Fool's Gold North of Florence

A story of a young man's desire for a life he couldn't have, then didn't want.

Fool’s Gold North of Florence

 

A man by the name of Hershal Welmington once told me that I never play it easy.  Since he was the type of man I counted on to tell me the ugly truth, I knew that although we were playing draw and smoking cigars when he told me this, he meant it with the seriousness of foreboding. I would not discover the meaning until days after his death.  However, I did discover the meaning, and that’s what really matters. He died on a Sunday. It was an expected event.

That Sunday afternoon, in honor of Hershal, I smoked one of his Cuban cigars as I looked out across the rows of luxury cars at his dealership. Smelling his light-up made me feel like in his youth I was there next to him, taking a lady to the cinema and wearing a top hat and a coat with an upturned collar.  His wife and daughter were in a vulnerable position now that left a narrow window for me to take the place that this patriarch left behind.  They needed someone who understood their lifestyle to fill his void. 

I still couldn’t believe he was gone.  I would have the best of it and make it live on now that I was going to marry his daughter, take over his business, and pick up life where he left off.

Yes, Hershal’s last bit of advice to me was the greatest gift I’d ever received, and by following it I would win over the woman I’d lusted after since the tender age of 18, when I started at the dealership. Florence would be mine come rain, sleet, snow, blizzard, or competition from my parasitic boss Frederick Yellers.  Hershal’s house, business, and gold trimmings would follow.  It would be like I never was the son of a tree hugger who lost his life climbing the rotted trunk an old growth red cedar.

I sat beneath the window of Flo’s living room that evening, watching her eat dinner in the seat of her late father.  Florence’s countenance was unmarred, and I marveled at it.  She had curled up the ends of her orange sunrise hair like always, and wore smart black leggings with a belt cinching at her deep valley of a waist. There she sat so tall, with the precision of a leveling stick. She knew the world was hers the moment she was born, and accepted this reality with graceful fortitude. In her maturity she complied with all of Hershal and Beverly’s expectations from serving on charity boards to mixing her dad’s drinks every night, and playing classical music on the piano for company. She had a delicacy about her when she played the piano.  It produced a melody sweeter than the song of the wind blowing through a bushel of reeds.

 “I just keep thinking he’s going to walk through that front door, like any other day.”  Florence’s mother Beverly stated somberly as she cut through her salmon.

“Someday you’ll be back in his arms again, mom.  He’s up there looking down on you now, remember that.”  Florence said this with such warmth I had to lean my back against the tree and throw my head back in the air.  I let the rest of my sandwich spill out into the grass as I spread out my arms, ready to embrace the Florence that would one day be in them.  I looked at my biceps as I held them out.  The hours at the gym had certainly paid off.  I couldn’t wait for Florence to see my thundering calves beneath the fringes of my cutoff shorts and the bulging biceps sticking out of my muscle shirt.  That would certainly leave dearest Frederick in the dust.

This night of listening to Florence’s voice without Frederick Yellers’ interruptions was a rarity lately.  Not only did I have to deal with his southern twanged barking at work all day, I had to witness him calling on my girlfriend at night.  His voice was an out of tune, blasting electric guitar in the middle of my symphony. I decided this night that I would never tolerate Frederick calling on my future wife ever again. 

I knew I needed to waste no more time. I’d need a few hours to implement my plans of screwing over Frederick and I’d do it tonight.

After looking Frederick Yellers up in the faithful old white pages I rode my motorcycle out to his address. I scoffed as I rode farther and farther away from the Saulsalito town he bragged about buying “quite the throw of land” on. His address turned out to be deep in the sticks of Waldo.  I parked behind a few trees on the outskirts of his property. In the moonlight I could see a double wide trailer about two acres in.  Thanks to a florescent hanging light I could see a “Three Star Kentucky Colonel” engraved, billboard sized sign over his front door.

After overcoming my disgust at the likes of Florence’s current beau, I recognized my sincere advantage in this night’s agenda.  There’s no way Frederick could make it back to town in time for work the next day if I cut the rev out of his new Mercedes.  Then I would have all day to romance Florence into coming to dinner with me.  I would lay it all out on the table: the commission I’d been saving and wisely investing, my townhouse which I almost had the full deed on, and our future together.

 

Like a true hick, Frederick had several “vintage” and just plain trash cars strewn over his lawn.  I knew if dearest Fred was a true redneck he’d be tempted to fix the car himself.  I used my simple old mechanic trick of loosening the bolts on his oil filter, knowing the knucklehead would take hours to figure out the problem.  He would come to the devastating conclusion that his new luxury gem was out of commission for good.  Then when Florence came in to the dealership for her Monday check-in, Yellers would be nowhere in sight and I would be free to execute my marvelous plan.

