The Bikini Car Wash

by Pamela Morsi

  Andi got up and opened the door to welcome them.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, Andi,” Tiff said. “I’d like you to meet my son, Caleb.”

  “Hi, Caleb.”

  He looked up quickly with a smile and a wave before refocusing on the tiny screen in his hands.

  “Whatcha playing?” she asked.

  “Lego Star Wars.”

  “Are you good at it?”

  Caleb nodded. “Too good,” he answered. “I got it in kindergarten.” He said the last word with enough emphasis to suggest the time was aeons in the past. “Nobody even plays this anymore. All the other kids have new games.”

  “No, they don’t,” Tiff corrected. “Lots of other kids have dads out of work, just like you.”

  Caleb shrugged and sighed.

  “You’ve still got something to play and lot of kids don’t even have that, right?”

  “Yeah, right,” he agreed, with only the vaguest hint of sullenness to his tone.

  “So go play your game while I talk with Miss Andi.”

  Caleb walked across the room to an empty corner, crossed his legs and sat without once taking his thumbs off the controls.

  “Don’t stop what you’re doing,” Tiff said to Andi.

  “I was just cleaning up this equipment,” she replied as she seated herself on the wooden workbench. Tiff hoisted herself up beside her and inspected the pieces that she’d completed.

  “Still thinking to sell this stuff?” Tiff asked.

  “Yeah, yeah, I guess so.”

  A silence lengthened between them.

  “Guess what I just saw happen in the grocery store.”

  “What?” Andi asked.

  “I was in the checkout behind this woman with three kids,” she said. “They rang her up and she handed the cashier a credit card. The card was declined. So she tried to pay with a check. But they put it in that check security gizmo and it was declined, too.”

  “Oh, jeez!”

  “I know,” Tiff said. “I knew I should just walk away, get in another line, but it was like some horrible traffic accident. I just couldn’t look away.”

  “So, what happened?” Andi asked.

  “They called Guthrie over and I thought that if it were me, I would have just died of humiliation right on the spot,” Tiff said. “But he was pretty cool about it. He told her that he’d keep her check and she could come back and pick it up when she had the money. He even thanked her for shopping at Guthrie’s.”

  “He thanked her? With a straight face?”

  “Pretty much. He actually smiled at the kids. I guess it must have been about the kids. Wouldn’t that be horrible?”

  “Yeah, horrible.”

  “I felt sorry for her,” Tiff said. “But at the same time I was thinking, ‘I’m so glad it’s her and not me!’ That’s exactly what I was thinking. Because I know that next week or next month, it absolutely could be me.”

  Andi looked at Tiff, nodding sympathetically and secretly glad that she had her father to live with and his retirement saving to live on. But she was pretty sure that Pop had never made plans for long-term support of Andi. Having one daughter that would need his help was more than enough.

  “I’ve got to find something,” Tiff said. “Even if it’s not something…something that I’d normally consider doing.”

  Andi’s brown eyes gazed assessingly into Tiff’s blue ones.

  “You’re thinking about the car wash.”

  Tiff nodded. “I mean, Cher-L has a point. You don’t see any of those titty-bars down on Doge Avenue going out of business. What if a guy could get a pretty good show and his car washed at the same time?”

  Andi shot a quick glance toward Caleb. “Are you sure you’d want to do that?”

  “No,” Tiff replied. “I’m not sure at all that I want to do it. But I am sure I don’t want my son to see me trying to pass a hot check at the grocery store.”

  Andi nodded.

  “And honestly, how bad can it be? I don’t mean we should do the wet T-shirt or some kind of costume with pasties. But we could wear bikinis. We won’t be showing off anything the whole world couldn’t see at the community swimming pool.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Andi agreed.

  “I think…I think we ought to try it,” Tiff said.

  Andi sighed. “I’ve been thinking about it, too. I look at the opportunities for this building and I just don’t see much. If times were better, maybe it could be some kind of office. But there’s empty office space all up and down the street. We’d just be one more FOR RENT sign.”

