Center Courtship (12 page)

I quickly went around the room and took pictures of the cars and we were soon back on the road riding in silence.

“What are you thinking, Mae?” asked Steve. Steve had been an employee since before I owned the shop. He was always available when it came to making business decisions.

“I'm going to have to do a little research,” I said. “I've got a number in my head, but I don't know how realistic it is. I have to look at the books, too. Some of the cars in the showroom have been there since grandpa owned it. I have to ask myself if we will even be able to sell them. We're good as a business, but I don't know if we can take this kind of hit all at once. In the perfect world we'd have a flashy showroom. Most people don't even know what we have.” Most of our sales were done by people doing searches online for specific vehicles and we definitely didn't keep the classic vehicles outside for fear of weather damage.

Steve pulled into our usual lunch place; a local diner known for its food and friendly staff. We never asked where we were going for lunch, we just headed down Wales Road and to Meldrum's diner.

As always, we sat in the sun room. The room was warm and bright on the cool November afternoon. I pulled out my phone and began swiping through the images of the cars. “Don't talk anymore until I come back,” said Steve as he got up and headed toward the bathroom.

I looked at Greg, my newest mechanic. He was a year or two older than me and came highly recommended by Steve. That's why I had paired them together, if you're going to vouch for someone, you better be willing to work with them. They were a
good team. He was a good looking man, pretty blue eyes and blond hair that, when it was too long, curled around his head in an unkempt mess. He relaxed in the booth with his arm across the back of the booth behind me. I suppose he'd be referred to as handsome in some circles. I never saw him like that. I knew better than to look at any of my employees as anything other than employees. Nothing good ever comes from work relationships. I learned that the hard way.

He started scrolling through the pictures going from one car to the next, rattling off numbers he thought each one should be worth. “Remember, I need to make a profit.”

“That's the hard part,” he said. He then scrolled further than the car pictures and found the start of the pictures from my weekend. “Oh, how did this go?” he picked the phone up and started going through them with closer scrutiny.

“It was a long weekend, that's pretty much all I can say without going into too much detail.”

“Wow, Casper and…”

Steve returned, “Looking at her basketball player pictures?” he asked.

“Yep, that's pretty awesome,” he said, pointing at the court.

“She didn't even know who the other four were until someone told her!” said Steve, taking a sip of his Coke and laughing.

Once we placed our order, I flipped my placemat over and pulled a pen from my purse. I pulled up a website I had used in the past to valuate cars and started going through the list one by one.

As I worked, I could feel that the room was beginning to fill as the rumble of voices was getting louder. I created my own bubble of concentration and tuned everything out around me. Once I tallied everything together, I took a picture of my math for later use. I realized that unless Quentin's number was really off, we wouldn't be able to afford the whole collection. Frustrated that I was going to have to tell him ‘no', I took the paper, balled it up and threw it in the trash can that was near the waitresses' station. I then looked across the table to see Steve's eyes were as large as saucers. Suddenly a piece of paper flew
over my head and missed the trash can by a mile. The letter “R” was all that was written on it.

I turned in my seat to see Elsu sitting behind me with Millard and Carl and smiled remembering we still needed to finish our game of HORSE. “Elsu!” I said.

“What are the chances?” he asked. “We were looking for a place to eat and I saw the Grandpa's Chop Shop truck in the parking lot.”

I stared in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

He looked at his watch. “I do believe this is what the locals refer to as ‘lunch.'” He said with a smile.

I smiled in shock and noticed Greg and Steve were looking like love-struck teenagers. “Oh, this is Steve, my mechanics manager, and Greg, one of my mechanics,” I said pointing to the men with introductions. “Guys, this is Elsu.”

Steve nearly knocked his Coke over when he stood up and shook Elsu's hand excitedly across the table. Greg just said hi with a little wave knowing from his angle that a handshake would be awkward. He replaced his arm on the bench behind me. I felt a thumb rub my shoulder. What the hell was that? I turned toward Elsu whose face stared at the offending thumb and then at me. He turned and faced Millard and Carl.

