Bobby B – Money Pit

This is in-line backstory to get us to the end of season one in a couple of days. If you’re dying for some action, I just killed off two bad guys here –

Creighton DeHavilland’s office wasn’t the usual lawyer-y set up. Upstairs over a liquor store and a hair-nail salon combo in a Sunset Beach corner strip center. No sign other than C. DeHavilland on the door below the suite number. Nothing on the small center’s marquee. The office was neat, had an expensive any-way-you-want-it coffee maker on a stainless steel cart. The reheat and eat kitchen / wet bar opened up out of a closet like an efficiency apartment. The desk, at an angle in the corner, was modern and not too large. The centerpiece, and what owned the office, was a large hexagonal table. Where Creighton and Bobby were drawing on tablets that projected on two walls.

Bobby sighed, wiped his electronic etch a sketch. “POS is done? That’s what you’re saying?”

Creighton swiped the screen on his tablet. “Not done. Different concept. A straight franchise repair shop and esoteric used car lot.”

“Bernie said the car lot was her idea and it belonged to the restaurant.”

“And I said that would be a permit, zoning and liability nightmare. That’s why she’s not here.” Creighton leaned back, interlaced his fingers behind his head. “We’re already looking at a body shop with a diner on the front end. EPA will be an obstacle course. And our demographic doesn’t go out to eat with their families where used car lots line the streets. This project can’t be every good idea we have, mashed up like a German version of a Madonna song.”

Creighton stood, took his coffee to the microwave, waited for the four note chime. “We both know Bernie’s so hot to get this project off the ground we could say ‘Here’s the kitten drowning pool by the hostess station’ and she’d sign off on it. No car lot, she’s still on board. The car lot is a POS banner on Internet marketing with real estate investment brick and mortar outlets.”

“How ‘bout we build the Mad Mods diners, put a POS in the same market and contract all the paint? We don’t paint anything at Mick’s anyway. We take them down, send them out to get bead blasted and painted. All we do is wrench and weld and open boxes and wrench some more. Mick does his hand trim work and takes the credit.”

Creighton seemed to be out around Mars for a while, tapped his index finger on top of the microwave at an incredibly slow tempo. Thump…Thump…Thump…He came back from wherever he’d been, sat down and started scribbling on his tablet with his finger.

“For Bernie. We do the parking lot up like a clean used car lot. The strings of flags say happy. We do her diner on the front end like an old Route 66 gas station, only five or six times scale. Not huge, but not 1926. The back wall is plexi or whatever they use in car washes the EPA will agree with, and we put wrench and weld in full view behind it. No paint, no chemical issues. We build a POS or contract with a Mercedes-class body shop or the local hot dogs for paint. We take it’s temperature a couple of years in, test a larger, sports bar version in one or two major markets.” He sat back, looked at the wall. “Yeah?”

“Hell yeah.” Bobby was surprised at how well their grade school collages and a week’s worth of talk had morphed into a ragged reality. “Unhook that bad boy, toss it in the bucket and brag.”

“Done. I’ll call Bernie and get a mock up artist on this.” Creighton tapped his tablet, sent the grade school scribble on the screen to a printer behind his desk. “As of now Monterrey Mick’s Burgers, Babes and Mad Mods Body Shop is real. I’ll go see Mick, explain his future. Show him pictures of homeless, or a willing franchise partner or a bought-out retired nobody who can’t use his own name.”

“Names. Cray…Man, are we gonna leave ‘Babes’ in the name?”

“In this climate? Are you fucking nuts? We keep ‘Babes’ like Bernie’s going to keep wearing cutoffs after she gets her first paycheck as Director of Marketing. More name discussion. POS. Bobby, are you sure?”

“Yeah. I thought on it some more. ‘Proud Of Something’. Come in with a beater and leave with something to be proud of. Everybody needs to be POS. Proud of Something.”

“I knew you were golden. You can play dumb redneck kid all you want, I’ll be your paperwork Huckleberry.”

“We haven’t talked about money.”

“Talking money in Hollywood is crass, Bobby, because it’s always someone else’s. Let the documents roll out and then we can make money noises. Right now I need to spread some holiday cheer before the end of the year with some Christmas present phone calls. About a money pit with cachet that might turn a profit some day.”

Published by

Phil Huston

11 thoughts on “Bobby B – Money Pit”

    1. Thank you! I got busted recently by an “editor/author” (read that as one who can blow smoke up their own ass) for not showing, more, telling more. Like holding someone’s hand and walking them through a video shot sheet fro everybody in the room. I feel I get more mileage with simple cues and then let the characters act in the reader’s head. Put you in a room with them and let them belong to you. Otherwise, if every time Bobby rubs his nose you need to hear about it, Duh…

      Liked by 2 people

      1. Blargh, show don’t tell. A daft expression often used by people who want all writing to be the same. As bad as those who pick at grammar on the internet IMHO. They’ll pluck at the language until all character and personality’s removed so novels can read like textbooks. Your tales are awesome just the way they are sir.


        A fan

        Liked by 2 people

  1. > Talking money in Hollywood is crass, Bobby, because it’s always someone else’s.
    It’s like you live these scenes. And you’ve got dozens of them — all coming across as thoroughly convincing, like you eaves drop on folks from the bayou or Hollywood.

    Liked by 1 person

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