  “Times are going to get better,” Tiff assured her. “And when they do, well, you could come up with something entirely different. But this bikini car wash thing is something that could work now.”

  It could work. It was a possibility. It was an opportunity. Still, she knew there were plenty of excellent business ideas that should never see the light of day. She feared this might be one of them.

  “Let’s talk to Cher-L and maybe, between the three of us, we could give it a try,” Andi told her.

  Tiff’s eyes widened.

  “We’re really going to do it?”

  Andi glanced down at the equipment she was cleaning and then back up at Tiff.

  “It’s a seasonal business,” she said. “I’ll only be able to keep it open through the summer. And we can’t know for sure that it would even make money,” she said. “It’s not like I could guarantee any decent wage.”

  “I’ll work for tips,” Tiff assured her. “I just need a chance.”

  “I’d have to ask my father,” Andi said. “This is still his building and his equipment.” She looked around and allowed herself a moment of remembering what the place was like when Pop had it open. “I can’t imagine that he’d say ‘yes’ to this,” she admitted, shaking her head. “He’s a very straightlaced kind of guy.”

  Tiff shrugged. “Still, it’s worth asking, I think,” she said, then added apologetically. “That’s why I’m here asking you. And that’s why you’re asking yourself.”

  “I’ll call you after I talk to Pop,” Andi told her.

  As she watched Tiff and Caleb drive away, she felt a sense of deflation nearly overwhelm her. Uncharacteristically she had refused to even weigh the pros and cons. The thrill of opening her own business just couldn’t permeate the disappointment of a plan based on everything that she absolutely wasn’t. It was easy and pleasant to imagine herself handing out frothy lattes to friendly faces of drive-up customers. It was not so pleasurable to imagine herself in a skimpy bathing suit being viewed and judged by the same kind of creeps who had made fun of her in high school. Somehow, over the years, in all her imaginings, she’d return to Plainview in triumph having made it big in the city. Instead she was returning as a thick-thighed late bloomer, bending over car bumpers in a bikini.

  Andi shuddered unpleasantly at the thought.

  The equipment was looking much better and her stomach was beginning to growl. She was just thinking to brave the rain once more and head back to the house when there was an unexpected knock on the door.

  Andi glanced up to see Pete Guthrie on the other side of the glass. Her brow furrowed, puzzled. He smiled at her. What on earth was that about?

  “It’s open!” she called out.

  She watched for a moment as he fumbled with the knob. Somehow she felt no compulsion to help him. Pete Guthrie had always been the golden boy. The guy who had everything. That could have spurred envy or jealousy in anyone. But with Andi adding in her own attraction to the guy, well, resentment was just a natural outcome.

  “Have you come to run me off the property again?” she asked him. She heard the anger and defiance in her voice. She wanted to sound cool and confident, but he brought out the defensive.

  “Nope,” he answered. “I brought lunch.” He indicated the two brown paper bags he carried.

  “Oh…” Andi was surprised and wary. “I…uh…I was just about to catc
h the bus for home.”

  “I…uh, I saw your light on in here and thought you might be hungry,” he said.

  Andi’s gaze narrowed. “Is that what you do up there in the exalted corner office of Guthrie Foods? Look down on the street and think about who is hungry?”

  She was baiting him.

  “Hey, that might not be such a bad habit for a groceryman,” he answered with an orthodontically perfect grin.

  Nobody deserved to be that good-looking, she thought to herself. He looked a lot like his dad, and like his dad, time just enhanced the handsomeness.

  “May I sit?” Pete asked, indicating the empty length of table beside her.

  “Sure, grocery guy, I’m sure you’re used to making yourself at home. I should probably charge rent.”

  He laughed and handed her a lunch sack. “Maybe you can put this on account.”

  “On account of you brought it.”

  “You’re quick.”

  “I’ve had to be,” Andi answered. “When you’re a target you have to keep moving to stay out of people’s way.”

  Pete seated himself beside her. “Were we that hard on you?” he asked. “High school is no place for fragile teenage sensibilities, but was it hideous?”

