Honky Tonk Samurai (Hap and Leonard) Page 5

  “Can I help you gentlemen?” she said. She had the sort of southern voice that’s a little bourbon-soaked and so smooth you’d think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth but a lie could happily live there. She let loose that bomb of a smile again.

  I turned on what charm I had left, showed her my smile. At least I had all my own teeth. Except for the wisdom teeth. They were long gone, top and bottom. I have suggested many times that what was wrong with my life might be just that. No wisdom teeth.

  “We’d love to talk to you for a moment,” I said. I was so friendly and cheerful I wanted to pull up a chair and listen to me.

  “Would you like to go out on the lot?” She posed that like it was a question up there with a possible discussion of string theory, and that the two of us might really have something profound to add.

  “Actually, we’re not here to buy one of those cars,” I said.

  “Oh,” she said. “We do sell cars, you know.”

  “Yes, but I’m assuming you have others, ones not on the lot,” I said.

  “Of course. Come sit at the desk and we’ll chat.”

  We followed her over. I watched her buttocks wrestle in the tight skirt. Both sides of her ass seemed to be holding their own. She indeed had a firm-apple butt, and the skirt fit tight, as if it and the ass were one and the same.

  She took her chair, and Leonard and I took the two chairs in front of the desk. Those chairs were like settling down on a cloud. I felt sleepy the minute I got situated. I could feel the sweat freeze-drying at the small of my back.

  “I’m Frank,” she said.

  “Hap,” I said. And Leonard gave his real first name, too. We didn’t offer last names. If it came to that we had already worked up some lies—Wilson and Smatter. He was Wilson, I was Smatter.

  “Hap. That’s an odd name,” she said.

  “It’s rare,” I said. “You don’t look like a Frank.”

  “Actually it’s Frankie,” she said and shifted her legs so that I could be certain she was all woman, let her foot hang so she could dangle one of those fine boots. “But everyone calls me Frank. I thought it sounded better for the business.”

  I doubted that. She didn’t seem old-fashioned to me, like she was trying to convince anyone a man ran the business. Maybe she was just trying to appeal to who she thought we were, a couple of male chauvinist pigs she could sell a car to.

  I noticed her turning her head to the lot, checking what we drove up in.

  “Would your car be a trade, if we were able to put you in a new ride? I must be honest. We don’t give substantial trade credit. It’s not our way.”

  “He drove his car,” I said, indicating Leonard, “but I’m the one who’s come to buy a car. I wanted him to check them out with me.”

  “He values my opinion,” Leonard said. “Him being my sidekick and all.”

  She nodded. “That is so nice, to have a friend that dear.”

  “Isn’t it?” Leonard said. “I get loose bowels thinking about it.”

  Frank gave him a look that showed she was trying to appreciate his humor.

  Easy, Leonard. Pull it back. There were some days when you just didn’t know which Leonard you would get. The sarcastically playful one, the deadly avenger with a heart of ice, or the snot-nosed little brother who wants his cookies and Dr Pepper and was easily bored. All the personalities that make up his overall personality were quirky at best.

  “The cars on the lot, interestingly, are not for sale. They are showpieces, but we have others like them, and some even rarer. I mean, people can look at the ones on the lot if they want, but only to buy a car like it, not those cars.”

  “It’s like when you get shown the dessert tray at a restaurant,” Leonard said. “They look good, but they’re shellacked over and not for sale.”

  “Sort of like that, yes,” she said. “But you said you were looking for something different from what was on the lot.”

  “I did indeed,” I said.

  “Well, we have them.”

  “Good deals?” I said.

  “I suppose that depends on how one looks at it,” Frank said.

  “How would one look at it?” I asked.

  “Well,” she said, “that depends on your bank account, to be honest.”

  “Or to be frank,” I said.

  “Yes, that’s a good one, Hap,” she said. “A good one.” She made it sound like I was the smartest man who ever squatted to shit over a pair of shoes. She was already starting to irritate me.

