4 comments/ 20967 views/ 5 favorites The Brass Ring Ch. 01-02 By: coaster2 Chapter 1 JoJo & Mint My first girlfriend ... I mean a real girlfriend, not some kid I liked ... was named Joanna. Joanna Hansen. She sat in front of me in math class. She was smart and I wasn't. Well, actually, I just wasn't as smart as she was. I used to peek over her shoulder to see what her answers were to the weekly tests Mrs. Culver made us take. I think maybe I got through that grade eleven course just because of her. Joanna that is. I was sixteen. I'd never had any kind of fun with a girl before. I guess I was a little slow compared my buddies. They were all braggin' about how they'd fucked this or that girl, or felt them up, or played pussy-finger with them. I was getting tired of hearing it. I had to do something about it, so I asked Joanna to the sock-hop on Friday night. She looked at me kind of funny, but then, "Okay. You can pick me up at seven-thirty." Pick her up? With what? I had a license, but no car. "Yeah ... sure ... seven-thirty." Shit, I was in it now. Good old Duke Hunsinger had stepped in it this time. I had only two chances, and I didn't like either of them. "Hey, Dad, mind if I use the car Friday night. I've got a date." "Take the bus. You know damn well it's my bowling night." "Can't one of your friends pick you up?" "Can't one of your friends pick you up?" he snapped back. "It's not like I ask you very often. This is my first date with this girl." "Far as I can figure out, this is your first date with any girl." I turned and walked back toward my room. I'd have to call Brains or T-Man to see if I could hook up with them. "I don't wanna see any cum stains on the back seat tomorrow morning," the old man hollered after me. I turned around. My old man wasn't legendary for changin' his mind. I stared at him just to make sure he was serious before I started to walk back toward him. "I don't think you'll have to worry about that," I said. He reached into his side pocket and pulled out the car keys, handing them over to me, all the while giving me the evil eye. "Put some gas in it if you've got more than fifty cents to spare," he snapped. I nodded. "Thanks." I had dodged a bullet. Joanna Hansen would have her ride tonight. She was a real good-looking girl. Not too big with the tits, but still, they were there and they were nice. Nice legs too; all the way up to her ass. She dressed nice, was always tidy. I wouldn't call her sexy, but she was plenty good enough for me. I mean, I knew a dozen other guys who would have dated her, but I got to her before they did. That sock-hop was my first of many dates with Joanna, or JoJo, my pet name for her. We got to know each other pretty good. Real good, if you get what I'm saying. We started out just necking. I got to kiss her that first date and things just progressed from there. After I couple of dates, I got to feel her up in the movie theatre. I must have been a little rough with her, because she told me afterwards to take it easy, that I'd leave marks on her if I kept it up. Every guy remembers the first time he lost his cherry. It wasn't one of my shining moments. I wasn't cool enough to know what I was doing, and I wasn't smart or experienced enough to realize it wasn't a first for Joanna. At least she didn't seem to be upset about it when I didn't last very long. I apologized, and that seemed to help. I got better at screwing thanks to her telling me what was good and what wasn't. We were pretty much a steady pair for almost a year when Jake Demeter, the school asshole, decided he wanted her. Being a hero jock and a good deal bigger than me, it wasn't going to be a fair fight. JoJo tried to be nice about it, explaining all the benefits she'd have being seen with Mr. Big. I was pissed, but it was a done deal. I was out and asshole was in ... in more ways than one. It didn't exactly kill me. Once the word got around that I was on the loose again, I got swamped with offers for dates. Well, two offers actually. Cindy Klopfenstein and Monica Purvis came around to see me as a delegation. They said I could date them anytime. There was a reason, of course. Neither of them had been on a date in recent memory. I thanked them for their kindness, but told them that I was too busted up about losing JoJo to even think about dating. I figured I could get over it about one hour after I was finished with this high school forever, and that was only a couple of months away. Most of us kids had nicknames. I don't know why. It started when I was in grade school when one of my pals started calling me Duke because back then I had this thing for John Wayne movies. Since then, it just seemed natural to find a nickname for my friends and some guys who weren't. Just a quirk of personality, my friend Brains Nonis told me. My proper name is Dieter Hunsinger. Can you blame me for wanting a nickname? My father's name is Helmut. Get the picture. We're squareheads. My mother's name is Slut. She took off with some guy just before my fifteenth birthday. Left me and the old man to look after ourselves. Bitch! I don't have a nickname for the old man. He's just ... the old man, or Pop. He's not a bad guy, to tell the truth. He acts like he's grumpy all the time, but I know some of that is fake. Mind you, he's got good reason to be pissed. The old lady screwed around on him, stripped the bank account, and took off with her lover boy, never to be heard from again. The