The Worst Romance Novel Ever Written (55 page)

BOOK: The Worst Romance Novel Ever Written
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Don’t mind Armstrong, Johnny,” Byron said, picking up a phone. “He just doesn’t have as much faith in human nature as I do.”

And neither did I,
Johnny thought,
until I met you.


And you can use the old Caddy out back to get around town,” Byron said.


Get around town?” Johnny asked.


You got to go out and hustle up a loan for your pizza joint, right?” Byron asked. “That might take some time. Took Armstrong and me a couple months, and that was before the banks had their hands out to the government.”

Johnny nodded.
I’m glad someone is thinking about my future.


As you can see, we have a big enough crew for mornings,” Byron said, “because that’s when most folks want their cars fixed and ready, so mornings will be when you’ll have time to get out and get that loan so you can be rolling in the dough.” He punched in a phone number. “Bill, Byron. Got a seventy-four Vega here that needs some parts.” He held the phone away from him. “Johnny, you can use the Caddy to move your stuff from your place.”

Johnny nodded.

Byron pulled a set of keys from a hook on the wall and tossed them to Johnny. “Think it has gas in it.” He shrugged. “If it runs out, you know who to call.”


I’ll fill it up.”

Byron pulled a twenty from his pocket and handed it to Johnny. “It’s an old Caddy, Johnny, a seventy-five Fleetwood, the largest American production car ever built.” He put the phone to his ear and shook his head. “No, Bill. A seventy-four Vega, not a seventy-five Caddy.” He covered the phone’s mouthpiece with his hand. “That Caddy out there has a five hundred cubic inch vee-eight. It’s twenty-two feet of American steel. It weighs over three tons and won’t fit in anyone’s garage. What’s in your pocket might not fill up a quarter of the tank.” He uncovered the mouthpiece. “Bill, you got to stop laughing every time I call you. Yes, it’s a Vega, and it needs some parts, OEM if you got ‘em … Yes, original parts …” He smiled at Johnny. “Got the Caddy for a song a while back. Man who sold it to me said Elvis once owned it.”

I’ll be driving The King’s old car?
Johnny thought.
Not bad!


You go on, now,” Byron said.


Thank you, Byron,” Johnny said.


Go on.”

Johnny went on.

39

 

Gloria went off.

In her head.

Paul arrived a little after nine the next morning, waking Gloria from a restless nap. She had stumbled down the stairs after Marion had shouted, “The Frenchman’s here!” at the top of her little lungs. Now Gloria was fighting the urge to ignore him—and Marion, who was hovering a few feet away. Instead, Gloria steeled herself, opened the door, and said, “I told you that I would call you.”


I know,” Paul said, “it’s just that I could not wait for that call.”

Gloria growled, “What couldn’t wait?”


I am sorry for the way I behaved last night,” Paul said. “I have had a night to think about things, and what you said was right. I have no right to play daddy, as you say. I will do anything you ask to be near my daughter. Again, I am sorry for the way I behaved.”

What does he mean, he’s sorry? He’s not allowed to be sorry! He’s the one who’s been gone for five years! He’s the one who left me! I will not accept his apology. I will not allow this man into my house only twelve hours after I told him I’d call him. I will not budge from this spot. He’s only apologizing so he doesn’t have to pay back child support anyway.


I have freed up some money to pay my some of my debt to you and to Angel,” Paul said. He took a check from his pocket and handed it to Gloria. “I know it is not as much as I owe you, but I hope it helps.”

Gloria saw a one followed by three zeroes. “Thank you,” Gloria said.
What am I saying “Thank you” to him for? Okay, it’s a thousand more dollars than I had a few seconds ago, and I should be happy, but this is the man who owes me twenty times as much—


I notice you have no car,” Paul said. “Perhaps I could purchase one for you and Angel.”


Make sure he puts the title in your name,” Marion whispered from her elbow.


Hush,” Gloria said.
And that would be the first thing I’d have Paul do.
“So you think you can just come over here and throw some money at me, offer me a car, and then you can see Angel whenever you like?”


As I said, I will do anything you ask to be near my daughter.”

Gloria nodded. “Take me for a ride in your car.”


Huh?” Marion whispered.


I’m going to go see about Johnny,” Gloria whispered back.


Sounds like meddling to me,” Marion whispered.


I’ll just get my coat and we’ll go,” Gloria said to Paul, and she shut the door. “I’m not meddling, Mama. I’m concerned. There’s a difference.”

Marion smiled. “Is there?”

Gloria put on her coat. “Okay, I know you meddle out of your concern for me and Angel, but this is different.”


Sure,” Gloria said. “Sure.”

Gloria opened the door. “It is different, Mama.”

Marion closed the door. “And the next time she’s says I’m meddling,” she whispered, “I’ll just say I’m concerned.”

40

 

That is not a car,
Johnny thought as he approached the Cadillac.
That is a silver fishing trawler with a black leather interior and a landau roof.
He opened the door, which was as wide as he was tall, and slid into the seat.
I take that back. This is a wide-body limo. I could fit the Vega into the front seat. I could probably put a football team in the trunk. This car could eat a Hummer and still be hungry.

