Dumb Luck (10 page)

chapter
twenty

When Kayla saw me walk out of the school with Taylor she gave me a sad little half-smile and walked away. I felt a little guilty, but as Taylor held my arm and tugged me toward her car, it was hard to feel too bad about anything. She put on her sexy sunglasses, and then opened the glove compartment and handed me another pair of very expensive-looking shades. “A little present for you,” she said.

I put on the sunglasses and rolled down the window. We drove away from the school with the music from the satellite station blasting. Suffice it to say, we did not drive away unnoticed.

“The trick to being cool,” Taylor advised me, “is to pretend that you don't care about anything.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Well, I don't really
know. You just have to look like you're not trying
too hard and you don't care what anyone else thinks
of you.”

“Like this?” I asked. And I just sat there with my arm out the window and the wind ruffling my hair and my dark
OP
shades on, looking straight ahead like a zombie.

“That's it. You've got it.”

“Got what?” I countered.

“It. You've mastered cool.”

So I was officially cool. Doing nothing was cool. Not caring was cool. Not trying was cool. I wanted to laugh out loud but I knew that would not be cool. So I did nothing. And tilted my head sideways and slightly lowered the sunglasses to look at three girls from school standing on the corner. I did this slowly and nonchalantly.

And I could tell from the way they looked at me that this was very, very cool.

And I wanted to say out loud,
How stupid is this?
But instead, I hitched the shades back over my eyes, leaned back in the seat, and listened to the music. Clearly, I had mastered the skill.

My mom was sitting at the kitchen table when I got home. I had not invited Taylor into my house. I didn't have any plans for that. It just didn't seem to make sense. Taylor's world was nothing like my world at home. I'd keep the two separate. I knew my mom didn't like me hanging out with Taylor, and I was afraid if I ever invited Taylor in, the two of them would definitely not hit it off.

My mom was looking at a real
estate magazine. She looked up when I walked in.

“How was school, Brandon?”

“Good,” I said.

“What did you do today?”

“Nothing.” The classic universal response to the school question. “What about you?”

“I'm looking at houses,” she said, unusually cheerful and upbeat. She held up the magazine for me to look at a picture of one.

“Big,” I said. “Wow.”

“Your father thinks we should move.”

This hit me like a ton of bricks. “Move?”

“You know how long I've wanted to move out of this old place.”

Old place? This was my home. I looked closer at the house listing and saw the price. It was expensive. And then I noticed the location. “You want us to move out of Greenville?” I asked.

“It's only twenty minutes away. And look at how beautiful this house is.” My mom was positively beaming. I can't say I'd seen her like that often.

I looked at the house again. Big lawn, two-car garage. “And it's got a swimming pool in the back,” she said.

“But I don't want to move,” I said, with a bit of an edge to my voice.

She looked up at me like I'd just told her I was Martian. “Why not?”

I didn't really have an answer. But I knew I didn't want to move even twenty minutes away. And I liked our home. This is where I'd grown up. And if I moved, everyone I knew would be back here, twenty minutes away. Taylor. Kayla.

My mom looked confused. I'd popped the bubble. I didn't know what else to say so I just went to my room. As soon as I'd shut the door, though, I felt my head filling up with worries. Kayla. I was still worried about her. And school. What was I going to do about school? What if I got left back again? I deserved it but I couldn't handle yet another year of high school with everyone knowing how stupid I was. And what was I really doing, hanging out with girls like Chelsea and Taylor? What was I thinking?

I realized I had the sunglasses in my shirt pocket and I looked at them. One minute I was the cool one, but now I was just a silly dumb kid alone in his room who didn't have a clue. Who was I kidding?

I made the mistake then of checking my e-mails. More “fan” letters from people I'd never met. A couple from kids at school, but the one that caught my full attention was from Martin. I clicked on it.

Brandon, just writing to say thanks so much for the help. Larkin had the operation and it looked like things would be okay. But when the vet started the operation he realized that things were worse than he expected. Larkin had to be put down. We're all pretty sad. But I feel a little better, knowing someone out there cared. Thanks again.