old man didn't bother to get a divorce. "Why spend money you don't need to," he said. I think I know what he means. When I got out of school, I went lookin' for two things, a full-time job and a girl. I found both. I'd been working at the supermarket part time when I was in school. It was good for pocket money, but not much else. I wanted something better so that I could get a car, and maybe even a place to live. I went to work for an auto parts distributor getting orders ready to ship. I was a "car nut," so I figured it would be right up my alley. It wasn't that tough, but it was what you call a "learning experience." I learned mostly how not to run a business. Piss poor inventory control, lousy customer service, too many useless employees, and too many pissed off customers. I was sure I knew better, so a year-and-a-half later I started my own business with a loan from the bank and the old man. Actually, he became a silent partner, except he wasn't silent. One thing about him ... he knew what it took to make money and stay in business. He ran a warehouse for a big furniture outfit and he was a big part of their doing well. I had more than one guy tell me he was the brains of the outfit. The other thing about him was that he was happy as hell to tell me everything he knew. Lucky for me I listened, now and then filtering out the bullshit. Six months after I got going, I hooked up with Patricia Peppar. The kids at school used to call her Peppermint Pattie, but I just called her Mint. She was something else. Tall, stacked, and suddenly available. She was also different. I mean, her lipstick, nail polish, and make-up were all dark. Dark red, dark purple, and black. Along with her short, black hair with some red streaks in it, she was always dressed in black or dark colors. I have to agree, she didn't do anything to make herself look sexy in the normal way. Just the same, she had a killer body and didn't dress to hide it. She'd been going out with Turkey Neck Thompson, but somehow or another he pissed her off, and I was right there at the right time in the right place. She liked the idea that I was a part-owner of my own business and had my own car. Yeah, I bought a beater and used my business to fix it up real fine. I traded service for service and got a fresh paint job, a new interior, and some engine parts to make it go better. What I didn't have was my own place, so most of my little get-togethers with Mint were on Friday night when I knew the old man wouldn't be home before midnight. I stuck to my plan, and the business got better and better. By this time, Pop had quit his job at the furniture store and had come to work with me full time. He ran the place, while I looked after the customers and suppliers. We were doin' real well, and I figured it was time for me to get my own place. I told the old man that I was moving out and he about threw a fit. "What the fuck am I goin' to do here all by myself? Why the hell do you have to move?" "I've got a private life, you know. Me and Mint have somethin' good going. Maybe I'm going to ask her to marry me. She ain't going to want to live here. She'll want her own place." "Fer Christ's sake, kid, this house has three bedrooms and a finished basement. If I have to go live down there it'd be better than you spendin' your money on some dump you don't need. There's better things to spend it on," he spluttered. "I don't know why you're so all fired up about gettin' married. Why don't you just shack up with her?" I knew why he wasn't hot for me to get married to Mint ... or anyone for that matter. He was thinking about what happened to him. I pretty much ignored him about that. As far as the living at home, it did make sense. He was right about having lots of room. There was only one hitch. Mint didn't buy it. "I'm living with my parents now, dammit. Why would I want to trade them for your father?" "Listen, Mint, it won't be like that. That basement is a separate apartment, sort of. It'll be like having a boarder. You won't even know he's around," I said confidently. "Are you kidding me? The only way up and down to that place is through the kitchen. How the hell are we not going to know he's around? Besides, you know how noisy I get when we're screwing. That alone could ruin our sex life." "Look, I'm saving every dime I make in the business to get a place of my own. I'm not talking about some dumpy apartment. I'm talking a house like the old man has, or your folks for that matter. The business is doin' okay. It's getting bigger, so it won't be that long before I can afford a down payment. Just be patient, girl." What I told her was almost true. I was saving every dime, but it was to buy a better location for my business, not a house. It was growing and needed the extra space. Besides, I needed the customers to take me seriously. I figured if Mint agreed to go along with living in the old man's house for a while, I could maybe do both with a bit of stalling. I set up a separate account for the new business location. Okay, okay, it was my old man's idea, but just the same, I went along with it. He said I should always protect my assets. I think he was still thinking how lucky he got when the old lady took off with only the savings and checking account. He had a separate personal account himself, and that's where the real money was. It made me wonder if he didn't suspect the old lady was screwin' around on him. The old man was never really a