 

The next morning I awoke with glee at the thought of Yellers’ impending struggles.  I arrived at work early in hopes of selling a record-breaking number of cars with him out of the way.  Then I planned to invite Flo out to dinner at the country club.  Yellers would still be hopelessly trying to turn his engine.

By the afternoon I had sold five cars, and it felt as though I was still working for Hershal, even though it was the first day of not.  I told myself I was selling for him, for my hero and mentor. He was from an era I longed for and never lived in.  He also had a family history I would sell the skin of my back for: the dealership was started by his great grandpa during the gold rush. The dealership was passed down generation after generation.  Because of this, there were gold leaves and molding throughout the lobby.  It looked more like a greek theme to me than the gold rush, but I never let Hershal know that.  I decided from them on that whenever I sold a car I would rub a piece of the gold, to show honor to him and his ancestors, soon to be my ancestors.

 

At about two-thirty, still way before Florence was due to arrive, I saw the horrible sight of Yellers pull up in the front passenger cab of a tow-truck.  His Mercedes sat dangling behind by the pulleys with the back wheels rolling on the pavement.  

 

As he got out of the passenger side of the cab he slammed the door behind him, and the mechanics came running.  I heard bits and pieces. “  My engine is froze…..last SOB who last changed my oil …… warrantly.  I kicked myself for forgetting about the warranty.  

 

Before I knew it Yellers was passing by my desk.

 

“Hello, Sir, good morning.  I can tell you’re having an off day-”  I said.  

 

Yellers halted in his tracks.  He had a habit of lurching forward with his upper back and I hoped it to be the beginning of a hump back.  I knew what would come next: the same forced confidence and thesaurus laced hicklish that landed him in management at the age of 28.  I often wondered if Hershal hadn’t noticed this or if he did but left it uncorrected for amusement.

 

“Your hapless banterin’ is getting on my last nerve already today, Rick. Yellers said, smiling in spite of his angry stare.

 

Like Florence, I would never let my countenance fall. I continued, “While you were away this facility has been in excellent hands.  I’ve already sold three of the new Jag models and I’m pretty sure the elderly squat that just left will come back and buy the BMW we’ve had out on display for three months like a fifth place beauty queen.”

 

Yellers ignored my report.

 

He opened and closed his mouth several times in silence, like his jaws were rusty.  Then he finally spoke: “Say you ride a motorcycle, don’t ya there?  How about a Harley Davidson?  What kind of a jackass puts studs on any quality tires, let alone a motorcycle’s?  I can only think of one.  Fancy has it, those are the tire tracks impinging on my driveway.”  Yellers moved his face closer to mine in an accusing stare, and I moved back, shaking my head in innocence.

 

He continued “Ya think I don’t know what happened here?  I didn’t become an honr’rary Kentucky Colonel for being slow on the uptake. But - but- no rile necessary.”  His smirk was so wide I could see remnants of grits caked in his back teeth.  He nodded his chin as he pulled out his ace: “That there car will be done by tonight and I’ll be taking my Flory out to a proposal dinner while you sit beneath her living room window eating a stale sandwich.”

“Sir don’t you think it’s a little early in the relationship”  I scrambled to get my barings, this was an unexpected and very unwelcome turn of events.

“No, I don’t. Oh an’ here’s another thing about being a good ol’ Kentucky Colonel: You’ll never beat me. I’ve got friends behind every tree stump and I’ve got the determination of a an old Chevy Mustang on the highway.  All you’ve got is your own hide. ”  Then Yellers pushed his glasses farther up his nose.  He strode off towards his office, leaning even farther forward than he was when he came in.

 

Part II

 

I sat at my desk staring blankley through the glass entry door awhile, recomposing myself after the slight loss of victory.   I couldn’t let the proposal get to me; I would find a way to hijack their dinner tonight so it would never happen. I asked myself a few unrelated questions.  How long had yellers known about my spying?  Did he know why? Surely he knew about the arrangement then as well. Yeller’s had been made assistant manager after working for the company for only two years, so I would think he had enough of Hershal’s confidence to be made aware of the deal.   It was all so sudden, Yellers’ promotion.  Once Hershal found out his heart was going out, he delegated most of his responsibilities at the dealership to Frederick or myself so he could spend time with Beverly and Florence.  I saw him more through the living room window of their house than at work after that. 

 

Right about the time Yellers was promoted Hershal took me aside. He asked me to “keep a close eye” on all these things. 

