Dirty Chai
A short story
Morning at the car dealership started the same way it always did.
With yelling.
Roy leaned against a dented Camry and squinted across the lot.
“Morning, Jeff.”
Jeff kicked the tire.
“Same to you, asshole.”
He pressed his thumb into the rubber.
“That Camry got air in it?”
Roy shrugged.
“Enough to roll downhill.”
Across the street a man fought with a vending machine.
Roy rubbed his face.
“I gotta sell something today.”
Jeff leaned against the hood.
“You said that yesterday.”
“Shut up.”
Jeff nodded toward the strip mall.
“Looks like the coffee shop’s open.”
Roy waved it off.
“I ain’t drinking that boiled dirt.”
Jeff squinted toward the sidewalk.
“No, the girl, shithead.”
Roy looked.
A woman stepped out of the coffee shop holding a Yeti tumbler that looked bedazzled, flickering like a disco ball in the sun.
She carried the cup like it was jewelry.
She crossed the lot in barrel leg jeans and boots, moving with purpose behind the rhythmic swing of her hips.
Jeff whistled.
“Well hello.”
Roy kept watching.
“You see that cup?”
Jeff shrugged.
“What about it?”
Roy lowered his voice.
“Corporate people got cups like that.”
Jeff looked again.
“You’re saying she’s corporate?”
Roy nodded once.
Jeff straightened.
“You serious?”
Roy watched her pause beside a dusty 1977 Cadillac DeVille convertible.Red. Long as a canoe.
She sipped from the tumbler while studying the car like it was art in a gallery.
Roy pushed off the Camry.
“Look at her.”
Jeff squinted.
“She ain’t doing anything.”
“She’s interested.”
Jeff slapped the Cadillac hood.
“Then go be interested back, idiot.”
Roy walked over.
“Morning.”
The woman lowered her sunglasses.
“Morning.”
Roy nodded toward the tumbler.
“How’s the coffee?”
She lifted the cup.
“Dirty chai.”
Jeff leaned in beside Roy.
“That sounds illegal.”
She smiled.
“It’s delicious.”
Roy swept a hand across the car dealership lot like he owned a palace.
“Welcome to Berger Automotive.”
She glanced at the cracked asphalt.
“Is it?”
Roy didn’t hesitate.
“Absolutely.”
Jeff nodded hard.
“Customer service is our religion.”
Roy shot him a quick look.
“Call me crazy but I bet you’re looking for a vehicle today?”
She walked slowly around the Cadillac.
“Maybe.”
Roy patted the fender.
“Classic American engineering.”
Jeff leaned on the trunk.
“Four hundred seventy-two cubic inches.”
Roy blinked once.
“It’s a big engine.”
She traced a finger along the chrome.
“Year?”
Roy straightened.
“Seventy-seven. Damn good year.”
Jeff spread his arms.
“Convertible, of course.”
Roy nodded.
“You sit in this thing you forget the world exists.”
She sipped her chai.
“How much we talking?”
Roy hesitated.
Jeff jumped first.
“Eight thousand.”
Roy turned slowly toward him.
Jeff cleared his throat.
“Negotiable.”
The woman leaned against the door.
“What kind of dealership are you runnin’?”
Roy puffed his chest.
“A fair one.”
Jeff nodded.
“Transparent.”
Roy spoke quickly.
“Very transparent.”
She looked across the empty lot.
“How many cars you sell in a week?”
Roy spread his hands.
“Depends on the week.”
Jeff leaned toward him.
“Be cool.”
Roy didn’t look at him.
“I am cool.”
She tapped the Cadillac door.
“I like this one.”
Roy’s smile came back fast.
“Well now you got excellent taste.”
Jeff nodded eagerly.
“Fantastic taste.”
She tilted her head.
“If I bought it today?”
Roy clapped once.
“Then today’s your lucky day.”
Jeff stepped forward.
“Seven thousand.”
She took a sip.
“Five.”
Roy inhaled slowly.
Jeff murmured under his breath.
“Corporate.”
Roy nodded once.
“Five thousand.”
Jeff added quickly.
“Includes warranty.”
Roy turned.
“What warranty?”
Jeff shrugged.
“The good one.”
The woman opened the door and slid into the Cadillac.
Roy leaned into the window.
“Tell you what.”
Jeff leaned over the hood.
“Oil changes for life.”
Roy blinked.
“Sure. Oil changes.”
The engine turned over.
The Cadillac rumbled like distant thunder.
Roy forced a smile.
“So ah, what department you with?”
She shut the engine off.
“Department?”
Jeff folded his hands politely.
“At corporate.”
She laughed softly.
“I’m not corporate.”
Roy froze.
Jeff blinked.
“You’re not?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Roy pointed toward the coffee shop.
“Then what are you doing here?”
She pulled a thick envelope from her pocket and set it on the hood.
“I own the coffee shop and I get what I want. I want this Cadillac.”
Roy relaxed immediately, picking up the envelope.
“Oh.”
Jeff nodded.
“That makes sense.”
Roy stepped back from the car.
“Well congratulations on your new Cadillac.”
She slid behind the wheel again.
“Thanks.”
She handed Jeff a business card.
The Cadillac rolled off the lot slowly, sunlight bouncing off the hood.
Roy watched it disappear into traffic.
Jeff fiddled with the card.
“Nice girl.”
Roy nodded.
“Yeah, nice and sexy.”
Jeff read the front.
“Lila Rose Coffee.”
Roy smiled.
“Good coffee too.”
Jeff flipped the card over.
He stared at it.
“Roy.”
Roy kept watching the road.
“What.”
Jeff held out the card.
“Look at this.”
Roy took it.
Read it.
Looked back at the road.
Then back at the card.
Rose Companion Services. Private bookings. Discretion guaranteed.
Jeff cleared his throat, scratched his chin.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
The inflatable tube man collapsed beside them.
Author note: Thank you Andrea Hoffmann for helping with this short story. She provided the following prompts to get this story jumpstarted: barrel leg jeans, dirty chai, car dealership.
I’m convinced you’re a magician.