Chapter 8

Pepper was slouched down on the toilet, his feet spread far apart, his shoulder blades against the bowl. Above him a fluorescent light flickered, he watched the fluid as it coursed back and forth in its tube. The box of bills was on his stomach, his fingers folded and rested on its lid, the wrapping paper in a ball above the box.

He sat up, then stood with the box in both hands. Pepper turned around, placed the box on the floor, then opened the lid of the toilet and dropped the paper in. His tongue between his teeth he lifted his leg and pushed the lever with his foot.

In the locker room Pepper worked the dial of his lock quickly. With one hand he clicked the door open, shoving the box onto the locker shelf with the other. He grabbed a navy canvas jacket and threw it on, looked around the empty room and shoved the box into one of the pockets. He zipped it, slammed the locker and started back to the floor.

"Hey, Russ," Pepper said, knocking his knuckles lightly on the door.

"What's up?" Russ said not looking up from his check book.

"Uh, I think I'm going to head home early. I'm not feeling so good. I feel bad."

"Yeah?" Russ said looking up. "You must be, you'd have to be a damn fool to wear a jacket in a hot season like this one."

"I guess I am a little cold, I hadn't thought of it."

"Got a fever?"

"Maybe so."

"You'll be missing a couple of hours on your next paycheck."

"I ain't worried about that, Russ."

Russ looked at Pepper for a moment, took a deep breath. "All right. I hope you feel better."

"Thanks, Russ. I'll see you."

"Okay."

Pepper turned, his hands in his coat pockets.

"Leaving early, Benny."

Benny looked up from a crate of oil containers. "Why's that?"

"Under the weather."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. When'll you be back?"

"I'm not sure."

"When you're better?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Pepper said with a shrug. "I'll see you."

"All right, mang. Bye bye," Benny said, placing an oil container on the shelf. Pepper turned and left.

"Russ was right," Pepper said a few blocks from the garage. He unzipped the jacket and peeled it slowly. It stuck with the clusters of sweat under his arms and along his back. He grunted shaking his arm in the sleeve.

The house looked more welcoming than usual as Pepper approached, somehow softened, the large cracks and spots of missing paint disappeared, the torn screens looked mended. It was the slant of the late afternoon sun that favored the house, for Pepper it was the stack of Alexander Hamilton engravings in his pocket.

He let himself into his room and sat down heavily on his cot. A few feet away from the cot a single ant zagged across the floor. Pepper watched it, moving in bursts, stopping to flex its antennae and darting again, until it disappeared into a dark corner in the room. He continued to stare after the ant.

Pepper left his room in the final minutes of shadow and walked to the front of the house. The porch would be dark soon and in another half an hour it would be filled with customers waiting in blackened silence. It was quiet inside the house, no voices fell from the rooms into the hallway. Pepper stopped in the doorway to the living room, the curls of copper green paint were still, the dirty, yellowed curtains didn't blow. One of the girls sat in a tattered brown recliner, her eyes obscured by a mass of black tangled hair. She thumbed through an out-dated TV Guide.

"Hello," Pepper said.

She looked up, "Ding Dang Dong's on tonight."

"Yeah, what's that?" Pepper asked.

"Game show. You go on and pick the celebrity that you think can guess a radio song in the fewest notes. Johnny Chancellor is on tonight, and Rosie Hawkins."

"Sounds like a lot of fun."

"Yeah, I wish we had a TV."

"Could be neat."

"A color TV."

"Too much for me, it'd look like a little doll house, people moving around in a box."

"Uh huh," she said turning back to the magazine.

"You seen Mr. Bridgestone?"

"I think he's in the office."

"Oh, alright." Pepper leaned on the door frame for another moment. "See ya later," he said, turning.

The office door was closed, Pepper could hear a radio chat show from beneath the door. There was a calendar hanging from a nail in the door, the photograph for the current month showed a plate with glistening eggs and bacon, an oil-black cup of coffee and two triangles of toast with precise squares of butter. The text along the top of the photo read "Everything Tastes Better In Paradise." The bottom corner of the photograph read "Paradise Diner", the address and phone number followed. Below the calendar was a red sign with text in white.

