“Nope.”
“You should totally come.We’ll hit The Rope.You’re going to love it.”
“Yeah,” Jem said.And he was good enough at the game to smile and say, “We’ll see.”
The hope in Little Dick’s face was almost painful, and for a moment, the expensive clothes and the bad taste and the overgrown dumbshit behavior dropped away, and Jem saw a little kid who’d never had a real friend.Maybe because of the dumbshit stuff.Maybe entirely his own fault.But the hurt wasn’t any less.
A soft chime announced someone entering the showroom through the main doors.Jem glanced over to see a woman with five kids, and the oldest couldn’t have been more than twelve.
“On it,” Brian said, popping up over the divider again.“Rick, I totally got this.I’m going to lock this one down, watch.”
“Fuck that,” Little Dick said.“I think my boy Jem gets this one.”He did this weird shoulder groping thing, like he was warming Jem up for a fight, and said, “Lock it down.”
Jem left the Bang on his desk as he crossed the showroom.
The woman was White, and she had dark hair that, Jem guessed, had air-dried on the way over.He pegged her at somewhere in her forties.Her jacket was a branded one, some business name he didn’t recognize, and the clothes were clean but cheap; he’d bought enough shit at Walmart to know what it looked like.The shoes were worse, out at the heel, which must have killed her feet after a couple of hours.She was carrying the smallest child—a girl, to judge by the red bow in her hair.Another of the kids, a little one, was crawling under the velvet rope toward one of the display vehicles.The oldest had grabbed that one by the ankles and was trying to drag him backward.And two more were hammering on the glass of the popcorn machine, screaming, even though the popcorn machine was clearly empty.
“Hey,” Jem said.“Let me guess: minivan.”
The woman laughed.Then she called over her shoulder, “Trayvon!Janelle!Knock it off!”
The kids hammering on the popcorn machines screamed with what might have been excitement.They kept hammering.
“No popcorn today,” Jem said.“Sorry.But we’ve got soda, if your big brother will help you.”
Big brother was currently trying to pry the smaller child’s fingers off one of the brass stanchions, but the woman said, “D’wayne, get them their soda.”
Those seemed to be the magic words.The one clutching the stanchion let go, and the four kids followed Jem’s directions to the fountain drink machine at the back of the showroom.
“If this is a negotiation tactic,” Jem said, “it’s literally the most effective one I’ve ever seen.You win.You got me.Pick a car and it’s yours.”
With another laugh, the woman hoisted the child in her arms.“God, wouldn’t that be nice?”The child began to fuss, and she bounced her.“There was a Traverse online.It was a 2018, I think.”
No, Jem almost said.It was bait.
But instead, he said, “Shoot.That one got some paint damage, so it’s at our body shop.It’s going to be a couple of weeks.But I can show you what we’ve got.”
Disappointment lined the woman’s features, but she said, “Do you have anything at that same price?It was such a good deal.”
“Let’s see what we can do.I’m Jem.”
“Martha.”
“And this little lady?”
A faint smile curved Martha’s cheek.“Shandra.”
“Nice to meet you.So, minivans.You said a 2018—you want something newish, then?”
“I want something I can afford,” the woman said.“Their dad—” She stopped.Her eyes welled with tears, and she shook her head.“I’m sorry.I’m trying to do this on my own, and I have no idea what to do.”
Jem opened his mouth.And then he shut it again.He felt like he was buzzing.He wiped his hands on his pants, but that didn’t help.That goddamn Bang.But it wasn’t that.This was something else.
All he had to do was nod.Smile understandingly.Maybe play with Shandra a little, and say,We’ll take care of you, and it would all be so…easy.
Don’t be stupid.You’ve spent your whole life taking from other people.What’s the difference?
But itwasdifferent.In so many ways.He just hadn’t wanted to face facts before.