“Hi son, I’m Andy!” declared the red-faced man with a toothy grin and voice dripping with put-on enthusiasm. Andy grabbed Jerry’s hand unexpectedly and pumped it considerably harder and longer than necessary. “Are you ready to trade in that Ford in on a brand-new Studebaker today?” Andy fired the words at Jerry as if he had the most exciting notion ever conceived.
“No, sir, that’s not my car,” Jerry admitted honestly. “I’ve borrowed it from my employer for the day. I’m just looking today,” he confessed, then added, “but I am wondering about the cost of a new car.”
“Well, let me show you around then!” Andy announced, delighted, keeping one eye on the boy and the other on the salesmen’s shack in the center of the lot where the sales manager watched from a window.
Andy did his best to appear thrilled at the prospect of spending his day showing pimply-faced teenagers cars they couldn’t afford. He reasoned the boy was probably truant, likely lying about having a job, didn’t own a car himself. And to add insult to injury, the adolescent pimple farmer was wasting his valuable time. However, Andy was thrilled to have a job, and jobs for overweight men could be hard to find in their fifties.
Entertaining dreamers and kids with their heads in the clouds was standard duty for Andy. He hated it, it went on day after day, but with the boss watching his every move, he had no choice but to make a show of it. The kid looked like he couldn’t afford a new pair of rollerskates, let alone a new Studebaker. Nevertheless, Andy continued with the charade humoring the boy. He’d like to tell the kid to take a long walk off a short pier—but that was not possible with the boss watching, so Andy continued playing the part.
“The new 1947 Studebakers are fabulous!” he bellowed with put-on enthusiasm as he snaked the two of them through the car lot. “Studebaker redesigned the entire product line from the ground up for 1947. We’re talking double-dropped frames, clean fender lines, and more interior room than ever. And get this, mattering on which model you choose, you can have up to 94 horsepower! Do you like horsepower, boy?”
Andy was well-aware that young men liked horsepower—they all did, didn’t they? He always asked the boys that question because it never failed to get them excited about the product. “Let me show you the Champion Six, which starts at $1,378. And this here blue one is a real creampuff!” And with that, Andy had Jerry’s complete attention.
“ Wha-one-thousand-three-hundred-seventy-eight da-dollars?” Jerry stuttered, almost choking on his tongue. At $1,378, he had more than enough money in his pocket to buy the car.
Andy smiled. “Now, this Champion Six model here,”
Andy smiled. “Now, this Champion Six model here,” inch wheelbase. Do you know what that means? Think comfort with a smooth ride, son.” Andy raised his hand, emulating a car floating on air. “This car is a real crowd pleaser too, and the ladies love it! You like the girls, doncha?” Andy said with a wink, a toothy grin, and a nudge of his elbow. Andy always asked the boys that question too, and it worked like a charm.
Andy opened the driver’s door to the sporty blue coupé, then stepped aside, motioning for Jerry to have a look inside. It was hard for Jerry not to like what he saw there. The car was stylish, the dashboard looked like a spaceship, and the cloth interior was soft and comfortable. It was affordable. It just seemed right, so he decided to see if he could chisel on Andy.
“I don’t know,” Jerry said, rubbing his chin, sounding as disinterested as possible. “$1,378 seems pretty high. I think I can get a Ford for less.”
For a moment, Andy looked like his face was melting. “Hey kid, did you see the multi-pane wraparound rear window?” he asked, attempting to change the subject away from the price. “First time I saw it, I said to myself: which way is that car going anyway? Looks like it’s driving in reverse! Do you know what that’s called? That’s called aerodynamic styling. You won’t see that on a Ford!”
Jerry knew a sales-pitch when he heard it, but that didn’t matter; he liked the car, and he had enough money to buy it. The freedom that came with owning one’s own car was undeniable. He didn’t want to be tethered to the boss’s car any longer than necessary. And it was time to have a little fun at Andy’s expense.
“Deliver it for me, and I’ll give you $1,200 cash for it,” he said.
