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.
December 17, 2007
December 10, 2007
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.
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.
December 4, 2007
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."
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."
November 26, 2007
Chapter 5
"I'm sorry, sir," Pepper choked as his mouth filled with saliva. "Yours is what car?"
"The Mustang out front, it's the only car out there," he said crossing his arms.
Pepper walked to the edge of the garage. "That red one?"
"Yes, can you change the oil in a red car or should I take it someplace else?"
Pepper rubbed his hands against the thighs of his pants.
"Well?" the man said.
He straightened up and began walking towards the back of the garage. Moving quickly he called over his shoulder, "Sure, sure. Benny here will take care of it. Benny, you can change the oil for this gentleman, can't you?"
"Of course," Benny said, tightening his bandana. "Of course I can."
Pepper nodded to Russ as he passed the office, he walked quickly down the hallway to the locker room.
"Oh man oh man" he muttered. He spun the dial of the lock over and over, "Oh man, oh goddamn," he struggled to align the combination, tugging after a few turns, starting over, finally getting the door unlocked. He bent over a little and looked into the locker. "God damn!" he said and slammed the door shut. He paced in the narrow row of lockers, turning his fist in the palm of the other hand. A sharp pivot on his heel and he turned out of the room and walked back to the floor. He was moving fast but kept his legs straight, went over to a bench and began opening and closing metal drawers stacked on the counter. Screws, washers, clips, pencils, larger washers. He found the wrench he was looking for and shoved it into his pocket.
"Benny I have to run out. I'll be back."
"Where you going?" Benny called from inside the car.
"Gotta go," Pepper turned and looked at Benny, bouncing in place on his toes. "I gotta go and call my momma," he turned and split.
There was a haze over the street, the sun was bright but not sharp, dull in the thick humidity. Feeling the heat through his canvas outfit Pepper moaned. "Who loves the sun?" he said. When he was just clear of the garage he began to sprint. "Goddamn lady," he said swinging his arms.
Hearing a crack of laughter Pepper looked across the street. In the shade of a recessed doorway a few kids sat eating popsicles. Their bikes were piled against the side of the building. He quickly glanced up and down the street, some cars close by, and shot across the road. Horns blared.
"Hey, hey guys," he called approaching their stoop. One of the kids was draining the orange liquid from the end of the plastic popsicle tube. "What you say that if I can guess what grade you're in you let me borrow one of your bikes?"
"No way!" said a skinny kid in a mesh tank top. "I don't even let Casey borrow my bike and he's my cousin," he said pointing his thumb at a freckled face.
"You ain't borrowing my bike, neither!" said another, wrapping his empty plastic tube around his finger.
"Nuh uh, can't ride mine," said Casey.
"Come on just give me one guess," he pleaded.
"Fine, one guess," said the first boy. "But you're still not getting my bike I just want to see what you gonna say."
"Fifth graders!" Pepper blurted.
The kids erupted with laughter. One of them slapped his knee.
"Do I look like a giant to you?" the first boy said.
"Yeah, a giant?" said the other, lifting the shoulders of his tank top and puffing his cheeks. "I'm gonna drink all your milks! You better run!" he said, the others laughing.
"Well, what if I buy you some ice cream?"
"We just had popsicles, where you gonna get ice cream, anyway?" Casey asked.
"From that truck," Pepper said pointing, "down there." The boys turned to look, shielding their eyes against the sun.
With their heads turned Pepper grabbed the bike closest to him, jerked it away from the wall and began sprinting with the bike rolling beside him. The boys turned.
"Hey!" called tank top. "He's taking our bikes!"
"He's taking our bikes!"
"Help! Help!"
They all began wailing, running after Pepper. He stopped, straddled the bike and began pedaling off as fast as he could. The boys kept chase.
"He's stealing it! He's stealing my bike!"
"Help! Stop - thief!"
"Burg-u-lar! Burg-u-lar!"
Pepper pedaled on, down the street.
He kept on, pumping his legs over the small frame of the bike, looking for any sign of the woman and her Mustang. "Come on, come on," he said looking around. His eyes stung in a mix of heat and sweat. He kept darting his eyes and head about, looking for the car.
He slowed as he approached a traffic light. Stopped, he panted heavily and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. He squinted down the road, the cars blurry, he wiped his eyes again. He saw something up at the next light. The cars ahead slowed to a stop and against a large yellow cement mixer Pepper could just see the outline of the Mustang.
"Hot damn!" he hollered and stood to pedal. A horn and the squeal of brakes, Pepper had gone head first into moving traffic. The drivers in the intersection slammed their breaks, cursed, eyed their children. He looked around quickly and kept on. He stood up, pumping his legs as fast as he could. The car became closer, the light changed and the vehicles began moving slowly. Pepper managed to catch up, pulled along side the vehicle. He looked over, it was the woman from before.
"Ma'am!" he called still pedaling. "Ma'am!" he screamed. She looked over, her mouth opened at a startled angle. The car slowed in her distraction. "Pull over!" he called. She made a face. "Pull over!" he said, motioning to the side of the road with his head. Pepper rode his bike into the next parking lot, CARTER'S MEMORIAL, got off the bike and leaned it against a fence that wrapped around a large cluster of tombstones in varying heights and stone. The woman pulled her car in after him.
"What's this all about?" she called in a high voice.
"Ma'am, I just wanted to be sure of something with your car," he panted. "I didn't check it before you left, I just want to be sure it's all right," he said, reaching into his pocket.
"What is it?"
Pepper was already on his knees, tightening the screws on the wheel.
"Okay," he said standing. "I think that'll take care of it."
"The wheel? What was wrong with the wheel? I had the oil changed, what is there to do with the wheel?"
"Just a safety measure, ma'am," he said returning to the bike. "You have yourself a nice day." He mounted the bike and took off back to the garage. As he pumped he repeated it to himself, "Four hundred dollars." In rhythm with each push of the bike's gears, "Four hund'rd d'llrs, four hund'rd d'llrs, four hund'rd d'llrs, four hund'rd d'llrs."
"The Mustang out front, it's the only car out there," he said crossing his arms.
Pepper walked to the edge of the garage. "That red one?"
"Yes, can you change the oil in a red car or should I take it someplace else?"
Pepper rubbed his hands against the thighs of his pants.
"Well?" the man said.
He straightened up and began walking towards the back of the garage. Moving quickly he called over his shoulder, "Sure, sure. Benny here will take care of it. Benny, you can change the oil for this gentleman, can't you?"
"Of course," Benny said, tightening his bandana. "Of course I can."
Pepper nodded to Russ as he passed the office, he walked quickly down the hallway to the locker room.
"Oh man oh man" he muttered. He spun the dial of the lock over and over, "Oh man, oh goddamn," he struggled to align the combination, tugging after a few turns, starting over, finally getting the door unlocked. He bent over a little and looked into the locker. "God damn!" he said and slammed the door shut. He paced in the narrow row of lockers, turning his fist in the palm of the other hand. A sharp pivot on his heel and he turned out of the room and walked back to the floor. He was moving fast but kept his legs straight, went over to a bench and began opening and closing metal drawers stacked on the counter. Screws, washers, clips, pencils, larger washers. He found the wrench he was looking for and shoved it into his pocket.
