by Linda Ellen
As he finished loading the coin rolls and zipping up the money pouch, he sighed as he shook his head and turned to stare out one of the many windows in the tiny building. His boss and friend made a good living operating his service station and parking lot. Vic witnessed that first hand, as he had many times been sent to make the bank deposits. Just the week before, Hap had come wheeling onto the lot with a brand new Ford and for just a moment, Vic really had to tamp down feelings of envy, as he had never been able to purchase a new car. Oh, if he were honest, he would admit that Hap paid him well. Plus there were the occasional perks, like he could take his car in to the station and one of the guys would fix it for free, and Hap had given all of the employees a nice Christmas bonus, making sure to let Vic know that his was fatter than the rest of the guys’.
Turning around on his seat, he stared for a moment at a framed picture on the wall above the radio. One day while helping Louise clean the attic at home so they could store some boxes, Vic had picked up a pile of old newspapers and as the top one slid off, underneath was a front page sports section from the 1936 Derby – and a large picture of the winner that year – the horse he had bet on and won, Bold Venture. Just for kicks, he had cut it out and stuck it on the wall in his tiny office. Even after all those years, that horse’s name still stirred something within him…made him want to stand up and be counted…made him wonder if there was something else out there that he should do or try…his very own Bold Venture. But, what?
That old restless feeling had been lurking at the edges of his consciousness again. Louise had seen it, and had cautioned him to remain loyal and grateful for the job he had.
Thoughtfully reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his father’s silver-plated Dunhill lighter. Vic kept it polished and full of fluid. Staring at it, and knowing his father had received it as a gift from his employer for not only his birthday that year, but also as a way of saying “Job well done,” it rankled him a bit that he had never achieved a memento of recognition that he could hold in his hand.
“Ahh,” he groused, mumbling a few colorful words as he slid the lighter back in his pocket and began to ready the booth to lock up for the evening. For the moment, he stuffed the feeling of discontent to the back of his mind and went about his duties.
That night after their customary Thursday night supper of creamed vegetables, corned beef hash, mashed potatoes with milk gravy, and strawberry Jell-O for dessert, Vic made excuses before the end of “Life with Luigi,” one of his favorite radio programs, and went to bed early. Too keyed up to sleep, however, he just lay there with his hands laced under his head, staring up at the ceiling and contemplating his life and his future.
On the one hand, he loved his life with Louise and their boys and in many ways, he wouldn’t change a thing. He didn’t even mind Lilly living with them, as they had settled into a comfortable routine and he knew she was good help with all of the chores. He had friends – Doc, Irene, Alec, Earl, and John Womack, with whom he enjoyed spending time. Just the summer before, he and Louise had gone with John Womack and his wife on a vacation to the Smokies. Vic’s beautiful wife was the love of his life and she made their house a comfortable home. Tommy was now a responsible fourteen-year-old and nearly as tall as his beloved stepfather, active in sports at school and already having an eye for the girls, just as his mother had predicted. Buddy was a handsome, quiet, thoughtful boy of nearly seven. He was more studious than the others, and even showed a talent for music. Their youngest son had recovered from his problem and surgery and was now a delightful, precocious four-year-old. Vic couldn’t be more proud of all three.
Vic even enjoyed his job and the responsibilities he shouldered. It felt good, though, that his boss trusted and depended on him so much. He was, for the most part, content in his job – it paid good and it was easy work…sometimes too easy, nearly to the point of boring. It was a two-edged sword. He had begun to feel stifled and stagnant at work. It was a feeling akin to floating in a large tank filled with nice warm water, but the top of the tank seemed impenetrable and, unable to break out, he felt at times like he was slowly suffocating despite the comfort of his surroundings. Like just then…the bed was comfortable and he had nothing about which to complain…but he felt as if he were a pot on the stove one step away from a rolling boil.
Some time later, after Louise had gotten the boys to bed and joined Vic, they lay together a long while snuggling.