Your friend,

Martin.

Something about the dog's dying really sealed the whole package for me. I felt like calling Kayla for a shoulder to cry on. But I didn't. Instead, I opened my desk drawer and took a long sip from the bottle I had kept hidden there. I felt the heat as it went down and soon the mild buzz in my head. I took a second slug and then realized the bottle was empty. I tossed it back into the drawer and made a mental note to replenish my supply of refreshments. What could it hurt?

I lay down on my bed and felt more confused than ever. Despite my good luck, I felt uncertain, unsettled. I was a failure at school and I didn't see any way I could buy my way out of that. No way could I handle two more full years of high school after this one; I'd been a poor student right since the start—especially lately. I didn't think I could catch up even if I tried. I'd been read the riot act by Carver. I didn't think I had a chance of catching up. Another major setback at school would really suck.

I must have fallen asleep then, just lying on my bed with my clothes on, but something eventually woke me up and I saw it was eleven o'clock. I had an awful lingering taste in my mouth. The booze. I got up and brushed my teeth, and it was then I heard some noises from downstairs in the kitchen. I decided to go down and see what was up.

The lights were on. It was
my dad. He was bent over, looking for something in
the refrigerator. It looked like he had just arrived home.

“Hey, Dad,” I said. “Man, are you working late.” I really hadn't seen much of my father in recent days. He was out of the house before I got up and most days I was in bed before he came home.

He turned around and smiled. “Hey, Brandon. You know if your mother left me any leftovers?”

“I'm sure she did,” I said. “She always does.”

He looked inside the fridge again and then saw the container he was looking for. He grabbed it and put it into the microwave and clicked it on. “Long day,” he said.

“How's it going? The business?”

He sat down at the table and I sat down across from him. He put his hands up in the air. “Good days and not so good days. Ups and downs. You'll have to come by again and visit.”

“How about tomorrow?”

“What about school?”

“I need to take a day off.”

“Can you afford to do that?”

I shrugged. “Not really, but ...”

“But what?”

“Truth is, school is not going so great.”

This caught him off guard. He seemed about to say something critical but stopped himself. “You mention this to your mother?”

“No.”

“She'd be pretty upset.”

“You don't seem that upset,” I said.

“Well, I dropped out of high school, remember?”

“I know. And you're doing okay, right? So who needs it? A lot of what they teach there is stuff you're never going to use in real life, right?”

“How are your grades? Any better than your last report
card? That was a bit of a disaster. I thought you were turning things around.”

The bell on the microwave rang and my dad pulled the ceramic container out bare-handed, then dropped it on the table and waved his hands in the air. “Damn.” He grabbed a fork from a drawer and popped the cover on the food. Steam rose up in front of him.

“Nah. Things are worse. It's my fault. I've been distracted.”

“You've always been distracted.” My father started to eat and I realized it was rather odd that he didn't seem freaked out by what I was telling him. His son was flunking out of school and he was more interested in shoveling down the pork chop and potatoes my mom had cooked. “So what now?” he said between bites.

“I'm thinking of quitting.”

He didn't look up at me but down at the steaming food. “Wow.” Then he continued to chew.

There was a moment of silence, and then he said, “Your mother would be
really
upset about that.”

“I know. But I'm kinda mad at her right now.”

“Why?”

“She's talking about moving.”

“Yeah. We've both been talking about moving. Newer house, nicer neighborhood. Possibly a pool in the backyard. Big garage. About time to unload this shit-hole.”

I couldn't believe my father was calling our home a “shit-hole.”

“I don't want to move.”

“But you're talking about quitting school. So why would
it matter if we moved to a new neighborhood a
few miles down the road?”

“She was looking at places in another town.”

“Well, it's not like we'd be moving to a foreign country.”

“You don't understand.” But then, hell, I didn't understand. Why not move? Why not start
over? Heck, if I wanted to, I could move out
on my own. Get my own apartment or buy my own house.

“Your mom and I had always dreamed about moving up in the world. Now that I have the business, and access to capital for a down payment, why not? It's finally our time.”