"Benny I have to run out. I'll be back."
"Where you going?" Benny called from inside the car.
"Gotta go," Pepper turned and looked at Benny, bouncing in place on his toes. "I gotta go and call my momma," he turned and split.
There was a haze over the street, the sun was bright but not sharp, dull in the thick humidity. Feeling the heat through his canvas outfit Pepper moaned. "Who loves the sun?" he said. When he was just clear of the garage he began to sprint. "Goddamn lady," he said swinging his arms.
Hearing a crack of laughter Pepper looked across the street. In the shade of a recessed doorway a few kids sat eating popsicles. Their bikes were piled against the side of the building. He quickly glanced up and down the street, some cars close by, and shot across the road. Horns blared.
"Hey, hey guys," he called approaching their stoop. One of the kids was draining the orange liquid from the end of the plastic popsicle tube. "What you say that if I can guess what grade you're in you let me borrow one of your bikes?"
"No way!" said a skinny kid in a mesh tank top. "I don't even let Casey borrow my bike and he's my cousin," he said pointing his thumb at a freckled face.
"You ain't borrowing my bike, neither!" said another, wrapping his empty plastic tube around his finger.
"Nuh uh, can't ride mine," said Casey.
"Come on just give me one guess," he pleaded.
"Fine, one guess," said the first boy. "But you're still not getting my bike I just want to see what you gonna say."
"Fifth graders!" Pepper blurted.
The kids erupted with laughter. One of them slapped his knee.
"Do I look like a giant to you?" the first boy said.
"Yeah, a giant?" said the other, lifting the shoulders of his tank top and puffing his cheeks. "I'm gonna drink all your milks! You better run!" he said, the others laughing.
"Well, what if I buy you some ice cream?"
"We just had popsicles, where you gonna get ice cream, anyway?" Casey asked.
"From that truck," Pepper said pointing, "down there." The boys turned to look, shielding their eyes against the sun.
With their heads turned Pepper grabbed the bike closest to him, jerked it away from the wall and began sprinting with the bike rolling beside him. The boys turned.
"Hey!" called tank top. "He's taking our bikes!"
"He's taking our bikes!"
"Help! Help!"
They all began wailing, running after Pepper. He stopped, straddled the bike and began pedaling off as fast as he could. The boys kept chase.
"He's stealing it! He's stealing my bike!"
"Help! Stop - thief!"
"Burg-u-lar! Burg-u-lar!"
Pepper pedaled on, down the street.
He kept on, pumping his legs over the small frame of the bike, looking for any sign of the woman and her Mustang. "Come on, come on," he said looking around. His eyes stung in a mix of heat and sweat. He kept darting his eyes and head about, looking for the car.
He slowed as he approached a traffic light. Stopped, he panted heavily and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. He squinted down the road, the cars blurry, he wiped his eyes again. He saw something up at the next light. The cars ahead slowed to a stop and against a large yellow cement mixer Pepper could just see the outline of the Mustang.
"Hot damn!" he hollered and stood to pedal. A horn and the squeal of brakes, Pepper had gone head first into moving traffic. The drivers in the intersection slammed their breaks, cursed, eyed their children. He looked around quickly and kept on. He stood up, pumping his legs as fast as he could. The car became closer, the light changed and the vehicles began moving slowly. Pepper managed to catch up, pulled along side the vehicle. He looked over, it was the woman from before.
"Ma'am!" he called still pedaling. "Ma'am!" he screamed. She looked over, her mouth opened at a startled angle. The car slowed in her distraction. "Pull over!" he called. She made a face. "Pull over!" he said, motioning to the side of the road with his head. Pepper rode his bike into the next parking lot, CARTER'S MEMORIAL, got off the bike and leaned it against a fence that wrapped around a large cluster of tombstones in varying heights and stone. The woman pulled her car in after him.
"What's this all about?" she called in a high voice.
"Ma'am, I just wanted to be sure of something with your car," he panted. "I didn't check it before you left, I just want to be sure it's all right," he said, reaching into his pocket.
"What is it?"
Pepper was already on his knees, tightening the screws on the wheel.
"Okay," he said standing. "I think that'll take care of it."
"The wheel? What was wrong with the wheel? I had the oil changed, what is there to do with the wheel?"
"Just a safety measure, ma'am," he said returning to the bike. "You have yourself a nice day." He mounted the bike and took off back to the garage. As he pumped he repeated it to himself, "Four hundred dollars." In rhythm with each push of the bike's gears, "Four hund'rd d'llrs, four hund'rd d'llrs, four hund'rd d'llrs, four hund'rd d'llrs."
November 21, 2007
Chapter 4
Pepper finished his lunch by forcing the last bite of tuna against his throbbing stomach. He let out a long, agonized groan. "I did it. I finally did it." He looked at the two empty drink containers, the pint, the empty bag of chips, the paper hot dog tray. Uncontrollably, he groaned again. "This must be the feeling of satisfaction," he said clenching his shirt in his fist. He stood up, looked at the trash on the table and turned to walk back to the garage.
It was noon, humid and heavy as Pepper walked back. The cement and bricks of the buildings he passed seemed to crumble in the heat. Every glass and metallic surface he passed, bumpers, windows, mailboxes, a garbage man's keys, put the searing reflection of the sun into his eyes. His feet barely left the pavement, scraped along the sidewalk as he felt the combination of sugar water, ice milk, fried potatoes, tuna fish, mayonnaise and the animal pieces they put into hot dogs wrestle in his stomach. Sweat poured out making rings at the neck of his shirt, under his arms and over the area of his back.
Pepper slowly approached the garage from the sidewalk. Benny was sitting on the floor cutting underwear advertisements from the paper. "What oven you crawling out of?" he said as Pepper approached. "Damn."
Pepper continued his slump step into the garage. A few feet inside he collapsed to the floor.
"Jesus, Pepper," Benny said, putting his scissors down. "What's wrong with you?"
Pepper groaned again and rolled onto his side. Benny walked over and Pepper uttered something. He crouched down, "What'd you say?" Pepper let out another brief moan. "I don't know, man," Benny said. Pepper hiccoughed, paused, and his body contracted around his stomach as he threw up.
"Oh, oh goddamn," Benny said standing up. "That's gross. That is so gross, man. Why would you eat stew on a hot day like today?" Benny backed away.
Pepper muttered. "Shut up, shut up Benny. Shut up."
"Whatever you say," Benny said. He took his bandana from his head to cover his face.
Pepper continued to lay on his side, whispering to himself incoherently. "You just go ahead and pass out, mang," Benny said. "We ain't getting anything done today anyhow."
The roll of the garage door woke Pepper. His eyes parted slowly, the garage was full of light.
"Pepper! Pepper! God damn, boy, what, oh God look at all the upchuck. What the hell happened?"
Pepper recognized Russ' voice. He opened his eyes and stood up slowly.
"Back early, Russ?"
"Early? Early, no Pepper it's 7:30 in the morning," he said, handing Pepper a roll of paper towels. "Take care of the mess you made. And get changed, you smell like a wet grass bag," he turned towards his office.
