Josh came back from pumping gas and found Gus sitting by the cash register reading The Newsletter. The Audi he’d just finished working on was still on the lift. It was one of those precious moments when there was nothing to do, nothing except huddle near the heater and talk. But before Josh could even pull out the stool another car ran over the bell, causing him to curse.
"Relax, Josh. I’ll get this one. Warm your hands. Take a break." How come Gus was being so nice? He didn’t seem to be as quick to help Fred. Maybe it was just the boredom of the late afternoon. Josh picked up the paper and scanned the headlines.
Gus was back with a snarl. "Nothin’ but directions." He stamped his feet and took off his gloves. "Some southerner got off the interstate and ended up here. I told him if he was smart enough to find his way all the way over here, he was probably smart enough to find his way back. We should outlaw Connecticut tags in this state!"
"And Massachusetts and Rhode Island. I’m even surprised you let the Mainiacs into this station." Josh folded the paper back to Gus’s page and put it on the counter.
"Not bad thinkin’, Josh. Let’s make this a New Hampshire only gas station. Good service, good prices, and no outlanders. What d’ya say?" Gus picked up the paper, refolded it and began to read. Another car pulled in and Josh went out to pump gas. When he returned, Gus had gone out into the service area. Josh followed.
"Need some help, Gus?"
"Nope. Nothing to do here. Just straightening up some of the mess you and Fred left out here."
"Hey. We haven’t been out here all day. In fact, you’re the only one who’s worked in here for the last couple of days."
"What are you trying to say, Josh?"
Josh saw the sparkle in Gus’s eyes and relaxed. "I was just thinkin’ that this mess must have been here quite a while, that’s all. Musta been Fred, last weekend. I’ll let him know that he’s been slackin’ off."
"That’s what I like about you, Josh. Always quick to find the heart of a problem, and to do something about it. Give Fred a good kick, too." He ran a rag along the Audi’s fender. Josh thought it seemed like a good time to bring up a subject he’d been mulling for a while.
"Gus. I’ve been working here for three years, off and on."
"A year pretty steady, I’d say." He moved some tools around on the bench.
"Well, a year and lots of part time before that. And you’ve given me a couple of raises."
"You do good work, Josh. But you know, I can’t give you a raise right now. Maybe next month. We’ll just have to wait and see. Business may pick up in the spring." He moved a box of valve stems to the back of the shelf.
"No. No, I’m not looking for a raise. The money’s good. I don’t need any more. No. See, I was thinking about next year."
"Oh, sure. I’ll keep you on. That’s no problem. No problem at all." Gus moved the box of stems back to the front of the bench. And then to the back again. "Uh, what are you planning on doing next year? Some sort of schooling?"
"No. I mean. . . . Well. . . ." Josh watched Gus move things around on the bench. He wanted to scream, to grab Gus’s hand and make him stop. "Gus, what I’d like is to work here full time. Forty hours a week, maybe more. I’d make this place shine. We’d have the best shop in town, in the whole Seacoast area. What d’ya say, Gus? Huh? What d’ya say?"
"Seems to me we already got the best place in town. And it is supposed to shine. Who’s supposed to keep this bench organized? I suppose it’s Fred’s job too. You might be a good addition to this shop. You know your way around under the hood. Customers like you. You take care of things. How’s school?"
"Huh?"
"That’s monosyllabic."
"Huh?"
"Monosyllabic. One syllable. I need some bigger words. Longer sentences. Tell me. Are you on the honor roll? Winning any prizes? Got any teachers on your side? Can you get some recommendations?"
"Gus. We’re talking about car repair. Pumping gas. Keeping the shop shipshape. Cleaning carburetors. That’s what I’m good at. That’s what counts." Could Gus see the panic in his eyes? Could Gus smell the sudden fear?
"I’ll take that as a no. Listen. I like you, son. You do good work. If you want a recommendation for another job, I’m your man. Or a recommendation for school. A couple of years of auto mechanics at Stratham Tech would do you a world of good. And you’d probably do a good job here with or without more training. This isn’t rocket science. But. . . ."
"But what, Gus? But what?"
"Well, I’ve seen a lot of kids in my time here. I been at this same corner for thirty-eight years. This used to be the main route before the bypass. All the cars going and coming from the coast, from Portsmouth, from Maine, all went by here. And I’ve had a lot of kids work for me, and you’re one of the best. But it seems to me that before I promise you a job, you need to promise me something. Can you do that?"
"Huh?"
"Well, let me tell you what I’m thinking, and then you can decide." Gus continued to wander around the bay, picking things up and putting them down again. "Suppose this job is about doing what you are asked to do, and doing it on time, and making everything you do, whether it’s tuning up some fancy Cadillac or hosing out the shop, making everything you do the very best. And getting along with everyone. Not just your buddies, or the friendly customer. But with that real bastard who says you didn’t do good work on his car last week, or that old lady who wants her oil checked and the tires puffed just a little bit, no gas, thank you, dear."
"Well, I guess it is. No, of course it is." What was Gus getting at? What was wrong? Once again, Josh Allenson didn’t quite get it, and it was driving him crazy. "I’m good with customers. You’ve never had any complaints. None you’ve told me about."
"None I’ve told you about. And none, in fact. You’re good, Josh. You’re very good. But I want you to show me that you can really follow through, even when the demands seem weird or pointless. Even when you’re tired. Even when you want to be a thousand miles away." Gus played with a ball-peen hammer and then hung it back on the peg board.
"I can do that. Of course I can. How can I show you? What do you want me to do?"
Gus picked up another hammer and twisted it in his hands. He rubbed his palm against the end of the hammer. "Bring me a report card that’s mostly A’s, maybe a couple of B’s. You’re a smart kid. You read a car like an open book. Show me that you can work that school the same way you work a couple of faulty brakes." He tossed the hammer on the bench and fixed his cold blue eyes on Josh.
"That’s not fair. I can’t. I can’t do that. It’s too late. The term closes in a week." Something was twisting way down inside of him.
"I don’t mean next week. I mean by the end of the year. Start working with your teachers. Start making your work in school as important as the work you do here. Make some friends at the high school."
"How can I do that? That school’s stupid. There’s nothing there for me. No one there likes me. Well, mostly no one."
"It’s your choice, Josh. Here’s the deal. You bring me a report card with all A’s and B’s by June, and I’ll sign you on full time, with a raise. Hell, in ten years I’ll sell the place to you. But first you’ve got to show me that you’ve got some spunk. What do you say? Shake?"
The leathery hand that surrounded Josh’s fingers felt strong and certain. Josh tried to smile, but his universe had suddenly gotten much bigger, and he wasn’t sure how much of it he could control.
