The Bikini Car Wash (23 page)

“Girls may dress like this is California. But they don’t go around like this in Plainview!”

“Alderman Brandt!” the mayor chided. “You are out of order. Alderman Pannello, do you have another question?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Ms. Wolkowicz, you have not altered this suit in any way?” Pannello asked. “And you purchased it in a traditional retail establishment here in this state?”

Andi nodded. “It was purchased at Joffee’s Manhattan Store,” she answered. “Located less than a hundred feet from my car wash.” Andi glanced back behind her. “I saw Mrs.
Joffee here in the crowd. I’m sure that if the council were interested she might be able to provide numbers on how many of this swimsuit and similiar suits have been purchased here in town. Joffee’s has been a successful business in this community because they carry those items that people in Plainview want to buy.”

It was a good point and Walt was glad that Andi had gotten the opportunity to make it.

Alderman Houseman brought up the suggestion of screening the area. “It seems that most of the complaints come from the passersby on a public street,” he said. “Perhaps a privacy fence around the property.”

Andi was deliberately open to the subject.

“If screening us off from the street would be agreeable to the council,” she said. “Then I would be willing to do it. However, I do need to point out that the building has been designated for historic preservation. So any architectural additions will require some special exemptions.”

The council murmured thoughtfully. Alderman Pannello and Mayor Gunderson-Symthe were nodding.

“Maybe a tall hedge,” Houseman suggested.

Hank Guthrie was the last to question her. Though
questioning
wasn’t exactly what he did. It might have been better described as inferring. Walt had known Hank virtually all his life. And although the two had never been friends, Walt had never really had a quarrel with the guy. Lately, however, he wasn’t too happy with him. Hank had, for some reason, taken a deliberate dislike of Andi. Walt feared it was some kind of payback for something, but he honestly didn’t know what. But maybe it wasn’t about him, Walt thought as he cast a quick
glance toward the younger Guthrie, seated just on the other side of Andi’s empty seat. Maybe Hank thought Andi was after his son and didn’t like it.

Whatever the reason, Hank Guthrie was sure laying the sarcasm on a little thick for a fellow who could not, in anyone’s estimation, cast the first stone.

“Do you allow minors to patronize your business, Ms. Wolkowicz?”

“Our patrons are drivers, Mr. Guthrie,” she answered. “People with dirty cars.”

“But many of these ‘drivers’ are young boys of sixteen or seventeen,” he said.

“Some may be,” she admitted. “Though that age group traditionally doesn’t have the pocket money to afford having someone else wash the car.”

“Exactly!” he said as if she had just proved his point. “Those young men would not be lined up, spending their school lunch money to have their car washed. They are obviously there for some other reason.”

Andi shrugged. “The reasoning of teenage boys has long been a mystery to me,” she said. “Why
do
they wear their pants like that?”

There were a couple of titters in the audience but Guthrie ignored them.

“I know exactly why they are there,” he stated adamantly.

Andi smiled. “Yes, I have heard that about you, Alderman.”

The room exploded. There was laughter, but also anger. He’d goaded Andi into a cheap shot. Yes, Walt thought, the old lecher probably deserved it, but it didn’t do anything to make Andi’s businesslike, reasonable case.

The mayor pounded the gavel for order. “I will clear the room!” she threatened.

Andi was asked to take a seat, with the stipulation that she might be recalled for further questions. Then followed a long line of citizens wishing to be heard on the subject. Most of them were from the newly formed protest group, expressing fears that ranged from distracted drivers on Grosvenor Avenue causing fender benders to the imminent demise of civilization as we know it.

Many of the speakers, Walt knew personally. Even if he didn’t, when they stated their name and address, as required, he felt a sense of community kinship. He suspected it was the same for everyone else as the crowd listened politely, even though some of the finger pointing in Andi’s direction was accusatory.

“How can our young girls grow up with self-respect when they see these women debasing themselves for money?”

“Why should our community cater to the lowest common denominator of moral behavior?”