"Morning?" he said. "Oh, damn," he whispered to himself. "Oh, damn." Pepper balled up a few paper towels for the mess and walked to his locker. He unbuttoned his shirt, opened his locker, took a pull from the mouthwash and swallowed. "Oh, no," he blurted and threw up again. "Oh, god."
He managed to change his work clothes, left with the socks and briefs from the previous day, and headed to the floor.
"Pepper," Russ called as he passed. "Come in here a sec. Sit down, tell me what you been up to, yesterday."
"Well I had lunch down at the Doggie Diner and the next thing I know I'm on the floor of the garage."
"The Doggie? But you don't get paid until next week."
"Oh, I know I know. But this gentleman Gerald he took me there and bought me lunch and he's gonna give me four hundred dollars."
"Four hundred dollars?"
"What?"
"You said 'four hundred dollars.'"
Pepper stared at Russ. "Well, what I meant to say is I must have eaten four hundred dollars of food because later on it just made me so sick that I couldn't keep any of it with me."
"All right. And who's Gerald?"
"He's a buyer," Pepper paused. "And a seller. A little bit of both, really."
"Okay, and this guy just took you to lunch?"
"Yeah."
"And how'd you meet him?"
"Well he just come in the shop said he had car troubles so I said oh I'll take a look, sir, so I did and it turned out all he need was some air in a tire and he said that's all what's the charge so I told him no charge and he said well let me get you lunch so I agreed and he took me down to the Doggie and I got some food and that was that, Russ."
"You'd think any soft-handed, scarf-wearing carpet salesman would be able to put air in a tire."
"Yeah I know," Pepper said, relieved. He pursed his lips and scratched behind his ear. "I'm the best liar this side of the Mississippi River," he thought.
"Okay let's get to work, Pepper," Russ said looking at some folders on his desk.
"Yeh, all right Russ," he said standing. Pepper wiped his forehead with a sigh. As he exhaled a red Mustang entered the garage. "Well I'll be damned," he said to himself.
"Check this out, Pepper," Benny said, pointing to the car. "In for an oil change, I can't wait-"
"Well seeing as that's my field of excellence I'll take it from here," he said. A woman was driving the car, a large pair of sunglasses buried in a lot of blonde hair.
"It'll only take a few minutes?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am, in and out," Pepper said.
"I'll run to the bank, then," she said, handing Pepper the keys.
"All right, it's just across the street, there."
She rolled her eyes, but Pepper missed the gesture from under the sunglasses.
"Oil, oil, oil change!" he said, walking to a shelf for a few quarts. He cracked the plastic yellow cap off of one and sniffed it. He exhaled heavily.
Pepper raised the car and as the oil drained he took a wrench and loosened the lugs a few turns. "Took all of thirty seconds," he said to himself. Pepper finished the oil job, lowered the car and spun the key ring around his finger. He whistled a bit, pacing around the garage.
"All set?" the woman called, walking into the garage.
"Yep, nineteen dollars," Pepper said. She handed him a twenty. "I'll run and get change."
"No, keep it," she said taking the keys.
"Why thank you, thank you very much, ma'am."
She turned the engine and drove out of the garage. Pepper dusted his hands and watching the car drive off imagined the sounds it would making flipping five or six times on the interstate.
Benny was replacing a rear-view mirror on a pick-up truck as Pepper walked over. "What you working on, Benny."
"Just a rear-view, mang."
"Yep, the old rear view. Gotta have eyes on the back of your head, huh? Keep one step ahead of the other guy, don't ya?"
"Sure thing, Pepper."
"Yep, a sure thing," he said. He heard an engine approaching, then cut off and parked outside. The door slammed, and a tall man entered the garage, a cigarette clenched in his teeth. He removed his sunglasses.
"How about an oil change?" he called. "Absolutely," Pepper said.
"Great. Mine's the Mustang outside."
It was noon, humid and heavy as Pepper walked back. The cement and bricks of the buildings he passed seemed to crumble in the heat. Every glass and metallic surface he passed, bumpers, windows, mailboxes, a garbage man's keys, put the searing reflection of the sun into his eyes. His feet barely left the pavement, scraped along the sidewalk as he felt the combination of sugar water, ice milk, fried potatoes, tuna fish, mayonnaise and the animal pieces they put into hot dogs wrestle in his stomach. Sweat poured out making rings at the neck of his shirt, under his arms and over the area of his back.
Pepper slowly approached the garage from the sidewalk. Benny was sitting on the floor cutting underwear advertisements from the paper. "What oven you crawling out of?" he said as Pepper approached. "Damn."
Pepper continued his slump step into the garage. A few feet inside he collapsed to the floor.
"Jesus, Pepper," Benny said, putting his scissors down. "What's wrong with you?"
Pepper groaned again and rolled onto his side. Benny walked over and Pepper uttered something. He crouched down, "What'd you say?" Pepper let out another brief moan. "I don't know, man," Benny said. Pepper hiccoughed, paused, and his body contracted around his stomach as he threw up.
"Oh, oh goddamn," Benny said standing up. "That's gross. That is so gross, man. Why would you eat stew on a hot day like today?" Benny backed away.
Pepper muttered. "Shut up, shut up Benny. Shut up."
"Whatever you say," Benny said. He took his bandana from his head to cover his face.
Pepper continued to lay on his side, whispering to himself incoherently. "You just go ahead and pass out, mang," Benny said. "We ain't getting anything done today anyhow."
* * *
The roll of the garage door woke Pepper. His eyes parted slowly, the garage was full of light.
"Pepper! Pepper! God damn, boy, what, oh God look at all the upchuck. What the hell happened?"
Pepper recognized Russ' voice. He opened his eyes and stood up slowly.
"Back early, Russ?"
"Early? Early, no Pepper it's 7:30 in the morning," he said, handing Pepper a roll of paper towels. "Take care of the mess you made. And get changed, you smell like a wet grass bag," he turned towards his office.
"Morning?" he said. "Oh, damn," he whispered to himself. "Oh, damn." Pepper balled up a few paper towels for the mess and walked to his locker. He unbuttoned his shirt, opened his locker, took a pull from the mouthwash and swallowed. "Oh, no," he blurted and threw up again. "Oh, god."
He managed to change his work clothes, left with the socks and briefs from the previous day, and headed to the floor.
"Pepper," Russ called as he passed. "Come in here a sec. Sit down, tell me what you been up to, yesterday."
"Well I had lunch down at the Doggie Diner and the next thing I know I'm on the floor of the garage."
"The Doggie? But you don't get paid until next week."
"Oh, I know I know. But this gentleman Gerald he took me there and bought me lunch and he's gonna give me four hundred dollars."
"Four hundred dollars?"
"What?"
"You said 'four hundred dollars.'"
Pepper stared at Russ. "Well, what I meant to say is I must have eaten four hundred dollars of food because later on it just made me so sick that I couldn't keep any of it with me."
"All right. And who's Gerald?"
"He's a buyer," Pepper paused. "And a seller. A little bit of both, really."
"Okay, and this guy just took you to lunch?"
"Yeah."
"And how'd you meet him?"
