5. Boys and Their Toys
5
BOYS AND THEIR TOYS
ARCHER
“Yeah,” I said, fully demoralized. “This is what I’m going to get.”
Ian, Mal, and I stared, depressed, at the beat-up white Econoline. Charlotte took the occasion to baptize the van with a graceless squat.
“Arch,” Ian said. He had nothing to add, but he’d been my best friend since kindergarten, and I knew he was telling me I was giving up.
“Come on,” Mal said. “Not this. We can’t sink this low.”
“Sure we can. After last night? I mean, how much worse can it get?”
“Don’t tempt fate,” Ian said.
“How many times have we played the Paramount?” I kept coming back to it, even though we’d already had the same conversation three times that morning. In fact, I didn’t even need them to participate. “Now Mal will say we’ve never been the headliner before, and I’ll say we never will again after that performance, and Ian will shake his head at me, and I’ll point out that I’m being forced to go to a humiliating dating school with a woman who clearly has it in for me and no woman will ever again ask me to sign her tits and you both will agree. What’s that add up to, guys?”
They both shook their heads, and then all three of us gave the verdict.
“Econoline.”
Nicky came back from the sales office. Ian’s girlfriend and the Aftermath marketing manager, Nicky was competent from her Nordic-blonde ponytail to her practical walking shoes. Pretty too. She and I had almost had a moment or two before she’d realized Ian was the better man, but she made him so happy that I couldn’t hold a grudge.
“The salesman says they’ll take three thousand for this piece of crap, which tells me it’s not going to get you guys across the country even once, much less the multiple times it’s going to take to meet Phil’s schedule.”
“I’m pretty good with engines,” I said, but Mal and Ian roared with laughter.
Great. Like I needed another kick to my ego.
“My vote is to keep looking.” Nicky took Ian’s hand, and his mouth turned up in the involuntary almost-there smile he reserved just for her. “You’ve got some money in the bank. The hoodies are selling well, and the autographed ones with Charlotte’s paw prints sell out as fast as I can get you guys to sign them.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ll bet sales have tanked since that damned Opinionated O’Crush My Balls published her article.”
“Well . . . but the music videos all got a boost from it. That Phil guy is right. No bad publicity.”
“Nicky,” I groaned. “Not you too.”
“You’ll see. The dating school is going to make even more women fall in love with you. ”
“Enough women were in love with me before. Now no one will look at me.”
“You’ll charm Opinionated O’Connor like you charm everyone else, so stop fussing. It’s all going to be for the best. Come on.” She linked her hand with my elbow. “Let’s try across the street.”
We wandered down the long strip of car dealerships on Route 25, and the vans got steadily more depressing. Dating school , I thought. With O’Connor. And she was going to post about it. For every person in the world to see.
Chevy Astro from 1994? Absolutely. Why not?
And then I saw her.
I wasn’t worthy of her, but I was drawn to her just the same.
“Um, Arch,” Ian called. “That’s the new-car section?—”
“Don’t bother, man,” I heard Mal say. “Look at him. He’s gone.”
All my life, I’d dreamed of buying a Porsche when Aftermath hit. The Miata was as close as I could get when we were still on the hunt, but a 911 was the dream.
I abandoned that dream like a deadbeat dad. “Look at her!”
The salesman appeared out of thin air. “She’s a beaut, huh? This is a Ford F-150 Lariat pickup truck in antimatter blue metallic—a paint job so shiny, you could shave in it. It’s a hybrid, of course, so in addition to astonishing gas mileage, you’ve got a generator in here big enough to power your house. Full-size bed with a locking cap will hold anything you want to carry. Extended cab that seats four in complete comfort, and the back seats fold away so your—uh, wow, that’s a big dog. Well, he’ll fit back here once I fold up this full-size seat just like this. Okay. Hop in, fella. Give it a shot.”
Charlotte did not pee on this car. She leaped agilely into the back seat and sniffed around. Then she turned around twice and plopped onto the carpet. Room for her to sprawl .
The salesman laughed. “I should borrow this dog for demonstrations! Want to try it out?”
Nicky had moved to the far side of the pickup to check the sticker in the window. “This truck costs seventy-four thousand dollars!”
“You bet it does,” the salesman said, not at all embarrassed. “This is a rare beauty, this is. King cab and extended bed? Hybrid? This is a special order. We’re lucky to have it. It arrived this morning and it won’t be here this afternoon, I can promise you that.”
He could talk all he wanted. It didn’t matter what he said. This was my ride.
“That’s a big fucking truck,” Ian said.
Yes, it was. “The BFT,” I said, climbing up behind the wheel to sink into the magnificent leather seat. “If anyone asks, we can say it stands for the Big Fancy Truck. But we’ll know.”
“Give me your driver’s license. We’ll take it for a shakedown cruise.”
The guy disappeared to do his thing, and Mal, Nicky, and Ian converged on me.
“This is kind of a step-up from a three-thousand-dollar Econoline,” Nicky said guardedly.
“Arch,” Ian said, but he was looking at the vast array of gauges on the dash. I could see it in the angle of his head, the set of his shoulders. He was sold.
“I could fit an entire drum kit in that bed with room to spare. And it locks,” Mal said.
“That’s right,” I agreed. “No more rental instruments or loaners. We take our own equipment with us. We take our own dog. We can even camp out if we want to on the long rides. Save the per diems.”
“For the car payments.” Nicky blanched, but she’d come around.
Once she rode in the BFT, she’d come around .
“When you look at it that way,” Ian said, “we’d be saving money on the traveling. It would be foolish not to buy it.”
“Sure,” Mal said. “And this baby isn’t going to break down somewhere and strand us.”
Ian moved back to peer in over Charlotte, who thumped her tail in greeting. “This back seat is so big that Nicky could come, too, and Charlotte could still lie down. All four of us and the dog, no problem.”
“I have a job,” Nicky said, tucking into Ian’s side, “but thanks for the offer.”
“I call shotgun.” Mal was excited.
“We’ll trade, you butthead.” Ian punched Mal, and Mal punched Ian, and then the decision was made.
I felt better already.