HOUSE RULES
1. Payment required in advance
2. Absolutely no refunds
3. One customer per girl
4. No hitting

Pepper knocked at the door.

"Yeah?" Bridgestone called from inside.

Pepper turned the knob and pushed. Bridgestone sat wedged behind his desk, tight between the arms of his office chair, his stomach creased against the edge of his desk. There was a single chair against the wall between the door and the desk, there were three filing cabinets pushed against the opposite wall, with a small lamp on top. Bridgestone scribbled in a notebook with one hand, punching the keys of an adding machine with the other.

"Hey, Mr. Bridgestone."

"Pepper," he said tapping at the keys.

"Sorry to bug you, but you happen to have a bus schedule lying around?"

"Yeah, should be one tacked to the board there," he said. Pepper looked above the chair and beside the cork board was a photograph of an orange bridge.

"San Francisco," he said. "You know my boss has the same poster in his office. Kinda funny, huh? But I guess a place that nice must be popular. Who wouldn't want to be in a place where the sun always shines and there's never a drop of rain or a cloud of fog?"

Bridgestone tore a long strip of tape from the end of his machine, pulling it hand over hand as though he were bringing in a life preserver. "Yeah it's a good place. Schedule's right there."

"Oh, yeah," Pepper said. He turned and plucked a pin from the board. He unfolded the schedule in his hands. "Huh, no pictures, just all words and times. Getting on a bus and going. I don't see how people fly. You don't see anything from up there, you just get on a plane, wait a few hours and then you're in some other place. But in a bus, or on a car, you see every inch of it." With the schedule fully unfolded in his hands Pepper struggled to close it, trying the simple folds over and over. "Well thanks for the info, I hope you don't mind me borrowing it."

"Yep, that's fine," Bridgestone said, sharpening a pencil with a pocket knife. Bridgestone's phone rang as Pepper reached for the doorknob.

"See you later," he said over his shoulder.

"Okay, Pepper," Bridgestone said, grabbing the receiver. "Hello?"

Pepper shut the door behind him.

"Pepper!" Bridgestone called. "It's for you."

"Yeah?" Pepper said, opening the door.

"Yep," he said holding out the receiver. Pepper took it.

"Hello?"

"Pepper, it's Russ."

"Hi."

"Listen, Pepper. You've gotta be real relaxed, okay?"

"Uh, okay."

"There's a few cops down here."

"What?"

"I said relax."

"Okay."

"There's a few cops down here and they've got Benny in the break room and they're asking him about an oil change we did a couple days ago. Turns out the car that flipped this morning was in our shop."

"How do they know that?"

"There was a receipt in the glove box. So they're down here talking to Benny. Then they want to talk to me."

"About what?"

"I don't know, I guess it makes sense, we had the car they want to see if we noticed anything wrong with it."

"And they're talking to Benny?"

"And then they want to talk to me."

"Okay."

"And then they want to talk to you."

"What for?"

"You were here that day."

"Yeah."

"So they want to talk to you about the car."

"I don't remember it."

"A red Mustang, Pepper. How many of those do we ever see?"

"Well there were two last week."

"Uh huh, you do remember. Look they just want to talk to you about it, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good, they're sending an officer by your way."

"What?"

"I gave them your address."

Pepper's mouth hung open, his eyes lost their focus.

"Okay?" Russ said.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay. All right," he said, handing the phone to Bridgestone.

"What was that about?" Bridgestone asked, putting the receiver back in its cradle.

"It was Russ. From work."

"Oh."

"Needs me to come by and pick something up."

"I see."

Pepper sat down in the empty chair.

"You mind if I borrow your car?"

Bridgestone looked up from the desk and met Pepper's gaze.

"My day was pretty damn long, I just want to get over there and right back."

"I thought I saw you come home early."

"Can I borrow the car?"

Bridgestone was struggling behind the desk, leaning back in his chair, grunting as he put his hand into his pants pocket. "Must be the other one," he said trying with the other hand. Pepper heard the brush of metal. "You'll be right back?"

