Trust by George V. Higgins Page A

Williams who thinks more about winning the game’n he does about his own glory. Manager this year’s the difference. Don’t care what line of work you’re in, and I’ve been in this one a long time, manager’s always the difference.”
    McCallum laughed. “Ain’t he something?” he said to Cobb. “Every time he’s on the Saturday card, and he really wants it off, he starts in the first of the week, shinin’ up to me like I’m a seventeen-year-old blonde with big tits, telling me how he respects me, because my brilliant mind.”
    “I didn’t even see the card,” Oakes said. “I didn’t even see it.”
    “Oakesie,” McCallum said, “in the first place, I never keep a salesman unless I’m sure he can count. Neither did Don’s father. You were here when I was born, so I know you can do it. I also know you do. It’s been three weeks since your last weekend tour, so you know you’re next in the order. In the second place, I was out in the back with the boss. You come in here this morning, and I see you through the window in my office. You go in, peek at the card. And I say to Don: ‘You wanna bet a cold one Oakesie’s in my shirt all day?’ And Don says: ‘Why? You got him down for Saturday?’ And Don wouldn’t take the bet. He knows you, Oakesie, just like I do. So when it don’t work with me, whatever story you cooked up, and it won’t, forget about going to Donald crying. ’cause it ain’t gonna work with him, neither.”
    “You should run for the House, Paul,” Cobb said. “You’d fit right in, in Montpelier.”
    “I’m not qualified to be a politician,” Oakes said.“I never stole a thing in my whole life, and I never tell a lie. What I need’s one of those state jobs you’re always giving your friends. Where you don’t have to get anybody to vote for you, and because of that they give you money for not working. That’s what I should have.”
    “You’d be great at it,” McCallum said. “Look at all the experience you got.”
    “Jesus, Dennis,” Cobb said, “how the hell can this guy make a living in this business? He’s been here since Noah, and he doesn’t lie or steal? Whaddaya keep him around for? Lead the Bible readings?”
    “Same reason NBC hired Carson when Jack Paar retired,’ McCallum said. “Everybody puts in a hard day, they like some comedy. Course Oakesie doesn’t always mean to be funny, but that’s when we get the most laughs—when he doesn’t mean to.”
    “What the hell were you doing, Dennis?” Oakes said. “Out in the back of the shop? Thought you’re the one says it’s dirty out there, guys with all grease on their hands, cars all apart on the floor. Some customer dame with a short skirt on out there, bending over the trunk? I’ve been here over thirty-six years. You’ve been here now at least ten. Never knew you before to go out back in the shop.”
    “Don’s got a new toy,” McCallum said to Cobb. “Make him show it to you, ’fore you leave.”
    “Another one?” Cobb said. “What is it this time, a lake steamboat?”
    “Make him show it to you,” McCallum said. “It’s a nifty little thing.”
    “Where’s he
put
all this stuff?” Oakes said. “His father’s ghost must be spinning. Between the motorcyclesand the T-bird and the old ’Vette and Healey, and the MG and the Jag—where’s he put it all? He’s gonna have to have a garage at home bigger’n the one he’s got here. Which is bigger’n he needs.”
    “He bought this one to sell, Oakesie,” McCallum said. “I asked him that, and he said he’s gonna sell it, right person comes along. Said: ‘I got to show some of the front-room guys that it really can be done. Actually sell a car. I don’t wanna sell one from stock, ’cause they’ll say I’m stealing from them. So I buy this one and sell it, and then I tell, say, Oakesie: “Hey, how come I can sell a nine-year-old German car, for big bucks, and you can’t sell a brand-new Chrysler? For almost the same