big fan of Mint. I suppose it might have been the weird way she looked. She didn't try to dress like every other woman you'd meet. More like some of those babes in the vampire movies. Pop said she gave him the "willies." Mint never agreed to move in but would sleep over now and then, and the old man never had to move downstairs. I did. It wasn't that bad. It had windows, just not big ones. The bedroom had a queen size bed, the living area had a 50" flat screen TV, and the kitchen area a fridge, stove, and microwave. There was a bathroom with a big shower cabinet, the laundry room, and workshop. What else did I need? Mint wasn't impressed, but it wasn't like there was a bunch of options. What the old man needed was what I already had -- a woman. Even though he'd been doing without for too long, he didn't make it easy on himself. He was so pissed at the old lady that he took it out on any woman that tried to get close to him. After a while, the women quit trying. I couldn't say I blamed them. But all that changed when Marla came along. Pop was in charge of running the whole operation; Hunsinger Auto Services. I was just the idea man, looking for new products and new suppliers, working on promotions, visiting the customers, and drumming up sales. That was my job. But the old man, he made the place go. He did the hiring and firing. He watched the inventory like a hawk. He also watched the accounts receivable for any deadbeats. They got themselves up to date in a hurry or they were gone. So anyway, we were in need of a delivery driver and the old man put an ad in the paper and we must have got fifty replies in two days. It looked like a line-up at the soup kitchen for a while as he interviewed every one of the people who showed up. That was the old man. Attention to detail, he called it. "You hire somebody, you make sure they're right for the job," he said more than once. He'd come home at night and bitch about what a useless bunch of clowns that showed up for that job. I'd just shrug. "Hire the best of the bunch," I told him. "Listen, kid, those people are supposed to represent this company. We gotta have confidence that they ain't going to piss off the customers, or rob us blind. I've talked to most of them, and I wouldn't hire any of them. You gotta think there's somebody out there that can do this job and not fuck it up." That 'somebody' turned out to be Marla Wosniak. Now Marla wasn't any raving beauty. She was maybe five-two, short reddish-brown hair, big brown eyes, and built like a fire hydrant. She was about the same age as Pop, but she was a real fireball. Full of energy. I think that's what attracted the old man to her. The other thing, I don't ever remember seeing her without a smile on her face. I could see why the old man liked her. I liked her too. Better than that, she was smart. Real smart. In less than a week, she had figured out how to cut down her delivery times by almost two hours a day. Two hours! Naturally, the old man wanted to know how, so we went down to the shipping department and asked. "She's really smart, Boss," Freddy told him. "She figured out the quickest way to get from one place to another and before I knew it, she was back here looking for more work. You gotta keep her, Boss. She's a pistol!" "I better talk to her. I don't want her doin' nothin' illegal," the old man said. So he did. Well, as I heard it, the talk lasted about two hours, a dinner date, and who knows what else. All I know is that the old man didn't come home that night. He didn't come home the next night either. When he did finally show up, Marla was with him. "Hey, Marla, how are you," I welcomed her. "I'm great, kid. Thanks for askin'." "I thought you should know, Marla and me are goin' out ... like on dates," the old man said with a funny look on his face. It was almost like he was embarrassed. "No shit. Good for you, Dad. You treat her right, you hear," I added stupidly. The old man looked at me like he wanted to bust me one right then and there, but didn't. "He treats me like a queen," Marla said with a genuine smile. "I've never been treated better." "Well, I'm glad to hear that. He needs somebody to care for ... and maybe who cares for him." I could see the old man getting edgier and edgier. "He's a sweetheart, kid. Don't you worry about me," she said, looking up at my old man with what could only be described as loving eyes. Holy shit! The old man's in love. And it looks like she is too. Who'd have thunk it. In two days, for christ's sake! Marla excused herself to use the bathroom and I waited to hear what the old man had to say for himself. "You mind staying out of sight tonight?" was the first thing out of his mouth. "Me and Marla need some privacy ... you understand?" "Yeah ... sure ... no problem," I said, a little surprised. Then, when I thought about it, I was happy for him. "She's something special, isn't she," I said, looking him in the eye. "Yeah. You could say that. I think maybe real special. So you be a good boy and give us some space ... okay?" "Sure ... like I said ... no problem." From nothing to shackin' up in two days. Even for me that would be fast. But hey, I couldn't knock it. He was way overdue. He'd earned it. He deserved it. Nobody was more entitled to a little loving than the old man. I disappeared downstairs just before Marla came back and I heard them talking before I closed the door at the bottom of the stairs. I'm sure the old man was explaining the deal to Marla ... I wouldn't be bothering them. I hope she was okay with that. Marla was gone when I got up the next morning. The old man was up and getting his first cup of coffee when I came upstairs. