Page 177 of The Holy Grail
“What if I don’t want to pick something else?” Evan asked.
“Then I guess you don’t play.”
“But I’m a guest. Shouldn’t I get …” he trailed off for a moment, only to smile when he was able to utilize his Word-of-the-Day and finished strong with, “preferentialtreatment?”
“You can choose whatever chair you want to sit in. How’s that forpreferentialtreatment?”
“I’m the race car,” Richard said, reaching around Jules to pick it up, and giving Evan a quick glance that said,Not a good hill to die on, son.
Edie took the purse. “This is mine.”
“I’ll take the top hat,” Malcom said, grabbing it.
Evan glanced at the remaining game pieces—an iron, a thimble, a battleship, and a cannon—and after debating between the battleship and cannon (the only two remaining that didn’t totally suck), picked the cannon.
Jules, naturally, was also the banker.
The next morning after Evan awoke, he got dressed, then cleaned up in the bathroom before heading into the kitchen. Because it was barely 6:00 a.m., the housewas quiet, and he was beginning to think he was the first one up when he saw a fresh pot of coffee had recently been brewed. He poured himself a cup, and was looking out into the back yard when he noticed the barn door was open and lights were on inside.
He hesitated briefly before heading over to the barn, and when he got there, realized it was a mechanic’s haven. He found Richard working under the hood of a 1966 Impala while a portable radio played classic rock from the sixties. He was wearing a pair of old, dirty coveralls, and at Evan’s approach, glanced over.
“Good morning,” he greeted Evan, turning down the radio a little bit.
“Good morning,” Evan returned.
“You’re up early.”
Evan nodded. “I’m usually not, because of the late hours I work, but I woke up and decided it was better to get up, rather than sleep in too late.”
Richard cocked his head. “You afraid I’ll think you’re lazy?”
“Maybe.” Then, going for honesty, Evan added, “At the very least, I don’t want your opinion of me to slide any further.”
“Any further than what?”
“Any further than it already has.”
“You think I have a poor opinion of you?”
Evan chose his words carefully. “I think you think Jules could do better than me.”
“Can she?”
“Well, there are plenty of men out there with better pedigrees than me—”
“I don’t give a shit about pedigrees,” Richard said bluntly. “Son, the only reason I graduated high school was because of auto shop. I’ve been a grease monkey practically my whole life, and it was only by the grace of God that Edie ever looked twice at me, and I thank Him every day for bringing her and her piece of shit car to the garage I was working at on that Tuesday afternoon, forty-seven years ago. So when I ask you if Jules can do better than you, I want a real answer, not a bullshit one.”
Richard’s honesty had Evan blinking for a moment. “No, she can’t do better than me, because no one will love her more than me—except for Mal.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Richard picked up the cup of coffee he’d obviously brought out to the barn and took a sip.
Feeling a little better, Evan began to walk around the two-door car, which had seen better days. The once aqua blue paint had faded, and the matching leather interior wascracked and ripped in places, but the bones were still good—all the mirrors were still intact, and the dash was decent, along with the carpeted floorboards.
“I love old cars,” he murmured, running a hand along the side, then told Richard about owning a 1965 Mustang Fastback, leaving out the part about it having gotten Evan laid several times.
Richard pointed the socket wrench he was holding at Evan. “Now, that right there, just earned you a few points.”
Knowing he was being teased, Evan relaxed a little more.
