The morning began like every other August weekday.  Driving to work in my father's beat up Pontiac Chieftain station wagon could only be described by one word; interesting.  I was grateful to have a car but oh what a car it was; ugly, to say the least.  My best friend Tom would always call it the guy magnet.  Every guy that saw us it in would turn his head and laugh.  For a salesman on the road however, a car was simply something to get you from point A to point B.

I was a good salesman and I made more than enough money to buy one of those fancy new sports cars, except ever since my father passed I gave most of my money to ma, so that she wouldn't have to worry about finances.  I figured that when my younger brother came home from Vietnam he would be able to help and I would go out and buy the car of my dreams; any new car that had only two doors and no roof. 

So there I was pulling up to Orange County's fourth largest drapery store when out came Tom into the street, waving his arms frantically.  I pulled over to the sidewalk, taking great care to speed up quickly and then slam on the brakes right in front of Tom who dove out the way, falling flat on the sidewalk.  I scared the devil out of him!

"What the hell was that?" yelled Tom as I put the clunker in park.  "You nearly killed me!"

"But I didn't," I said through the open window.

"But you might've!" he replied.

"But I didn't."

Tom scared easily and I loved it.  Last year when I convinced him that the Lakers had traded Jerry West, I swear he nearly collapsed.  According to Tom, his dad and Jack Kent Cooke, the Lakers owner, were close friends.  Tom would always brag about how he could get the inside scoop on anything days before the press ever caught wind of it.

When we were young kids I would sleep over at Tom's house. I remember one night Tom was sleeping soundly but I couldn't fall asleep. I nudged him in the ribs to wake him...nothing. I blocked his nose but instead of waking up he swatted my hand away and then returned to his peaceful sleep. Then I grabbed our two flashlights and shone them in his eyes....still nothing, so with the flashlights still shinning brightly in his eyes I yelled, "Tom...wake up....... train!!!!" He sat up screaming. His mom had to hold him for an hour until he fell back to sleep. I had got him good... yet again. But I suppose that's what having a best friend was all about.

So there was Tom, standing on the street, angry that I had nearly hit him with my car.

"What made you run out into the street like a madman?" I asked him.

Tom seemed both nervous and upset all at the same time.  "I had to warn you; don't go into work today.  The boss is pissed.  He found out about Mrs. Johansson.  Her husband called about those "extra services" you provided her the other day.  Let me put it this way, her husband wasn't impressed when she called out your name in her sleep."

"She did what?"

"She called out your name, Adam, in her sleep." Tom sounded both annoyed and jealous, as I felt him judging me.

I hid a grin as I thought about Mrs. Johansson in bed yelling my name in what I could only assume was one heck of a fantastically erotic dream. "Ya, but that doesn't mean a thing.  She liked me. She wouldn't rat me out like that."

"She confessed."

I felt a lump in my throat as I saw my ass being booted from here to the Mexican border, but then I realized; what do I have to worry about?  I'm Big Al's best salesman, by far.  Then I got that nervous feeling all over again.  Big Al wasn't that kind of a guy.  There was a reason his was only the fourth largest drapery store in Orange County.  He was honest and that could only mean one thing, I would be history.

"I'll talk to him," I told Tom.  "He'll understand."

"Not this time." Tom seemed fairly certain that my charms would be useless today.

"What do you mean, not this time?  I've never done anything like this before." I saw Tom's face as it sank in despair.  He looked down to the floor, unable to face me.

"You didn't," I said to him, holding onto my last thread of hope.

"I had to," he replied.  "He asked me if this ever happened before." I thought Tom was about to cry so I put my arm around him.  If it been anyone else but Tom, I would have knocked his teeth out.  At least I hope I would have.  I just couldn't be angry at Tom.  His country boy ethics were too pure.  His parents had raised him well.

"It's not your fault," I told him.  "At some point I have to grow up and take responsibility for my own actions."

"I'm a Christian," Tom told me, still unable to look me in the eye.  "I can't lie."

"Don't break yourself up over this.  I'll straighten everything out.  Don't worry about a thing." I still believed I could talk myself out of this mess. After all, my smooth talking had gotten me out far worse problems than this.

"I'm sorry Adam," Tom said to me sadly as I walked in.

Big Al was sitting at his desk at the back of the store waiting for me. I made the walk of shame down the middle aisle as all of the employees turned away; knowing what was coming up next.

"Sit down, son," Big Al puffed away on a Marlboro.  He had a pile of paperwork on his desk which only meant he would be in a worse mood than usual; just my luck.

Big Al began with the lecture.  "Five years ago, when your father passed away I saw a lost nineteen year old boy with no hope for the future.  I took you into this business because of him.  He was a close friend and a great human being. People like that are a rare breed on this earth so I figured that giving you a job here would be my way of respecting him in the afterlife."