Andy’s eyes became wide as saucers as he heard the word “cash” exiting the boy’s mouth. He knew he had a sale at that moment, believing that if the boy had anywhere near that much money on him, he could get him to pay more to close the deal. Plus, with a big down payment, the boss would in-house finance the difference if necessary. So Andy put on his sad-sack face and muttered disappointedly, “Oh, I’m sorry, son, The boss is pretty firm. These new Champions are selling like cold beer on a hot day at a baseball game. We can get our price for them.”
“Alright,” Jerry responded as he got out of the car, then reached out and shook the salesman’s hand with a wide smile.
“Great!” Andy burst out, slapping Jerry on the back. “Come on inside, and we’ll write ‘er up.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Andy. I think you misunderstood,” said Jerry, his voice heavy with mock disappointment. “I’m going to the Ford dealer. I’m sure I can buy a new Ford for $1,200.” Then he turned and began walking away.
Andy’s eyes bulged in terror. “Wait!” he cried out, grabbing Jerry by the shoulder to prevent him from leaving. “I said the boss is pretty firm, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get you a cash discount!”
Jerry smiled. Taken by the arm, he was half-walked, half-carried into the salesmen’s shack, where he was abruptly deposited into a chair in front of a metal desk. Andy seated himself on the opposite side of the desk then asked, “Do you have $1,200 in cash to put down?”
“I might.”
Andy stiffened. “What do you mean—you might?” His face darkened, visibly upset by the snarky response. “Either you have it, or you don’t, right? “
“I mean, I might have $1,200 on me if it buys that blue Champion 6. If it doesn’t, then maybe I don’t. But I’d bet $1,200 would buy a new Ford. What do you think, Andy? Do I have $1,200 on me or not?” Jerry said with a puzzled look pulling at his features.
Jerry waited, hiding his amusement as Andy’s face turned bright red, and his chubby fingers dug into the desktop turning his fat knuckles white. Twenty years in, the veteran salesman had never seen anyone work him over like this kid was doing to him. At that moment, if it had been his car lot, he would have tossed the smart-aleck kid out on his ear. But it wasn’t his business, and he needed the sale, so he fought to contain his temper. Taking a deep breath, Andy swallowed his pride and said, “Let me ask the boss. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Twenty gut-churning minutes later, Andy stomped back into the room, carrying a wrinkled sales order that landed with a smack on the desk in front of Jerry. Sweat glistened on the salesman’s beet-red face. Dark sweat stains soaked his white shirt as he leaned over the desk, towering over the still-seated boy. The salesman’s eyes bored into Jerry like red-hot branding irons.
“I got the boss to split the difference with you. Your price is $1,289, plus $26.63 for tax and license makes the total $1,305.63,” which Andy said while tapping his index finger repeatedly on the documents.
Raising his eyes from the disturbing papers, he gave Jerry a hard look that said, “You better have it, boy! Then he asked emphatically, “Do-you-have $1,305.63?”
“Let’s see,” Jerry said, then stood. He took his time pulling out a thick roll of cash from the front pocket of his blue jeans. The relief on Andy’s face at seeing the cash was unmistakable. Relieved, he leaned back in his chair, watching as the boy took his time counting out the exact amount down to the penny: thirteen one-hundred-dollar bills, one five, and sixty-three cents. With the exact amount fanned out across the desktop, Jerry returned to his seat and folded his hands on his lap.
“You can deliver the car this afternoon—right?”
“No problem,” Andy mumbled grudgin
gly. “Sign that, and I’ll go get the title for you.”
While the salesman was off getting the title, Jerry signed the sales order and added Stone’s address to it. A few minutes later, Andy returned with an envelope containing the title. After adding a carbon copy of the sales order to it, he handed it over to Jerry.
However, it was readily apparent Andy’d had enough of Jerry. He simply stood there with his arms folded across his chest, glaring, resisting the urge to point at the door and yell, GET OUT! It was apparent there wasn’t going to be a pleasant handshake or a, “Thank you for your business” coming from Andy anytime soon. Jerry left the salesman’s shack, feeling the heat of Andy’s angry gaze on his back. Had he had been too hard on poor Andy? Naw, he thought, patting the hood of his brand new car as he strolled from the lot.