“What do our children learn when they see their mothers, their sisters, prancing around nearly naked?”

Walt spotted Gil, Tiff’s ex-husband, in the crowd. He thought that was probably the same question he wanted to ask. But surprisingly, the man kept his seat and kept his thoughts to himself. Walt gave him credit for that. He may disapprove of his wife’s work, but he wasn’t going to say so in public.

Not all the speakers were negative. There were a couple of old ladies who, surprisingly, declared Andi a godsend.

“I am Olivia Meyer and I live at 411 Whitherbone,” an older woman announced, identifying herself. “In my day if a
woman showed her knees it was a scandal. Well, it seems to me that the complainers of today must be the children of the fuddy-duddies from back then. If you can’t stand the sight of a pretty girl in a bathing suit, then I’d encourage you to avert your eyes while the rest of us get our cars washed without driving all the way out to the interstate, and support a local business in our downtown core.”

The final speaker was the last arrival, Pete Guthrie.

He stood and walked to the microphone without a glance toward Andi. He pulled out a small slip of paper, presumably notes and spread it out on the podium.

“I’m Pete Guthrie and I live at 1927 Hartley Row. I am Chief Executive Officer for Guthrie Foods, Inc. and store manager for the site at Grosvenor Avenue at Fifth Street.”

Pete was looking at the mayor. Every other person in the building was looking at Hank Guthrie. The man sat stiff and silent. His mouth had thinned into one straight line and his eyes narrowed angrily.

“I want to officially go on record as saying that Guthrie Foods has no objection to the business currently being operated at the corner of Grosvenor and Fifth by Ms. Andrea Wolkowicz,” he stated. “For some time now, those of us with downtown retail businesses have been dismayed by the number of empty buildings on the street. The concern is that without more shopping variety along that corridor, we could ultimately become an abandoned downtown area, like many we know in surrounding towns and cities. Since the opening of the Bikini Car Wash, we have seen increased foot traffic and higher sales in our store. Other retailers in the area have also expressed to me anecdotal evidence of the same in their stores.
This is a good thing and I believe it is something that should be encouraged.”

He glanced up for a moment, observing the council before returning to his notes once more.

“But despite much of what has been discussed here tonight, the purpose of the amendment being offered is not to judge the value of Ms. Wolkowicz’s business. It is to change the definition of the term ‘sexually oriented business’ from one with very specific parameters, to one so flexible it might best be described as ‘I know it when I see it.’ The changing of city code is rightly the job of the council and, as I would not want you telling me how to run my grocery, I would not presume to tell you how to run the city.”

Again he glanced up and smiled at the seated officials.

“What I do wish to point out,” Pete continued. “Is that typically when new statutes are added to city code or existing ones are altered, the businesses currently in operation are not affected. Grandfathering of existing commercial ventures that were permitted prior to the adoption of changes has been the consistent and virtually unanimous policy since the inception of this council in 1834. So I would respectfully wish to point out to you and to the good people of Plainview, that adopting this amendment will not and should not affect continuing operation of the Bikini Car Wash.”

Hank Guthrie slammed his fist on the table so hard that everyone in the building, including Mayor Gunderson-Smythe, jumped. Pete did not jump. He didn’t even flinch. He gave his father a cool, even look that was not triumphant, but it was fearless.

WHEN THE CITY COUNCIL
voted down Hank Guthrie’s amendment, it offered Andi a reprieve. However, even before she’d left the building, the guy told her through clenched teeth that it wasn’t over. The next day the protestors were back on the sidewalk as if their lost gambit had never even occurred.

Andi didn’t mind. They seemed to attract more customers than they drove away. The insults had grown more infrequent, and as the days lengthened into the longest and hottest of summer, their number dwindled and their fervor lagged. It was hard to be indignant when the sweat ran down your back like a river and your industrial strength antiperspirant was failing.