"Well he just come in the shop said he had car troubles so I said oh I'll take a look, sir, so I did and it turned out all he need was some air in a tire and he said that's all what's the charge so I told him no charge and he said well let me get you lunch so I agreed and he took me down to the Doggie and I got some food and that was that, Russ."
"You'd think any soft-handed, scarf-wearing carpet salesman would be able to put air in a tire."
"Yeah I know," Pepper said, relieved. He pursed his lips and scratched behind his ear. "I'm the best liar this side of the Mississippi River," he thought.
"Okay let's get to work, Pepper," Russ said looking at some folders on his desk.
"Yeh, all right Russ," he said standing. Pepper wiped his forehead with a sigh. As he exhaled a red Mustang entered the garage. "Well I'll be damned," he said to himself.
"Check this out, Pepper," Benny said, pointing to the car. "In for an oil change, I can't wait-"
"Well seeing as that's my field of excellence I'll take it from here," he said. A woman was driving the car, a large pair of sunglasses buried in a lot of blonde hair.
"It'll only take a few minutes?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am, in and out," Pepper said.
"I'll run to the bank, then," she said, handing Pepper the keys.
"All right, it's just across the street, there."
She rolled her eyes, but Pepper missed the gesture from under the sunglasses.
"Oil, oil, oil change!" he said, walking to a shelf for a few quarts. He cracked the plastic yellow cap off of one and sniffed it. He exhaled heavily.
Pepper raised the car and as the oil drained he took a wrench and loosened the lugs a few turns. "Took all of thirty seconds," he said to himself. Pepper finished the oil job, lowered the car and spun the key ring around his finger. He whistled a bit, pacing around the garage.
"All set?" the woman called, walking into the garage.
"Yep, nineteen dollars," Pepper said. She handed him a twenty. "I'll run and get change."
"No, keep it," she said taking the keys.
"Why thank you, thank you very much, ma'am."
She turned the engine and drove out of the garage. Pepper dusted his hands and watching the car drive off imagined the sounds it would making flipping five or six times on the interstate.
Benny was replacing a rear-view mirror on a pick-up truck as Pepper walked over. "What you working on, Benny."
"Just a rear-view, mang."
"Yep, the old rear view. Gotta have eyes on the back of your head, huh? Keep one step ahead of the other guy, don't ya?"
"Sure thing, Pepper."
"Yep, a sure thing," he said. He heard an engine approaching, then cut off and parked outside. The door slammed, and a tall man entered the garage, a cigarette clenched in his teeth. He removed his sunglasses.
"How about an oil change?" he called. "Absolutely," Pepper said.
"Great. Mine's the Mustang outside."
November 12, 2007
Chapter 3
Pepper felt a chill of disbelief. "Four hundred dollars?"
The man leaned forward in his seat. "If you'll just hear me out," he spoke slow and calm.
"I'm all ears. Don't need a damn octologist to tell me that," Pepper said, putting the car in motion.
"Why don't you pull in, here?" the passenger suggested, pointing to the Doggie Diner at the end of the block.
"Fine," Pepper said, turned the wheel into the lot and parked.
"I've heard some good things about you, Pepper."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, very good things. A kid named Teddy told me all about you, said you could use some extra money, too."
"I knew he wasn't all bad. I guess he's right about the money, too. And I'm good things, that's for sure." Pepper was talking with his hands, making fast, circular gestures. "I mean to say I'm good, I'm a good guy good at all kinds of stuff. I can do anything."
The passenger leaned back in his seat. "Well let's not get too far ahead of ourselves. I want you to really consider this job before you take it."
"Well, okay. Okay," Pepper said, wringing his hands on the steering wheel.
"You're a mechanic and what I need done is real mechanic's work. There's going to be a car coming in to your shop later this week, a red Mustang. Just coming in for a routine oil change, which I hear is your specialty."
"It is, sir, changing oil is a craft I'd say I've perfected."
"That's wonderful news. Well what we need is a little extra work. Pepper, can you promise me that what we say will stay here in the front of this car?"
"Yes I can. I won't say a word to another soul."
"All right. This is very sensitive, and it's important that it remains confidential. When the car comes in this week we need to be sure that the breaks are cut, entirely. We're hoping that when the car leaves the shop the breaks won't function and that the driver will be - "
"Taken care of, like in the movies."
"Yes, Pepper. Just like in a movie."
"Well I got a real problem with that."
"I understand," the man said quietly.
"Is this guy some kind of asshole?"
"You could say that."
"Is he the kind of asshole that likes to drive?"
"Yes, he's very fond of his cars, driving them. I can see why you wouldn't want any harm done to another car enthusiast."
"Does he like to drive fast?"
The passenger looked at Pepper for a moment. "Yes, he does."
"Well then what I could do is loosen the nuts on one of his wheels. It won't be very noticeable at first. Once he gets out onto the freeway, highway, starts speeding, the wheel will shake and break off, it'll make the car flip. That should most definitely take care of him."
"Can you be sure?"
"I've seen worse happen when the wheels are loose on accident. And I'll make em real loose."
"I see. Well you are the expert on these matters, Pepper."
"Not to toot my own horn, but yes, I do consider myself to have a highly qualified expertise," he said, tilting his head back. "Now about this money issue," Pepper said, rubbing his chin.
"Yes, I'm sorry that we can't offer-"
"I believe we agreed on four hundred dollars?"
The passenger again paused a moment, looking at Pepper.
"Four hundred dollars, in cash."
"Then I believe we have a deal."
"Excellent, Pepper, excellent."
Pepper stuck out his hand, the man looked down at it, rubbed with grease, the ends of his fingernails totally black. The man shook it and looked at Pepper. "Can I, buy you lunch?"
Pepper nodded. "Yeah, that would be real good."
They exited the car, the man walked ahead. Pepper whispered to himself, "Four hundred dollars."
The Doggie Diner was a walk-up restaurant, single window for orders and checks. A woman in a loose t-shirt was standing behind the glass, her deep-fried hair fell unevenly around her face.
"Why don't you go ahead and order. Please, get whatever you want," the man said.
"Okay, thanks," he said, leaning back to look at the menu. "I'll have a hot dog, and a Coke. Let me get a small french fry, and a half-pint of tuna fish. Let's see I'll have an orange milkshake, too."
The woman was still writing, "Will that be all?"
"Can I get mustard, mayo and ketchup on the dog?"
"Sure."
"And some relish?"
"Okay."
"Oh and some chips?"
"They come with the hot dog."
"No I mean right on the hot dog."
"I'll let you do that."
"Well, okay."
"Will that be all?"
"You gonna have anything, sir?"
The man stood to the side with his arms folded, looking at the asphalt. He looked up, "No, no thank you."
"It'll be six dollars and seventy-six cents," she said looking at Pepper. He gave her a blank look. The man stepped over, taking his wallet from his pocket. Pepper's mouth parted as the full wallet fanned open. The man handed her a ten.
The two men stood at the counter, waiting on Pepper's food. "Could I have the keys back, Pepper."
"Sure thing," he said, handing them over. "Sure was nice to drive that thing. Gotta sell a lot of," he stopped. "What is it you do, by the way?"