What was with this “access to capital” bullshit? Once again he was talking about using something that was really and truly mine, not his. But I couldn't bring myself to ask how much of my money would factor into this new house that I didn't want in a new town that I did not want to live in.

“Maybe we all need a change, Brandon. Maybe you
should
quit school and work with me. Lord knows, I could use the help, and I'm sure you'd do a better job than those two slackers I hired.”

That caught me totally off guard. My father was saying it was okay for me to quit school. He was giving me his permission. But I hadn't thought about working for him. Or working for anyone. If I played my cards right, I'd never have to work a day in my life. There was so much I wanted to say right then but I knew it would all come out wrong. Suddenly, I felt very tired and very defeated. “I'm gonna go to bed,” I said.

“Sure thing. I'll be off early in the morning,
but if you don't go to school tomorrow and you
want to come by, you know where to find me.”

“Good night.”

I fell asleep quickly but woke again an hour later when I heard the arguing. My dad had told my mom about me wanting to quit school. He was obviously all in favor of it and she was not. I knew what her thinking would be. Move into a new town, go to a new school, and everything would work out.

But that wasn't going to happen.

The arguing got louder and then died down. Then I heard my mom crying. I pulled my pillow over my head and tried to get back to sleep.

chapter
twentyone

When my mom tried to wake me in the morning, I said I wasn't feeling well and didn't want to go to school.

“Don't quit school, Brandon,” she said. “We can work something out.”

But I didn't even want to think about school. There was no “we” involved. The school was my doing. And I was pretty sure whatever school had to offer me wasn't worth it. But I didn't want to get into a big discussion about it.

“I heard you guys arguing last night,” I said. “I'm sorry. It was my fault.”

“We argue sometimes. It's a bit more difficult now that he's working such long hours. He and I don't really ever have much of a chance to talk or relate to each other. He says that will change. But I know your father. He's got what he always wanted.”

I got up and let her make me a big breakfast. But I didn't go to school. “I'm glad your father has what he dreamed of. You made that happen for him. He's very grateful, even if he doesn't say it out loud to you.”

“I know,” I said.

“And now maybe I'll get my dream. If everything works out.”

She was talking about moving into a new house. I didn't want to get into that, either.

I ate my breakfast like a good son and kept my mouth shut about my feelings concerning moving. I couldn't handle my mom crying, and if I said what I really felt, she'd be crying for sure.

“I'm going to go see Dad,” I said. “I want him to show me around some more.”

My mom looked at me with concern. “Just don't make any big decisions. It's just one day off from school. Maybe everything will look different by tomorrow. You want a ride there?”

“No,” I said. “I think I'd like to walk.”

On my street, men were cutting down three more of the big trees and that didn't seem right. Trees had as much right to be here as people and power lines. It really ticked me off. But I kept walking. It seemed that most of my life I'd been making decisions based on trying to keep everyone around me happy. My parents, my teachers, sometimes my friends. But my so-called new friends had a way of wandering away and not being my friends anymore. The truth is that I think most of them just found me rather boring after a while. Kayla was the only one who hung around. And she was weird. She also had her own set of problems. Maybe we'd stayed friends only because we were a couple of losers.

I didn't mind the walk. My head was starting to clear. When I arrived at my father's business, I saw a big truck with a hoist, lifting a very fancy sign into place. There it was:
DeWolfe's Quality Used Cars—Best Deals in Town Guaranteed.
My dad's dream come true. Leave it to him to go for a monster colorful sign.

He was standing by the workmen as the sign was being bolted onto the tall metal posts. When he saw me, he smiled. “What do you think?”

“I think it rocks,” I said.

He beamed and said, “Let's go to my office.” His arm was around me. That was rare.

Inside, he shuttled Kevin and Carew back out to “watch the lot.” I sat down in front of him, at a rather large, expensive-looking oak desk. “No school today?”

“I took the day off,” I said.

“Your mother okay about that?”

“She's okay.”

