by Darrel Bird
Part 4
Joe had never been to his brother’s house, but with good directions, he found it. He drove up to the house, honked the horn, and got out of the van as his brother came out to meet him. As they shook hands, his brother asked where he got the ‘bitchin’ van. Joe explained what happened, and his brother nodded and said, “Wow!” Then his sister-in-law, Miranda, walked out and hugged him tightly.
His brother was on his third wife. He had a successful car business, but Joe knew his brother was heading for disaster if he didn’t change. He just could not leave the women alone. Joe had always had liked his brother’s third wife, who had a homely face, blonde hair, and a kind heart.
“Come on in, Joe! We have dinner ready,” she said, and Joe followed them into the house. She had prepared steak and onions with mushrooms. That woman could cook steak and onions to make a man’s mouth water, and his gut to come up to see if his throat was cut.
After dinner they moved into the living room, and his brother lit a cigar. Joe suspected that his brother smoked cigars in an attempt to look like he was one of the Vegas wheeler-dealers. He knew his brother had a false sense of his own maturity, and he also knew the macho act was a cover for his inner feelings. Joe sensed that his younger brother had been that way so long he had lost all sense of his own identity.
They talked about old times for a while, and suddenly his brother snapped his fingers and said, “Some woman called here and said she lives over in Henderson and wanted you to call her.”
“I don’t know anybody here,” Joe said.
“Well, I don’t know who she is. All I know is she left a number and wanted you to call when you got here, so I am just giving you the message.”
He reached over to the table by the phone and handed Joe a slip of paper. He stuffed the number in his shirt pocket and promptly forgot about it. He told his brother he had to get some sleep, so Miranda led him down the hall and showed him a bedroom. He shucked his clothes and was asleep about as soon as his head hit the pillow.
He slept straight through until morning and woke up about nine. He had a shower and walked out the front door. The bright Nevada sun almost blinded him. He had a slight headache but he felt rested.
Miranda came to the door to tell him the dog was in the backyard and that she had fed him. Joe walked through the house and out the sliding glass door to the backyard. When Boomer saw him he got up, yawned, and ambled over to Joe.
He looked him over, but Boomer seemed happy and well. “We made it, boy,” said Joe, as he scratched Boomer behind the ear. “You go to farting, boy, and they are liable to run us both off.” He turned to Miranda and told her about Boomer’s farting fit.
Miranda laughed and squatted down to hug Boomer. She said to the dog, “I love you, old dog. You are a good doggy, even if you do fart.” Boomer gladly obliged her by licking her face profusely. The dog had a way of getting to those he thought might feed him, and Joe could see he had set out to win her heart. Miranda was a sucker for every dog and stray cat she came across anyway, so she and Boomer had quickly become friends.
“Danged dog gets more attention than I do!” Joe said. They both laughed. They walked back into the house together and sat down in the living room.
“Your brother said to come on down to the lot when you felt like it,” she said.
“I believe I will head on down there,” Joe said, and Miranda explained how to get there. He left the house about 12:30 to find the lot. It was located on a side street off the Las Vegas strip, close to Circus Circus.
When Joe walked in, his brother was sitting behind a desk with his feet propped up on it. “What work do you have for me to do?” Joe asked.
His brother waved at the lot. “Sell cars. The prices are on the stickers on the windshield.” He explained to him how to read the codes.
“I have never sold cars before.”
“You’ll learn quickly, and if you need to ask about anything, just ask. You just shove ’em in here, and I will do the closing. The lot boy will start them up every morning and keep them clean, and if I am not here you can do the paper work after you learn.”
So, just like that, Joe Blankenship was a used car sales agent.
“Just hang around and watch the rest of the day, then we’ll pick up Miranda and go have dinner at one of the casinos. You can eat in some restaurants here cheaper than you can cook it.”
This sure is a strange town, Joe thought as he sat down. He suddenly remembered the phone number in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at it, thinking he might call it later.
The next morning he did call the number. The woman who answered told him that she was an old friend of Jena’s, and asked him if he would be willing to drive out to Henderson on Sunday. She explained that she went to church on Sunday morning, but that she would be home around 1 P.M. Joe agreed to go, and she gave him directions and hung up.
Joe sold a car that day and made a commission of two hundred dollars. He felt like just maybe he could make it as a car salesperson.