"Oh," the man said, putting the keys in his pocket. "Buying, selling, a little bit of both, really."
"I see, buying and selling. That's the way to go, you've got to buy it to sell it." Pepper was rocking back and forth on his heels. "And, I'm sorry maybe I'm getting a little personal, but what's your name, again?"
"My name is Mr. Ford. Gerald Ford."
"Gerald Ford, I think I've heard that name before."
"I would hope you have."
"Well I'm glad to put a name to a face."
The counter window slid open. "Number nine," the woman called. The parking lot, the counter, were empty. Pepper looked at the ticket in his hand. "Guess that'll be me."
"Pepper I've got to be going. I hope that we can count on you this week."
"You sure will, Mr. Ford. Absolutely."
"Number nine," the woman called again.
"Goodbye, Pepper."
"It's been a pleasure meeting you!"
Pepper took his sack of food from the window and found a seat at a picnic table on the building's shaded side.
"And now we feast," he said, unrolling the paper bag.
The man leaned forward in his seat. "If you'll just hear me out," he spoke slow and calm.
"I'm all ears. Don't need a damn octologist to tell me that," Pepper said, putting the car in motion.
"Why don't you pull in, here?" the passenger suggested, pointing to the Doggie Diner at the end of the block.
"Fine," Pepper said, turned the wheel into the lot and parked.
"I've heard some good things about you, Pepper."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, very good things. A kid named Teddy told me all about you, said you could use some extra money, too."
"I knew he wasn't all bad. I guess he's right about the money, too. And I'm good things, that's for sure." Pepper was talking with his hands, making fast, circular gestures. "I mean to say I'm good, I'm a good guy good at all kinds of stuff. I can do anything."
The passenger leaned back in his seat. "Well let's not get too far ahead of ourselves. I want you to really consider this job before you take it."
"Well, okay. Okay," Pepper said, wringing his hands on the steering wheel.
"You're a mechanic and what I need done is real mechanic's work. There's going to be a car coming in to your shop later this week, a red Mustang. Just coming in for a routine oil change, which I hear is your specialty."
"It is, sir, changing oil is a craft I'd say I've perfected."
"That's wonderful news. Well what we need is a little extra work. Pepper, can you promise me that what we say will stay here in the front of this car?"
"Yes I can. I won't say a word to another soul."
"All right. This is very sensitive, and it's important that it remains confidential. When the car comes in this week we need to be sure that the breaks are cut, entirely. We're hoping that when the car leaves the shop the breaks won't function and that the driver will be - "
"Taken care of, like in the movies."
"Yes, Pepper. Just like in a movie."
"Well I got a real problem with that."
"I understand," the man said quietly.
"Is this guy some kind of asshole?"
"You could say that."
"Is he the kind of asshole that likes to drive?"
"Yes, he's very fond of his cars, driving them. I can see why you wouldn't want any harm done to another car enthusiast."
"Does he like to drive fast?"
The passenger looked at Pepper for a moment. "Yes, he does."
"Well then what I could do is loosen the nuts on one of his wheels. It won't be very noticeable at first. Once he gets out onto the freeway, highway, starts speeding, the wheel will shake and break off, it'll make the car flip. That should most definitely take care of him."
"Can you be sure?"
"I've seen worse happen when the wheels are loose on accident. And I'll make em real loose."
"I see. Well you are the expert on these matters, Pepper."
"Not to toot my own horn, but yes, I do consider myself to have a highly qualified expertise," he said, tilting his head back. "Now about this money issue," Pepper said, rubbing his chin.
"Yes, I'm sorry that we can't offer-"
"I believe we agreed on four hundred dollars?"
The passenger again paused a moment, looking at Pepper.
"Four hundred dollars, in cash."
"Then I believe we have a deal."
"Excellent, Pepper, excellent."
Pepper stuck out his hand, the man looked down at it, rubbed with grease, the ends of his fingernails totally black. The man shook it and looked at Pepper. "Can I, buy you lunch?"
Pepper nodded. "Yeah, that would be real good."
They exited the car, the man walked ahead. Pepper whispered to himself, "Four hundred dollars."
The Doggie Diner was a walk-up restaurant, single window for orders and checks. A woman in a loose t-shirt was standing behind the glass, her deep-fried hair fell unevenly around her face.
"Why don't you go ahead and order. Please, get whatever you want," the man said.
"Okay, thanks," he said, leaning back to look at the menu. "I'll have a hot dog, and a Coke. Let me get a small french fry, and a half-pint of tuna fish. Let's see I'll have an orange milkshake, too."
The woman was still writing, "Will that be all?"
"Can I get mustard, mayo and ketchup on the dog?"
"Sure."
"And some relish?"
"Okay."
"Oh and some chips?"
"They come with the hot dog."
"No I mean right on the hot dog."
"I'll let you do that."
"Well, okay."
"Will that be all?"
"You gonna have anything, sir?"
The man stood to the side with his arms folded, looking at the asphalt. He looked up, "No, no thank you."
"It'll be six dollars and seventy-six cents," she said looking at Pepper. He gave her a blank look. The man stepped over, taking his wallet from his pocket. Pepper's mouth parted as the full wallet fanned open. The man handed her a ten.
The two men stood at the counter, waiting on Pepper's food. "Could I have the keys back, Pepper."
"Sure thing," he said, handing them over. "Sure was nice to drive that thing. Gotta sell a lot of," he stopped. "What is it you do, by the way?"
"Oh," the man said, putting the keys in his pocket. "Buying, selling, a little bit of both, really."
"I see, buying and selling. That's the way to go, you've got to buy it to sell it." Pepper was rocking back and forth on his heels. "And, I'm sorry maybe I'm getting a little personal, but what's your name, again?"
"My name is Mr. Ford. Gerald Ford."
"Gerald Ford, I think I've heard that name before."
"I would hope you have."
"Well I'm glad to put a name to a face."
The counter window slid open. "Number nine," the woman called. The parking lot, the counter, were empty. Pepper looked at the ticket in his hand. "Guess that'll be me."
"Pepper I've got to be going. I hope that we can count on you this week."
"You sure will, Mr. Ford. Absolutely."
"Number nine," the woman called again.
"Goodbye, Pepper."
"It's been a pleasure meeting you!"
Pepper took his sack of food from the window and found a seat at a picnic table on the building's shaded side.
"And now we feast," he said, unrolling the paper bag.
November 5, 2007
Chapter 2
From a small window high on the wall a thin strip of light broke across the concrete floor of Pepper's room. Last night's container lay on its side, its fumes waved in the light through the open end. In a loud, heavy sleep Pepper was stretched over the covers on his cot, his arm folded under his chest, his shoes on his feet, his belt at his waist, a stream of drool coming from his mouth over the edge of the cot. He breathed heavy and slow.
Shoes scraped down the stairs to his door, a large beating hand announced the guest.
"Pepper!"
He moved his head, his mouth open. The beating was louder.
"Pepper!"
Rolling onto his side Pepper let out a hoarse moan, he cursed quietly. He slowly sat up on his cot, propping himself with one arm, gingerly moving the other. He closed his fist and moaned again. "God damn."
