From the City to Simmons

Tina was smiling now, she couldn't stop. "The Stiff Six, huh? Sounds pretty small time. Can't say as I ever heard of ya. Were they any good, Carrie?"

Carrie looked down at the table in shame. Chris answered for her.

"Of course we were good, the best! Carrie was part of it, she was the drummer."

"Oh my god. So I'm sitting here with two of the founding members of The Stiff Six. I can't believe it. I mean really, I can't," Tina confessed.

"There were some issues of us actually getting gigs to play, I always assumed it had something to do with our name," Chris continued on.

"Oh please! You wanted us to be called Bulging Package!"

"No, I wanted to be called the Raging Johnsons, but it turned out there was already a band with that name. It was Elliot that wanted Bulging Package."

"Well, uh, with issues like that right to start with, I can see why you guys didn't last. What did you want to be called, Carrie? You come up with The Stiff Six?" Tina asked.

Carrie once again looked down at the table. "Yeah, that one was mine."

Tina shook her head, taking a sip of Diet Coke. "I just don't know what to say. That didn't happen like right before I got to know you, did it? I mean, I'm hoping you were in like elementary school."

"High school, actually. We only got together for one show, but we killed it. Like an all-star band or a 'save the world' concert," Chris replied.

"Yeah I bet. Was there any videos taken of it, or anything?"

"God, I hope not," Carrie answered.

Chris began looking through a song book while Tina laughed. Carrie addressed the laughing girl across the table.

"Laugh it up, funny girl, but you're married to it now. When you see him flopping around up on stage, you can tell people: Yeah, that's my husband. No, he's not drunk, he just acts like that. No, no need to call an ambulance, he'll be fine."

Tina continued to laugh.

"I'm ready," Chris announced, rising from the table clutching the song book. "The Stiff Six is ready to unzip and show itself to the world." He walked off to speak with the fellow operating the machine.

"You know," Tina began, "if you were going to name the band after his penis, you should have been called like The Stiff Eight."

"I didn't know that back then. Besides, it wasn't his penis we were named after, just a general abstract thought of a penis. Plus, there were six of us."

"God, I wish I could have seen you guys," Tina lamented.

"Good evening," Chris greeted the crowd through the microphone.

"Well, you're about to see the legend grow right in front of your very eyes."

Chris may not have totally lived up to his middle namesake, but he did give a heart-felt performance of Gimme Shelter by the Rolling Stones that would have made Mick Jagger proud. He pranced around like the Mick would have, gyrating and dancing to the music. Tina wasn't a big fan of the Stones, but she clearly got a kick out of watching Chris on stage. Carrie, even with all of her warnings and protestations of embarrassment enjoyed it most of all. When they were younger, he used to sing her songs to try and cheer her up whenever she was in a bad mood. It worked most of the time.

He returned to the table while the bar patrons applauded and the women whistled. He sat down and wiped the sweat from his brow with a napkin.

"Being a rock star's hard work," he said.

"Can I have your autograph?" Tina asked.

"Sorry babe, fans are important, but I need these fingers for my air guitar. You understand, don't you?"

"Oh god, can't we skip the part where you pretend you're famous?" Carrie asked, still grinning.

"Who's pretending? You heard that crowd. They can't get enough of The Stiff Six. As a matter of fact, I'd be tempted to say they want more."

Their food arrived before Chris returned to the stage, not that he really would have. He was more of a one and done type show. They ate their ribs in a festive mood, happy to be out and enjoying themselves. Now that the show was over, Tina thought they could talk some business.

"So, uh, are we going to make an offer on the house tomorrow?" she asked.

"I think we should," Chris replied.

"I think we should, too. We all in favor of the house, then?" Carrie asked. The other two nodded their heads in agreement.

"How long would it take us to get it if Roger agrees to sell it to us?" Tina wondered.

"I don't know exactly, but not long. We don't have to go through a bank to get financing, so we're talking maybe a day or two. We'd have to give him time to move out and we'd need time to move in, but it would happen pretty fast, I think," Carrie replied.

"That fast? A day or two, wow." Tina tried to wrap her mind around the concept.

"Pretty exciting," Chris added.

