King Of the Bills, Part 2
For the first time in twenty-three years, my father was sans a cheap mechanic. He’d barely digested this when, a couple of months later, his “check engine” light came on. An hour-and-a-half from home, he could have crumbled. Instead, with some investigation, he learned of a Volkswagen dealership around the corner. It was a Saturday, but by a streak of good fortune, the mechanic, Bill Simon, had come in to pick up some parts. Bill, naturally, offered to work on my father’s car. In the process, the inevitable deal was struck. If my father was willing to make the hour trip, from then on, Bill would do his repairs on the side.
If the partnership between my parents was fraught with tension, the union of my father and Bill Simon was the living, breathing picture of harmony, good will, and sound financial sense. Bill fulfilled my father in ways that my mother never could. An excellent mechanic, he charged just a fraction of dealership prices. And, as my sister also drove a Volkswagen, the savings were doubly impressive. Even she had to admit, it was worth the trip.
My father, in what can only be described as a state of grace, basked in his good fortune. As the years of brake jobs and tune-ups rolled along, he came to consider Bill a close personal friend. Eventually Bill’s role was elevated to that of a long lost relative, and he became shrouded in an air of sainthood.
My father often said that if Bill ever went back to work for BMW, he’d have to buy a BMW.
Fast forward: 1983, the evening before April Fool’s. A sparkling ray of inspiration shone down upon my sister, Maureen. It would take scheming and collaboration, but with a little shrewd sadism, it could be done. She started making calls. First to Bill Simon – and his son, Mark, who sometimes answered Bill’s phone. Then, out of glee as much as necessity, to family and friends, should they be called upon to participate. Maureen went over the logistics, answered questions, took suggestions. Then she retired, to be well-rested for the Big Day.
9:01 am, April Fool’s: “Dad,” Maureen said urgently into the phone, “my car’s making noises.” She took a breath. Then, in a rush, “I called Bill, but Mark said he’s not working there anymore.”
“What?” my father exclaimed, his voice raising an octave. “What do you mean, not working there?”
“I mean not there. Anymore. At all.”
“What the hell happened?” my father cried with ungovernable panic. ”What could have. . . Jesus Christ! Where is he now?”
“Mark said he went back to work for BMW.”
“What? He did what?” my father bellowed. ”Listen, I’ve got to go.”
Click. The line went dead.
Maureen dialed Bill to give him the heads up. Busy. Then she dialed my father. Busy, too. “Shit!” she cried, smacking her forehead. “He must have Bill on speed dial!” Then, breaking out in a smile, she sat back to wait.
Twenty-one seconds later, Maureen’s phone shrilled. She answered with a mild, “Hello?”
“My God!” my father cried, his breathing labored. “It’s true. Bill’s gone to work for BMW!”
Maureen envisioned my father pacing in circles, hand to his forehead. “It’s a shock. I know,” she said soothingly. “But things will work out.” She paused, stifling a giggle. “You know what you always say.”
“Say?” my father came back. ”What are are you talking about?”
“Well, you always say that if Bill goes to BMW, you’ll get a BMW.”
“MAUREEN!” (pronounced in four syllables: MAU—REE—EE—N!!) “I never said that!”
“But you did. You said. . .”
“I AM NOT BUYING A BMW!”
“But. . .”
My father muttered something unintelligible, then fell into silence.
“You there, Dad?” Maureen asked.
“I’m here.” He heaved a disgusted sigh.
“BMW’s have really good engines,” Maureen said. “They’re top notch.”
More silence. Again, Maureen asked, “Dad, you there?”
“Yes!” he barked. ”I’m here! Now leave me alone, alright? Goodbye!”
Again, the line went dead.
← King Of the Bills, Part One | King Of the Bills, Epilogue →
This is brilliant. Parts one and two read like a short story in the mold of Ethan Canin, but have the personality and vitality of real life. I loved it so much, I’m waiting — begging, really — for parts three, four and five.
P.S. I have no clue who Ethan Canin is, Mikes. No matter, though. I’m believing he’s a one in a million, literary genius.
Wow, Mike. I’m floored. Thank you. If my book gets published, you’ll have plenty more to read.
Hilarious, he’s blowing a gasket!
He was, Lynne! It was great!
More, more, more!
I’m laughing, Shary. I’ll give it my best!
Just wonderful! I love this June! Your poor daddy! My husband is having a “bro-mance” with Jacques, his BMW mechanic. Jacques is a former race driver. Alex has 3 Beemers. He loves taking these cars to his beloved Jacques. I’ve asked him to get rid of one of the cars and just take Jacques out for dinner and a movie. It would be much cheaper.
So, Linda, we have much in common. The beloved Jacques. . .I know exactly what you’re going through. I’m glad you were amused.
Damn, June. I can’t even make a joke. Pardon my total lack of class, but this is fucking brilliant.
I’m blushing, Nicky. You made my heart do a little dance.
Wait! You can’t stop there! Post Part 3 soon!
I’ll give it my best shot, Emily. I’m glad you liked the story. Thanks so much for coming by! Hopefully I’ll see you again soon.
Excellent work. I feel like I know these people. Can’t wait for parts 3,4…
Thank you, Ben. Actually, it wasn’t my intent to make this a cliff-hanger. I thought it ended humorously with my father’s utter befuddlement. But I’ll give it a shot…
How many conversatons among men have started “You gotta take it *my* guy!”
I loved this. My dad would never have lived through such a prank.
That’s great, Astra!! Wouldn’t have survived. I’m seriously chuckling.
This is hysterical. You and your sister are evil little vixens, but I confess I like this about you. Not fair that you left us hanging here… (my sister and I would tell my Dad we used his toothbrush on the dog…) I admire the planning in this hoax. Anxiously waiting the sequel..
Thanks, Brenda. Maureen gets full credit for the prank, but it’s true, we’re both evil. I’m glad it doesn’t offend your sensibilities!
Love the dog/toothbrush joke.
I loved the Bill stories. “Bill fulfilled my father in ways that my mother never could.” Classic line.
You and your sister’s conspiracy was a true gotcha moment. You punked your dad before punked was a word.
Lauren, maybe I shouldn’t admit it, but whenever I think of that line (I wrote it some time ago) I still giggle.
My poor father. He did, indeed, get punked.
It’s good to hear from you! How’s the writing going?
Good. @60k words. I’m still revising it. How’s your book coming along?
Lauren, Still in revisions, a small portion left to write. It doesn’t end!!
I love this series SOOO much! More, more, more!
Thanks Meleah! I’ll try.
Wonderful, warm, funny stuff here. Unless it turns out in part 3 that Maureen gave poor old Bill a coronary! Oh, no!
I’m on pins and needles now.
Lovely work, June. Sorry it took me so long to get over here this week.
Thank you, Jayne. And no apologies, please!
I don’t think I would have risked this on my dad. Oh I don’t know though
We are getting a part 3 aren’t we?
I’m working on it, Babs. I’m working on it.