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. That seemed to be fine with him. I watched him as he sat at the kitchen table, eating his toast and drinking his coffee. He had this goofy look on his face. It was like he'd figured out that he was happy and didn't know what to do about it. No doubt about it, he was in love. Marla love. I wondered if this meant there would be problems at work, but I shouldn't have. The only difference was that he was in a good mood most of the time. Just the same, he was checking all the things that he usually checked and making all the moves that needed to be made. Nothin' much changed, except ... he was in love. Of course, this changed everything with Mint and me. "Wadda ya mean we have to stay in the basement? No way, Jose!" "Listen, Mint. This is a big deal for my old man. He's finally found someone and he's in love. I'm not going to screw it up for him." "But you're okay with screwing it up for us? Well get this, pal. I'm not livin' in no basement. Not now ... not ever!" It sounded like she'd made her mind up. What tipped me off was when she took all her clothes and stuff and left. I mean, she went back to her home. It looked like this was the end for Mint and me. I felt bad about it ... for a while. Not a long while. Mint could be a demanding bitch when she wanted to. She didn't like being told no. I'm no wimp, so she didn't always get her way. On the important stuff, she found out I didn't move. Important stuff ... like my old man's happiness. So ... there I was ... on my own again. It wasn't so bad. In fact, me and Marla got along so well that she said I ought to move back to my old bedroom instead of being in the basement. I told her I appreciated the thought, but I was just as happy down there knowing I didn't disturb them ... giving them privacy. She gave me a big hug and kissed my cheek and told me I was a good kid. Kid! I was twenty-eight for crying out loud. After Mint hit the road, I had a few dates. None of them memorable. If a woman had her own place, we could go there and not bother anybody. I didn't have any trouble finding agreeable companions, if that's what you call it. Let's face it, I was getting laid on a regular basis. I was getting known around town, even though I made sure everyone knew my old man was the president and I was the vice-president. It's the way I wanted it, and even though he didn't think it was fair to me, he went along with it. Marla knew the deal because my old man told her. She was now head of shipping and still making the deliveries. She could do both with time to spare. She really was something to behold. I could see the time coming when my old man was going to have to do something about my mother. He was going to have to divorce her if he wanted to marry Marla. Now to be fair, Marla wasn't pressing him to get it done. She was happy just the way things were, but I could see it was gnawing at him. With a little help from Brains Nonis, I set about looking for my used-to-be mother. I didn't know if she was even still alive. Brains and me got on his computer and started a search. We figured she'd keep her married name since she wasn't divorced, so we started to search. Nothing! Then we searched under her maiden name; Keppler. Still nothing. The Brass Ring Ch. 01-02 Then Brains got another idea. "What was the name of the guy she ran off with?" he asked me. "Damned if I know. I'm not even sure the old man knows. I'll ask him." "Frank Duckworth, the asshole," Pop said. "Why did you want to know?" "Aw, just doing a little checking to see what happened to him." I knew that didn't fool the old man. He knew I was up to something, especially since I was working with Brains. But he didn't say anything, so I just shut up and went back to tell Brains who to look for. "Bingo!" Brains said with a whoop. "Frank J. Duckworth lives at 2679 Buttercup Drive in Ortonville. According to this, he's a salesman, and he's married to a Rhoda J. Duckworth, no kids." I sat there, just staring at the screen. That was the old lady, all right; Rhoda Joan. So when did she get the divorce? The old man didn't know anything about it. "Maybe she didn't," Brains said as he read my mind. "What?" "Maybe she didn't get a divorce. Maybe she married him and didn't say anything about being married to your father. Or maybe he knew and didn't care. That would be bigamy, you know." "Yeah, yeah, I get it. How do we find out?" "Court records. If they're not on file here, then they must be on file in Ortonville. Let's have a look," Brains said, as his fingers began to fly over the keyboard once again. "Nope. No record of a divorce here in this county, and no record in Ortonville. I think Frankie and Rhoda have a problem, Duke. A big problem." "No shit, Sherlock. This might be good for the old man, right?" "Could be. He'll probably need a lawyer to figure it all out, but this might be a very good thing for him." I wasn't sure how I was going to break it to the old man. I didn't want to upset him. I wasn't sure he wanted to marry Marla, but that was the way he was leaning. Besides, we could afford a lawyer to get him clear of the old lady once and for all. Maybe mess up her life just the way she messed up ours. Seemed like the way to