  Andi wanted to answer “yes.” It was very strange to have him sitting beside her as if they’d been friends. They hardly knew each other and they’d never had anything to say. It was Pete Guthrie and his pals who had made high school miserable for her. That’s what she’d always thought. But looking back, they had all been more annoying than cruel. And much of her teenage unhappiness had other root causes.

  “It was fine,” she answered him, honestly. “I’m no delicate flower. And I wasn’t back then. I had enough confidence in myself that I could take all the geek and lesbo taunts that your crew could dish out.”

  Pete was nodding as he unwrapped his sandwich. She felt his khaki-covered thigh against her own. He might be older, less sculpted than in his bygone days, but his legs were still muscular and masculine.

  Andi crossed hers at the knee to put some distance between the two of them.

  “My crew?” he asked. “Funny that you’d think of them that way. I had such a weird, diverse group of friends. Many of them had nothing in common but me. I guess I never thought of them as a crew.”

  He chewed on the thought a moment, but didn’t dispute her.

  “And I could never figure out if I was a preppy or a jock,” he said. “I frequently got accused of both. Do we pick our clique? Or do other people define who they think we are? What did you think?”

  “I just thought you were puffed up and lame,” Andi answered.

  “Oh, well, if we’re being honest, then that’s pretty much what I thought, too,” he admitted. “But isn’t that what high school is all about?”

  His self-deprecation was strangely alluring. She resisted by frowning at him.

  “Look,” he said, turning slightly to meet her eye to eye. “If I was mean to you, I’m sorry,” he said. “And for the record, I never started, repeated or passed on any comments about your sexual preference. That’s really nobody’s business.”

  “I’m not a lesbian,” Andi stated flatly. “I was just a tomboy.”

  “Oh…well, great, fine…I mean…uh, me neither.”

  “You’re not a lesbian?” Andi found herself enjoying his discomfiture.

  “Well, no, I’m not, but that wasn’t exactly what I meant. Are you going to eat your sandwich?”

  Andi unwrapped it and took a bite. It tasted wonderful. “What is this?”

  “It’s shaved turkey with roasted peppers and goat cheese,” Pete answered. “It’s my favorite.”

  Andi wasn’t sure if she was just that hungry or if it was the best sandwich she’d ever tasted, but she savored it.

  “I’m completely over all that teenage angst and persecution. So don’t give it a thought. I’m sure you have great high school memories,” she told him. “Everybody liked you and respected you.”

  “Nobody even knew me,” Pete said with a chuckle. “I didn’t even know me. I was so busy trying to be the guy everybody expected, I didn’t even figure out who I was until after college.”

  “Then you’re ahead of me,” Andi said. “I thought I had everything figured out until a few months ago. Now, day by day, I’m less and less sure.”

  “That’s the work thing,” Pete told her. “It’s unsettling to lose your job, to be out of work.”

  “I didn’t lose my job,” she corrected him quickly, maybe too quickly. “I resigned and moved back home.”

  He nodded and chewed.

  “So given your crappy high school experience,” Pete said. “And with the worst economy since the Great Depression, you’ve decided to return to Plainview on a permanent basis.”

  “My mom died,” she stated bluntly.

  “Yes, I heard that. I’m sorry.”

  Andi shrugged.

  “Her death made you decide to move back?”

  “I knew my dad would need help with my sister,” Andi said. It was the truth, but not so true that she could look him in the eye when she said it.

  Pete chewed for a moment, nodding. “How is your sister?” he asked.

  “Fine,” Andi answered. “She’s happy. Probably happier than you.”

  She regretted the last as being snarky, but Pete seemed to overlook it.

  “She always was,” he said. “In high school you two still looked a lot alike, but even from a distance I could tell the difference. She was always the one smiling and you never did.”

  Andi found herself surprised, and slightly pleased, that he’d been aware of her at all.

  “So, besides wanting to have lunch with me and chat about old times, do you have a reason for showing up here?” she asked him.

