Chapter 23
SHITTY VANILLA ICE COSPLAY
IVY
“Are you sure he won’t be able to see us?”
“James said he couldn’t see us at all when he came in and sat down. That dude is like a thousand feet tall. Earl is only five-five. If James can’t see us sitting here, there’s no way the Hobbit will spot us.”
We’re tucked into a corner booth at The Dugout with our backs turned towards the door.
The booth directly behind us is being saved for the meeting of James and Earl.
After we met this morning, James and Dottie sat down with Delilah and me to go over the plan of attack.
Basically, Earl thinks he’s scored the meeting of a lifetime with a rich and powerful man who wants to invest in his business and take The Earl Of Auto nationwide.
James is going to hype him up, feed his over-inflated ego and just when Earl thinks he’s got a bright future in the bag, James is going to pull the old bait-and-switch, show our hand and hope that it’s enough to send Earl back into whatever primordial goo he crawled out of.
Delilah and I probably should have stayed at home so we could wait James and Earl out and find out what happened later, but neither of us could stay away. If this works, the downfall of Earl will be too delicious to miss. And if it doesn’t…
Well. The possibility of watching Earl crumble is going to have to be worth the risk.
I tap my phone and check the time just as footsteps grow closer behind us.
“Here we are. Mr. Adler requested this booth; he should be here shortly.”
I can practically hear the way Earl brushes off Cindy, the delightful day shift hostess at The Dugout. She’s been working here for thousands of years and is a Fox Hole institution, so naturally, Earl has no respect for her. Delilah and I look at each other and exchange eye rolls.
“Fine. Bring me a bourbon on the rocks. Whatever the most expensive one you have is. I’m meeting with a billionaire, after all. He can certainly afford it.”
“A billionaire, huh? I wonder what a billionaire is doing in our little Podunk town.”
“He’s getting me out of here, that’s what he’s doing. James Adler sees the potential in me. And unlike all of you, he respects me for the savvy businessman that I am. Now go get my drink. I don’t want to be seen chit-chatting with the riff-raff when he comes in.”
Cindy, who is in our plan—someone had to turn the music down low enough for us to properly eavesdrop—pats the back of the booth that divides Earl from us.
“Sure thing, Earl. Whatever you say.”
“It’s the Earl,” he calls after her, then mutters under his breath. “Fucking Delilah.”
I offer my woman a fist for knocking, and she quietly taps her knuckles against mine.
It didn’t take much convincing on her part to get the town to drop Earl’s stupid ‘The’; just a few sly comments at the farmer’s market and around town.
It’s no surprise that Fox Hole is just as sick of Earl’s shit as we are.
Every minute that passes while we wait for James feels like hours.
I know he said that he was going to be pushing the boundaries of ‘fashionably late’ as some macho show of dominance, but I’m eager to get this show on the road.
My throat is dry from anticipation, but I’m refusing to drink water in solidarity with Delilah.
If she even looks at a beverage these days, she instantly has to pee, and there is nothing inconspicuous about a woman knocking on the door of her ninth month of pregnancy getting up and down to waddle to the bathroom every five minutes.
We have to keep our low profile if we want this to work.
Finally, the bell over the door of the dive bar rings, a stream of sunlight cutting through the dark room and dimming the buzzing neon beer signs.
The urge to turn around and look is strong—James really is a gorgeous human being—but I keep my gaze focused downwards.
Under the table, Delilah’s knee bounces wildly.
I sneak my hand down her thigh and give her a gentle squeeze, letting the cool fabric of her sundress and the contrasting heat of her skin ground me, too.
Here we go, she mouths and I give her a cheeky wink.
“Mr. Booth. James Adler. Pleasure.”
The furniture shakes as Earl shuffles to his feet. It feels goddamn impossible not to peek over the high back of the dark, aged walnut separation between our tables.
“Please, no need for formalities. Call me the Earl. I am The Earl of Auto, after all.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure. Nice to meet you…the Earl. Let’s have a seat.
Delilah’s phone lights up on the table, and she presses her lips into a thin line to stifle a chuckle. When she points the screen in my direction, I see why.
James:
“The” Earl? Seriously? Might as well call himself Lord Small Dick of Insecure Valley.
“Sorry about that. I had to shoot a quick text to my wife to let her know I’ve arrived.”