My heart sank.  The guilt was killing me.  For all the jokes I made about Al; big Al, mean Al, can't fit through the kitchen door Al, he was a good guy with a big heart and I had let him down.

"You were a lousy drapery installer but boy did you ever have a way with the women.  They would buy anything you were selling so I took you under my wing and made you a salesman.  For three years you've been my top salesman and now this." Big Al seemed to get more incensed with every passing word.

"Let me explain," I begged.

"Explain what?" Big Al asked as he slammed his fist on the desk.  "There's nothing you can say with that smart mouth of yours that can fix this. You've left me with no other choice."

"But,"

"Not buts," he replied. "It's over. You have to learn to think about the consequences before you do something stupid like that. What the hell were you thinking? You could have ruined me."

"I'm sorry," I told him as I got up and started to head out the front of the store.

"Come back here," Big Al hollered.  "You're hired through the front door but you leave through the back!  Now get out!"

I walked through the warehouse, nobody was even saying goodbye.  I deserved it.  I let all of them down.  Then the scariest thought entered my head, my mother is going to kill me.

Tom was in the back alley, waiting for me with a depressed look across his face. It wouldn't be the same not seeing him everyday, chatting about the Lakers or Julie, the girl of Tom's dreams whom he will never get to date as long as he lives.

"I'll be o.k." I told Tom. I really believed it. Sales jobs weren't that hard to come by. A good salesman could sell anything, Pa would tell me. Too bad for Pa he wasn't a good salesman or our life would have been very different. It wasn't that Pa didn't have the personality for sales; he did. It's just that like Tom he was simply far too honest. If Pa thought the drapes a client chose were too expensive or if they looked awful he felt compelled to tell them. However, it was that honesty that made him the perfect warehouse manager. Unfortunately for Pa a warehouse manager didn't earn nearly as much as a salesman.

"I know you'll do fine," Tom replied as he handed me a Dodgers ticket for tonight's ballgame. "This doesn't fix anything but it's all I've got."

"I just got fired so I'm not really in the mood for baseball, besides I don't deserve this," I told him as I placed the ticket back in his hand, "but thanks anyways."

"You're right, you don't deserve it but still it'll be good to take your mind off stuff. That sure was stupid, sleeping with a married customer and all." Tom turned around and stared at the 1964 red Ford Thunderbird convertible sitting by the back door of Ted's Fine Jewelers. That was the car of my dreams. I sighed.

"Now that you're unemployed I take it that a new car will be off your list of upcoming purchases," Tom said.

"Some day," I told him confidently as I stared at the car.

"So the ballgame will have to do," he replied.

"I suppose it will."

I heard a whistle from behind.  Big Al had come out the back door.  "Come over here son, and give me a hug before you leave."

I felt a lump in my throat.  Big Al was a great guy and this would be the last time I would see him.  I gave him a big hug, a guy to guy kinda hug, thinking maybe that would make him reconsider firing me.  Who was I kidding, he had to fire me.  If word of what I did spread around town and he did nothing, it would ruin him.  As we embraced I felt him put something in my shirt pocket.  I placed my hand inside and pulled out a set of car keys.  I looked carefully at them, the Ford logo and all, and then looked at the Thunderbird sitting in the alley.  What the heck is going on here?

Big Al looked me in the eye.  "I can't have my best salesman going to homes representing me in your piece of junk.  It's downright embarrassing."

I was speechless as I looked up at Big Al trying to figure out if this was real or one big practical joke that Tom had conjured up to get back at me.

"The great Adam Baker has nothing to say?" Big Al said with a smile.
"Ya know Tom; this is the longest I've ever heard Adam go without speaking.   Heck, had I known this would be his reaction I would have bought him a car months ago. Now you boys go take the day off and have some fun." Big kind, wonderful Al smiled as he went back into the store.

"So Mr. Johansson never called Big Al?" I asked Tom, grinning from ear to ear.

"He sure did," he replied as he paused.  "He said his wife is so happy with the drapes that he wants Big Al to do their beach house as well.  Big Al said we should meet her tomorrow so that I can take the measurements and you can sell her the most expensive stuff he's got."

"Was this your idea?" I asked Tom.

"Sure was," he said with a smile. "Big Al was just going to drop off the car at your home but I insisted we have a bit of fun."

"I can't believe you got me," I told him, still in a state of shock. "Tom, there's hope for you yet."

"I got you good," Tom replied proudly.  "I really got you good!"

"And what about the Dodgers tickets?" I asked him.

"I promised them to Big Al a month ago," he answered as he opened the door to the car and jumped in the passenger seat.  "Let's go!" he said as he put on his sunglasses.

I opened the door, sank into the soft black leather seat and put the key into the ignition.  "If I died today, I would die happy," I told him as I started the engine.  "Life doesn't get any better than this."