  Pete’s expression sobered and he seemed to choose his words carefully.

  “I just wanted to come by, as…uh…a commercial neighbor and to tell you how sorry I am that your coffee shop thing ran into trouble.”

  “Ran into trouble or ran into your father?” she asked.

  Pete shrugged. “You aren’t the first person to suggest that it might be the same thing.”

  Andi had obviously meant to wound, but Pete didn’t show any signs of being offended. Instead he continued to chat in a manner that was as matter-of-fact as their discussion about high school.

  “I want you to know that as the head of Guthrie Foods, I can assure you that Guthrie Foods has no objection to any business plan you might have for your property.”

  Andi’s eyes narrowed and she surveyed his face with skepticism. “Is this kind of like your father recusing himself from the council vote?” she asked. “It sounds really good and makes you look really fair. The real purpose being just public relations.”

  “No,” Pete told her firmly. “That’s not what I’m after at all. What I’m telling you, with complete sincerity, is that it’s me, not my father, who speaks for Guthrie Foods. And my take on it is that a rising tide lifts all boats. I want to see stores in the neighborhood succeed. If you find a way to bring customers to this corner, then I’m all for that and my company supports that.”

  “So you wouldn’t care what kind of business I might open here?”

  “If you decided to open a supermarket, I might be worried,” he said, grinning at her. “Beyond that, I think whatever you decide to do here will be fine with me and I vow to say so publicly before the city council if you need me to.”

  The rain had stopped by the time Andi arrived back home. Pop’s truck was in the driveway, but the house was empty. The thumping sound of a basketball against the driveway drew her out to the back porch.

  Pop was seated on the swing. The sight of him brought a momentary rush of memory to Andi. So many times she had seen the two of them, Mom and Pop, seated on that swing. Her absence loomed large. Behind him their small backyard with its huge buckeye tree shaded everything.

  “Hi Andi! Hi Andi! Hi Andi! Hi Andi!”<
br />
  She turned to see a familiar face playing basketball with Jelly. “Hi, Tony,” she replied.

  “I made a basket!” he announced. “I made a basket! I made a basket!”

  “Good for you.”

  “Andi’s my girlfriend. Andi’s my girlfriend. Andi’s my girlfriend.”

  “Shut up and play,” Jelly reprimanded him.

  “Shut up and play. Shut up and play.”

  Andi took the seat next to her father. “What is Tony Giolecki doing here?” she asked.

  “His grandma had a doctor’s appointment. You know she doesn’t have any help. None of her friends or neighbors are willing to take Tony on.”

  “But, Pop, you’ve got enough to manage with Jelly,” Andi said. “You shouldn’t have to take on another special needs kid.”

  Pop shrugged. “Jelly pretty much takes care of herself. Besides if we don’t help, who will?”

  “I made a basket!” the singsong voice announced from the driveway. “I made a basket! I made a basket!”

  Tony and Jelly had been classmates since elementary school. Tony represented some of the most scary stuff about special needs kids. His diagnosis broke up his parents’ marriage. They both ended up fleeing from his care and he was left with his aging grandmother who did the best she could. Tony was annoying and repetitive, prone to wandering away if he wasn’t watched and he was just smart enough to get himself into a lot of trouble. His IQ was probably 20 points above Jelly’s but he had none of her sweetness or biddability. He could be stubborn and belligerent. He would often take things, almost compulsively. Though he’d voluntarily handed them over at the end of a visit. And he’d had a crush on Andi that went back as far as elementary school. He told anyone and everyone that “Jelly was his best friend. But Andi was his girlfriend.”

  Seated beside her father, she watched the two playing basketball. Tony was more naturally athletic and several inches taller, but he couldn’t stop talking. Jelly focused more clearly on the task, whether it was bouncing the ball in the driveway or throwing it up to the rim. She only needed to bide her time until Tony distracted himself to get a clear shot.

  “ALL RIGHT!” Jelly hollered in celebration.

  “Two points!” Tony said.