Johnny discovered that the Fleetwood had two stereos, two air-conditioners (the one in the back sputtered), room for four Armstrongs across in the back seat, and arm rests in the front and in the back. It even had foot rests in the back, which Johnny pronounced the coolest thing since Etch-a-Sketch, the Ginsu knife, and the Chia Pet.

He turned the key, and an earthquake erupted around him, sending several scowling cats tearing away from the Caddy in all directions. Johnny worried if the lanes on Williamson Road were wide enough as he pulled out into traffic.
I should have a “WIDE LOAD” sign on this thing. I’ll bet I’m creating potholes wherever I go.

At the first stoplight, he turned on both stereos at the same time to WQMG, Earth, Wind & Fire’s version of “I Got to Get you into my Life” sending tremors of dust throughout the car’s interior. He had to circle his apartment building several times before landing and taxiing across the street between two telephone poles. Then he loaded up his entire collected worldly goods, mostly clothing and bedding, into the trunk in less than ten minutes.

It all fit.

He left the couch, bed, table, the crappy desk for his laptop, and even the dish, the fork, and the spoon in the kitchen. All condiments remained safely in the fridge. He emptied the change and the ring from his “bowl of change” into his pocket. On his way out, he grabbed the vacuum Gloria gave him, tossed it into the back seat, and decided never to unpack.

Some people live out of a suitcase,
he thought.
I live out of a ’75 Cadillac.

Though somewhat depressed that all his “treasures” fit so easily into one-third of a car, he drove across town toward the old Pizza Hut building, passing by Gloria’s house on Melrose.
What would she think if she saw me driving this?
he thought.
This thing could run over Paul’s Prius with ease, and I’d say, “Who put that speed bump there?” So what if it only gets five gallons to the mile—

Johnny’s eyes darted to the gas gauge, the needle safely above the halfway mark.

He parked in the empty lot beside the “FOR SALE” sign. After committing “Hall Associates” to memory, he wandered around the property, peering through windows, and generally looking suspicious to anyone driving by. He saw no oven. He saw no walk-in refrigerator. He saw no cash register. He saw no make table. He saw nothing but Pizza Hut colors splashed everywhere around a long red counter.

Johnny decided he would need a lot of paint.

And an oven.

And everything else.

I’m in trouble,
Johnny thought.

And for the first time in many years, Johnny Holiday was right.

 

41

 

Gloria directed Paul to Johnny’s apartment.


Where are we going?” Paul asked.


To see a friend,” Gloria said.


Who?” Paul asked.


A friend, and don’t ask any more questions, okay?” Gloria said. “And when we get there, you stay in the car.”

Gloria didn’t see the Vega as Paul parked the Prius, but that didn’t bother her. She did see a “FOR RENT” sign out front, but that didn’t bother her. She did see Johnny’s door wide open to the world, and that didn’t bother her. When she went inside, looked around, and didn’t find him—that bothered her.

She stood in his empty closet. He took his clothes, his sheet, and his computer.

She looked into his empty fridge.
Nothing different here. Maybe he’s just doing a lot of laundry today … and he took his laptop to do some writing.

A wiry old white man with a cane stepped through the doorway into Johnny’s living room. “You looking to rent the place?”

Gloria shook her head, and her heart sank.
It’s for rent? Johnny has really moved out?
“No. Um, just looking for Johnny Holiday.”


He owe you money, too?” the man asked.


No.”
He skipped out on his rent? That doesn’t sound like Johnny.
“He told me he paid on time every time for three years.”


Oh, he did,” the man said. “Only tenant I’ve ever had to do that.” He looked at the walls. “It’s the damages, you know, the stuff I’ll have to fix, this stuff.” He pointed the cane at the futon. “Have to haul all that out of here.”

The man won’t do any such thing,
Gloria thought.
He’ll leave it where it is and rent this place out as furnished and probably charge double.
“Do you know where Johnny went?”

The man cocked his head behind him. “Neighbors say he loaded up a Cadillac and left out of here maybe thirty minutes ago. The building supervisor called to tell me he was vacating just an hour ago, so I came over and—”


He left in a what?” Gloria asked.


They said it looked like an old hearse, but they were sure Cadillac made it.” The man looked at the walls. “Do you, uh, know where he might be?”


No. Um, how much does he owe you?”


Well, if all this furniture is staying, I suppose I could cancel most of his debt, and I’ll have to take his damage deposit,” the man said. “Place needs some cleaning.”

Gloria walked past the man and leaned up against the wall in the hallway.
You’ll be the first to know, he says. I’m actually almost last to know. Thanks a lot, Johnny. Go on. Run away, I don’t care. You were crazy anyway!

She bounced her forehead against the wall.
Serves me right, though. Johnny loved me, and I ran away. I love someone for the first time, and I scare him away. Where is he?

She looked at Paul, who was watching her from the car.
Paul, for all his arrogance, is a better investment anyway. Even though I can’t stand him.

Forget Johnny.

On the way home, Paul asked, “Was your friend there?”


I told you not to ask any questions,” Gloria said.


You seem … distressed,” Paul said.

Gloria was distressed, but she was not about to share her business with a stranger.
Okay, I shared some of my business with Johnny before I really knew him, but that was different. I had already been flirting with him for months before that.

BOOK: The Worst Romance Novel Ever Written
4.9Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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