Finally, prompted by her question of what was wrong with him that evening, Vic made an attempt to tell her what he was feeling, but she cut him off. “We’re doing all right, Vic. We have plenty of food, clothes, and a roof over our heads. Our bills are paid up. Maybe we shouldn’t long for more…”
He held her close, trying to make her understand his heart. “But…I don’t want to just do all right. I want…I want for us to buy our own place, not just rent a house. I want the boys to have their own bedrooms. I…I want to buy my beautiful wife somethin’ pretty now and then,” he added, turning his head and meeting her eyes as she reached up to unconsciously take hold of the amethyst necklace she always wore, even to bed. The way she would grasp and hold it as a nervous habit, the necklace he had given her so long ago, warmed his heart every time he saw her do it. With a gentle smile, he reached up and smoothed her soft hair back from her face.
Louise smiled back at him and he could see the love glittering in her eyes in the moonlight as she murmured, “I have everything I need, Vic. You, the boys, our home, our friends… I love the life we’ve built together.”
“Ah babe, you know I do, too,” he whispered, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers in a firm, deep kiss, filled with all of the pent up frustration in his heart. She kissed him in return with urgency, willing him to steer his mind back on an even keel and fighting off an unreasoning fear that he could possibly be feeling discontent regarding their marriage. When they finally parted, she settled against him as he lay again on his back, staring up at the ceiling. As if to himself, he whispered, “I just feel like…there’s somethin’ out there. Somethin’ more…” My Bold Venture…
After that, they lapsed into silence, each one juggling their own thoughts and feelings. Vic remembered a conversation he’d had with his boss once concerning how he had acquired his Gulf station. Hap had confided to Vic that he had been a bookie himself, and after winning big on a race, had used his winnings to purchase the business. Although Vic had no desire to get into that “racket” again, he felt strongly that he should at least try to do something. He knew that his boss had no more education, experience, or breeding than he had. They were very much alike, and it was one reason Hap liked him so much.
Out loud, Vic murmured, “If Hap can do it, I can do it.”
His words roused Louise from the beginnings of sleep, and yawning, she caressed her husband’s bare chest, whispering, “Do what, sweetheart?”
Suddenly, determination shot through Vic like a lightning bolt. He sat up in the bed and pulled Louise by her arms so that she was sitting up, too.
“Babe, between that station and the parkin’ lot, Hap is rakin’ in the dough by the fistfuls. You know he told me one day that he used to be a bookie and when he decided to get out of the racket, he took his winnings and bought the station?”
Alarmed, Louise gasped and clutched Vic’s arms. “Oh Vic…you’re not…”
He quickly shook his head, not wishing to make his wife think he was planning on going back on his word. “Nah, I ain’t gonna do anything like that. But…what if I could…well…get a loan or something.” His eyes came alive in the bright moonlight, his expression intense.
Louise watched the man she loved as he shared his heart and she began to see just how much it meant to him, this “something” he was trying to make her understand. Suddenly she realized that he, as a man, wasn’t feeling fulfilled by his work. She and Fleet had talked about that very thing regarding Alec just a few weeks before. Lilly had shared that Willis, after the great Crash of ’29, had felt that
way on many occasions. At the time, Louise had thought something like that would never happen to Vic, but now…
Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, Louise sensed that her understanding and reaction was very important to her husband. Choosing her words carefully, she moistened her lips and asked, “Well…what kind of business would you get, a downtown parking lot? And how much would you need?”
Vic shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. I think I’ll talk to Hap about it. See what he says.”
Louise then reached out and caressed her husband’s cheek, drawing his gaze back to hers. “Vic, I want you to be happy. What ever you want to do, what ever you need to do to feel satisfied with your life and your work, I’ll be in your corner. I believe in you…I think you can do anything you put your mind to.”
Her words put Vic at ease for the first time in a long while, as he had thought she would react in a negative way and try to talk him out of it. Any new venture was a gamble of some sort. Now, he smiled at her lovingly. “Thanks babe,” he whispered as he gave her a long, warm kiss, lay back down, and gathered her in his arms.