"Pepper open this goddamn thing."
Pepper stood and began walking towards the door, his arm crooked at an angle. Outside the man kicked the door, Pepper unlatched the lock. The door swung open, the room filled with light.
"At last, at last. Good morning, Pepper Gray."
Pepper stood still, his face constricted around his closed eyes. "My goddamn arm is asleep."
As the man entered the room went dark again, his body nearly filling the door frame as he passed through. He had a worn straw hat on his head, the short sleeves and buttons of his filthy linen shirt were stretched to their limit. He shuffled in quickly to the corner of the room.
"I want you to give me your key, Pepper." He bent down to pick up a few rolls of toilet paper. "Just for the day, I don't want to hear any different, just for the day, now. I'm going to duplicate the damn thing so you can go on sleeping and I don't have to stand around waiting for you and your arm to wake up." He grabbed a spray bottle of Briten Up and walked over to Pepper. "The key, now Pepper."
"All right," he said, reaching for his keys. He took it from the loop and handed it out. "Here you go."
The man had the spray bottle in one hand, the rolls of toiler paper under the other arm. "Just put it in my shirt pocket." He did. "Okay well I'll see you later then," he said.
The room was dark as exited, Pepper shut the door and the room was dark again. Pepper sat on his cot, removed his shoes and found a complete change of clothes in a plastic bag under his folding bed. He checked his watch, it was almost eight o'clock.
Pepper left his room, walked up his stairs and around to the front of the house. He slowly opened the screen door, the heavy main door already open. It was quiet inside, he passed through the entry way and to the bathroom. He grabbed a bottle of yellow mouthwash and turned to leave.
"Pepper," a woman's voice came from the parlor. He turned around. She stood in the doorway in a pair on panties and a red frayed and faded robe. Her ribs were nearly visible through a thin layer of skin, her eyes purple in their wells.
"Why, hello, Dee. And good morning."
"Where are you off to?"
"Work, as usual."
"Still over at Bennett's?"
"If today is the same as every one for the last sixteen years, then yes, I'm at Bennett's," he said smiling. "Seen Mister Bridgestone, this morning?"
"I haven't had the pleasure. Seeing him all the time you'd think I'd get to skip a morning once and while."
"You could always sleep until noon."
"You could always fall over a bridge into heavy traffic."
"At least it'd make today different from the rest." He put the mouthwash into his back pocket. "See you, Dee."
"Bye."
Pepper left the house for work.
The garage door was open when arrived. Inside Benny was already draining the oil from a Chevrolet.
"Morning, Benny," Pepper called.
"Hi," Benny said, tightening his bandana. "What the hell you doing?"
Pepper was squatting over the floor, the bottle of mouthwash in one hand, the cap in the other. His cheeks inflated, deflated, he spit into the floor drain and then gasped. "I don't want to offend nobody." Before standing he picked up a washer from the floor.
"If you kept your mouth shut then no one would hear you or smell you," Benny said. He turned back to his work.
Pepper walked to the back of the shop, put the bottle in his locker and headed for the break room. He stood in front of the vending machine, considered Captain Mack's Fried Cheesers, inserted the washer and pressed A-9 for a package of pink Puffy Sno-Puffs.
Back on the shop floor Pepper had his breakfast. "Russ called," Benny said. "He ain't coming in today."
"And why the hell not?"
"Said he's got a 'pointment with the octocologist."
"You mean the octologist."
"Whichever. His ear is all fucked up he said. Must be, too, he kept having me say the same shit over and over again."
"Oh well." Pepper shoved his second Sno-Puff into his mouth. "Guess it'll be a slow day. Works out, really. Russ isn't around to make us keep doing stuff, and we make more money by charging extra labor for doing absolutely nothing."
"My kind of day," agreed Benny. "This oil's just about changed, already."
"I guess we could work on that truck that was dieseling."
"Pepper!"
"Oh, yeah. I meant to say I'll be sitting in the break room."
"Yeah, okay."
Benny and Pepper headed back to the break room, put their boots on the table and stared at the ceiling.
"So, Pepper. I always wanted to ask you something."
"What's that, mang."
"What's it like living where you live?"
"Ah, the basement ain't so bad."
"No, I mean in a whore house."
"Well. First of all it's a brothel. Mr. Bridgestone runs a fine establishment."
"All right."
"Second of all, it's the storage room of a brothel, it's not a basement. And number two, it's the best thing on Earth, mang! Just this morning the first face I saw was Dee's, she's this real hot lady, a real fox, the number one girl, you know what I mean?"
"Yeah, okay. What was she wearing?"
"A robe, underwear."
"And?"
"And nothing, mang. Just saw her there with her chest just hanging out. Flapping like the American flag in the wind."
"Goddamn, goddman!"
"Goodamn right, mang."
The service bell rang in the garage.
"Shit," said Pepper, standing up. "I'll go check it out."
"Okay," said Benny, draping his bandana across his eyes.
A man in a gray suit was waiting in the garage. "Hello, there."
"Hi," Pepper said approaching. "What can we do for you?"
"Well, I think my clutch is overheating. I smell this burning rubber when I've run the car."
"Hmm, could be, could be. Where do you have it parked?"
"Oh, right outside," he said, motioning behind him. "Can we take a look?"
"Of course."
Waiting in the lot was a black Jaguar. "Dear lord! This thing's giving you trouble?"
"Yeah, I can't believe it, either."
"I'll be sonofabitched, this thing looks brand new."
"It is. Here, why don't we get in, you drive, tell me what you think."
"Why didn't you take it to the dealer?"
The man pointed the keys at the car, a beep disarmed the car and he handed the keychain to Pepper.
"All right, let's see," he said, excited. He started the engine, adjusted the mirrors and seat. They took out of the lot.
"Seems to be shifting just fine. Sounds fine, no rubbing,"
"Well,"
"And there's no odor, I don't quite-"
"Listen, let's just cut to the chase here."
Pepper down shifted the engine, and stopped the car at a light. He looked at the passenger.
"How would you like to make four hundred dollars?"
Shoes scraped down the stairs to his door, a large beating hand announced the guest.
"Pepper!"
He moved his head, his mouth open. The beating was louder.
"Pepper!"
Rolling onto his side Pepper let out a hoarse moan, he cursed quietly. He slowly sat up on his cot, propping himself with one arm, gingerly moving the other. He closed his fist and moaned again. "God damn."
"Pepper open this goddamn thing."
Pepper stood and began walking towards the door, his arm crooked at an angle. Outside the man kicked the door, Pepper unlatched the lock. The door swung open, the room filled with light.
"At last, at last. Good morning, Pepper Gray."
Pepper stood still, his face constricted around his closed eyes. "My goddamn arm is asleep."
As the man entered the room went dark again, his body nearly filling the door frame as he passed through. He had a worn straw hat on his head, the short sleeves and buttons of his filthy linen shirt were stretched to their limit. He shuffled in quickly to the corner of the room.
"I want you to give me your key, Pepper." He bent down to pick up a few rolls of toilet paper. "Just for the day, I don't want to hear any different, just for the day, now. I'm going to duplicate the damn thing so you can go on sleeping and I don't have to stand around waiting for you and your arm to wake up." He grabbed a spray bottle of Briten Up and walked over to Pepper. "The key, now Pepper."