Naturally I wouldn’t be doing it without the extra tax free $250 a week, even if I did have hot pants for Florence. For the first few weeks Hershal even had a habit of leaning out the window and sneaking a wink at me, especially when Yellers was over.   He wasn’t asking me to find some culprit going after his family, he was begging me to pass Yellers on the economic latter so that Florence would marry me instead.

 

Hershal was obviously relying on my ability to find a trump card to swoop in and take first place. Frederick Yellers would be left standing there without a single card, wondering what happened to the days where he was in the dealer’s seat, throwing me bad hand after bad hand.

 

I heard the door open near the lobby and once I smelled the scent of ginger and honey I knew Florence would be passing by my counter in moments.  I closed my eyes to drown out everything else in the shop.  I waited for the precious moment when her voice would puncture the air. 

 

 “Your eyes are closed.  Are you sleeping, or listening to me play the piano?” Florence’s voice was never condescending or accusing, but like the fluttering of leaves on a breezy day with the same hint of seduction the wind uses to coax the leaves off their branches. 

 

“We’re striking gold, Florence.  I’ve sold so many cars today, we’re striking gold.”  And I tapped the gold plated rip of the countertop.  I fancied this would be my greeting to her everyday after we become man and wife.

 

She rewarded me with the most beautiful muse.  “You have not been over on Sunday nights for dinner and to listen to me play afterwards in a long time.  Since Frederick and I started dating.  I hope you are not waiting for an invitation,  you are welcome any….”

 

We were interrupted by Hershal’s office door opening down the hall.  I could hear yeller’s breathing down the hall before he showed up at the counter.

 

“Flori! Quit chattin’ up the hired help.  come over to my office…..”  How did I miss the memo about Hershal’s office becoming Frederick’s?  I knew I had to butt in. 

 

“Wishful thinking, Yellers? Florence why don’t you kick him out of YOUR office?”  Although I laughed after my suggestion, it was obvious I hadn’t said this in jest.

 

Yellers began to knash his jaws again.  I was glad Florence’s voice filled the air next.

 

“Thank you for your concern, Rick.  My father always said we can depend on you to look after our affairs.  I’m glad I’m not the only one that refuses to jump on his worldly possessions now that he’s gone.

 

Her neck moved to carry her gaze to Frederick in a way only a diplomat’s could.

 

“ Dearest Fred thanks but I’ve got to be heading out, I only came to drop off the car and pick up the new model.”

 

“Florence you know I have only the best intentions for your family.  I’d like to talk more about this, but here certainly isn’t the place. “ Yellers flicked his head in my direction. 

 

“I’m not sure what you mean, we went over all this…...the heart attack”  Florence’s voice trailed off at the end, she appeared distracted. She was looking out towards the showroom.  It wasn’t like Florence to be aloof, even to Yellers.  I felt priviledged to bear witness to this rare manifestation of what must be Florence’s coping mechanism for grief.  Something must have reminded her of hershal.

 

“What do you mean, flori?   We have NOT discussed all this.  Hershal struggled with his heart for years, everyone knew it would be a matter of time.  We didn’t discuss anything. “ Yellers shot me a squinty glance.  I couldn’t believe he was talking to Florence this way and getting away with it.

 

“No, we haven’t.  I’m sorry.  So what did you mean?”  Florence continued to look aloof, half staring into the showroom and half into outer space.

 

I’ve got an offer you can’t refuse.”  And Yellers gave her a cheesy grin.

 

I found myself struggling for a way to rejoin the conversation, but couldn’t find the right note.  It was like they had already moved on from Frederick’s huge slight in grief sensitivity and were talking about some world only they were a part of.  I continued to listen, though pretended to be immersed in my commission spreadsheets.

 

“You have me intrigued, Fred.  Pick me up at the house later, I’ve got some things to do.”

 

I was stunned.  I kept telling myself “say something, do something. I knew figuring out how to “play it easy” would be the answer.  However, I knew at this point that I still did not fully understand the meaning of this, since my last few attempts did not work. When I looked up from my spreadsheets the moment was past and yellers was gone.  Florence was in the parking lot selecting a new car to drive for the week.  I went home to gather my thoughts.

