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Benny & Ray 80 Fischer Ford Dee Gilles Rated G

Christmas was the worst time of year for selling cars. But Damon Elliott Fischer the Third was a patient man. He settled back on his heels, clasped his hands behind his back, and waited for the fish to bite.

Sure, occasionally, you'd get a guy coming in to buy something for his wife or his family, but for the most part, it was mostly standing around all day, looking good in his custom-made pinstripe suits, occasionally chatting with other sales guys...and gals. That was always nice. The ladies, wow, they really made it worthwhile coming to work every day. Damon loved women.

It had been his idea to hire more women sales people for Fischer Family Ford. He'd talked Dad into it. It was a tough sell, because Dad was old school down to his soul, and didn't think a woman had what it took to make the hard deals and bring in the dough.

Oh, but they had. In spades. The old stodgy men who came in for their pickup trucks steered clear of the women. They were close to Dad's age. But the under-forty men loved the gimmick. Damon encouraged the young ladies to dress sharp, high heels, tiny skirts, the whole nine. If he thought he could have put them in bikinis, he just might have. Sex appeal sells, they always say. Damn right it does.

Sales at Fischer Family Ford were up fifteen percent this fiscal quarter; sales at Fischer Chrysler-Plymouth-Dodge were up seventeen percent, Fischer Hyundai-Kia was up a whopping twenty-three percent, and Fischer Lincoln-Mercury was up only two percent. L-M was known for catering to the geezer set, so that the sales were so soft in comparison to the other dealerships didn't bother him too much.

Damon had told his father when he started in the family business two years ago that he was going to shake things up, go for the young customer, and so he had. Youth. That was where it was at.

Damon had helped put some of the competition out of business this year, too. That old ratty Markles place finally folded like a house of cards- those bunch of swindlers. One of the cousins had taken over a few months after those two crackers, along with their shifty lead salesman, got put away. He had died of a heart attack last year, and then another cousin took over the place, along with a couple of nephews. There seemed to be a pipeline of white trash Markles, each one a little dumber than the last. That was an easy kill.

The Daewoo place down the street hadn't stuck it out very long either. And Massey-Jones Chevrolet finally folded too, last year. Nobody gave a damn about Chevy's anymore. The Caddy dealership was the toughest competition, but Damon drove hard with some killer deals non-stop. Massey-Jones Cadillac was surrounded by Fischer Hyundai-Kia, C-P-D, and L-M, so it was only a matter of time before they bit the dust too. They sold their last car three months ago, and a KFC/Taco Bell now operated in their old building.

In addition to hiring up on women, Damon had also overseen the renovation of this place and the C-P-D sales office. Dad had rewarded him with a huge cash bonus, and a cherry red 2004 Mustang Mach 1. It was a sweet-ass ride. This spring, he also wanted to get a F-350, just for fun. That was the next goal to work toward.

Damon shifted to the balls of his feet, glancing down and smoothing his tie, straightening his diamond tie clip. He thought back to the affirmation tapes he listened to on the ride to work this morning, and visualized himself making the next sale of the day. He could do anything he could imagine. Yeah. He was that kind of guy. He checked his pants for lint.

Damon observed through the large plate glass windows of the dealership the cars going down the highway. There were a lot of Toyotas on the road, and Nissans, and Hondas. He'd been trying to get dad to open up a Honda-Acura place in Lincoln Park or the Near North Side, but Dad felt like he had his hands full already. Damon told him to let him run it. Sure, he had a lot to learn, but he could do anything. Damon recited from his affirmation tapes. He could do anything. People liked him. He was a smart man with unlimited potential.

Damon watched as an old station wagon slowed and pulled into the driveway. The car was packed with people, and he wondered for a moment if it was a pack of Mexicans. Not that he had anything against Mexicans. It was just that those people tended to ride around in packs. He couldn't quite make out how many people were in the car. It drove past him and disappeared from view.