  “Our cars are reconditioned with all original parts, which we have to go well out of our way to find, and that’s expensive. We don’t use substitute parts or any modern part that might fit, and that is a rarer situation every year. Therefore, each year there is a rise in expense. Hard to find those parts. But for what we have to offer with the cars, and how unique our services are, it’s worth it. You can look at one of our catalogs if you like. Not only pictures, but lots of explanation there.”

  She gave me and Leonard the catalogs. I studied them. Lots of nice classic cars with some very nice classic women leaning against them while wearing only enough to keep from being arrested. In fact, the girls were more prominent than the cars. Redheads and blondes and brunettes, white-skinned, dark-skinned, short, and tall, but each of them so good-looking they nearly brought tears to my eyes.

  “There are a lot of side benefits to buying a car from us,” Frank said. “If you want them. Were you recommended by anyone? Someone who might have told you about us, recommended our special services?”

  I think it was the way she looked, the way she sat, the way she laid out the questions, that made me think what she was asking wasn’t exactly what she was saying. I began to get some idea of what we had actually walked into.

  I avoided her questions, and asked her one.

  “Say we want to buy something to go along with a car.”

  She didn’t even blink. “You don’t mind expense?”

  “I’m in a good financial position,” I said. “Inheritance. Some patents. I’m well-off, to put it bluntly.”

  Leonard coughed a little.

  “Are you all right?” Frank asked Leonard.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I think I swallowed a moth or something coming in.”

  “Really?” she said.

  “I’m all right,” Leonard said. “It was a little moth.”

  “Goodness,” she said.

  Her concern for Leonard dying of moth inhalation was brief.

  She leaned forward, showing me her cleavage, which I should note was deep enough you might need mining equipment, a good light on your helmet, and some serious camping supplies to go down there and look around.

  “What if I wanted something from your catalog?” I said.

  “What kind of model are you looking for?” she said, leaned back and arched her back slightly. It was enough to give me a new and exciting view of the Grand Tetons.

  “Something in your caliber,” I said, and I was surprised to find there was a catch in my voice. I, too, must have swallowed a moth. “The sort of car you would drive, I mean.”

  “Of course,” she said. “A nice, clean, serviceable model.” She smiled to show me there was a joke in there somewhere.

  Leonard cut his eyes at me. Buffy did that the same way. They really did have the same eyes. I put my attention on Frank. “Exactly,” I said. “A nice, clean, serviceable model.”

  Now Frank laid it on thicker. She lowered her eyes slightly, gave me a sleepy kind of look, the sort she thought I might like to wake up to. Her voice dropped slightly, and you could almost hear panties drop and bedsheets being pulled back in that voice.

  “Something sleek and fine-tuned. Something that could make you feel fine-tuned yourself.”

  “That sounds good,” I said. “I mean, who doesn’t want to be fine-tuned?”

  She looked at Leonard, lowered her eyelashes, and gave him that sleepy kind of look.

  “How about you?” she said. “You thi
nk you might decide you want a fine-tuned car, too?”

  “Absolutely. Something that would just tune the shit out of me would be nice,” he said.

  She acted mildly shocked at such language, but in a pleasant way, as if she were a preacher’s wife who now and then liked to have a beer and have her ass pinched.

  “So we’re talking a car for both of you?” she said.

  “Oh, yeah,” Leonard said. “I just came as his backup, but now that you mention it, hell, I might as well get one. Whatever he gets, I want one better. Fact is, make it bigger and longer than his.”

  “We’ve known each other a long time,” I said. “We’re a tad competitive.”

  “I suppose it’s friendly competition,” she said.

  “Friendly as shit,” Leonard said.

  She smiled that killer smile again, settled back in her chair, and let her gaze hang somewhere in between us.

  “Tell me how you heard of us,” she said.

  I had dodged that question earlier.

  “I drive by here all the time,” I said.

  She gave me a stony look. That wasn’t the right answer, but I was still trying to see how much of what I thought was going on was real and how much was my imagination.