Louise’s steady breathing filled the room for a long time before Vic was finally able to fall asleep – his mind too filled with dreams and plans.
*
Vic was immensely relieved by the favorable reaction of his boss when he broached the subject of starting his own business. He and Hap spent at least thirty minutes talking about Vic’s dreams for his future.
“Well, Vic, I can understand you wanting to strike out on your own. You’re still a young man. And you’ve got the drive and determination. I’ve seen it. That’s why I made you my right-hand man,” Hap added with a chuckle, puffing on his cigar as he shifted the hefty money pouch from one hand to another.
As a car pulled up to the open door of the attendant booth, Hap concluded, “But, if you really want to get out there and see what you can do on your own, I’ll help you any way I can.”
“Thanks, Hap. I appreciate that,” Vic acknowledged as a familiar voice teased, “Mornin’. Any parking spots left for your favorite cop? I come bearing gifts.”
Vic turned toward the voice and grinned a greeting to his good friend, John Womack. Once he had been promoted to detective, he no longer had to ride in the black and white “Cherry Toppers” he had always hated, and he was leaning across the bench seat of his dark gray ’50 DeSoto four door Custom with a jelly donut in his outstretched hand.
Vic chuckled and stepped out to the DeSoto’s open window, accepting the treat. “Sure thing, Copper. Saved one for ya on the end, row three,” he indicated the direction with his head.
Detective Womack pulled a sad face. “Now, none of that copper stuff. Dick’s the name. Investa’ gatin’s my game.”
Vic laughed out loud at that, leaning one hip against the car door as he pushed back his uniform cap and munched on his donut. Tipping his head to his boss as he drove his new Ford out of the lot, he called, “See you later, boss!” Hap beeped his horn merrily as he passed.
“Good guy, that Hap,” Womack commented as he took a big bite of his donut and reached for a napkin to wipe excess jelly from his lip.
Vic nodded with a grunt as he took another bite, chewing quickly so he could speak. “Yeah, he is. Best boss I’ve ever had. Matter of fact, he says he’s gonna help me all he can to get my own gig.”
“Your own gig? What’s that, Vic?”
Vic finished his donut and wiped his mouth. “Well, I’ve been wantin’ to strike out on my own venture. Tired of watchin’ other guys rakin’ in the dough while life passes me by.”
“I know what you mean. Sometimes I feel like that myself,” John agreed. “What kind of gig?”
Vic shrugged as a customer pulled up on the other side of the DeSoto. He stepped over to the woman and explained the lot’s rates, which he did several times a day in spite of the fact that they were posted on a sign at the entrance. Walking back, he continued, “I been thinkin’ maybe get my own station…a Gulf station or something. Not sure yet how to go about it. Hap says to start callin’ the oil companies and take it from there.”
Detective Womack nodded thoughtfully, thinking out loud, “Yep. Find one that’s interested and fill out the paperwork. Then try the banks to see which one’ll give you a loan for any upfront costs. Hap give you any idea how much you’d need as a grub stake?”
“He said anywhere from five hundred to a grand.” Then glancing around, Vic turned his head back and met eyes with his friend, admitting to him something that had been gnawing at the back of his mind. “I’m wonderin’ though if…if my record will hinder me from gettin’ a loan.”
The detective turned his head to stare out the windshield for a few moments as if deep in thought. Nodding, he murmured, “They’ll probably run you. Might cause a hiccup. A grand’s a good chunk of change. They’d want to be sure who they’re doling it out to,” he agreed. Then turning back to Vic, he grinned and winked, adjuring, “But don’t let the fear of that stop you, man. Never say die, that’s my motto.” Putting his car in drive, he tossed a wave toward Vic as he headed into the lot, calling, “Gotta make tracks. Talk at ya later.”
Vic returned the wave, thoughtfully watching after his friend’s car until another customer pulled into the lot. His friend’s comments had not alleviated his worries.