"Yeah, right back."

"All right," he said, tossing the keys. Pepper swatted them into his palm.

Chapter 7

Pepper was overcome with a rigid tremble, a stiff shock of excitement. He stood facing the shelf, the radio crackled,

When you've passed on to the other side
Think of those you've left behind.
When it comes to your tomb go with the trusted name
Chose a custom tombstone by Walter Payne!

"Sick," Russ said. "Walt's gone and totally lost it." Pepper tilted his head to one side. "Said he wanted to put a bright spin on it, thought it'd be good for business. A tombstone's a tombstone, everyone knows it, you just gotta buy one. It's like a shower curtain, you just gotta have one. You all right, there, Pepper?"

His mouth had parted slightly, his mouth full of saliva.

"Pepper," Russ said, looking around the garage. He started to walk towards the shelf, "Pepper, can you hear me? Hey! It's me, Russ, what the hell is wrong with you, man?" Russ stood behind him, put his hands on his shoulders and gave him a light shake. "Huh, Pepper?"

"Huh?" Pepper said. His muscles loosened a little.

"You just staring off at that shelf. You think it's time to order more oil? Were you counting how many canisters we go through in a month? It's a pretty big number, sometimes it make my head spin, too."

Pepper began to move his head in a slow circular motion. "Nothin', it's nothin' Russ. Just a bit of a spell, you could say that I guess."

"A spell, huh."

"Yeah, I'm real sorry."

"Hey guys," Benny called. Russ and Pepper turned towards the door.

"Benny," Russ said.

"I'm real sorry I'm late, there was a bad accident."

"We heard, I was stuck in it, too," Russ said.

"Oh, okay," Benny said relieved.

"But Pepper here, you know he walks to work. He's got it all figured out," Russ said.

"I guess so, Russ. I just about got it all figured out," he said, looking up at the ceiling. "Yep, my number's coming up pretty soon."

"Now you're telling fortunes, huh? A fortune-telling oil man. They should put your name in the paper," Russ said.

"You hear that, Pepper? The papers, huh. Front page stuff," Benny said, smiling at Russ.

"You think he's front page business, Benny?" Russ said, leaning back a little.

"Oh yeah, Pepper all the way to the front page. Straight from Bennett's garage to A1." They laughed.

"Let's get to work, huh, guys?" Russ said, turning to his office.

"Yeah, okay," Pepper said.

Benny began raising a coupe. "You want to help on this alignment?" he called.

"Yeah sure," Pepper said.

"Ok, good," he walked underneath the car. "These tie rod ends look awful."

"They look brand new, Benny."

"I think they look awful."

"I don't know what you're looking-"

"Come on, Pepper. This is what we do. We get the idea to the customer, to the customer's head, that these tie rod ends are garbage and then they pay for an alignment, parts, labor, come one Pepper."

"Oh yeah."

"And then, that turns into money."

"Seems like a lot of work for a little money."

"One hundred and ninety bucks."

"Split up, minus parts."

"Well that's pretty good still."

"I guess."

"What you call a lot of money, huh?"

"Four hundred, for yourself."

"Yeah, okay."

"For two minutes' work."

"Yeah, you go and crap out a pound of gold, sure."

"Ain't even that hard."

"What ain't that hard?"

"Nothing," Pepper said wiping his forehead. "Nothing, man."

"Well we got the parts, you wanna go and get them?" Benny said, working to removed them already.

"Sure, okay," Pepper said. With his hands in his pockets he started for the storage room around the back of the garage.

"Hey, Pepper!" Russ called. Pepper turned to see Russ in the doorway to his office.

"What?"

"There's a guy on the phone for you, says he wants to talk to you."

Pepper started walking quickly to the office. "What's he want?"

"Just said he wants to talk."

"All right."

"Phone's on my desk."

Pepper walked in and picked up the receiver from on top of a stack of invoices.

"Hello? Oh, Mr. Ford, hello," he stared at Russ. Russ looked past Pepper and out the window of his office.