go, as far as I could see. "No way, kid. No fuckin' way. I don't want nothin' to do with that bitch." He didn't seem to be open to the idea, I thought. But why? "Look, Pop, you don't have to see her. Just get a lawyer and sic him on them. All you want is to be free and clear of her. This is the best way to do that. Your divorce will go through easy-peasy. Then you can decide what to do about Marla. I know how you feel about her. She's never going to do what Mom did to you." He sat there, mumbling under his breath. It was a sure sign he was thinking about it. Marla wasn't around, so he could say what he wanted without worrying about hurting her feelings. That was when I decided to leave him alone. He needed to think about it, long and hard. I don't know what the old man told Marla, but the next morning she grabbed me and hugged me so hard I thought she was going to crack some ribs. I got a big kiss on the lips and an even bigger thank you. Putting the pieces together, I figured Pop had told what I'd done and why and I guess Marla thought that was okay. Well ... maybe a little better than okay. The guy we used as our lawyer for the business passed us off to his partner who did family law. Apparently, he was a real bulldog, so we were in good hands. He dug up all the facts and sure enough, the old lady had married Duckworth without bothering to get a divorce. The shit hit the fan from dizzy heights, but the upshot was the old man got something called a dissolution order, and within ninety days he'd be legally single. Not only that, he didn't owe her a dime. Things were going great at the business and at the house. Pop and Marla were going to get married the day the divorce was final. Civil ceremony, just a couple of people there -- me being one of them, naturally. Brains got an invite too, since he did all the spade work. After the ceremony, they were going to take off for parts unknown for ten days on their honeymoon. I was feeling really good for the old man. He was happy. Marla was the best thing that ever happened to him. * Chapter 2 Out of My League A couple of years later, I was still single, but the business was now really big. We had just finished moving to a new warehouse and office building on the edge of town. We employed thirty people, give or take, and the money was really rolling in. I was still the finder and idea guy, while Pop looked after running the whole show. That's what presidents did. We'd sold the house and bought a new one not far from the new warehouse. It wasn't huge, but it was new and it was nice. Marla nearly wet herself when she first saw it. For me, it worked out great. There was an apartment over the three car detached garage, so I had my place and my privacy. I could bring someone up to my pad and entertain them without bothering anyone. It was working out real well. I still didn't have a steady girl, but I wasn't worried too much about it. I was getting all I could handle, so why mess with it. I was well known around town and I had money to spend, so I could show a lady a good time. A real good time if she was willing. I bought a '62 Corvette that I had professionally restored. It came with a 327 fuelie and a four-speed. When he was done, it was cherry! Bright red, with the big whitewalls and white leather. It even had the removable hardtop. Everyone knew that car. I also had a new pickup with the company name in big letters on the door. I used it for work. Life was good. I had talked the old man into joining the Chamber of Commerce a year or so earlier. We were now a big deal in town and I figured we should make sure everyone knew who we were. The meetings were a place to be seen and make some new acquaintances, so since that was my job, I was the guy who would be attending. Each year, the Chamber chose a company to honor as business of the year. I couldn't believe it, but we were chosen for that award. There would be an awards dinner and a big story in the local newspaper telling everyone about how great Hunsinger Auto Services was, and that was good for business. Since Pop was the president, naturally, he'd be the one to get the award. "No fuckin' way," was the answer I got when I told him about the awards dinner. "I'm not gettin' up on no stage in a monkey suit and makin' a fool out of myself." "Look, Pop. This is a big deal. It's good for our business. This town has been good to us. The bank had been good to us. The customers have been good to us. We owe them. If they want to say 'atta boy' to us, then we should be grateful as hell." "Fine ... you go up there and get the trophy." "Pop, it's not a trophy. You're the president. You're the guy they expect to see up there saying thanks. You don't have to make any big speech. But don't spoil this for our employees. They get to see the guy they work for being told he's done a good job. Don't cheat them out of that," I pleaded. "I wouldn't know what to say. I'd probably make a fool out of myself. I'm not a real president ... just a boss," he complained, but no quite so loudly. "Helmut," Marla interrupted, "you are every bit a president. You run that business and everyone knows it. Just because Dieter is the majority owner doesn't mean you aren't the man. I'll be very disappointed if you don't do this," she said with a hug and a sorry smile. Marla could do what I couldn't. She could get the old man to feel guilty. He would do anything for her, and if that meant maybe embarrassing himself in