"I assume that we'll talk to Roger and his lawyer tomorrow and sign some sort of purchase agreement. Then, one more trip out here with the money and the place is ours."

"He's expecting to see us tomorrow, right?" Chris asked.

"I told him we would definitely get in touch with him one way or the other. I thought if we were serious that I would call him in the morning and let him know that we're coming."

"What about the diner?" Tina asked.

Chris looked to his sister with hope in his eyes, licking sauce from the tips of his fingers. She already could tell how much he wanted it.

"That's tough. I mean I love you, Chris, but we're gonna have to look into that a little more before we make an offer. Restaurants are a risky business. I know it looks good from the outside and Roger seems like he made a good living off the place, but I need more information. I mean, maybe it used to be super popular and now business isn't so good. Maybe it never did all that well and Roger just used it as a front to hide the profits from the marijuana grove on the old turnip farm. We just don't know. It's a little scary to me," Carrie replied.

Chris looked disappointed, maybe even a little angry. He didn't say anything. Tina continued to ask questions before Chris could say anything to sour the mood.

"But you're not saying no, right? If we can look into it and decide it makes money, I think it would be awesome. I know it's kind of selfish of me, but I kind of fell in love with the place. I never worked anywhere but a restaurant, anyways. I know Chris and you went to college and could probably get good paying jobs somewhere if you wanted. But all I know how to do is cook and take orders. If I could work for you and Chris, it would be great."

"You'd be working with us, not for us. It'd be part yours," Chris pointed out.

"I kind of know that, I guess, but it still would be your money that's buying the place. I know that we're married now, but I didn't have anything to do with all the work you guys did before I came along.

"I know it's scary for you, Carrie, and I really don't have anything to lose. You do. I don't know why, but Chris would rather be wearing an apron and covered in food slime than be dressed in a suit and tie in an office. Please, at least give it a serious look, okay?"

Carrie sighed and relented, still not having been sold on the idea. "Okay. I'll give it a serious look, I promise. But I did go to college so that I wouldn't have to work in a place like a diner, whether I own it or not. I wasn't dropped on my head as many times as Chris was when we were little, I don't like to clean up puke and scrape people's half-eaten food off of plates. Not my thing. And about the only thing I can cook is toast."

"Look at you, all proud that all of your cognitive functions were intact after childhood. Someone's still gonna have to keep the books, pay the bills, do the taxes. That part could be you. It's not like it would be a full-time position, either. That's all the help we would need from you. I wouldn't ask you to wash dishes or clean the bathrooms or anything," Chris said.

"Yeah, I know. I can tell how much you want it. I just don't want us to lose our asses. You went through all the trouble of buttering me up with The Stiff Six routine, so like I said, I'll take a serious look, okay?"

"You both have real nice asses," Chris added.

Carrie smiled. "You don't have to pile it on, I already said you'll get your chance."

*****

Roger was happy to hear from Carrie in the morning and delighted to learn that they were on their way over to have breakfast. He had invited his lawyer, a man named Harold over to dine with them. The five were seated at a back table, discussing the business at hand. Chris thought that it was odd at first to have a lawyer come to the restaurant and be on the case so quickly, but it was apparent that Harold and Roger were friends. It just happened that he ate breakfast at the diner every morning. He didn't know if that was good or bad, but he seemed trustworthy enough, as far as lawyers went.

Harold was at least as old as Roger, perhaps even more so. He eyed the three of them from over top of his glasses. "No financing, that will speed the process considerably. I suppose you just need to work out how long you'll give Roger to move out." He shifted his gaze to his friend. "How long do you think you need to get your junk off the farm, Roger?"

"I don't know for sure. It's been near fifty years since I've moved anyplace. Been collectin' stuff all that time."

"Well, you ain't got fifty more years to get rid of it. How 'bout two weeks?" Harold asked.

Roger suddenly looked frightened. "That seems a little quick."

"Now's not the time for cold feet, you old fool. You want to hold onto the place 'til it's time to bury you, or do you want to see your grandkids? These folks got the money, and I'm telling you that's enough time," Harold insisted.

"You gonna come over and help me pack? Who's side are you on here, anyway? You make more money if it happens faster or what?" Roger asked.