"Oh, I'm sorry I'll wait outside."

"Yes, Mr. Ford I'm glad to hear from you."

"Well Pepper I heard about an accident this morning."

"Me too, on I-8."

"Yes, on I-8, seemed like a nasty wreck."

"Man on the radio said there was a big back up."

"I heard that too, very bad news. Very grizzly wreck."

"Any injuries reported, yet?"

Ford sighed. "I'm afraid that the driver of the car was killed."

"Oh that's too bad."

"Yes," he said. "Well can you meet me for lunch, maybe that'll brighten our afternoon."

"Sure, down at the Doggie?"

"Why not. I'll see you there at 1:30, how's that?"

"That'd be okay."

"Good bye, Pepper."

"So long, Mr. Ford."

He put gently put the phone back into its cradle and stood for a second. he focused on a poster above Russ's desk, a color photograph of a brightly colored bridge. "San Francisco," Pepper said quietly. He opened the door to the hall.

"Who was that?" Russ asked.

"A friend, just an old friend."

"Okay."

"I'm gonna go out to lunch later on. Meet up with him."

"All right, that sounds nice."

"Should be a very nice time."

Pepper got to the Doggie Diner a few minutes before one. He took a seat at one of the picnic tables, sitting on the top with his feet on the bench. Moving his fingers around in his pocket he found a bottle cap and started to chew it, looking up at the sky, squinting at into the sun. A car pulled up, Pepper blocked out the light with his hand.

Ford got out of the car carrying a small package under his arm.

"Hello, Pepper," he said.

"Hi, Mr. Ford," Pepper said, holding his hand out for a shake. Ford looked down, his hand wasn't as black it was at their last meeting. They shook.

"I got you a little something," Ford said raising the package. It was small, rectangular, wrapped in red paper with white polka dots.

"Oh, you shouldn't have."

"Well, I couldn't help myself. I'm afraid I've got to be going. I hope you like the gift."

Pepper looked at Ford, his mouth open. "Uh, Mr. Ford what about, um."

He was climbing into his car, strapping his seat belt. "Yes?"

Pepper bent down and whispered to Ford, "The, the money we talked about."

Ford rubbed his eyes and lifted them to stare at Pepper. "It's there, it's all there in that box."

"Oh! Oh, okay," Pepper said, he began to loosen the tape at one end.

"Don't! Open it here, don't open it, wait until you get home."

"Oh, sorry. Well thanks."

"Yeah," he slammed the door to the car, backed out of the lot and drove off.

Pepper held the package with both hands, he looked down at it and smiled and started back to the garage.

Benny was finishing replacing the tie rod ends when Pepper got back.

"That was a quick lunch."

"Yeah, I guess so," he said, heading towards the office. He walked down the hallway and to the break room and sat down at one of the tables placing the package in front of him. With his finger he began to loosen the tape at one end.

"Hey, Pepper," Russ said. "What's that?" He took some change from his pocket and started to feed it into the vending machine.

"Oh, a gift."

"From your friend?"

"Yep."

"You gonna open it?"

"Maybe."

"What is it?"

"I - I don't know, yet," Pepper said, pushing the taped end back down. He took the box and put it under his arm. Quickly, he stood up and walked into the hall and began walking towards the back of the building. The hall was empty, the air conditioner blasted, the fluorescent bulbs rang quietly. Inside the bathroom Pepper opened the door to the stall, got inside and locked it. He sat down on the toilet and put the package on his lap. Again he began to finger one of the taped ends, he tore the tape and unfolded the paper. It was a box for checks.

"Checks?"

Removing the lid, Pepper sighed at the sight of a ten dollar bill. He put his finger into the box and dug it down to the bottom of the stack. Lifting it between in his fist he smelled the stack of bills. He fanned them under his nose, over his eye lids, pushed them against his lips for a kiss. Leaning back on the toilet he sighed again.