"All right," he said, reaching for his keys. He took it from the loop and handed it out. "Here you go."
The man had the spray bottle in one hand, the rolls of toiler paper under the other arm. "Just put it in my shirt pocket." He did. "Okay well I'll see you later then," he said.
The room was dark as exited, Pepper shut the door and the room was dark again. Pepper sat on his cot, removed his shoes and found a complete change of clothes in a plastic bag under his folding bed. He checked his watch, it was almost eight o'clock.
Pepper left his room, walked up his stairs and around to the front of the house. He slowly opened the screen door, the heavy main door already open. It was quiet inside, he passed through the entry way and to the bathroom. He grabbed a bottle of yellow mouthwash and turned to leave.
"Pepper," a woman's voice came from the parlor. He turned around. She stood in the doorway in a pair on panties and a red frayed and faded robe. Her ribs were nearly visible through a thin layer of skin, her eyes purple in their wells.
"Why, hello, Dee. And good morning."
"Where are you off to?"
"Work, as usual."
"Still over at Bennett's?"
"If today is the same as every one for the last sixteen years, then yes, I'm at Bennett's," he said smiling. "Seen Mister Bridgestone, this morning?"
"I haven't had the pleasure. Seeing him all the time you'd think I'd get to skip a morning once and while."
"You could always sleep until noon."
"You could always fall over a bridge into heavy traffic."
"At least it'd make today different from the rest." He put the mouthwash into his back pocket. "See you, Dee."
"Bye."
Pepper left the house for work.
The garage door was open when arrived. Inside Benny was already draining the oil from a Chevrolet.
"Morning, Benny," Pepper called.
"Hi," Benny said, tightening his bandana. "What the hell you doing?"
Pepper was squatting over the floor, the bottle of mouthwash in one hand, the cap in the other. His cheeks inflated, deflated, he spit into the floor drain and then gasped. "I don't want to offend nobody." Before standing he picked up a washer from the floor.
"If you kept your mouth shut then no one would hear you or smell you," Benny said. He turned back to his work.
Pepper walked to the back of the shop, put the bottle in his locker and headed for the break room. He stood in front of the vending machine, considered Captain Mack's Fried Cheesers, inserted the washer and pressed A-9 for a package of pink Puffy Sno-Puffs.
Back on the shop floor Pepper had his breakfast. "Russ called," Benny said. "He ain't coming in today."
"And why the hell not?"
"Said he's got a 'pointment with the octocologist."
"You mean the octologist."
"Whichever. His ear is all fucked up he said. Must be, too, he kept having me say the same shit over and over again."
"Oh well." Pepper shoved his second Sno-Puff into his mouth. "Guess it'll be a slow day. Works out, really. Russ isn't around to make us keep doing stuff, and we make more money by charging extra labor for doing absolutely nothing."
"My kind of day," agreed Benny. "This oil's just about changed, already."
"I guess we could work on that truck that was dieseling."
"Pepper!"
"Oh, yeah. I meant to say I'll be sitting in the break room."
"Yeah, okay."
Benny and Pepper headed back to the break room, put their boots on the table and stared at the ceiling.
"So, Pepper. I always wanted to ask you something."
"What's that, mang."
"What's it like living where you live?"
"Ah, the basement ain't so bad."
"No, I mean in a whore house."
"Well. First of all it's a brothel. Mr. Bridgestone runs a fine establishment."
"All right."
"Second of all, it's the storage room of a brothel, it's not a basement. And number two, it's the best thing on Earth, mang! Just this morning the first face I saw was Dee's, she's this real hot lady, a real fox, the number one girl, you know what I mean?"
"Yeah, okay. What was she wearing?"
"A robe, underwear."
"And?"
"And nothing, mang. Just saw her there with her chest just hanging out. Flapping like the American flag in the wind."
"Goddamn, goddman!"
"Goodamn right, mang."
The service bell rang in the garage.
"Shit," said Pepper, standing up. "I'll go check it out."
"Okay," said Benny, draping his bandana across his eyes.
A man in a gray suit was waiting in the garage. "Hello, there."
"Hi," Pepper said approaching. "What can we do for you?"
"Well, I think my clutch is overheating. I smell this burning rubber when I've run the car."
"Hmm, could be, could be. Where do you have it parked?"
"Oh, right outside," he said, motioning behind him. "Can we take a look?"
"Of course."
Waiting in the lot was a black Jaguar. "Dear lord! This thing's giving you trouble?"
"Yeah, I can't believe it, either."
"I'll be sonofabitched, this thing looks brand new."
"It is. Here, why don't we get in, you drive, tell me what you think."
"Why didn't you take it to the dealer?"
The man pointed the keys at the car, a beep disarmed the car and he handed the keychain to Pepper.
"All right, let's see," he said, excited. He started the engine, adjusted the mirrors and seat. They took out of the lot.
"Seems to be shifting just fine. Sounds fine, no rubbing,"
"Well,"
"And there's no odor, I don't quite-"
"Listen, let's just cut to the chase here."
Pepper down shifted the engine, and stopped the car at a light. He looked at the passenger.
"How would you like to make four hundred dollars?"
November 1, 2007
Chapter 1
It was a hot and muggy night. Hours after sun set the air hung heavy and thick. Cars not worth stealing rattled in the streets, swaths of bugs circled the lamps. A single fluorescent flicked in the garage of Bennet's Auto Repair, its last two employees closing for the night.
Russ, the shop manager, took a can of Schlitz from a small cooler and leaning on the closest Pontiac cracked it open. He took a long pull. "What a ridiculous day," he said throwing the can aside.
A voice came from under the car, "It wasn't so bad, mang." Pepper Gray slid out from underneath, leaned up from his dolly.
"Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me, Pepper? After that brown out, just sitting here in the shop for four and a half hours waiting for the power to come back on, in this stinking heat, in this god-forsaken garage, breathing the smell of gasoline all day. You can cross this one off with a marker on your calendar, Pepper, but mine's going to have a big goddamn skid mark across it."
"I feel like I've been changing oil all day," wiping his brow with a filthy pink rag.
"You have been, Pepper."
"I guess you're right. You ever drive some place, and show up there, cut off the engine and wonder how you got there?" Russ took his keys from his pocket. "Kind of like auto pilot, just becomes automatic, you know, you just end up there. Changing oil can be like that."
"Well, good night, Pepper."
"Good night."
Pepper stood, walked to the shop sink and leaning over watched the beer he'd had at lunch stream from his bladder and down the drain. He scratched the back of his head, closed the rolling steel garage door and locked the shop for the night.
He headed out of the shop in the opposite direction of home, kicking along slowly. On the sidewalk the street lights hummed, the insects flicked on the bulbs. Passing underneath Pepper felt the asphalt crackling from the heat. In the distance, above the yellow fog of the lamps, Pepper could hear the drone of the moon, a brother to the fluorescent discs in the garage.