*
Over the next few days, Vic obtained the telephone numbers of all the major oil companies and started making phone calls during slow times on the lot. Gulf turned him down. Texaco, Standard, Ashland, and Shell wouldn’t even talk to him. Running his finger down the list past companies he wasn’t familiar with, his eye caught the name Phillips 66. Something about it seemed to strike a chord within him that reverberated down through his spine and made his toes tingle. Like Route 66…he had heard about the now famed road across the country, but had never had the privilege of driving on it and seeing the sites.
With tightlipped determination, he dialed the number.
Before long Charles Sweeney, the executive in charge of Kentucky, Indiana, and Tennessee stations, got on the line. He proceeded to tell Vic that the board had just been discussing opening another station in Louisville and was even then scouting out potential locations.
Vic spoke to Mr. Sweeney with as much authority and confidence as he could muster. He poured his enthusiasm into that phone call. He told Sweeney his background, discussed his experience, laid out his plan and determination, and in short, thoroughly sold him on the idea that Vic Matthews should be the company manager of the newest Louisville location for Phillips 66.
As they wound up the call, Sweeney mentioned that he would be in town the following week, and that if Vic could show him proof that he had the funds to stock the new station, they would have themselves a deal.
Placing the receiver into the cradle, every nerve in his body humming with adrenalin and without a care for who might see or hear, Vic tipped back his head and let out a shout. He couldn’t wait to close up shop for the night and get home to tell Louise the news. With a chuckle, he imagined what she would say about his eventful day.
He wasn’t disappointed.
“Oh Vic, I’m so proud of you!” Louise gushed as she threw her arms around his neck. He had come in the door and searched every room in the house before finally winding up in the basement where she was finishing up the laundry before helping Lilly with supper. Vic had headed straight for her and hadn’t minced any words as he told her the plans.
“Now all I gotta do is scrape together a pot of gold,” he chuckled, feeling on top of the world, and that nothing would stand in his way.
Louise leaned back in his arms, her eyes and smile sparkling as she gazed up at him, his enthusiasm infectious. “What bank are you going to ask?”
“Hap said to try First National. Said they’d give me a fair shake,” he responded, and then gathered her against him and vigorously nuzzled her neck until she giggled. “It’s happenin’, Mary Lou. I can feel it. Nothing’s g
onna stop me or go wrong this time…” he declared, but at the last word, the tiny grain of fear about his record pushed its way to the top of this thoughts. Mentally shaking his head, he let her go and grabbed her hand to begin tugging her up the steps. “What’s for supper? I’m starved.”
That night after the meal, the family was gathered around their new Philco radio, listening to the Amos and Andy show. Louise was curled up on the settee with Vic, laughing at the silly antics on the show when there was a knock at the door.
Vic went to answer it and stepped back with a smile of welcome. “Hey Wo. Come on in.”
Their good friend Detective Womack sauntered in, nodding hello to each member of the family. Sitting down in the big side chair vacated by Tommy, he welcomed onto his lap the youngest, three-year-old Jimmy. Since his surgery, the child never stayed still a minute, but was always running and doing until he dropped to sleep at night.
“Vic has some good news,” Louise began as Vic related the details of his success that day. At the end of the discourse, his face showed a tiny bit of dread, however, and his eyes met John’s. “The only thing that could throw a wrench in the gears would be that stupid record. Now, more than ever, I wish I had listened and…had more faith that I could find something else, but…” he hesitated with a shrug. “Too late now.”
John let him finish, and then with a glimmer in his eye, he mumbled, “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You never know what might happen.” Reaching into his jacket pocket, he retrieved a small packet of what looked like index cards and handed them to Vic.
Vic glanced at Louise and unwound his arm from around her to sit forward and take the packet. Glancing through it, he saw his name and information regarding his arrest. He looked back up at his friend, who was nursing a carefully blank expression. “What’s this?”
Allowing Jimmy to scramble off his lap, the detective watched the child for a few seconds and then met Vic’s eyes with a secretive smile. “Oh…let’s just say…there’s nothing standing in your way now. That is unless you trip over your own feet and knock that Phillips Rep on his a…” he paused for a glance at Louise and amended, “on his rear.”