  I laughed. “Of course, as I pointed out, the merchandise I want isn’t on the lot. I think I’m making myself clear, am I not?”

  “I’ve explained about the catalog,” she said. She was beginning to lose some of her giddy sweetness. She was definitely wanting an answer to her question. And the right answer.

  “I’ve been told there are some things that come with the cars that aren’t in the catalog,” I said. “Or at least it can be that way.”

  She didn’t bite. Just smiled. Not a very good one this time, just enough to show her teeth and wet her lipstick.

  “I had a friend tell me about the place,” I said. “He knew a lady named Sandy, and Sandy put him into a good ride at a fair but certainly upscale price.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes. “Oh,” she said. “When was this?”

  “Maybe five years ago,” I said.

  “Who was this man?” she asked.

  “Fellow I met in passing,” I said. “At a party. A party Ms. Lilly Buckner arranged. I met him there. Sandy was her granddaughter, and this fellow, the one at the party, he knew her a little. Actually he said ‘a little but well,’ if you catch my drift. Said she worked here. He told me a bit about what you offer.”

  “A little but well?” she said. “Kind of a contradictory statement, isn’t it?”

  “Not the way he meant it,” I said.

  “Of course,” she said, but she had grown as cold as the air-conditioning unit since I mentioned Sandy. “We did have a Sandy, but she quit. Stopped coming in, actually. And this wasn’t her work station. She was assigned to another office, another division of the business.”

  “Another division?” Leonard said.

  “Another city, but she was here for a while, then she was gone. The other division, in Fort Worth, she just quit showing up there. Can’t say I remember her that well. Well, right now inventory is small, Hap, but I’ll keep you in mind.”

  “What about the catalog?” I asked.

  “I think I misspoke,” she said. “I realize I might not have what you want at all. The other services. Road check. Free tire rotation. That may not be available right now.”

  “It wasn’t my tires I was hoping to get rotated,” I said.

  “I have no idea what you mean, but I made a mistake. We won’t have any cars for a while.”

  “Not a good way to sell product,” I said. “Not having it available after you say you do.”

  “We don’t need to sell many of what we sell to make good money. We’re expensive.”

  “I can afford the expense,” I said.

  “He can,” Leonard said. “He’s got patents on sex toys. Nice stuff—he ought to show you the line sometime. What’s in his catalog is for sale. There’s this one—a big purple rubber dick with metal studs on it—that will make you scream like there’s a man with a chain saw after you. And me, I got some serious-ass money. A white couple left me their estate. I was their gardener for about ten years. They didn’t know that secretly I hated them for their whiteness and called them ugly names behind their backs. Cracker, honky, and such. That old, wrinkly lady, and her having me stud her. Jesus. That was some tough work, I got to tell you. I’d rather have had a job wiping asses in hell. Dropped her drawers, lay down on the bed, that thing of hers looked like a taco rolled in hair rotting on a blanket. Paid all right, though. Still, you had to get past the smell and imagine it was a goddamn donkey to get a hard-on.”

  I thought: Gardener? White couple? Stud to a wrinkly old lady? Get past the smell? What the fuck?

  “Is that so?” Frank said to Leonard. Under her green-eyed gaze I felt like we had gone from two wealthy buyers to a couple of yokels in mud-splashed overalls with cow shit on our shoes and the intellectual level of a bag of busted bricks.

  “He’s a joker,” I said. “He’s just not too funny.”

  “Oh, I’m not kidding. The old man knew how to keep an erection. Viagra. That’s the drug for the aged; that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I think for everyone over sixty they ought to pass it out for free. Put it in their fucking oatmeal and mashed peas. By the way, do you have a hat to go with that outfit? I think it needs one.”

  Frank stared at Leonard. I think she wasn’t certain what she had just heard. When she was certain, she said, “I do have a hat. It matches the skirt.” Then to me: “You have a card? Maybe I can let you know when we have new inventory. I can make my mistake up to you if something comes in.”