Chapter 6

Riding on the sidewalk Pepper peddled hard, his shirt several shades darker, completely soaked in sweat. He stood on the pedals of the bike, his strokes awkward and angular over the small frame. Moving in the direction of the sun Pepper squinted, breathing heavily. An alternating stream of frozen food and ice cream trucks passed by, at each block he spotted a limousine with a cabin full of cold, dark air.

Arriving at the garage Pepper didn't bother to dismount the bike, instead riding it straight onto the floor.

"Benny!" he called out.

"Nice bike, mang." Benny was sitting behind the wheel of the mustang. He cocked his head to one side. "Pepper, you said you were gonna call your momma."

Pepper dismounted the bike and let it drop to the floor. His chest was heaving. "I did," he said, standing with his hands on his knees.

"Before or after you went swimming?"

"What? Benny, you finish that oil change?"

"Yes sir, now I'm just waiting until the gentleman comes back."

"You think he'd like to see you sitting there like that?"

Benny frowned. "Yeah, I guess not," he said, getting out of the car. "Sure is nice sitting in there, though."

"I'll bet it is, Benny," Pepper said, still halved over. Taking his hands off of his knees he stood up straight, moaned. "Dear god." He looked around the floor of the garage, spotted a tire iron and slowly walked over to it.

"What you gonna do with that?" Benny asked.

"Put it back where it goes."

"Nothing goes no place around here."

"Benny why don't you take a handful of washers and go get us some peanut butter crackers."

"Okay," Benny said, walking to the back of the garage.

Pepper moved over to the car with the tire iron and quickly wrenched a few of the lugs loose on the front passenger side wheel.

"Is my car ready?" a voice called from outside of the garage. Pepper stood as the man approach. "Huh, all set, huh?" the man asked.

"Yes sir, all set for you to go," Pepper said dusting his hands.

"Okay, what do I owe you."

Pepper raised his hand and pointed straight above.

"What?" the man said. He tilted his head back and read a blue banner. In white letters, "OIL CHANGE $19.95."

"Twenty dollars? Are you out of your mind?"

"It's the going rate, sir. Average on oil."

"How much is a quart of oil?"

"Two dollars."

"So you're charging $18 for labor?"

"Well the Mustang, it takes five quarts of oil."

"Well, then," he said reaching into his pocket, producing a thick wallet. "Thanks for all the help."

"You're certainly welcome," Pepper said handing him the keys.

The man stuck out a twenty dollar bill with two fingers. "And we hope to see you in another 3,000 miles."

The man climbed into his car and slammed the door closed.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said, cutting on the engine. He pumped the gas, threw the car into reverse and quickly drove from the garage.

"That's right," Pepper said looking after the car. "You won't be dreaming of much. Tonight or ever."

"Who are you talking to, Pepper?"

He jumped. "Goddamn, Benny, how long you been standing there?"

"I don't know. Why you care about that guy's dreams?"

"I don't. I don't care about them."

"Okay. Well here's your sandwiches," he said handing Pepper the crackers. Pepper tore one of the plastic corners with his teeth. "Listen," Benny said spitting cracker, "you can hear the sidewalk crying in the heat."

* * *

The end of the day had come after the slow drag of afternoon. Pepper wore a bit of a smile on his face during the aching walk home. There were a number of cars parked along the street in front of the house as he approached, the windows lit in nearly every room. A busy night for the girls.

He walked around the back of the house, looking up at the house, imagining the movements that matched the sounds that came from the open windows. At the door he took his key ring from his pocket and after thumbing past a few other keys remembered that Bridgestone still had his room key.

"Goddamn," he said. "If this doesn't beat all," he said, turning back to the front of the house.

Turning the corner of the house he heard voices. On busy nights any waiting clients had to wait on the front porch until the next girl, or if their wallets allowed it, the girl of their choice became available. The porch was crowded with figures, the only light coming from the ends of lit cigarettes.

"Hey, fellas," Pepper said walking up. No one replied. He went straight for the entrance and open the screen door. It was pushed shut immediately by the man closest to it.

"What's the idea, guy?" he said in a low, excited voice.

"No idea, mang."

"If you want to go in you gotta get in line," said someone behind him.

