became, the more cars they would sell. Then his dad drove him to the enlistment office and he spent five years getting angrier and angrier. Frustrated, he threw the report on the desk, and picked up the television remote.

  Surfing the channels he landed on the news. The station showed soldiers shooting in a far off country, reminding him of the discipline he learned defending the U.S. He remembered dreaming of getting out and his first week back from combat. His father had denied him food, car keys, phone privileges and any fatherly affection in any form, if he didn't produce at least one sale a week. His dad said, “You're my son and you need to set an example.”

  Now, with dad gone, the burden rested on his shoulders and he had to be efficient as the head of the Martin family legacy. He was in charge, not his dad, not Tina, no one but him. Maturity had earned him his freedom to do what he wanted, and no one would scold or belittle him. No one could steal the zeal he had for selling cars. Inside his head simmered various ideas for taking the dealership to the next level.

  One of those ideas centered on advertising. He needed big splashy ads to put a positive spin on all this volcanic nonsense. Maybe he could hand out beach balls with every test drive, or give away a free tour of the crater. Pink orchids for all the ladies who shopped on the weekends–he'd think of something. Something exciting and exhilarating that would show these laid-back islanders not to worry about their fire-breathing goddess, but to–a vision flashed across the screen in front of him interrupting his thoughts. Mac's face appeared in a corner box on the right hand of the screen and below it what seemed to be, a smoky picture of black debris and the twisted wreckage of a smoldering chopper. The blurry picture was filmed from a distance by another helicopter hovering above fresh, flowing lava and burning brush. Darin turned up the sound even though Tina was on the phone calling hotels in Kauai.

  “The rescue helicopter that crashed on Mauna Kea was being flown by a Kauai tour company pilot who volunteered to find lost hikers, but this time got too close to the crater.” The camera panned the scene, but cloudy, black sections made everything indistinguishable and unclear. “Most locals have been evacuated, but two residents and the hikers from this morning have still been unaccounted for. The last voice transmission from the pilot said his visibility was almost zero at the time of the crash. Pictures of the wreckage have been streaming in, but it will be several days before positive identification can be verified. Officials are warning tourists to stay off the main highway near the tourist center where lava is now crossing the road. Not only is the Kilauea volcano the world's most active volcano, but it also attracts one thousand sightseers daily. Watch the news at eleven for more details regarding this and other stories. Back to you Glenn.”

  “Thanks Anne,” a different reporter came on the screen. His tie kept blowing over his shoulder and his close-cropped hair stood on end. “Not only is the visibility bad here, but the wind has not shifted away from the Honolulu airport where hundreds of holiday travelers are still stranded.”

  Darin stood up, turned off the television and said, “Tina, I have to go.” Reaching for his coat, he ran out of the office to his ash covered Tundra with only one thing on his mind. He needed to locate Mac and find out the whole story for himself. Finding out what happened to that Penny girl would be a good idea too.

  * * *

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “Honestly, I'd love to surf, but I don't think today would be the day for it.” John said, thinking about his stitches and the dull throbbing pain emanating from his skull. “Could we just hang out in this area and let ourselves get lured into the tourist traps?” He smiled at Heidi, standing under a monkey pod tree. She looked resplendent in a new dress with a tropical print and silver-leather sandals.

  She didn't say anything, but she laughed while swirling her dress around like a runway model. Her red lips matched the hibiscus flower pattern that grasped her body in a tangled embrace, clutching her and reminding John not to grapple with forbidden fruit, or whatever temptation she embodied. Fear seemed to hold his feet to the walkway, and though he loved the attention and the flattering compliments, a deep innate instinct churned inside of him, warning him to side with caution.

  Earlier while they had shopped for clothes, he kept talking about things like the South Pacific to keep himself from getting too personal. It didn't matter what he said, she laughed at everything and said he was interesting. When she said he knew more about the South Pacific than anyone she had ever met it really made him feel good. He didn't have to be an Einstein to know that a few more stories about Captain Cook and she'd be swooning and wanting to get a room. His panicky eyes feasted on her angular cheekbones, up above her toned and sensuous physique.

  “Okay John,” she frowned, stepping back onto the walkway, “You win. Let's go sightseeing.”

  Heidi's lipstick made him think about his favorite color. Red. He felt worse than guilty about spending time with this poster girl for airline fitness. His heart ached for Penny and he didn't know what to say or do.

  Heidi sensed the melancholy mist surrounding John. “Would you please snap out of it?” She stood two inches from his nose and stared into his eyes. “If you don't get your act together, we won't have any fun all day and we won't find your girlfriend either.” She giggled like a schoolgirl, but it only made it worse.

  “I know,” he replied, feeling like he didn't know anything. He needed to figure things out and Heidi complicated everything. Should he go back to the airport to find Carl and Tina? Then he remembered that Tina's boyfriend owned a multi-point dealership in Hawaii. Penny was always talking about it. What was it called? Mint-flavored candy breath came close again. Stepping aside, he said, “I need to find a phone book.” His head turned towards the bustle of tourists on the boardwalk and he started running.

  “Wait,” she shouted, trying to catch up, but her silver sandals made running difficult. “Are we still hanging out together? Don't forget, I'm going to help you.”

  “There are some phone booths over there by the Hyatt,” she yelled, pointing at a row of phones, but unfortunately, there were no phone books attached to them.

  John stopped running. “I'm going in to the lobby to ask the concierge about phone books
, do you want to stay and wait for me here or do you want to come with me? I'll be back soon, or on second thought, why don't you check out the surf?” He called back, while taking deep breaths and pointing at the waves. She ran up behind him and he slowed down. Sorry Heidi, he thought to himself. Being a man of routine, he knew what he wanted and what he needed–nothing mysterious, he was easy to please. Dessert trays never enticed him; in fact, he usually passed on dessert as easily as his friends passed beets or spinach. Maybe he was like Carl–another man of routine–solid as a rock. Penny begged him to try a new beer, or try out a new barber, but he stuck to his guns and his old ways worked out just fine–until this week–when everything turned upside down. He felt like a tortoise that couldn't right himself—his arms and legs flailing left and right, rocking on his shell–not knowing what to do and where to go for help. Maybe he'd start by fighting the maniac who brought Penny here with his bare hands.

  In the old days, his friends were the ones to get into bar fights. He hated fighting and he certainly didn't want to kill the bastard who ran off with Penny, but maybe he could use his strong, capable hands to teach the son of a….

  “John,” Heidi's voice startled him, bringing him back to reality. “Wait,” Heidi said, grabbing his hand, “I want to go with you.” She took off her sunglasses and tried to keep up with John's pace as he headed towards the Hyatt. “You can't just leave me in the dust; just because you're angry about losing your girlfriend. Maybe you were right about how she felt. Did you ever think she wanted to be lost?”