Cindy pops by again, and James orders a Diet Coke. Another sly move that makes Earl look like an asshole for drinking during an afternoon business meeting.
“Women,” Earl says, his eye roll audible. “They just don’t get that some things are more important than having to remind them that they’re pretty, no those jeans don’t make you look fat, yes I’ll take out the trash. I’m happy to be living the single life.”
“Right…” James draws out. I can tell how much it pains him not to tear into Earl for his shit-talking.
It’s probably killing him not to rant about how much he loves his wife—he brought her up no less than ten times in our brief meeting this morning.
“Well. Let’s get into it. Obviously, you know that I’ve been looking into your business.
I’ve got some connections here in the East, and now that I’ve stepped down from my previous role at the company I founded, I want to expand my holdings and diversify my portfolio.
Franchising an auto body shop might seem a bit out of left field for a tech guy, but I’ve got a vested interest in this case. ”
“I can’t tell you how much this means to me.
I know that I’ve always been bigger than this town and the mechanic shop my father built.
I enjoy working on the cars that I collect, but I’d love to move into a more executive kind of role.
There’s more to life than a small-town mechanic shop, am I right? ”
“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? I’ve already done a deep dive on your business model and the projections you sent to me for an expansion into a second location—” I had no idea James made Earl do homework for this little meeting.
Somehow, knowing that Earl was up making flowcharts or whatever the fuck makes this even more sweet.
“But I want to know more about you. I like to get to know who I’m investing in. Tell me about The Earl.”
“I’m glad you asked, James. I like to think of myself less as a person and more as a brand—”
I stick my finger in my mouth, faux-gagging at his self-important peacocking.
We listen for hours—no, sorry, it's only been eight minutes—as Earl goes on and on about himself, his perceived accomplishments, his alpha-manhood. At one point, he even mentions how heavy he can squat. I’ve been unfortunate enough to see Earl’s pasty, thin thighs before, and I know he has to be lying.
There is no way in hell he can squat more than the quarterback for the Knoxville Crushers.
“And as I’m sure you’ve seen, I’ve been hard at work increasing my online presence. My Instagram account, Bow2TheEarl, has gained hundreds of followers in the last few months.”
At this point, I’m almost concerned that Grandma Millie might have been right and that if I keep making these stank faces, it’s going to get stuck like that.
I gain hundreds of followers on my tattoo account a day and I haven’t posted regularly since I’ve been back in Fox Hole, but you don’t see me bragging about it.
Oh, to have the unmitigated audacity of a mediocre straight white man.
“Yes, I’ve seen your account. You post a lot of pictures of your Mustang.”
“She’s a beaut, isn’t she? Almost identical to the five-point-oh Vanilla Ice drove in the nineties.”
“I’m partial to the two 1965 Shelby Mustang GT-350s I have at home myself. But regardless, your online presence is very appealing to me. I like that you're on your way to being well-known in the space.”
God, James is good. The underhanded insults just keep coming. I wish I’d brought a mirror so I could see Earl squirming in his seat right now.
“I appreciate that, James.”
“You can call me Mr. Adler.”
Snort.
“Mr. Adler. My apologies. As I was saying, I appreciate that you notice my success as well as its compounding potential. I think that the two of us are going to work very well together.”
“Well, before we go making any handshake deals here, Earl—”
“I thought I told you to call me the Earl.”
“Oh, you did, but I’m not going to do that. It’s stupid. We’re sitting in a dark bar in Tennessee, not the set of Bridgerton, after all.”
“Well, I—”
“Don’t interrupt me again.” Gone is the playful, jovial tone of the man proposing to finance a business development. This is the James I’ve been waiting to come out and play. On the table, I cross my fingers. Delilah does the same, leaning her head on my shoulder.
“Earl, there are some things you should know about me. I’m a patient man.
I try to be as kind as I possibly can and to see the good in people.
It’s important to me that the people with whom I work share the same core values as I do.
While we’ve been sitting here, I’ve been trying like hell to see the good in you, but fuck me if I just can’t seem to find it. ”
There’s a long, awkward pause. I can just imagine James staring Earl down with those blazing blue eyes, just like I can imagine Earl shrinking smaller and smaller under the intensity of that gaze.
“There is a lot of good in me. I’m an excellent golf—”
“So let’s talk about some of those core values, shall we, Earl? You have a wife, correct?”