I looked at Greg and I swore I saw a smirk cross his face. Steve was oblivious as his nose was in the newspaper he had scrounged up from somewhere.

“You know what? I should go to the bathroom before the food gets here,” said Greg. He quickly stood and left the room.

I heard movement behind me and felt Elsu's presence near my ear. “What's good here?” he whispered. The forced breath sent a tickle down my spine.

I turned to look at him, his face just centimeters from mine. I turned back quickly, not wanting to be so close. I moved my phone off of the menu that still sat where Greg had been, the screen lit up showing the Corvette. Without asking, Elsu grabbed my phone and looked closer. “SWEET!”

I wasn't sure if I was perturbed that he stole my phone, or oddly giddy that he felt comfortable enough to do it. He looked at the different cars in turn and then at the pictures from the weekend. “Can I send these to myself?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said. “But it might be quicker if you send them all at once by email.”

“Ok,” without question, he opened my email app and began composing a message and attaching pictures. He looked at me sideways. “Please don't share my email address with anyone.”

“I promise,” I smiled. “By the way, this place is known for its greasy, not-good-for-you food. What are you in the mood for?”

Elsu started to wiggle, then stood up and removed his jacket. Eyes around the room fell on his twenty-foot frame. OK, he wasn't that tall, but I wasn't sure what the actual stat was. He quickly reached down into the waitresses' station and threw his missed shot into the trash. Instead of returning to his booth, he sat next to me, still looking at my phone. “So what's the deal with these cars?”

“Someone is selling them and I just figured out that I don't think we can afford them, unless the guy is an idiot.”

“He's trying to get rid of them, Mae. He might have a better offer than you think,” said Steve.

“And what am I going to do with them? Those cars need to be showcased. Not stored away in our dusty excuse for a showroom.”

“What if we cleaned it up and made it like a museum? Charge people a couple bucks, donate the money to a domestic violence group?” Elsu's head cocked to one side when he heard that as if he wanted to know more.

Greg walked into the room and eyed Elsu crossly. “Sorry, buddy,” said Elsu. “You can have your girlfriend back.”

Greg burst into laughter. “She's not my girlfriend,
totally
not my type. I was just messing with you.”

“Wow, dude. Harsh,” said Elsu as he looked at me. I wasn't sure what to make of Greg, but I had a feeling he was going to get a piece of Steve's mind at some point. I was like a niece to Steve, he and my father were roommates in college and had been best friends ever since. I grew up calling him Uncle Steve for the first twelve years of my life before I learned that he wasn't really my dad's brother.

“I'll just sit over here with these two gentlemen who I was not introduced to,” said Greg nonchalantly as he sat down behind us.

“Oh, that is Millard and Carl.” I said.

Carl stood up and came to stand at our table and then scooted himself in next to Steve. Steve looked at Carl bewildered with the intrusion. So much for a relaxing lunch. Carl held out his hand to Steve. “Carl, Carl Wickerman, PR director for the Whoopsters.” Carl was a short man with graying, receding hair. He wore glasses with large frames that nearly filled his face. His tie was lopsided and his suit jacket seemed like it was way past its dry-clean-by date. He looked at me and his smile turned stale. “Mae.”

“Carl,” I glared back.

“Carl thinks the team members need to make themselves more of a fixture in the community. He wants us to be seen so people don't go all crazy when they see a team member at any random place. Millard thinks it's a recipe for disaster.” Elsu nodded in Millard's direction.

“Hmmm, Massillon used to be a small town, we've grown a lot over the last several years but we don't have a lot of celebrities just walking down our streets. I'm sure it will take people a while to get used to that.”

“Our ultimate goal is to eliminate the need for one-on-one security. That costs a lot of money.”

“Oh, the team pays for that? I thought that was paid for by the individual player,” said Steve.

“Some of the players have their own, some don't,” said Elsu. “I do.” He pointed to Millard.