It was hot for Andi and Tiff and Cher-L, too. But they had the shade of the overhang and the cooling spray of water. The three were getting better and more efficient at the job as days went by. They no longer had lines of customers waiting. But they had steady business and repeat customers. That was the measure of success for Andi. Sure, a lot of folks would pay to ogle the girls and see what all the fuss was about. But if they
would come back to get their car washed a second time, then she knew she was well on her way to being not just an oddity, but a service.

About a week and a half after the council meeting, a big windstorm blew in overnight. There were a few tree limbs down in the neighborhood and reports of power outages in the areas along the interstate. When Andi arrived at the car wash, she initially thought everything was fine. But after several strange jokes from her first customers of the day, Tiff showed up with a revelation.

“Have you seen your sign?” she asked with a chuckle of her own.

“My sign?”

“Your banner on the front of the overhang,” Tiff answered. “I guess it must have gotten a lot of buffeting last night. Or in-the-buff-ing or something.”

Andi walked out to the corner to see what she was talking about. Her sweet little banner, so like ones she’d made for high school math club, had slipped down during the night, revealing a hidden word and hiding ones that were important. The sign that had read:

Now said:

“I guess we’re expanding service in a whole new way,” Tiff joked. “Perhaps I can sign up volunteers for in-service training.”

Andi laughed and rolled her eyes.

“Now that might put some life back into the Merchants and Citizens Alliance for Morality,” she said.

“I’ll call Pop and have him bring the ladder down here,” she said.

She walked across the hot pavement and inside the building to do just that. While she was on the phone, she heard a car pull up. She assumed it was just another customer and that Tiff would handle it. It was only after she hung up that she turned her attention outside to see Gil McCarin, his car parked on the far side of the overhang, talking to Tiff.

Andi immediately went to her purse and dug her cell phone out of the bottom of it. She flipped it open and hurried outside.

They weren’t yelling and Gil had not thrown a blanket around her, but Andi wasn’t any less wary.

“I have Officer Mayfield on speed dial,” she announced in a tone that she hoped conveyed a real threat. “Tiff, do I need to call him?”

Gil frowned at her, but then turned his attention back to Tiff. “Do you really think I would hurt you?” he asked his ex-wife.

“You
have
hurt me,” Tiff answered. “When you gave up on yourself, you gave up on us. I guess that’s about the biggest hurt a husband can inflict on a wife.”

Andi felt like she was eavesdropping and quickly retreated to the inside of the building. She didn’t know that much
about the problems between Tiff and Gil, but she knew how much Tiff loved Caleb. And she knew that if Tiff decided that Gil could make custody trouble, she’d be gone in a skinny minute. Andi understood that, of course. The way Andi felt about it was strange. The righteous indignation of the M-CAM members only encouraged her. It made her want to be outrageous. But the reality that her brazen business venture might mean trouble for Tiff and Caleb, really gave her pause.

A gray minivan pulled up under the overhang. Andi hurried out to meet the pudgy guy in plaid Bermuda shorts and offer him an excellent deal on a complete detail.

The guy was only willing to go for a basic wash and wax. Andi took his money and he took a seat on a shady bench, more interested in his book than the women around him in bikinis.

Tiff quickly hurried over to help as Gil drove away.

“Is everything all right?” Andi asked.

She shrugged. “Who knows?” Tiff replied. “He’s not yelling, so I guess that’s an improvement.”

Andi agreed.

Pop showed up a few minutes later. He and Jelly needed to be at the church for meal on wheels by 10:30 a.m., but he brought the ladder and took the time to rehang the banner. It took him only a few minutes, but he was not optimistic about its future prospects.

“Temporary signs are meant to be temporary,” he pointed out to Andi. “That one is getting faded and ragged. Don’t you think it’s about time to invest in a sign painter?”

Andi nodded reluctantly. “I don’t know, Pop,” she said. “It seems so permanent.”

He eyed her skeptically. “Isn’t this a permanent business?” he asked.

“Yes…yes, of course it is,” she said. “But it’s a summer business and…”

“And you’re looking toward next summer?”