“I've never seen her so excited about anything as the possibility of moving to a new house. She's been talking about that ever since we were married. That why you're here?”

“No,” I said. A plan was forming in my head. It wasn't much of a plan but one thing was beginning to be clear to me. I wasn't going to be moving into a new house in a new town with my parents. Maybe they could move and I'd stay in our old house. If I wanted to, I could buy it from them. But I didn't want to totally piss them off. I needed my father on my side.

“I want to work here with you. Like you suggested. At least for a while. See what it's like.”

My father never looked happier. And he was a man who had spent most of his adult life dissatisfied and unhappy with one thing or another. He didn't say a word. Instead he handed me a business card. It had my name on it.
Brandon DeWolfe—DeWolfe's Quality Used Cars.

“I took the liberty of doing them up. Just in case.”

I looked at the card and had to admit to myself that it looked very cool. The picture of the car lot. My name. But what really was I getting myself into? “Maybe I'll be no good at it,” I said. “Then what?”

“You'll be great. Better than Carew and Kevin. I'm letting Carew go. He just doesn't have what it takes.”

“What does it take?”

“It takes the skill to let the customer sell themselves on the car. First, you get to know them. You ask a few questions. Make it personal. Make them feel you are a friend trying to help them out.”

Yeah, that was my dad. Always telling me about how to sell myself or how to sell anything. “How about I watch you today and see how you do it?”

“I can't think of anything that would please me more.” He looked over my shoulder and outside. “And today's the big day—now the sign is up. Isn't it a beauty?”

“How much did it cost?”

“Gotta spend money to make money,” he answered.

I'll cut to the chase and just say it was not at all bad. My dad sold a Toyota to a man who had been by a couple of times before. It was mostly signing paperwork and it all looked a lot like school, but I guess it got the job done. The man seemed happy to get the car at a price he liked. My dad acted like the two of them were old buddies, but when he left, he admitted to me, “Truth is, I hardly made a cent on that sale. But sometimes you have to keep the inventory moving. It's all about momentum.”

Kevin talked to a couple of casual car shoppers who arrived on foot. “Never a good sign,” my dad said. In the end, they also walked away. Next, Carew was a bit too aggressive with a pretty young woman who arrived in a blue Honda looking for something for off-road driving. She was steered toward a green Subaru Outback wagon. You could tell Carew was a bit too pushy and she didn't last long on the lot.

When a rather paunchy guy in an old Cadillac rolled up to the office during noon hour, while Kevin and Carew were on lunch, my dad said, “Come on, watch the old master at work.”

When my dad saw the golf clubs in the back
seat of the Caddie, he launched into a spiel about golf courses and golf. I never knew him to have played the game in his life but he sounded like an expert. Pretty soon, Herman, the Caddie driver, was telling a golf story that lost me within thirty seconds.

But my dad seemed enthralled. I just hovered in the background and started to wonder what Taylor was doing in school today. So I checked my phone and saw I had two messages. One from Taylor, one from Kayla, both asking me where I was. I decided to answer neither. Instead, I followed my dad and Herman to the black Escalade with the tinted windows at the front of the lot. My dad already had the keys with him. He had “read” Herman, even before the man had gotten out of his car. Within minutes, Herman was in the driver's seat and my father was climbing in beside him. You'd think they were a couple of old buddies, heading off for a vacation.

The window rolled down on my dad's side and he
leaned out and shouted to me, “Brandon, keep an eye
on things until we get back.”

It was a funny feeling. Both scary but somehow very cool.
I was in charge of the business
—for right now, at least. Kevin and Carew were gone. My dad was gone. I retreated to the office and sat down at my father's desk. I studied the business card with my name on it and then saw a whole box of them on the table.

I knew that I had enough money that I didn't really have to work at all. The trouble is, I knew I had to do something. Maybe this would be ... fun. Well, maybe it would be interesting, at least. Hell of a lot better than school. And I didn't mind the idea of helping my father. He could be a pain in the ass—all opinions and sometimes bossy—but he was my father.