"Well look, I happen to live here."

"Sure bud, I'm the Emperor of Japan," said the man behind him.

"You gotta get in line or I'll get you in line," said someone at the far end of the porch.

"Come on, guys," Pepper said.

A metal lighter flicked open. Its owner held it near his face, tanned, wrinkled, its long nose nearly hanging over the top lip.

"If you think you're going into that house before any of us you have another thing coming," he said.

Pepper sighed. "I'm not going in to see a girl, I'm just talking to Mr. Bridgestone. I live in the basement."

"Bull shit," the man with the lighter said, shoving Pepper in the chest.

"Hey!" Pepper called, stumbling back, the men behind him pushed him back towards the flame.

"What's your goddamn problem, don't you understand there's rules at this house?"

The door swung open.

"What's going on out here?" Bridgestone called.

"This asshole thinks he can jump the line," a man said.

"Who thinks they can?"

"It's me," Pepper said.

"Pepper?" Bridgestone asked.

"Yeh, I just wanted to get my key.

"Your key? Oh, right, your key," he said reaching into his pocket. "Should have said so."

"Well these guys wouldn't let me get to the door," Pepper said.

"Huh," he said, turning the key off the ring. "Pepper, why don't you come in for a minute."

"Okay," and the two stepped inside.

They stopped in the hallway, Bridgestone still working on the key. "I'm sorry about the johns," he said. "They can get a bit out of hand. Only but so much action these girls can handle."

"I know it."

"Here," Bridgestone said, handing Pepper the key. "Thanks for letting me copy it."

"Yeah, it's fine. Listen, now that I'm in here, you mind if I grab a quick shower?"

"A shower?"

"Yeah I haven't bathed in days. And the past few having been pretty rough."

Bridgestone leaned in towards Pepper and pulled in a little air. "Christ boy you ain't kidding. Yeah, make it quick though."

"Thanks a lot," he said, walking to the bathroom.

"Pepper, I think the hot water heater's broken," Bridgestone called.

"Really?"

* * *

Pepper heaved the large garage door open, the morning light broke across the floor, reflecting on a rainbow spot of oil and water, a few scattered tools. With a yellow-handled broom he swept around the shop. Then he collected some of the stray tools and placed them on a bench, then collected a few bags of trash and hauled them around to the back of the shop. In doing a bit of cleaning had done more work at the shop in the minutes before opening than he had all week. He found his bottle of mouthwash and took a pull.

Pepper found a chair and propped his feet up on a milk crate, waiting for Russ or Benny to arrive, day dreaming about the money.

Maybe I could go back to the Doggie, for lunch and dinner in the same day, or maybe somewhere else like the Casa del Taco, maybe buy a new hat, the kind with a fuzzy thing on top, some whiskey, a lot of beers, a new pillow for my cot, a lamp for my room, a copy of Cans, a subscription to Cans, a whole year of cans, goddamn. Even a trip, I might could take a trip, some place far away, maybe Broadsburg, that's two hours from here by car.

"Morning, Pepper," Russ said walking in.

"Oh, hey Russ."

"Sorry I'm late. There was a bad traffic jam on the way."

"Yeah, where at?"

"At the Green Street ramp to the highway. Apparently a bad accident on the interstate."

"Really?"

"Yeah it's all over the radio."

Pepper took his feet from the milk crate and sat up. Pulling at the waist of his pants he walked over to a radio above the shelf of oil canisters and switched it on.

"-before the intersection of the Planter's Ridge Bridge. It's a fifteen mile back up, none of the morning commute has been able to get through as the accident occurred early this morning before the rush hour. A nasty sight from 2,000 feet in the air, back to you, Dave.

That's Pete Sampson with our Eye in the Sky, reporting on this morning's big news, a wreck on Interstate 8. It appears that a car driving southbound was flung into northbound traffic when the driver lost control of the car, colliding with a tractor trailer, now overturned, and creating a lot of residual accidents and, as Pete said, miles and miles of traffic delays. Easily the worst accident in recent county history."