public, he would try to please her. I wondered if I'd ever find a woman that could love me like that and that I could love that way in return. She made my old man better, and everybody knew it. The night of the awards dinner, we were sitting at a big round table with ten people. I didn't have a date, but it didn't matter. Every seat was full. There was Pop and Marla, Frank and Sheena Wilcox from Wilcox Plumbing, Bert and Harriet Abbott from Centerville Construction, and Gerry and Paulette Jenkins and their daughter Merilee. Gerry was one of our best customers. He had two dealerships in town. Toyota and Mercedes. Go figure. I learned something from Marla that night. When you went to these big dinners, you were supposed to sit boy-girl-boy-girl. So, with Marla on one side of me, I was pretty pleased that Merilee Jenkins was on the other. She was a babe. Way out of my league. I'd seen her around town a few times and wondered who the lucky guy was who had her. She was tall, maybe five-eight. Nice build, great rack, perfect round ass, short, curly blonde hair, sky-blue eyes, a heart shaped face with rosy cheeks like she just came in from outside, and lips that looked like they needed to be kissed. She was hot! Naturally, we struck up a conversation. "My father says your company is his best supplier. He's really pleased you're getting this award," she told me. "Thanks ... I mean ... I'll have to remember to thank him personally. He's one of our best customers and I'm always glad to hear that he's happy with us." She nodded. "He tells me that you look after all the customers and your father looks after the office." "Yeah. I know what I'm good at, and he knows what he's good at. That's what makes it all work, you know. The old ... I mean Pop ... knows everything about what it takes to make us successful. I'm just the front man. I make sure I find out what the customers want and that we're doing what they want us to do." "I get the impression you're more than that," she said smiling. "Dad says you're always looking for ways to do things better. He's trying to get our people to do the same things as you do. You know ... like listening to the customer." "Well, I worked at a place before I ... worked ... at this business. I saw how not to do it, so when Pop and I got Hunsinger going, I swore we wouldn't make those same mistakes. So far so good," I grinned. I don't remember much about the meal they served. It was good I suppose, but I spent most of the time talking to Merilee and she didn't seem to be bothered by it. I knew she was out of my reach, but just the same, it was nice to spend some time with a beautiful woman who didn't mind talking to me. I was feeling pretty good about that evening. When the desserts were finished, it was time for the speeches. I could see the old man getting more uptight as time went by. He had a card with some stuff written on it and I could see his lips move as he went over what he was supposed to say. Marla was hanging on to him, whispering words of encouragement I guess. She was the best medicine for his nerves, I figured. Pop didn't drink much and tonight was no exception. He wasn't going to get pissed and make a fool of himself. He could do that stone cold sober, he said. I wanted to laugh, but I knew he was really nervous, so I didn't want to make it worse. Marla had him as calm as he was ever going to be, telling him that he was going to be just fine. When the master of ceremonies got around to the big award, Pop was looking pretty pale. I kept my fingers crossed that he would be okay, and when they called his name, he got up real slow, and walked fairly slowly to the podium. He shook hands with the MC, then put his card on the podium and cleared his throat. "You folks that know me ... you know I don't go in for makin' big speeches. So this is going to be a short one." That brought a chuckle from the audience, including me. "I want to thank you all for giving Hunsinger Auto Services this award. I know I'm up here in this outfit to accept it, but the guys and gals that work there are the ones that make it go. I just sit at my desk and drink coffee all day." That brought a bigger chuckle. "But there's something a lot of you don't know. I'm not the real boss. My son, who's sitting over there," he said pointing at me, "he's the brains of this outfit. He talked me into running the show while he went out and found out what we needed to sell and what kind of service we had to have to make us a success. He's the real guy you should be giving this award to." I was surprised that a lot of people applauded that. Everyone at the table, including Merilee, turned to me with big smiles. That felt good. "We make a hell of a team," Pop went on. "When we got Marla ... my wife ... to join us, we were unbeatable," he said with more force than I expected. Marla flushed as he pointed to her, but smiled in acknowledgement. "So ... just so you don't think I did this all by myself ... now you know better. Thanks a lot for this," he said, holding up the plaque, "and everyone at Hunsinger has a piece of it. Thanks again." The applause was immediate and most of the people stood up to my surprise. He'd made a hell of a speech for a guy who didn't want to be up there. I was real proud of him, and Marla was smacking her hands together with tears coming down her cheeks. When he worked his way back to our table after shaking a whole bunch of hands, she gave him one of her patented