 

 

As I stood in front of the kitchen sink rinsing my coffee pot filter, I stared out into the rainy dusk of the evening.  Fine imported Italian roast coffee was one of the few expensive pleasures I allowed myself while saving up for my and Florence’s future together.  As I watched the cherry blossom trees outside blow in the wind I thought of how Florence would probably never understand what it took for me to buy this townhouse.  I also knew this was okay with me.  Lovers do not have to understand everything about each other, as long as they are in love.  This townhouse would be just the beginning for us.  The fine roast coffee and cherry blossom trees would get bigger and bigger in our lives and the mediocre accommodations would fade away in our rear-view mirror.  After I finished a whole pot of coffee I finally had the gumption to hit the road towards stealing Florence.

 

The road was a blur in my periphery as I rode, going as fast as possible without risking a ticket.  Moments later I was at the restaurant, without any memory of the road traveled.  All I could think about was the dinner I had to break up, the proposal that would occur if I didn’t, and Florence.  My dear Florence. 

As I passed through the lobby I heard the unmistakable sound of Yellers’ banter bouncing off the papered walls.  Between this and some other lady that sounded so much like a parrot that it was a utter mockery to femininity. It clashed with the old classiness of the establishment.  I couldn’t believe, however, how much this old place boasted of Hershal nostalgia.  The faint cigar smell and chipping lead paint on the moldings told of top hats, damsels, and black jack.

As soon as I rounded the bannister and could see Florence, I stopped mid-stride. The parrot-like exclamations were coming from her. The woman I saw -- her breasts were pushed up unnaturally high above her blouse. Her legs were so far apart on either side of the table a bald eagle could fly out of them.  It was Florence Welmington. Suddenly there was a wall of rubber between me and charging up to their table.  It was like building up the momentum to run with a hangover. I sat back down in my seat behind the bannister, searching for the part of me inside that knew her inside and out, and could make sense of her current behavior.

“I need to take a course on how to change the oil? Oh, papa, papa. I haven’t the faintest desire.”  Florence balked over the shoulder of her martini.

“That’s what he said.” Yellers chuckled to himself.  “We might be able to negotiate that, sweet pea. So let’s discuss where to go from here with the dealership.”  Yellers said.

“What is there to discuss besides what I proposed at the funeral?  You run it in dad’s stead and I’ll supervise from afar.”  Florence flew her arm around in a circle, emphasizing her point.

 “Is that what we agreed on? Hershal and I had an agreement, too.”

“What?  That my taking over would be more seamless this way.”

 “There’s more to it. That after he was gone you would take his place at the dealership, and I would take my share from the board of trustees and disappear without causing any more trouble.  ”

“That was his plan? Of course he never asked me what I wanted.”  Florence balked again, totally ignorant of Yellers’ obvious undertones. I was curious, why did yellers have a share, and why wasn’t Florence disputing this?

Yellers appeared amused.  “That’s why you got on board so easily.  You didn’t want him to go early so you could take the dealership.  You are in a hurry to be free of the chains that bind, so they say.

 “And dating me?” He asked with a laugh. He looked like he had an ace of spades in his hand and this whole conversation was a joke to him.

“A good reason to get you close to the business, I admit it.”

“I was already close to the business, you don’t even know how close.  I’m actually serious about being with you.”

“Look, I thought you realized….”

“I did.  And I have other plans”.

Sweet.  Florence was trying to break up with him on proposal night, and he was trying to loop her in with some ace of spades he hadn’t revealed yet.  Even amidst all the shock of viewing the real Florence, this was welcome news.  Florence didn’t need him, and he’d served his purpose.  He was about to be handed a pink slip relieving him of his boyfriend responsibilities at least. The best part is that I would get to see the whole humiliating scene.  I toyed with the idea of taking out my phone and recording it.

“You have the business.  I’ll still see you once and awhile.  I have to go live my life, though.  You were here for a purpose, to take over the business and keep the money coming in.  I’m going to go find myself.  Whoever I am without my parents over my shoulder all the time.”

“You’ll see me more than occasionally.  Meanwhile, I can control the business.  You don’t care if I fire Rick?”

“Of course I care.  He makes my family too much money.  And, I like staring at his muscles.  He’s such a bad boy.” 

“I have muscles!”  Yeller’s immediate flare of anger gave me some satisfaction. He seemed to forget about his joke for a moment.

“Hush now, I like staring at him. You are around for the brains; he’s the hot bad boy. Like daddy said, he’s going to be a salesman the rest of his life.  And no, Freddy we’ll see each other occasionally. Why are you smiling?”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Without me, half the company profits would suffer.

“Florence, there are a few things you don’t know about me.”  Yellers paused. “I am the bad boy type.”  I laughed immediately. I could see him rubbing his hands under the table.

Flori wasn’t convinced. “Sure, I bet �" you’re a real threat to animals.  Back to the deal, I’ll go off to the Florida keys and like we agreed you can be the head honcho here as long as you send me most of the money.” Florence said.