Soon after returning to the farmhouse, Jerry unloaded his things from the Ford and left it parked in front of Stone’s place. As he closed the door on the big black sedan, he saw the blue Champion roll down the road, followed by a black pickup truck. He wasn’t surprised that neither of the men appeared to be Andy. Before he could walk the distance between the houses, the delivery men were gone.
Jerry walked around the futuristically-styled coupé admiring its smooth lines and chrome trim. Soon he was rolling down the road for a test drive. Studebaker had a good reputation for quality, and the car was just as Andy described, a real crowd pleaser with a smooth ride. He loved everything about it and was eager to show it off.
Stone was still recovering from his injuries, so Jerry decided not to bother him with it. Jerry considered showing it to his parents, then decided against it, reasoning they might ask too many questions about where the money came from. It would be better to wait a month or two working for Stone. That would give him time to show income before presenting the new car to his folks, Gerald and Paula Dunne.
Two days later, Stone emerged from the ranch house and walked the distance to the homestead. Entering unannounced and without knocking, he found Jerry at the kitchen table reading a newspaper, a teapot, and cup in front of him. Also without invitation, Stone sat himself down at the table opposite Jerry, made himself comfortable, and lit a Lucky Strike.
“I see you’ve got yourself outfitted here,” he said, exhaling smoke from his nose. “You like it?” Stone asked, looking around the room at the changes Jerry had made. Jerry thought he noticed a twinkle in his eye.
“It’s great! And the view is incredible here!” Jerry gushed, pointing at the picture window overlooking the ocean view. Then, seeing that the boss was looking much improved, added, “You look a lot better.”
“Feel better, too,” Stone admitted. “Might have to go to the doctor about the eye, though. That your Studebaker parked out front?”
“It is,” Jerry conceded, unable to hide his pride.
“Good choice. Studebaker makes a good car. You make good decisions, Jerry. That’s one reason why I hired you,” Stone commended between long drags on the Lucky Strike.
“Thank you, sir,” Jerry accepted graciously. “Speaking of why you hired me, can you give me a job description? I would like to get to work as soon as possible.”
“I don’t know anything about a job description,” Stone claimed bluntly, guessing correctly that a job description might be something formal as a document provided by an employer listing specific duties. Stone, however, wanted no part of such nonsense.
“I’ve never hired anyone before,” he admitted, “but what I need is someone to help me take care of things around here. You have already proved that I can count on to get things done.”
Stone mulled his next words as he flicked cigarette ash in Jerry’s empty teacup, then added, “I have investments and personal business I could use help with, too.”
Stone smiled, tapping his cigarette nervously on Jerry’s teacup. What Stone left unsaid was that he was planning on using Jerry to help him bushwack Arlene Dunne. Spying on her would be a crucial part of making that happen, so he couldn’t help but wonder how that might sit with the boy. Would he object? Stone couldn’t know but hoped he didn’t alienate the kid in the process. Meanwhile, he figured that overpaying him and giving him free rent might help keep him in line.
This was something Stone intended to put in motion sooner than later. Tomorrow wouldn’t be soon enough, but Stone also realized he needed to give Jerry something to do around the place to keep him busy. Making the boy feel needed and important would be the key to success. The old farm was getting dilapidated and overgrown, so he decided to keep the boy busy cleaning things up.
“The property needs a lot of maintenance—fields mowed, fences mended, and outbuildings repaired. Sometimes I might need you to help me with personal business, but we can talk about that later. Just take care of the place and be there when I need you and you will have earned your pay.
“Speaking of that,” Stone said, “we talked about $5.00 per hour, which would be hard to keep track of. Why don’t we make it $750 per month and call it a day?”
“Sounds good to me,” Jerry responded, well-aware that he had just received a $50 per month cut in pay, which is what a lot of people paid for rent. However, he knew $750 per month was still ridiculously high, considering he had already received sixteen hundred for doing next to nothing. It made sense as a business decision, so he graciously accepted.
“You like tractors?” Stone asked.
“Don’t know, I’ve never had the opportunity to use one,” Jerry admitted.