bear hugs and a big kiss. He came around to me to hand me the award. I shook his hand, then gave him a hug too. I don't think I'd ever done that before. It just felt right. "You must be very proud of him," Merilee said, as things quieted down. "Yeah. Always have been. Tonight was good for him," I said quietly, hoping he hadn't heard me. I shouldn't have worried about it. Pop was standing with Marla beside him, accepting the congratulations of a whole bunch of people. He was smiling and thanking them and Marla was holding onto his arm while people congratulated her too. Then it was my turn. Several people approached my chair and wanted to congratulate me too. I stood and thanked them one by one. I noticed that Merilee hadn't left, but was watching as I talked to the people who came to our table. Her father got up and gave me a real hearty handshake, telling me that he was hoping he could get his people to treat his customers the way we treated ours. That felt real good, I can tell you. He was a nice guy, not just a big customer. I felt relieved but happy when all the hand-shaking was done with. Not because it was over, but because these people seemed really pleased that we had won this award. I didn't quite understand how Mr. and Mrs. Joe Public would know about Hunsinger Auto Services, but I guess they just liked to know successful people and that's what the award said we were. When I sat back down, Merilee turned toward me and raised her wine glass. I picked up my water glass and we touched. "Congratulations, Dieter. You must be very proud of what you and your parents have achieved," she said. I wasn't about to correct her. Besides, Marla was as good or better than a mother, so it wasn't an insult. "Yeah. I'm real happy for Pop and Marla. I'm really lucky to have them," I agreed. "The next time you're at Jenkins Mercedes, stop in for a coffee. You'll find me in the office." "You work there?" "Yes ... I'm in the accounting department. But I want to get into the lease and credit department some time soon. It's much more interesting." I didn't have a clue what the lease and credit departments would have that would be interesting, but I nodded my agreement at her ambition and smiled. "I'll do that. I can usually find time for a coffee with a customer." "I'll look forward to it then. Make sure you do," she said with a look I couldn't quite figure out. Hell, if a babe like this wanted to have coffee with me, who am I to say no? The evening was coming to a close and most of the people were heading to the coat room. I had come in my own car, so I wasn't waiting for Pop and Marla. As it turned out, I was walking with Merilee and the Jenkins as we headed for the parking lot. Gerry was driving a big E Class Mercedes. That was one nice ride. I'd brought the Corvette. The truck didn't seem quite right for this shindig. "Oh, Dieter, is that your car?" Merilee exclaimed when I stopped at the 'vette. "Yeah. I had it restored a while ago. Always wanted one." "It's really nice," she said, obviously admiring it. "Any time you want a ride, just let me know," I said, not thinking about what I was promising. "I'll take you up on that. Gotta go now," she said as she saw her parents opening their car doors. She hurried off, looking back and waving as she got into the back seat of the big Mercedes. What the hell. She wants a ride, it's no big deal. Doesn't mean anything. Just a ride in a sports car. It was still early when I got back to the house and I saw the lights were on in the kitchen, so I went in. "Want a glass of champagne, Dieter?" Marla asked. "Sure. I've been dry all night, so I could use something to celebrate with." She poured the sparkling wine into one of the wine glasses and passed it to me. She and Pops were one ahead of me, I figured. "Here's to Pop," I said. "The best damn president in the county." I raised my glass. "You made a hell of a speech tonight, Pop. I was real proud of you." "Thanks," he grinned. "I got to tell you, I was real uncomfortable at the start, but when people started applauding, I sort of calmed down. I figured I wasn't doing too bad then." "You were wonderful, Helmut," Marla smiled. "You said all the right things. I'm so proud of you. I'm the luckiest woman in the world," she gushed, kissing him hard. "Yeah ... I guess I am too," Pop said, holding Marla tight to him. "What do you think about the Jenkins girl?" Marla asked after we sat back down. "She's a beauty ... but way out of my league." "Oh no, Dieter. Don't say that. No woman's out of your league," she said, looking upset with me. "Marla, I don't have a college education, and I don't wear a suit and tie. I'm a workin' stiff and I know it. That's what I'm good at and that's what I want to do. Girls like Merilee Jenkins don't hang out with guys like me. They want to be around lawyers and doctors and guys like that. That's just the way it is." "Don't you dare talk about yourself that way, Dieter," Marla spat. "You are much better than that. Besides, I saw the way she looked at you. She was checking you out very closely tonight. You should find a way to get to know her." "Well, I don't think there's much chance of us getting together, but so's you know, she wants me to stop in at the dealership and have coffee with her sometime." "There!" Marla said triumphantly. "I knew it. She's got the hots for you, Son. I could see it in her eyes. Make sure you stop in next week and have that coffee. You may be