 

Yellers said, “You have no clue, Florence.  I didn’t need to date you to get close to the family business. I already had everything I needed to get your father to surrender the business. I have been tying people up by the cuffs of their belts since I was a small child.” 

Florence laughed.

 “What makes you think that I would make a deal with your father that sent him to his death bed voluntarily, with my fingers crossed behind my back like this….. and not do the same with our little deal here?”

“You’re in love with me.  So unless you were also in love with my father- which would be gross-“

“Florence there’s only one person I never double cross.”

“I feel priviledged, truly.”

“It’s me. Before your father high tailed it out of this world I told him of my intentions to marry you.  Then I cornered him into choosing between his life and your inheritance.”

Florence stopped laughing, then was silent for a few minutes.  I almost looked over the bannister again to make sure I hadn’t missed anything.  Then she finally spoke. “He wouldn’t leave if he knew you were going to….his decision was only to benefit me.  You had nothing to do with it.”

“Sugar…

I had enough dirt on him to put him in jail and have the IRS confiscate all the family money.  You’re definitely up for getting quite the garnishin’ from the IRS.  Or, you could marry me and the IRS will be kept out of this.

“You’re crazy about me.  You wouldn’t blackmail me.”  Florence said.

“Yes I do and yes I would.  The two aren’t mutually exclusive, dearest Flory.”

“You can’t do all this.”  Florence said.

“I have connections.  Since you dated me and let me in on everything, for your own selfish motives, all I would need to do is forward it to my fellow Kentucky Colonel in DC.  He’s just high enough in the chain of command to make sure this is followed up on. Consider yourself hog-tied.  Now, isn’t that sexy? You double crossed  your own father, and now so he sure can’t save you now.” Yellers sat back in his chair, like he’d just laid out the best hand in the history of poker.

I heard a noise similar to dying chimp, which within moments I recognized as Florence sobbing.

“Now you behave nice and wear this ring.”  Yellers set a ring on the table with a rock that must have been two karat.  Immediately Florence was silent, turning the ring over in her fingers with wonder.

“It’s made of sea glass, clear pieces are as rare as diamonds.  Jewelers just aren’t aware of that fact.”  Immediately Florence started quivering again.

“Now quit making a racket here, this place is going to fill up soon and you’re already attracting attention. We’ll switch it out in five years or so, once I know you’re really mine.  You’re already aging like poorly canned peaches, so you definitely won’t be able to find a better chap at 40.”

I knew I could still rescue Florence, if I could get to her.  It was a most likely empty, ridiculous threat in the first place. Even if Frederick followed through and she lost everything, my paid off townhouse and modest investments weren’t what she grew up on, but they’d be a life better than what Frederick was offering.

I ordered a double. The Florence I had conjured in my imagination wouldn’t stop knocking on the door of my thoughts. I would have found flaws on her after we were married, regardless of how close she is to perfect.  It’s part of the package.  But could I look past her blatant disrespect for her father, who has given her everything since the day she was born?  I didn’t know.  I stayed in my seat, turning the melting ice in my glass, thinking of Hershal, thinking of Florence, and where to go from here.

The same waiter checked on Florence and Yellers.  “Naw, you just play it easy we’re having a private talk here.”

“Play it easy?  Are you serious, sir?”

“Means mind your own business, now scadadle!”

“Is that what dad always meant by it?” Florence appeared to be having a sober moment through teared eyes.

“It’s what I mean by it, which is what you should really care about now.” Yellers said.

Maybe Yellers was right. I already knew more than I wanted to, and it was clear I only had a few pieces of the puzzle.  Hershal’s death was not merely turning off life support after an expected heart attack.  It was a calculated event, possible a voluntary heart attack to begin with.

 

Even if my plan worked and Florence married me, she wouldn’t be the sweet Florence I pictured.  She was a lifeless piece of cardboard on the inside.  I stayed at the country slub awhile, sobering up and pondering the Florence that lay beneath the façade.

 

Awhile later, on the road, as the trees flashed threw my peripheral vision, so did my old life, or what I thought it was: the piano music, the dealership,  Hershal’s fortune.  Probably my job.  It was all gone.  What did I have left?

 

Soon I arrived back home, and it felt like I’d aged years since pulling out of the driveway earlier, although only a few hours went by.  With all my perceptions of life as I knew it now upside down, I appreciated my dank townhouse in a whole new way.  It, I knew, had not changed.

 

 

 

 

 

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[KeithEBaucum]

You are a good prose writer.