  “That sounds good,” I said. “But I’m out of cards. I’ll just write down a phone number you can call.”

  “Very well,” she said.

  I wrote my number down on a pad with a pen she handed me. I didn’t put my last name, just Hap. Leonard didn’t bother writing his number or name, just told her to call and make it two, but to make his more expensive and better. The competition thing. But by then Frank was like someone waiting for a train to pass.

  I finished the writing, did it carefully, remembering where she had touched the pen. I didn’t touch that spot. I looked at the pen when I finished. It was one of a handful in a small, decorative jar on her desk.

  “Are these to spare?” I said, holding up my signing pen.

  “Handouts,” she said.

  “Good,” I said. “You’ll call right away if something comes up?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  Maybe saying there was a party at Ms. Buckner’s was my mistake. Maybe she knew the old bat, realized she wasn’t exactly a party animal. Then or five years ago. And, of course, Leonard had fucked up any chance I had of rescuing the deal.

  We stood up.

  Frank said to Leonard, “You must have been some gardener to inherit their money.”

  “Well, I was plowing a couple of fields in the house, not to mention the garden. I was good, though. I could make an old man scream and an old woman shit herself. I could grow a rose that would kiss your ass every morning and sing you to sleep at night. And petunias—oh, hell, they were so goddamn fine we had a paying tour come by once a year every winter.”

  “Petunias grow in the winter?” Frank said. She wanted us gone, but she just couldn’t help herself. Maybe she was wondering if there was really something to it. A gardener gigolo.

  “Mine grew in the winter, and that’s why there was a tour,” Leonard said. “Nuns. Boy Scouts. Mostly civic people. They were happy as hell to be there and see those petunias. Hybrids. Very special.”

  “I’m sure they were,” Frank said.

  We left. I made sure my grip stayed exactly the same on the pen. When we were back in the car, Leonard said, “Talk about going from hot to cold.”

  “Oh, really? I have patents on sex toys? A white couple left you money for being a gardener? And you secretly hated them and were p
lowing their fields, making them scream and shit themselves, and to fuck the old woman you had to imagine a donkey? Roses that could kiss your ass and petunia tours in the winter for nuns and Boy Scouts? What the hell, Leonard?”

  “We were already burned,” Leonard said, starting up the car, easing it off the lot. “I thought I might as well mess with her. I didn’t like her.”

  “I guess you have a point, brother. It was over before we came in the door. I mean, she nibbled at the bait a little but didn’t like the taste.”

  “Yep. She’s not going to call,” Leonard said. “Our pony stumbled into the ditch when you mentioned Sandy. And I think mentioning Ms. Buckner broke its leg.”

  “And you shot the pony in the head with that gigolo-gardener crap,” I said.

  “Someone had to put our bullshit pony out of its misery,” he said. “It was kind of funny, though, wasn’t it?”

  “No.”

  “Hap?”

  “It wasn’t.”

  “Hap, come on, man.”

  “It was amusing to some degree. The old woman shitting herself was a nice touch.”

  “Told you. And I don’t believe she had a hat to go with that outfit. I would have a hat with something like that. I like a good hat. She had a hat, she’d have had it on.”

  “You see her keep looking out at our car?” I said.

  “I think she was memorizing the license number.”

  “If she’s got the contacts, and I bet she does, she’ll find someone who can trace it to a car rental.”

  “Yep. We’re fucked on the secret-agent front,” he said. “We were better at sexing chickens back at the chicken plant.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “I couldn’t tell a chicken wee-wee from a dee-dee. I could make a good aluminum chair, though.”

  “And I was a good bouncer.”

  “Until you got fired for kicking that guy’s ass and peeing on his head.”

  “Yeah,” Leonard said. “They thought that was excessive. Bunch of weenies. You know what we did do well? Rose-field work.”

  “We did. But it was hot in the summer and cold in the winter.”

  “Seasons work like that, Hap. It’s not uncommon. Sometimes it rains, too.”