surprised what happens," she said with a sly grin. Marla had called me Son. I don't think she could understand quite how much that affected me. I hadn't had a mother for a long time, but if I was going to have one, it would be Marla. I moved over to her and wrapped my arms around her and kissed her. "Okay if I call you Mom now and then?" I tried. "Yeah," she said, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Yeah ... that's fine." I didn't get to Jenkins Mercedes until the middle of the following week. I had to see the parts department manager and check on some aftermarket pieces that were supposed to fit the older Mercedes models. I went over them with the manager and his top guy, a German fellow, and we agreed that they would be fine. Sometimes it's not a bad thing to have a German name. The receptionist, Teresa, and I had some history. We had dated a few times. She was a nice girl, but not my type. A little too young and flirty for me. "Hey, Duke. How are you?" "Good, Teresa. You look good." "Thanks. What can I do for you?" "Is Merilee Jenkins in?" "Yeah ... I think so. Just a sec," she said as she picked up the phone and punched in a couple of numbers. "Hey, Merilee, Duke Hunsinger is here. Should I send him back?" I couldn't hear the other end of the conversation but I assumed she said yes, because Teresa gave me instructions on how to find her office. The Brass Ring Ch. 01-02 "Hi," I said as brightly as I could. "Thanks for seeing me." "Hi ... Duke," she grinned. "I didn't know you had a nickname. Pretty classy one too." "Well ... I didn't pick it and I've had it since grade school, but I figured anything was better than Dieter," I confessed. "I think Dieter is a very nice name." I got the feeling she meant it. "Call me what you like ... I'm okay with it." "I think I'll stick with Dieter. But it may mean I'll have to get Daddy to sell you a Mercedes." Now she was having a bit of fun with me. "I don't know, Merilee. I'm more of a Corvette kind of guy." "I noticed. When are you going to give me a ride in that cute little car?" "Whoa, hey! Corvettes aren't cute. '55 T birds are cute. New Beetles are cute. 'Vettes are cool," I informed her. "Oh ... well, forgive me," she said, not meaning a word of it. "It's okay. I'm a car guy, so I guess I get a little touchy now and then," I smiled, hoping to cool things off. "You still haven't answered my question." "Well, if the weather's nice this weekend, I'm available," I said optimistically. "Saturday afternoon?" "That'll work. What time and where do I find you?" She gave me her address and suggested two o'clock. "Great, I'll see you then." "Aren't you going to stay for that coffee I promised?" "Yeah ... oh ... sure. Thanks." This was going differently than I expected. I was still a bit edgy. Girls like this didn't usually hang with guys like me. Just the same, she was hot, and I wasn't stupid. We sat and talked for almost a half hour before I had to go. She surprised me. She was easy to talk to, once we got past the car thing. I found out she didn't have a boyfriend, but she didn't explain why. With her looking like she did, that was a surprise. I figured there'd be a lineup outside her door, but that's not what she was telling me. I told her that I dated, but nothing serious. I was waiting for just the right woman to come along. She looked at me kind of funny when I said that. I left after promising to pick her up on Saturday afternoon, rain or shine. We'd find something to do if the weather wasn't nice. She gave me a nice smile and I thanked her for the coffee and got on my horse. As I was driving, I thought about her quite a bit. She was a surprise. She seemed to be interested in me, but I couldn't figure out why. Sure, I'm doing okay with my business, but looking at myself I had to admit I'm no prize. I'm five-ten, one-seventy-five, dark straight hair cut medium, gray eyes, good teeth, clean shaven, no tattoos. I guess I don't look that bad or I wouldn't get the number of dates that I do. I just never considered myself to be anything special. When Saturday rolled around, I was nervous about our date. I must have spent an hour trying to decide what to wear. T-shirt and jeans was out. Dress slacks and collared shirt was too formal, I thought. We were just going for a ride in the country. So I ended up in khakis, polo shirt, and loafers. It was going to be a nice sunny, fairly warm spring day, but still I took a windbreaker with me. I lifted the hardtop off with the overhead sling in the garage, then put the fabric top up. I wasn't sure if Merilee wanted me to have the top down. When I drove up to the front of the Jenkins' home, I could see I was looking at serious money. It wasn't a mansion, but it wasn't far from it. It was probably twice the size of the old man's home, but with the cut stone front and the fancy glass in the windows, you knew it was pretty classy inside. I didn't get a chance to see inside since Merilee was out the door and moving to the car before I got out. "Dieter ... it's a nice day. I want a ride in a convertible today," she said, obviously disappointed. I grinned at her. "No problem. Give me a hand and you'll have your convertible in less than two minutes." It took very little effort to stow the top, and we were off with the wind in our hair and sun on our faces. To be continued... * Editing by ErikThread and DaveT with my thanks for their thoroughness and helpful suggestions. Any errors are mine.