The Bikini Car Wash (13 page)

She glanced up to tell him just that. To thank him for being in her corner every step of the way. Then she noticed something that distracted her from the words in her head.

“Pop? You hair is wet.”

He stepped back slightly. There was a wariness in his expression. “I…uh…I had a shower at the gym.”

“The gym? I thought you were at bingo tonight?”

“I was, but…uh, some of the guys got bored and decided to go shoot some hoops. So, I went with them.”

Andi nodded and offered a knowing glance. “I’ve never known you to be much of a sports player, bowling one night, gym the next. I suspect something entirely different.”

When he didn’t respond she continued, her voice teasing.

“I think you’re still trying to get away from that trail of lonely church ladies who follow you around like puppy dogs,” she said. “I can only imagine that the rare time you show up for bingo just sends all hearts aflutter.”

Her father sort of chuckled, but it sounded almost humorless. “I’m going to get some sleep,” he told her. “I think you’d be smart to do the same.”

Andi knew he was right. And she tried. She marched upstairs, got ready for bed, climbed in, turned out the light and lay there. Her mind couldn’t let go of everything. The larger issues, her family, her finances, her future loomed before her, intermittently crowded out by thoughts of 1099 tax forms, water use fees and schedule coverage. There were so many things that she needed to remember and she was afraid she might forget, that she finally got up, found a paper and pen and made a list to carry in her purse. Then just as she settled back into the covers, she was assailed once more. So she got up, found a sticky note and stuck it on the bedroom door. It read:
Don’t forget your purse.

She eventually slept, if fitfully. At 4:30 a.m. she decided it was practically morning, so she just got up and got started. She was surprised at how much energy she had. She quickly showered and dressed. She put on her modest two-piece. In
lieu of a swimsuit cover, she put on the old coveralls. Certainly modesty was not going to be the company policy, but at least she was going to be decently covered when she started her day. She spent an inordinate amount of time in front of her mirror carefully applying waterproof makeup. She put on a bit more than was appropriate for daytime wear, but she assured herself the situation called for it.

“Besides,” she told herself in the mirror. “You’ll be lucky to get anyone to look at your face.”

Downstairs she ate a pear and a piece of dry toast. She had never been a fan of dieting, but the anticipation of being half-dressed on the busiest corner of downtown gave her extraordinary incentive. At the kitchen table she drank an extra cup of coffee, went over her list, made sure she had everything she needed to take with her. At last she was sure she was ready. Completely and perfectly ready.

At that moment, she nearly lost her nerve.
What was she thinking? A bikini car wash? That was a crazy idea? It was low class. It was misogynistic. It was beneath her dignity!

She deliberately held back the negativism running through her head. And mentally perused a better list of criteria.
Was it in her skill set? Yes, it was.
She’d been washing cars since she was eleven years old.
Was it a reasonable business plan? Yes, it was seasonal and relied heavily on a gimmick, but it had a likely chance to make a profit.
And finally she asked herself,
Do you have any other choice?

She didn’t even bother to answer that one. She got to her feet, gathered up her things and headed to the front door. The buses wouldn’t be running this early on a Saturday. She thought about taking Pop’s truck. She could call him later to
come pick it up. But in the end, she loaded everything in tote bags and set off on foot through the early morning streets of her neighborhood.

With everything that was on her mind and all the anxiety that she was feeling inside, it came as a complete surprise to catch herself humming. And the song, rather than one from her teenage music years, was one that Pop used to sing at his shop. The tune came to her effortlessly, but she couldn’t quite remember all the words. It was something about the sun is always shining somewhere. And that the smart thing to do would be to make it shine for you.

That’s what she intended to do today. To get some personal sunshine in her direction.

It was full dawn when she arrived at the shop. She unloaded everything she’d brought. And began getting ready for the day.

The most important and critical thing she needed to do was hang the banner along the top of the sign on the overhang. She decided that it was best to get that done early. It was her first source of advertising.

She carried the extension ladder outside. It was heavy and a bit clumsy, but in the last few days, she’d been doing a lot more lifting, both through work and with her attempts to tone up. So she was able to maneuver the big bulky apparatus out to where she needed it. She made certain it was anchored properly and as level as possible. She judged the height she needed at about ten feet. So she was careful to lean it at a safe one to four angle. The last thing she needed on her first day of business was an accident.

