“I think we’re done now,” he said and sat up. He started the car and then hit the kill switch and the engine stopped. He looked at Russell and smiled. “Now call your mom and tell her we’re going to get pizza, okay?”
Russell crawled out over the front seat and walked back to his house. He came back two minutes later while Eddie was cleaning up in the kitchen sink.
“I can go,” he said.
“You called her?”
Russell nodded.
“You ever waxed a car?”
Russell shook his head.
“Waxing a car is one of my least favorite things to do. My dad used to make me wax his car, and if I didn’t do it right he’d be an asshole about it for a week. So I won’t wax my own car. I just won’t. But if I call your mom and she says she didn’t talk to you, I’m going to make you wax the Le Mans, all right?”
Russell looked at the ground but didn’t say anything.
“All right?”
The boy nodded slowly.
Eddie called Russell’s mother, spoke to her for a minute, and hung up.
“You shouldn’t lie,” said Eddie and lit a cigarette. “Lying is a bad habit and no one likes liars. Your mom says you never called. Is she lying or are you?”
“But she doesn’t care,” the boy told him. “She said she doesn’t care what I do as long as I’m home when she gets home.”
Eddie looked at Russell. “That might be the case, but that’s not the problem. The problem is that you lied to me. We’re friends and you lied to me. I know you know about the batteries too. And you wouldn’t even tell me about that. It doesn’t look good. It looks like you’re a bad kid. Now, I know you’re not bad but you gotta start acting like a man once in a while and not like a little dude.”
Russell began crying.
Eddie took a drink of beer. “I’m going to ask you one question, Russell. Did you call your mom?”
“No,” he whispered.
Eddie smiled. “See, it ain’t so bad telling the truth.”
The boy looked at him with tears streaming down his face. “Do you want me to leave now?”
“Nah,” Eddie said. “You got to lighten up. We have work to do. We have to give this thing a test drive and then we gotta eat pizza.”
Russell wiped his face and said, “I told you she doesn’t care.”
“That’s not the point,” Eddie said and laughed. “Jesus, you can be one hardheaded son of a bitch sometimes.”
The Le Mans front end was the problem. It was loose and drifty. The car needed new tie-rods, an alignment, tires and rims, and he’d have to give it a brake job. But it ran and the transmission seemed to be switching gears when it was supposed to. They drove around the industrial side of town for nearly an hour. They passed the horse track and drove along the river. They had the windows down and Russell hung his arm out the side. Eddie took them to a pizza parlor, they ate dinner, and afterward Russell played video games while Eddie drank beer and worked on bids in the corner of the half-empty restaurant.
The next morning Eddie found a can of car wax in the garage and set it on the hood of the Le Mans next to a handful of rags and a note saying Read the instructions on the can before you do anything. The money is for lunch. I’ll pay you for the waxing after you do it. Underneath the can he set ten dollars.
He went back to the garage and found a quart of old blue oil paint on a shelf. He opened it, stirred it for a long time, and then painted each of the four remaining battery handles. He drove to the job site and parked. The body of the house was finished and now the best part of the job was beginning. They were painting trim. The customers wanted three different colors and it meant two extra days of work. He took his best exterior brushes from his toolbox, his job-site radio, and headed up the drive. He unlocked the ladders and set them up.
He waited an hour before he began calling Houston from the top of the ladder, but Houston didn’t answer. At lunch he drove to Houston’s apartment to find him in his underwear. The TV was playing behind him. Inside the apartment was dark with the curtains drawn, and Houston was pale and sick and coughed as he stood in the doorway.
“Jesus,” Eddie said, smiling. “What happened to you?”
“I’m not sure,” said Houston quietly.
“Where did you get the money?”
“A guy I used to know invited me to his house. He was having a party and there was a bottle of Maker’s. I took it and sat out on his porch and that’s all I remember.”
“You drank the whole thing?”
“I don’t know.”
“It was nice of you to call and tell me you weren’t coming in.”
Houston ran his hands through his hair. “I set my alarm but I guess I didn’t hear it.”
“I don’t hear it now,” Eddie said.
“I must have shut it off somehow.”
“Does the TV turn on by itself?”
Houston sighed. “Goddamn it, Eddie.”
“Don’t get mad at me.”
“I couldn’t get out of bed, all right? I’ve been shitting my guts out all morning and I’m sick.”
Eddie laughed. “All you fucking guys lie. All you have to do is call and say, ‘I got loaded last night and I’m a scumbag pussy and can’t get out of bed on a hangover.’”