She nodded. “Who knows what the next summer will bring.”

Her father chuckled. “Truth is, Andi,” he said. “I think these men would pay to let you girls wash their cars in snowsuits and mukluks.”

Andi grinned at her father. “I don’t know if you’re right about that, Pop.”

She was about to get on about her business, when he forestalled her.

“Do you think you could take off a little early this evening?” he asked. Andi was surprised at the request. “Sure, probably,” she answered.

“I’ll have to work it out with Tiff and Cher-L. What’s up?”

“I want to take you out to dinner,” he said. “Kind of a little family meeting. I want to talk about something.”

“O…kay,” she said, dragging the word out slowly. “It’s not something that you can just tell me?”

“Let me buy you dinner,” he said. “I don’t remember the last time I took my girls out to a restaurant.”

Andi nodded. “Great,” she said with feigned enthusiasm. “What time?”

They agreed on eight o’clock. Andi cleared it with Cher-L who agreed to close up for her. Through the rest of the day, Andi was busy. But the surprise invitation had made her curious and concerned. She knew it had to be associated with bad news. Good news just bubbled out of people. It was only the unpalatable that required food and drink. Her specu
lation ranged from some horrible health issue that Pop had been keeping secret to his being forced to give up volunteering for meals of wheels because of her notoriety. The latter was infuriating. But the former was terrifying. Her mother’s rapid, unstoppable decline and death still loomed large in both grief and guilt. If something were to happen to Pop…Andi couldn’t even complete the thought. She fearfully recalled all those mysterious appointments he had in the last several months. Nothing…please God!…nothing could happen to Pop.

By the time she got home from work, a little after seven, she wasn’t in the best of moods. And the first thing she saw, when she went upstairs to shower, was Jelly in the dress she’d worn for their mother’s funeral.

“Take that off right now!” Andi snapped at her sister.

Jelly, who’d been smiling at her own image in the mirror, was caught off guard by the sudden, unexpected vehemence directed at her. Her face clouded over. It looked at first like she might cry, but instead she set her jaw obstinately.

“You are not the boss of me!” Jelly insisted. “Pop said to dress nice and this is my nicest dress. I never get to wear it.”

Andi deliberately modulated her tone. “It’s just not the right dress to wear to a restaurant,” she said.

Jelly didn’t believe her. “Grown-up women wear black dresses to dinner,” she said. “I am a grown-up woman.”

“Yes, you are,” Andi agreed. “But I don’t think…” She trailed off, but then focused on a new direction. “Would you like to wear my designer dress?”

Jelly’s eyes narrowed and she looked at her skeptically. “Why would I wear a diner dress to a restaurant?”

“Not diner, designer,” Andi corrected. “My blue dress, you know, the one that I wear for special occasions.”

Jelly’s eyes opened wide and her jaw dropped. “You would let me wear your blue dress?” she whispered.

“Yes I would,” Andi answered.

Jelly’s anger was completely forgotten as she followed Andi into her room. She was giggling and excited as Andi pulled the Escada out of her closet and removed its protective plastic cover. Andi gave it only the most casual of glances before handing it over to Jelly. It was a symbol, she thought, of how far she’d come. The dress was everything grand and hopeful and ambitious that she’d planned for herself. And now it was a hand-me-down for her sister.

Andi rushed through her shower and makeup. Deciding after a couple of attempts with the curling iron just to pile her hair on top of her head and call it a style. Thanks to the car wash her skin was now attractively tan and her arms amazingly buff. So the simple, cool sundress she chose looked fabulous and with a pair of perilously high strappy slides, it was dressy enough for any place in Plainview.

When she went downstairs, Jelly was giggly and excited and ready to go. Pop, on the other hand, seemed nervous. He was dressed in his very familiar, utilized-once-weekly suit, but his crisp white shirt was brand-new, as was his tie. The tie, with blue variegated lines atop a pewter-colored background really freshened up his traditional Sunday gray. Andi was surprised to see her father looking so sharp, almost fashionable.

