Page 14 of Rowdy and Willing

When he sits down, he rubs his hands together and says, “So, let’s hear it. What do you two lovebirds have to show me?”

Will and I glance at one another, then snap our hands away as if we were trying to hide it.

“Uh,” Will clears his throat. “So oil is important to keeping all machines running and vital to a prolonged active, usable lifespan.”

He begins the spiel. About what our applicator can do, how it could save money, how it cuts down on human error. How he knows it’s not flashy, but sometimes the least flashy stuff is the most important.

Anchor looks on intently. I don’t think it’s because Williams is an amazing speaker, this businessman just takes the whole presentation seriously.

Meanwhile, the kids of the family are bored and running off behind everyone to play a game of tag. Some of the parents move off to chaperone them. While Williams talking about engines, lubrication, and uptake is utterly fascinating to me, I completely understand that it’s not everyone’s cup of tea.

Despite the shifting audience, Williams continues. I do the demonstration we set up of our device applying the correct amount of oil, avoiding overuse, and I present our mathematical projections for all this. We spared no expense on getting this presentation made. We drove all over Burly and Home, and even went into the city since no stores in either of those towns had the large-format printer we needed to display our schematics.

Williams has rehearsed all this well, not being much of a public speaker. He’s talking in front of his family, but we’re meeting Anchor for business, not to go fishing with him. He finishes his speech and stands expectantly, looking toward our potential business partner, hands behind his back.

“We’re seeking financial backing and offering a good share in the project to get it distributed,” Williams says.

There’s a brief pause as we look toward our potential patron. Every moment of silence is tense, our future hinging on it. I audibly gulp as the nervousness starts to get to me.

Fortunately, we don’t have to wait for an answer much longer.

“I think it has legs,” Anchor says, soothing our anxieties. “We show this to the right people at Ford and Toyota and we suddenly got hundreds of thousands of orders. You got my full backing, you two. I want you to come to my office in Seattle and we’ll hammer out all the details and get something written down on paper.”

Williams and I exchange glances, overjoyed. We got an offer. We’re making this happen. I never thought my mechanical knowledge would make me rich, but I know Anchor wouldn’t bullshit us. This is real.

“Also, make sure you invite me to the wedding,” he adds, before Lemon punches him in the arm. “What? I can’t be the only one who sees what’s in front of us, clear as day.”

We’re too thrilled to be embarrassed, and he’s right. It’s not like we’re doing very well at keeping it a secret.

We just need to have the talk about how we want to do this is all. Until then? We’ll continue being awkward and evasive.

With the deal secured, we head back to our truck. Burly is a bit of a drive. Not a long one, but not short enough that we want to be doing it in the black of night.

My father’s house is quaint, but it’s home for me. Being an auto shop owner in a small town hasn’t made him crazy successful, but he’s made a decent life for himself.

Williams steps out of the car. “I need to go talk to your father about something.”

“Let’s go see him, then. He’ll still be up.”

“Uh... I think I’m supposed to talk to him alone about this. Am I? I’m not sure how it’s supposed to work.”

“Alone?” I cock an eyebrow. “Why do you need to talk to him alone?”

“It’s about you, Windy.”

I wrinkle my brow, confused, but shake my head. I trust Will, whatever this is about. We head into the house and my father is in the living room watching TV. I pretend to be distracted in the kitchen, but I can hear everything that they’re saying. So much for their private conversation.

“Mr. Jones,” Williams says as he sits down in an armchair perpendicular to the couch.

“Mr. Jones? When the hell do you call me Mister? It’s just Bob for you, Williams.”

Now that I’m hearing how the conversation is going, I have a feeling what the question is. Part of me should be offended by him asking it, but I think Williams likes to do things the old-fashioned way.

“Well then, uh, Bob? Bob, I'd like to ask for permission to marry Windy.”

My dad laughs. “Do you even need to ask?”

“Just thought I’d be all traditional and the like. Your daughter means the world to me. She always has. She’s been there for me during the roughest times of my life. She’s kept me going. She was there for me when my mother passed, and I don’t know what I would have done without her friendship, and her love.”

---