There was a cluster of teenagers in front of the Sunbeam Gasoline smoking mentholated cigarettes, passing a paper bag around. They turned as Pepper approached. "Hey, Pepper" said the tallest of the group, running his hand over his fresh flattop. "Nice hair cut."
Pepper looked up at his bangs, hanging just over his eyebrows. "I haven't had a haircut in months, Teddy."
"Fuck you."
He turned and entered the store, maneuvering his way to a spot beneath a cardboard sign for Custer's Light. Pepper took a twelve-pack from the fridge and read the box quietly to himself. "Appalachian-brewed with the finest rice and barley." He looked back to the fridge and read the only truly important text, "12PK $4.99."
Pepper lifted the case to the counter and nodded to the frayed, toothless woman behind it. He put his hand into his pocket, digging for his cash, admiring the tilt of her burgundy purple wig. Empty, he switched to the other pocket. Empty, too. "Goddamn," he muttered. He reached back to his wallet, opened the fold and as he'd expected found it empty. "Goddamn it." He took the case, returned it to the fridge and walked out of the shop.
The teens were still on the walk, crowded around a trash can. "Hey, you guys can spare me any change? Like a buck each, I don't have any money and I really just need to get a buzz going."
"Ah, shit, Pepper you know we don't have any money. Why else would we be sharing this Pink Petal?" Teddy said.
"Yeah, I thought it was worth a shot."
"I got you, mang," said Plant, a pudgy kid in a denim vest.
"Bullshit, Plant, why'd you hold out on us?"
"I gotta keep some cash for an emergency, like this one," he said reaching into his pocket. "I know I've got it someplace." Pepper held out his hand. "Five bucks, I know it," he switch to another pocket, his hand deep inside. "Oh, here it is," Pepper leaned closer, Plant made a noise with his throat and spit into Pepper's open hand. The group erupted with laughter.
"Man that was messed up man," Pepper said, wiping his hand on the trash bin.
"You deserve it and you know it," Teddy said. Pepper turned and walked away to the sound of enthused high-fiving.
It was a few blocks back to the garage, and a few blocks past that home. Pepper approached the shop, his head hanging in disappointment. He kicked an oil can in the gutter, looked into the shop. By the single flickering light inside and noticed a flash of green on the shop bench. He took his keys from his pocket, entered the shop and went over to the bench. In white text the green can read Tinnley's Paint Thinner. At the sink he filled the half-empty canister with water, pocketed the can, closed the shop and headed home.
Pepper lived the basement of a large white house. The screens peeled from every window, the paint chipped and splintered from the siding. He walked around the back of the house, slapping the bugs from his face as he struggled for his keys under the single bulb over the entrance to his room. He spit a gnat from his mouth as he quickly swung the door open and closed again. Inside he pulled the string for the room's single bulb and sat heavily on his cot. He took the paint thinner from his pocket and after a few determined swallows was fast asleep.
Russ, the shop manager, took a can of Schlitz from a small cooler and leaning on the closest Pontiac cracked it open. He took a long pull. "What a ridiculous day," he said throwing the can aside.
A voice came from under the car, "It wasn't so bad, mang." Pepper Gray slid out from underneath, leaned up from his dolly.
"Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me, Pepper? After that brown out, just sitting here in the shop for four and a half hours waiting for the power to come back on, in this stinking heat, in this god-forsaken garage, breathing the smell of gasoline all day. You can cross this one off with a marker on your calendar, Pepper, but mine's going to have a big goddamn skid mark across it."
"I feel like I've been changing oil all day," wiping his brow with a filthy pink rag.
"You have been, Pepper."
"I guess you're right. You ever drive some place, and show up there, cut off the engine and wonder how you got there?" Russ took his keys from his pocket. "Kind of like auto pilot, just becomes automatic, you know, you just end up there. Changing oil can be like that."
"Well, good night, Pepper."
"Good night."
Pepper stood, walked to the shop sink and leaning over watched the beer he'd had at lunch stream from his bladder and down the drain. He scratched the back of his head, closed the rolling steel garage door and locked the shop for the night.
He headed out of the shop in the opposite direction of home, kicking along slowly. On the sidewalk the street lights hummed, the insects flicked on the bulbs. Passing underneath Pepper felt the asphalt crackling from the heat. In the distance, above the yellow fog of the lamps, Pepper could hear the drone of the moon, a brother to the fluorescent discs in the garage.
There was a cluster of teenagers in front of the Sunbeam Gasoline smoking mentholated cigarettes, passing a paper bag around. They turned as Pepper approached. "Hey, Pepper" said the tallest of the group, running his hand over his fresh flattop. "Nice hair cut."
Pepper looked up at his bangs, hanging just over his eyebrows. "I haven't had a haircut in months, Teddy."
"Fuck you."
He turned and entered the store, maneuvering his way to a spot beneath a cardboard sign for Custer's Light. Pepper took a twelve-pack from the fridge and read the box quietly to himself. "Appalachian-brewed with the finest rice and barley." He looked back to the fridge and read the only truly important text, "12PK $4.99."
Pepper lifted the case to the counter and nodded to the frayed, toothless woman behind it. He put his hand into his pocket, digging for his cash, admiring the tilt of her burgundy purple wig. Empty, he switched to the other pocket. Empty, too. "Goddamn," he muttered. He reached back to his wallet, opened the fold and as he'd expected found it empty. "Goddamn it." He took the case, returned it to the fridge and walked out of the shop.
The teens were still on the walk, crowded around a trash can. "Hey, you guys can spare me any change? Like a buck each, I don't have any money and I really just need to get a buzz going."
"Ah, shit, Pepper you know we don't have any money. Why else would we be sharing this Pink Petal?" Teddy said.
"Yeah, I thought it was worth a shot."
"I got you, mang," said Plant, a pudgy kid in a denim vest.
"Bullshit, Plant, why'd you hold out on us?"
"I gotta keep some cash for an emergency, like this one," he said reaching into his pocket. "I know I've got it someplace." Pepper held out his hand. "Five bucks, I know it," he switch to another pocket, his hand deep inside. "Oh, here it is," Pepper leaned closer, Plant made a noise with his throat and spit into Pepper's open hand. The group erupted with laughter.
"Man that was messed up man," Pepper said, wiping his hand on the trash bin.
"You deserve it and you know it," Teddy said. Pepper turned and walked away to the sound of enthused high-fiving.
It was a few blocks back to the garage, and a few blocks past that home. Pepper approached the shop, his head hanging in disappointment. He kicked an oil can in the gutter, looked into the shop. By the single flickering light inside and noticed a flash of green on the shop bench. He took his keys from his pocket, entered the shop and went over to the bench. In white text the green can read Tinnley's Paint Thinner. At the sink he filled the half-empty canister with water, pocketed the can, closed the shop and headed home.
Pepper lived the basement of a large white house. The screens peeled from every window, the paint chipped and splintered from the siding. He walked around the back of the house, slapping the bugs from his face as he struggled for his keys under the single bulb over the entrance to his room. He spit a gnat from his mouth as he quickly swung the door open and closed again. Inside he pulled the string for the room's single bulb and sat heavily on his cot. He took the paint thinner from his pocket and after a few determined swallows was fast asleep.
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