“Well, you can learn. If we had a tractor, we could get a lot of work done around here. It’s a farm; we’re going to need a tractor. You could get the barn cleaned up and store it in there. You can handle that. Go get one.”
“Okay, but how would I pay for it?”
Stone took a moment to think about it, smoking while he considered options. “Let’s go to a bank and get you a checking account. I’ll set you up with enough to get you outfitted. As long as you keep receipts, you’re covered. If I do that, you’re not going to run off with the money, are you?”
“No way,” Jerry said emphatically. “Have you seen the view here? You’ll have to fire me to get rid of me.” Jerry laughed.
“Alright then, let’s go to the bank and get started,” Stone said with a note of finality. “Afterwards, we can go look at tractors. You’re driving the Stude, right?”
“Right again, boss,” Jerry said with an excited grin.
Jerry drove the Stude, as his new boss referred to it, with the windows down. The summer day was cloudless and warm as they navigated the winding road toward Dana Point. Along the way, they talked about tractors, work on the farm, and painting the homestead house. Then unexpectedly, Stone said, “You know, I haven’t talked so much in—forever,” he stammered but felt right for admitting it. Jerry took it as a sign that Stone, who was dour most of the time, might be allowing himself to lighten up a little bit. Jerry hoped he was right.
After opening the checking account for Jerry, with Stone as a co-signer, they drove to a Massey-Furguson tractor dealer near Dana Point. They bought a red thirty-horsepower M-F tractor with several implements for it. Delivery was scheduled for the following day. Since Stone’s objective was to keep Jerry as busy as possible, he made operating lessons part of the deal.
Jerry let his new boss do the talking but noticed that Stone didn’t negotiate prices at all. He simply paid the asking price in cash. It wasn’t his money; nevertheless, Jerry hated seeing money left on the table. Jerry guessed that he could have saved at least ten percent on the deal with all the implements involved. It bothered him that Stone didn’t seem to care about the cost of things. ________________________
The following day, a flatbed truck drove down the lane loaded with the tractor and implements. The driver, a mechanic from the Massy-Furguson dealer, unloaded, then spent two hours tutoring Jerry on the big tractor’s proper operation and maintenance. That afternoon, Jerry put the machine to work cleaning out the barn, ridding it of ancient hay, scrap bu
ilding materials, and other junk. Anything burnable got piled high then set afire, which still left a significant amount of rusty metal and other junk needing disposal.
Jerry realized if he was going to accomplish his goal of returning the property to a working farm, the place was going to need a pickup truck. As he saw it, there was no need for anything new, just a set of wheels with a bed for hauling things to the dump—like that mound of junk piled next to the barn. The next morning, Jerry returned to the Studebaker dealership to look for a suitable pickup.
Aware that Andy would not be happy to see him again so soon compelled Jerry all the more to seek him out. Galling the big red-faced man was just too much fun to pass on. Sure enough, Jerry found Andy hiding in the salesmen’s shack. Jerry was pleased when he saw the bulbous salesman alone, which prevented him from claiming he was too busy to help. Andy’s face darkened the moment he laid eyes on Jerry.
“Something wrong with the Champion, kid?” Andy snapped, bitterness written all over his face.
“Hi, Andy,” chirped Jerry cheerfully from the doorway. “No, there’s nothing wrong; I’m back looking for a used pickup truck. Let’s take a look at what you have.”
Andy sat for a moment staring back at the boy blankly, trying to come up with a reason why he couldn’t help him, then remembered the thick roll of cash he carried the last time he was here. Sure, dealing with the boy was a pain in the neck, but he didn’t detest him so much that he was willing to pass on another commission. Crestfallen, Andy forced his bulk from behind the desk and followed Jerry out onto the sales lot.
Andy answered Jerry’s questions, but only grudgingly. Three of the used trucks caught Jerry’s interest, although two were more than ten years old, making reliability suspect in his opinion. The other was a black 1940 Ford with just over 20,000 miles showing on the odometer. The little truck had the big 95 horsepower flathead V8, which he considered a big plus. This one seemed to have plenty of life left in it, so he decided it would do.
The Rings of Hesaurun Page 28