“I think it would depend on how you guys play,” said Greg from behind us. “If you're winning we'll be happy to see you. If you play like every other Ohio team, you might be targets for egg throwing contests,” Greg chuckled at his own joke.

“I think the guys need security. Especially someone like Elsu. I know from firsthand experience that he has crazy girls pawing him in stairwells.” As the last words exited my mouth, I felt my face turn beet red. I wanted to make corrections to my comment, let everyone know they weren't
my
hands, but our food arrived at that exact moment.

Elsu smiled at me then stood up and looked at Greg, “you can have your seat back.”

Greg accepted and Elsu returned to his seat. Carl retreated to his as well.

I looked at my huge greasy bacon-y cheesy burger with a side of fries and wished I had ordered something a little healthier. “I like a girl who can eat,” said Elsu as he eyed my lunch.

“I probably won't eat all of this, it just sounded good,” I lied. This was what I usually had at Meldrum's and never had a problem eating all of it. I often topped the whole thing off with a piece of pie or ice cream. Not today.

I heard my phone ring and looked around the table and realized that Elsu still had it in his hand.
What was he doing?
He handed the phone back to me and I looked to see it was my neighbor Arnold. He only called when there was a problem at the apartment. I sighed with what could only be called pre-frustration. “Hey Arnold, what's up?”

I could hear yelling in the background. “Mae-Belle your little asshole brother is here and wants the key to your truck.” Arnold was never one for sugar coating his feelings about anyone.

“Tell him he can't have it, besides I have both keys on me. Why is he even there? What's going on?” I heard a male and female voice. I knew they belonged to the Wonder Twins.

“I told him I wouldn't let him in but he keeps bugging me and Colette and he won't stop.” I could hear Arnold losing his breath.

“Arnold, calm down, can you hand the phone to Christopher?” I heard the phone change hands.

“Mae, I need Little José, I've been evicted and I need to haul my stuff back to mom's.”

“Ok,
one
, no matter what your reasoning, you can't just harass my neighbors to get into my apartment.
Two
, even if they
had
let you in, you wouldn't have found the key because I have both of them with me, and lastly, and most importantly, NO ONE USES HIM TO HAUL SHIT!” I hadn't realized how loud I had gotten until I noticed the majority of the room was looking at me. My cheeks surely resembled the ketchup puddled on my plate.

“What is the point of having a truck if you can't use it to haul stuff?” he asked.

“If you want a truck, rent one. I'm not your servant, Christopher. Why are you being evicted, anyway?”

“Apparently the last two checks bounced. Mom must have forgotten to deposit money into my account.” I rolled my eyes. I'm sure she didn't forget, he probably spent it all without remembering he had bills to pay.

“I highly doubt that, Christopher. Look at your bank statements, you'll see. She never forgets her two favorite children.”

“Jealous much, sis?” I heard the snide look I'm sure he was giving me. He and his sister knew they were the favorites.

“No, I'm not jealous. I'm a grown adult, with an adult job and an adult income. I don't need mommy to keep me afloat. You and Candice are pathetic.” I slammed my palm across my mouth knowing that I had just stirred the pot way too much. This would be another phone call.

“How am I supposed to rent a truck if I have no money to pay rent?”

“I don't know, little brother, maybe learn to keep track of your money and you wouldn't have that problem,” I hung up the phone and slammed it on the table. The look of concern on Steve's face let me know he knew what I was dealing with.

“Wow, is your whole family like that?” asked Elsu.

“Not Max or my dad.”

“Or me,” said Steve from across the table. “I'm the pseudo-uncle.” I smiled at him.

“How old are they?”

“The age when most people attempt to be responsible adults. I think they're twenty-two.”

“So why are they your mom's favorites? What's so special about them?” asked Elsu.

I sighed. “To quote one of my customers, that's a story for another day.”

Our waitress came to our table to check on refills and to see if we needed desserts, I wanted to get out of there before mom's impending call came in. “We'll just take the check,” I said.