"No, but I'll make it quicker. You will too, you old bat."

Chris, Tina, and Carrie sat in silent amusement as the two old-timers bantered back and forth. They whispered a little amongst the three of them, then Carrie spoke up.

"Excuse me."

"Yes, young lady?" Harold asked.

"Two weeks is fine and all, but if Roger needs a little more than that, then it's no problem, really. We all have to give our notices at work and get our stuff out here. We'll need at least that much time," she told them.

"Fine, I don't think Roger's old bones were up to it, anyway. He's been slowin' down, that's for sure."

"Goddammit, Harold! I said I could do it. And I know how old I am, you don't have to remind me every time you open your mouth."

"Good, two weeks it is. I'll have Amy draw up the paperwork," Harold said with a smile. He gave Carrie a wink and looked as though he was about to rise from the table.

"There's something else before you take off, Mr. uh..."

"Just call me Harold, Miss."

"Harold, then. We're interested in this diner, too. Same deal, we've got the cash for it. I'm just not totally convinced that it's right for us. My brother and Tina here have a pretty good working knowledge of the industry, but I want to see some numbers. I need to be convinced that it's just not a money pit."

Harold sat back in his chair and took a long look at the three and then looked back to his friend. "That is interesting, isn't it, Roger? What you think about that? You wouldn't have to worry about trying to run the place from Colorado, or God forbid, shutting it down."

They all could see Roger's wheels spinning. "I don't know what to tell you about it really. It's not a gold mine, but it's a steady income. Lot of work keepin' it goin', but if you two know something about the business, then you already know that," Roger replied, nodding to Chris and Tina.

"I think the young lady wants to take a look at your books, Roger. And not just the ones you cook up to show the IRS," Harold told him.

"I don't do any such thing. I run a legitimate business here," Roger spat at the old lawyer. "You don't work for the government, do you?" he asked Carrie.

Carrie let out a nervous chuckle. "No, I'm an accountant for a department store. Believe me, I wouldn't ask unless we were serious. This is a pretty big deal for us. We've saved just about every penny for as long as I can remember. Chris works over four thousand hours a year between his two jobs. I'm not going to let us dive into something that I think is gonna fail."

"It's no joke what you folks are doin', that's for sure. Give me a minute, and I'll get you something to look at. Don't run off, now." Roger excused himself and headed off to a back room, presumably an office.

"I give Roger a hard time, but we've known each other goin' on sixty years now. Been my brother-in-law for almost fifty. Married my sister," Harold explained.

"I'm sorry to hear that she passed away," Chris said.

Harold shrugged. "Yeah, she was a good old girl, but what can you do? Happens to the best of us. I think the best thing for Roger would be to unload this place and spend some time with his kids before he gets too old to enjoy it. He put his heart and soul into the place, and it's been good to him. I just don't want to see him spend the rest of his life peddling apple pie and worrying about what tomorrow's special's gonna be. I hate to keep beatin' a dead horse, but once you get to be our age, you just don't know how much time you got left. If you're hard workers and smart, both of which you appear to be, I don't see any reason why this place wouldn't work for you. That's just my opinion, though. You do what you think you should."

"Well, I value your opinion," Chris said. "You must still be working, though. You said you'd have someone named Amy draw up the paperwork. You still keep an office?"

"Hardly. I do a little now and then, mostly for people like Roger that I've dealt with forever. Amy's my daughter, better lawyer than I ever was. Got a lot more ambition than I ever had. I've been more or less retired for almost ten years now."

"Congratulations. I figure I've only got another forty or fifty years before I retire," Chris replied.

"Well, son, you're probably right, but you better not plan on working no four thousand hours a year all that time. You'll drop before you get to enjoy it. Workin' hard and being dedicated is one think, but if all you do is work, then it kind of defeats the purpose, don't you think?"

"I can't argue with that."

Roger returned to the table with a rather antiquated looking ledger and a bunch of manila folders. He set them down in front of Carrie and went back to his seat.

"That's everything from the last few years. Keep in mind that I run a cash business here, and it's easy to miss recording a sale every now and then," he said. Harold scoffed and received a dirty look. "Sometimes those sales that get missed being recorded as sales end up as an expense for food waste."