She climbed the ladder and screwed a hook into the base of the rafter tail. Then she tied the cord she’d attached to the
banner to the hook. She had to get down and move the ladder to the other side of the overhang to screw in the second hook and tie up that side of it as well.

Once down from the ladder, Andi observed her handiwork with some satisfaction. It was bright, it was readable and it clearly announced:

BIKINI WASH & WAX

She hardly had a moment to worry if it was eye-catching, before she heard the screech of brakes. She turned to see two guys in a truck, stopped in the street, openmouthed and staring at the sign.

“We open at nine,” she called out to them.

The two responded with whoops and cheering.

Okay, she thought to herself. Two potential customers. At least the community was capable of giving a warm welcome.

Welcome wasn’t even the half of it. By eight-thirty, a full half hour before they were scheduled to open, there were already two cars waiting.

Tiff arrived a few minutes later wearing an ankle-length sundress. She was jittery and in a rush.

“Am I late? I had to wait for Gil to pick up Caleb. I got here as early as I could.”

“You’re right on time,” Andi said.

“Oh, good. Are you as excited as I am?” Tiff asked.

“Yeah, yes, I think what I’m feeling is excited,” she answered. “Though it might be the kind of excitement you get when your car breaks down on a railroad track.”

Tiff laughed and shook her head. “Yeah, I admit to that railroad track feeling, too. Well, should we start washing cars or wait until the time we’re scheduled to open?”

Andi shrugged. “I can’t decide,” she said. “In Pop’s day, if someone showed up early, he’d go ahead and get started. But somehow I’m thinking that having a line of customers waiting can only hype the business, get more attention and translate into more customers.”

At that moment a burst of car horns and whoops and hollers caught their attention. They turned immediately to look out the front windows. Cher-L was walking up the driveway. Her blue-striped hair was braided into an elaborate updo. Above the waist she wore only two tiny triangles of faux black leather held in place by lengths of shiny silver chain. The skirt wrap that was her coverup, was a thin, gauzy black material that was mostly see-through, except for the darker, spider web pattern woven into it. The look was completed with lace-up, high-heel vixen boots.

“Oh my God,” Andi said.

“How’s she going to work in that?” Tiff asked. “I hope she’s not thinking she’s going to stand around while you and I do the car washing.”

“It doesn’t matter what she’s thinking,” Andi said. “That’s not what’s happening.”

Cher-L walked breezily into the building, beaming. Her typically bored, worldly-wise and jaded expression was gone. She looked surprisingly young and inexplicably happy.

“This is going to be so great!” she said. Then spinning around like a little girl with a new dress she asked. “Don’t I look fabulous? Oh, and you haven’t even seen it all.” She whisked off her skirt to reveal the small piece of black leather-look material that made up the rest of the swimsuit. Less than a half inch of fabric spanned the sides beneath the pelvic
bone. The front trailed down in a U shape, dangerously low. The back was only a few inches wide covering about half of her buttocks.

“It’s called a Brazilian bottom,” she told them. “At first glance it seems a lot more modest than a thong, but it’s nicely revealing as well.”

“I hope you’re not planning to wear those boots,” Andi said.

“No, of course not,” Cher-L said, eyeing her as if she’d lost her mind. “I would never risk getting these wet. But they sure weren’t wasted walking across the parking lot.”

Cher-L set down her big black tote bag and pulled out a pair of black flip-flops. “Look, I painted the little silver chains on the top myself.” She showed off her artwork proudly. “I used metallic gray fabric paint with a rigger brush. I think they turned out extremely excellent and completely unique. Just perfect, huh?”

“They’re great,” Andi admitted. For herself, she’d thrown in a pair of ratty sneakers. Why did the idea of ensemble matching flip-flops suddenly seem more professional?

At exactly nine o’clock, Andi peeled off her coveralls.

“Good grief! What are you wearing?” Cher-L asked.

“It’s a swimsuit, a two-piece,” she answered defensively.

“Uh, yeah, like the kind of two piece you wear to Girl Scout camp,” Cher-L pointed out.

“She’s right,” Tiff agreed. “The guys who show up here with their cars are going to expect to see…well, a lot less suit, a lot more girl.”

