Leo glanced over at him, then returned his green gaze to the road. “What’s wrong with my tie?”
“It has a cartoon character on it,” he explained.
“So? This a great tie. Lots of guys wear ties like this.”
“They shouldn’t,” Sebastian mumbled, and looked out the passenger side window. Just because he didn’t like to shop didn’t mean he didn’t know how to dress.
They drove for a few more moments in silence as Sebastian took in the sites up and down the busy street. Nothing looked familiar. “Have I ever been out this way?” he asked.
“Sure,” Leo answered as they sped past a woman walking a big black dog and a beagle. “That’s where I went to school,” he said, and pointed to an old elementary school with a bell on top. “And remember when I took you and Clare to the drive-in theater?”
“Oh, yeah.” They’d had popcorn and orange Fanta. “We saw Superman II.”
Leo moved into the middle lane. “They tore it all down and now it’s where they sell Lincolns.” He turned into Lithia Motors and drove slowly past rows of shiny cars designed to create avarice in the least materialistic. Near the middle of the lot, they parked and were soon approached by J. T. Wilson, who wore a polo shirt with the dealership’s insignia above the left pocket.
“Which of the Town Cars are you interested in looking at?” J.T. asked as the three of them moved across the parking lot. “We have three models of Signature Town Car.”
“I haven’t made up my mind. I’d like to test-drive a few and compare,” Leo answered.
Sebastian just couldn’t see why a guy would get worked up over a Town Car, but as they walked past two rows of SUVs, he stopped as if his feet had suddenly got stuck to the asphalt. “Why not test-drive the Navigator?” He glanced inside at the plush interior and ran a hand along the shiny black paint. He could see himself in that car and had visions of driving down the road fiddling with the stereo.
“I like the Town Car.”
“You could add a set of chrome rims,” Sebastian persisted, experiencing unexpected car craving. Perhaps he was more like Leo than he thought. “Maybe some custom grill work.”
“I’d feel ridiculous. Like that Puff Daddy.”
“P. Diddy.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. You could haul in a Navigator.”
Leo shook his head and kept walking. “I don’t want to haul anything.”
“Most of the Navigators have a tow package with a heavy-duty receiver hitch,” J.T. informed them.
Sebastian didn’t bother informing the men he’d meant haul ass. Reluctantly, they moved on, and together Sebastian and Leo took a gold Town Car for a test-drive. “Why do you turn in a perfectly good car every fifty thousand?” he asked as they drove out of the dealership.
“Depreciation and trade-in value,” Leo answered. “And I just like a new car.”
Sebastian didn’t know anything about depreciation and wasn’t picky about the miles on his car. “This thing sure is smooth,” he said.
“Hauls ass too.”
Sebastian looked at his father, and across the car they shared a smile. Finally, they agreed on something. The importance of hauling ass.
The two of them spent the next half hour tearing up the streets and enjoying moments of comfortable silence punctuated by easy conversation. They talked about the changes he’d noticed in Boise, although he’d been young the last time he visited. The population had exploded and brought a lot of growth, but one thing that remained just as he’d remembered was the state capitol building made of sandstone and patterned after the Capitol Building in Washington, D.C. As a kid, his dad had taken him to visit, and he could recall the marble interior and crawling around on the cannon somewhere on the grounds. Mostly he remembered how it looked at night. All lit up with the golden eagle shining on top of the dome, 208 feet above.
When they returned to the dealership, playtime was over and Leo got down to business.
“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “You’re going to have to come down.”
“I’ve given you my best deal.”
“He has a trade-in,” Sebastian provided, in an effort to help out the old man. “Right?”
Leo turned his head and looked at him. Ten minutes later they pulled out of the lot in the old Town Car, on their way back to the carriage house.
“You never tell a salesman that you have a trade-in unless he asks. I just about had him dickered down to where I want him,” Leo said as they left the dealership behind. “You might think you know a thing or two about what tie to wear, but you don’t know anything about buying a car.” He shook his head. “Now I’ll have to cross that dealership off. I’ll never get a good deal there.”
So much for father-son bonding.
After dinner that night, Leo worked in the garden, then went to bed after the ten o’clock news. Sebastian apologized for ruining his potential deal, and Leo smiled and patted his shoulder on his way to bed.
“I’m sorry I got a little hot. I guess we’re just not used to each other’s ways. It’ll take time yet.”
Sebastian wondered if they’d ever get used to “each other’s ways.” He had his doubts. They were both spinning their wheels, fighting to find common ground. But it shouldn’t have been so hard.
Alone in the kitchen, he moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. His life was in his apartment on Mercer Place in Seattle. And it wasn’t like he didn’t have a shitload waiting for him there-he had his own problems to contend with, and he had to pack up his mother’s house in Tacoma. She’d lived in that house for close to twenty years, and getting it ready to put on the market was going to be a real bitch.
His mother had been married and divorced three times by the time he turned ten. Each time, she’d been filled with the promise of happily ever after. Each time, she’d fully expected the marriage to last a lifetime. But every husband had lasted less than a year. The boyfriends in her life hadn’t even stuck around that long. And every time another relationship failed to work out, she’d put Sebastian to bed and cry herself to sleep while he lay awake, hearing her sobbing through the thin walls. Her tears made him cry too. They hurt his chest and made him feel helpless and afraid.
By his sophomore year in high school, Sebastian and his mother had moved half a dozen times. His mother had been a “beauty consultant,” meaning she cut and styled hair. Which made it easy for her to get a job wherever they happened to move, each time hoping for a “new start.” Which also meant a new neighborhood, and Sebastian would have to make new friends all over again.
The summer he turned sixteen, they landed in the small house in North Tacoma. For some reason-perhaps his mother had grown up or grown weary of moving-she’d decided to stay put in that small house on Eleventh Street. She must have grown weary of men too. She’d stopped dating almost altogether, and instead of putting so much of her energy into relationships, spent time converting the front room of the house into Carol’s Clip Joint-naming it after herself-and outfitting it with two styling stations, shampoo bowls, and drier chairs. Her best friend, Myrna, had always worked alongside his mother, cutting hair, giving perms, and sharing the latest.
At Carol’s Clip Joint, tight curls and superhold had never gone out of fashion, and filled the house with the scent of alkaline, peroxide, and alcohol. Except on Sunday. The salon was closed on Sunday and his mother always made him a big breakfast. For a few hours, blueberry pancakes chased away the scent of perm solution, dyes, and hair spray.
That same year, Sebastian got a job washing dishes at a local restaurant, and after a short time he’d been promoted to night manager. He bought a ’75 Datsun pickup. Faded orange with a crumpled rear fender. From that job, he’d learned the value of hard work and how to get what he wanted. He got his first real girlfriend that year too. Monica Diaz had been two years older than him. Two very wise years. And from her he’d learned the difference between good sex, great sex, and mind-altering sex.