"That's understandable," agreed Carrie, scanning the numbers. "I imagine that you get audited from time to time. Not that I see anything definitely wrong here, but if your entire accounting system is done by hand, by yourself, and all your sales are cash, those are two pretty big red flags."

Harold stepped in, saving Roger from having to provide explanation. "It is true that the diner has fallen under the scrutiny of the Internal Revenue Service on a couple of occasions. Each time, it has been proven that there has been no wrong doing on the part of Roger, nor has there ever been any evidence to indicate any direct mishandling of business capital."

"I see. So you've never been arrested or charged with anything, is what Harold is saying?" Carrie asked.

"That's right. Everything's legitimate," Roger agreed.

"Hmm, yes, well, as you can see the system has worked well for Roger," Harold added.

"Hmm," Carrie nodded. The group sat in silence while she took the next several minutes to go over the numbers. After a bit, she put down the ledger and began to scan the folders. "So, I would take it that that if the business were to be transferred to a new owner that these numbers could perhaps a bit different."

Harold nodded in agreement. "That would be a reasonable assumption, especially if you happened to be referring to yourself or someone with a similarly strong background in accounting."

"Would it also be reasonable to assume then that the general direction that the numbers would shift would be in an increase in recorded sales? Possibly a decrease in recorded expenses? An overall increase in recorded profit before taxes, but not after? Hypothetically speaking, of course."

"Hypothetically, of course. The sales don't change much, it just depends how strict you are about writin' it down. I'm a little forgetful sometimes, but I do the best I can," Roger said.

"Even with Roger's brief bouts of forgetfulness, I would venture a guess that his accounting is not all that far off. We are not hypothetically speaking about massive amounts of cash."

Chris thought that there were lots of things that they weren't hypothetically speaking about. His nut sack, for example. He was growing bored with this game, and wanted to know what some of the numbers actually were. He was remiss, however, to interrupt the weird negotiation his sister was having. Tina must have been feeling the same, she just looked at him and shrugged her shoulders.

"Okay," Carrie began after another long period of silence. "We'll do the diner as well."

"You don't want to discuss this with your brother or sister-in-law?" Harold asked.

"We already have discussed it. You may not have noticed, but they were drooling thinking of getting their hands on this place. I'm still scared to death," she confessed.

Harold raised an eyebrow. "That's a pretty good reason for further discussion."

"Carrie, if you don't think it's a good idea, then we won't do it," Chris told her. "If you're scared, then that's it. We trust you."

"I know Chris has his moments, but you're still the smartest person I know, Carrie. Whatever you say goes," Tina said. She reached across the table and patted her hand.

"Why don't we give these folks a minute, Harold? Let's go to the counter and I'll get you a piece of pie," Roger suggested.

Harold thought that was a good idea. He walked toward the front of the restaurant with his friend. He spoke once they were out of earshot. "I think they're gonna go for it, Roger. You notice the rings those girls are wearing?"

"No, what about them?"

"Well, not to mention the fact that they're huge and probably worth a fortune, they're nearly identical. The one on the wife has got to be an engagement ring, but why would the sister have one?" Harold asked.

"I don't know and I don't care to ask. I've met a lot of people in my day, and I think they're good people. I'm not just saying that because they're about to make the rest of my life easy. You got a bad read on 'em?"

"Naw," Harold said, taking a seat on a stool at the counter. "Just curious as to what makes people tick sometimes. They're just kids trying to start something good. You got to remember what that was like. They're willing to drop the money for the house without a second thought, once we add in the cost of this place, though, it's making them sweat a little. I hope they buy the place, otherwise I wouldn't have anywhere to go to get my free pie."

"Pie's not free, Harold. Come to think of it though, you haven't ever paid for it, have you? Probably could've retired years ago."

"I've been saying that for almost as long as I've been stealin' your pie."

Meanwhile, back at the breakfast table, Carrie was trying to explain her feelings to Chris and Tina. "I'm sure that you guys got the gist of all that silly hypothetical talk. What it boils down to is that the business is bringing in more money than what's written down here." Carrie slid one of the folders across the table and pointed at the number on the bottom of the paper that it was opened up to. "That's the after tax profit from last year."