Andi shook her head. “I’m not exactly a beauty queen. I think I might be better off in something not quite so revealing.”

“No way,” Tiff said, firmly. “You can’t weasel out on me. I’m the first grader’s mom who still hasn’t lost all the pregnancy weight.”

“You look great,” Andi declared.

In fact, Tiff’s blue-striped string bikini did reveal a bit more hips and thighs than was strictly fashionable, but her curves were far more voluptuous than chubby.

“If I’m showing up here skimpy,” Tiff told her. “You have to, too.”

“No need to argue,” Cher-L said. “I’ve got the solution right here.” She pulled a small plastic shopper’s bag out of her tote and handed it to Andi. The name on the outside was Joffee’s Manhattan Store.

“What’s this?”

“A bikini,” Cher-L said. “I bought two. I was going to take it back, because I like this black one better. It will be perfect for you.”

“I don’t know,” Andi said. When she pulled it out of the bag, she recognized it as the super-sexy red thong suit she’d seen in the window. “Oh no, I
really
couldn’t wear this.”

“Wow!” Tiff said.

“This will make you look like an extreme hottie,” Cher-L coaxed. “I’m going to be jealous.”

“I’m not wearing this,” Andi said.

“Yes, you are,” Tiff said. “This is a bikini car wash and that is a real bikini.”

“It’s more revealing that either one of yours.”

Tiff nodded. “That’s only fair,” she said. “You’re the boss. The boss always sets the highest standard.”

“Or in this case the lowest.”

“Try it on, at least,” Cher-L said. “If you’re not woman enough for it, well, we’ll let you know.”

“Go!” Tiff told her, in a tone that her son, Caleb, was undoubtedly familiar with.

Andi went into the bathroom and tried on the suit. It seemed impossible, but wearing it made her feel more exposed than if she was naked.

“I can’t do this,” she told herself aloud as she perused her bare flesh. “I can’t go out there like this.” Then she straightened her back and looked herself in the eye. “If you can’t wear it, then you can’t have this business. This is the kind of business it is. So either wear the suit or close down. Your choice. Nobody is making you do anything.”

She gave herself one long last look and then stepped out of the restroom.

“Okay, let’s go,” she said. “We’ve got cars to wash.”

Cher-L applauded.

Tiff was nodding. “Good for you,” she said.

When the three stepped outside the confines of the little building, the crowd of men waiting together in a little huddle sent up a cheer, immediately followed by hoots and whistles. Then everyone laughed. It didn’t seem dirty or dangerous. It was fun and friendly. Andi refused to allow herself the weakness of being self-conscious. She was going to let these men ogle her in a swimsuit, but she was not going to get caught up in that. She was going to focus on business.

“Men, let’s get this started,” she called out. “Who’s the driver of this red Pontiac?”

“That’s me!” A balding guy in his midlife crisis announced.

“Drive it in under the overhang,” she told him.

The man gave a kind of victory shout and pumped the air with his fist. The other guys were cheering him, as if he’d just led the team to victory.

She turned to Tiff and Cher-L. “Remember,” she said. “Women care about the inside of a car. Men care about the outside. So, it looks like we’ll be focusing on the exterior. It’s got to be perfect. The bikinis may get them in here, but a quality service is the only thing that will get them back.”

Tiff nodded. Cher-L just shrugged.

There was no more time for training. The driver of the vehicle got out of his car and Andi went to talk to him. From a distance he’d been a cocky loudmouth. But standing face-to-face with Andi he was soft-spoken, polite even deferential. Not at all the smart-aleck chauvinist she was expecting.

Maybe it’s one of those chicken or egg questions,
she thought to herself.
Is he talking to me like I’m not dressed in a bikini, which makes me feel more confident. Or do I seem so confident that it doesn’t occur to him to talk to me like I’m wearing nothing but a thong bikini.

Whichever it was, within moments of opening her business, Andi was feeling pretty comfortable in the uniform. Even the jokes and the whistles didn’t bother her. She was working hard, but it all seemed like fun. Cher-L did a bit of posing, especially when one of the guys brought out a video camera. She tried to make the water run down her body suggestively, but that was very hard to do with a power hose. So she contented herself with just splashing against the fenders.