Roadwork - Stephen King [22]
Freddy tried to say something, and George shut him right up. The circuit breaker was in fine working order. Had been all day.
That's right, you fucking schizo! Fred yelled, and then George sat on him. Go peddle your papers, Freddy. You're persona non grata around here.
"Of course I'm not going to tell him," said one of the women on the tube. "How do you expect me to tell him that?"
"Just tell him," said the other woman.
"Why should I tell him? Why should I knock his whole life out of orbit over something that happened twenty years ago?"
"Are you going to lie to him'?"
"I'm not going to tell him anything."
"You have to tell him."
"Sharon, I can't afford to tell him."
"If you don't tell him, Betty, I'll tell him myself."
"That fucking machine is all fucked to shit," Duncan said, coming back. "That's been a pain in the ass ever since they put it in. Now what have I got to do? Call the fucking Automatic Industries Company. Wait twenty minutes until some dipshit secretary connects me with the right line. Listen to some guy tell me that they're pretty busy but they'll try to send a guy out Wednesday. Wednesday! Then some guy with his brains between the cheeks of his ass will show up on Friday, drink four bucks' worth of free beer, fix whatever's wrong and probably rig something else to break in two weeks, and tell me I shouldn't let the guys throw the weights so hard. I used to have pinball machines. That was good. Those machines hardly ever fucked up. But this is progress. If I'm still here in 1980, they'll take out the Bowl-a-Score and put in an Automatic Blow-Job. You want another beer?"
"Sure," he said.
Duncan went to draw it. He put fifty cents on the bar and walked back to the phone booth beside the broken Bowl-a-Score.
He found what he was looking for in the yellow pages under Automobiles, New and Used. The listing there said: MAGLIORE'S USED CARS, Rt. 16, Norton 892-4576
Route 16 became Venner Avenue as you went farther into Norton. Venner Avenue was also known as the Landing Strip, where you could get all the things the yellow pages didn't advertise.
He put a dime in the phone and dialed Magliore's Used Cars. The phone was picked up on the second ring, and male voice said: "Magliore's Used Cars."
"This is Dawes," he said. "Barton Dawes. Can I talk to Mr. Magliore?"
"Says busy. But I'll be glad to help you if I can. Pete Mansey."
"No, it has to be Mr. Magliore, Mr. Mansey. It's about those two Eldorados."
"You got a bum steer," Mansey said. "We're not taking any big cars in trade the rest of the year, on account of this energy business. Nobody's buying them. So-"
"I'm buying," he said.
"What's that"
"Two Eldorados. One 1970, one 1972. One gold, one cream. I spoke to Mr. Magliore about them last week. It's a business deal."
"Oh yeah, right. He really isn't here now, Mr. Dawes. To tell you the truth, he's in Chicago. He's not getting in until eleven o'clock tonight."
Outside, Duncan was hanging a sign on the Bowl-a-Score. The sign said:
OUT OF ORDER
"Well he be in tomorrow?"
"Yeah, sure will. Was this a trade deal?"
"No, straight buy."
"One of the specials?"
He hesitated a moment, then said: "Yes, that's right. Would four o'clock be okay?"
"Sure, fine."
"Thanks, Mr. Mansey."
"I'll tell him you called."
"You do that," he said, and hung up carefully. His palms were sweating.
Merv Griffin was chatting with celebrities when got home. There was nothing in the mail; that was a relief. He went into the living room.
Mary was sipping a hot nom concoction in a teacup. There was a box of Kleenex beside her and the room smelled of Vicks.
"Are you all right?" He asked her
"Don'd kiss be," she said, and her voice had a distant foghorning quality. "I cabe downd with sobething."
"Poor kid. " He kissed her forehead.
"I hade do ask you, Bard, bud would you ged the groceries tonighd? I was goig kith Meg Carder, bud I