The phone rang and I answered. Someone looking for a late-model Toyota. I didn't have a clue but suggested the caller come have a look. Oops. Wrong thing to say. He hung up without saying goodbye. Okay, another lesson learned. “Always give the customer what they want,” I remembered Dad saying, “even if you don't have it.”

I decided not to tell my father about the phone call.

And then a very rusty-looking old Chevy Malibu pulled in and a woman of about thirty got out. I walked out and greeted her.

“Hey,” I said. “Can I help you?”

She smiled a kind of sad, desperate smile. “Yeah,” she said. “Not much life left in the old beast here,” she said pointing at her car. “I need something to replace it but I don't have much money. So I'm looking for something basic but reliable. Do you think you can help?”

“Sure,” I said. “Let's look around.”

“Oh, thanks,” she said. “If I don't have a car, I'll lose my job. If you could help me find something, that would be fabulous.”

“I'm Brandon, by the way.”

“I'm Faye. Nice to meet you.”

So we started walking toward the back of the lot where the cheaper cars were. I really didn't know what was there in the way of expensive or inexpensive cars, but she seemed happy to be following me. She seemed to believe I knew what I was doing. “What kind of work do you do?” I asked.

“I'm a waitress. Work late nights sometimes. Can't have a car breaking down on me late at night or making me late for work.”

“I know the feeling,” I said. This from a guy who didn't have a driver's license.

“What about this one?” she asked. She was looking at an older Ford Focus with a dent in the car door and a not-so-great-looking paint job. The price was on the info sheet in the window with the year and the mileage. So I just read it off to her and she seemed pleased. “Can I drive it?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said. I tried the door. It was open. “Sit in it and see how it feels. I'll go find the keys.”

“Thanks.”

Inside the office, I discovered my dad was a wizard of organization when it came to car keys. I found the Focus keys which were clearly labeled and returned in no time. I handed them to her. “I can't leave the lot right now, so you take it for a spin. Might not be much gas in it, so don't go too far.” I knew that with used cars on a lot, no one ever left much gas in the tank.

I watched as she drove off, taking the turn onto the highway a bit tight and jumping the rear of the car up over the curb.

I began to wonder what had happened to my dad and Herman as I walked around the lot, waiting.

After a while, Kevin and Carew came back from lunch and made small talk with me about football, but I couldn't do much to keep up my side of the conversation. Then Faye was pulling back into the lot, bumping the front wheel up over the curb this time. Carew started to go out and greet her but I tapped my chest like an old pro at this and indicated this was my customer. Carew just smiled and allowed me to proceed.

“I'll take it,” Faye said. “Can I get it today?”

“Um,” I said. “Sure. That's great.”

“What will you give me for my car?”

“Not sure. But we'll give it a look. My dad will be back shortly and we'll do up the paperwork.”

I led her inside and made her a coffee. She seemed much less nervous now. “Thanks for this. I wasn't sure I could find anything I could afford.”

“Glad I could help,” I said, again pretending I knew what I was doing. And feeling rather pleased with myself.

When my dad arrived
back in the Escalade, he and Herman laughed and shook hands,
and my dad handed him a card. Then Herman drove
off in his old Caddie. When Dad came in, I
introduced him to Faye and explained that she wanted the
Focus wagon and wanted to know what we could give
her for her old car. Dad sent Kevin out to
check out her car and sat Faye down with the paperwork.

I went back outside and, when my dad and Faye emerged a while later, she thanked me for being so helpful. “You're a lifesaver,” she said. “I haven't had good experiences buying a car before and you made this so easy.”

A short while later, she was actually driving her newly purchased car from the lot.

“You sold your first car, son,” my dad said. “How's it feel?”

“Great,” I said. “That was easy.”

“Well, you did sell her the cheapest one on the lot,” he added.

“It was the one she wanted. The customer is always right, yeah?”

He shook his head. “The customer is rarely right. But you did good. Did she even drive it?”

“Yep.”

“Ouch,” he said. “No license plates. Did you get a photocopy of her driver's license?”

“No. But she
just wanted a test drive and I couldn't leave the
place.”