“You look great, Pop,” she told him. “So where are we headed?”

“Delmonico’s.”

Delmonico Prima Vera, known by locals as simply Delmonico’s, was located on the side of a hill near Mt. Ridley Park. The only place more fancy or expensive was the country club and anyone who’d ever eaten there concluded that Delmonico’s served better food.

Pop ignored the optional valet parking and found a space for his old white truck near the far edge of the lot. They walked the distance with Jelly managing to hold up all ends of the conversation on her own.

“I look really nice in Andi’s blue dress and I get to go to a fancy restaurant because I have good manners ’cause I never eat with my fingers or blow bubbles in my drink like Tony Giolecki does. I don’t wear high heels because I could fall over and break my leg. Andi doesn’t mind if she breaks her leg ’cause she doesn’t have to carry meals to people’s houses, but I do and I couldn’t if I had to be on crutches the way Mrs. Pietras was after she had the operation on her foot.”

Andi listened absently and glanced over at her father occasionally. His thoughts appeared a million miles away.

When they stepped up to the desk of the hostess she asked if they had reservations.

“Yes,” Pop answered. “Wolkowicz. I’m supposed to have the small private deck at eight o’clock.”

“Yes, sir,” the young woman said, smiling at him very broadly. “If you’ll follow me.”

Andi had only been in the restaurant a couple of times and she’d always eaten in the main dining area. They were led upstairs and down a hallway into a corner room that had floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides. The view of Mt. Ridley, and their pleasant little small town, was magni
ficent. In the center of the room was a table for six with snowy white linens and an abundance of very breakable-looking stemware.

“Jelly, you’re going to need to be very careful,” Andi warned.

Her sister nodded, eyeing the elegant table decor with great trepidation as if it were set with explosives able go off with one false move.

“So, what’s the deal, Pop?” Andi asked. “Did you win the lottery?”

“No, but I do hope it will be…well, a bit of a celebration.”

Celebration,
Andi thought. Nobody, not even Pop, would announce some dreaded disease like a celebration.

“The chef helped me to select the wine when I came in on Monday,” Pop told the waiter.

“Yes, sir,” he answered. “Would you like me to serve it now or wait for the rest of your party?”

“The rest of our party?” Andi asked.

Before the question could be answered, the hallway door swung open once more and three well-dressed strangers were ushered in.

No, Andi thought. They weren’t strangers, she recognized all three. And Jelly did, too.

“Mrs. Joffee!” she said, excitedly. “Andi let me wear her blue dress, don’t I look really nice?”

“Yes, you look very nice,” Mrs. Joffee answered.

“Rachel,” Pop interjected. “This is my other daughter, Andrea.”

“Yes, of course.”

The dainty little woman took Andi’s hand and smiled up at her.

“And you probably know my boys, as well,” she said. “Andrea, Angela. This is Dave and Seth.”

She politely shook hands with the Joffee brothers.

“You can call me Jelly,” her sister told them. “That’s what everybody calls me, so you can call me that, too.”

“I remember you from school,” Seth said.

Jelly nodded. “So are you the fall guy?” she asked him. “Your brother will be out on parole in three to five, but you’ll be making license plates until your reservations in hell.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Oh, Jelly is just playing around,” Pop interjected quickly. “I’m Walter Wolkowicz,” he told the guys as they shook hands.

“Mr. Wolkowicz,” Dave acknowledged.

“Please, call me Walt,” he said.

All six of them stood together for a long moment, everyone smiling falsely bright. Andrea had a pretty good idea what this must be about and she wished her father hadn’t sprung it on her as a surprise.

“Why don’t we all sit down,” Pop suggested. “I’ll get the waiter to bring us a cool glass of white wine. Does that sound good, Rachel?”

“Yes, lovely,” she said.

As Pop stepped out of the room, Mrs. Joffee glanced around at them all again.