He moved close to the front door, intent of greeting them before any other sales person could get their hands on them. This was his sale. Damon watched as Bobbie Pace tried to slither in front of him with a look of hopeful desperation. Ah, the sharks smelled the blood in the water. Damon cut Bobbie off and exited, daring him with a withering glance, to challenge him.

Bobbie hung back.

Outside, Damon drew a deep breath and let it out. It wasn't a bad day out. The sun was shining and it felt like forty-degrees, maybe a little warmer. He stuck his hands in his pockets. Damon heard a scuffle and voices and he turned curiously in the direction from which the noise had come. The people from the station wagon. Goodness, this was a...a herd.

A man with an eighties-style mullet led the way. He was a big guy with a big gut. Damon thought that was a Members Only jacket that he wore. Right beside him was an elderly woman with auburn hair. She wore an ankle length big puffy coat, white knit cap and gloves to match. In the crook of her elbow was a large brown purse. On the other side of the "eighties man" was a petite and severe looking woman, clutching the hand of her look-alike daughter. A tall skinny and balding man trailed them, and beside him was the bigger man, squared off, good-looking if you liked the super-hero type. He carried a toddler. He walked slowly, as he had a tiny pregnant girl on his arm. The girl was hot. She wore tight black pants, a hot red top that fit snuggly over her little basketball of a belly, and high heels.

Damon had a thing for pregnant women. This woman. Oh my God. She carried herself like she knew she was the sexiest thing going. She had fire-engine red lipstick, and big hoop earrings. She heartily chewed gum. He glanced at the big man attached to her, and regrettably tore his eyes from her to get to business.

Damon quickly sized them up, trying to sort out who the go-to person was. He wasn't even sure how many families he had here. For all he knew, he had two or three sets of families. Maybe it was just a coincidence that that they were all walking in together; there was a back driveway as well. But the females bore a resemblance to one another. The guys looked nothing alike. Husbands, boyfriends. Who belonged to who?

Damon dug in. "Good afternoon!"

Some of the group greeted him in return. The skinny guy already was scoping out the cars. Something about him looked shifty, though. The place had gotten hit with car thieves two months ago, car thieves who came in and cased the place first. Damon decided to keep a close eye on the man.

"Good afternoon!" the elderly lady called out, catching his attention. She had a round face, kind eyes, and a commanding presence.

Damon addressed her. "How are you this fine day?" He put on his brightest smile and the woman returned the smile enthusiastically.

"Oh, quite well!" the pregnant woman piped up.

The pregnant woman, on her husband's arm, gave Damon the old elevator eye. Reflexively, Damon grinned, and then pulled back. For a split second it looked as though the husband intercepted the look that flashed between them, but oddly enough, he seemed unconcerned.

"What brings you by today? Is everyone together?"

"Oh, yeah!" the other young woman answered.

"Mommy, they have balloons inside!"

"What?"

"Balloons! Can I get one?"

"So you can just let it go, young lady? I don't think so!"

"I won't, Momma, I promise," the tall thin little girl wheedled.

"Oh, she's welcome to one!" Damon said with a bright encouraging smile. He opened the door to the spacious showroom and ushered them in. Damon liked to show off his new lobby; it was pretty impressive and instilled in his customers confidence; if you looked successful, you had success. That was on tape two of his affirmations.

There was a waiting area with all-leather oversized chairs, a large-screen TV, and coffee and tea bar, and an old-fashioned popcorn machine, complete with red and blue striped paper sacks. "What color would you like?"

The girl put to her mouth, looking suddenly shy. "Tell the man what color, Rosanna!" the woman impatiently prompted.

"I'll like a pink one, please," she finally replied.

Damon untied a balloon from the bunch and tied it securely to the girl's wrist. She beamed.

"I want one! I want one!" the toddler screamed. She pointed and squirmed in the superman's arms. The man let the child down, who ran to him with her arms extended.

"And what color would you like, little girl?"

She mutely pointed toward the yellow, and Damon complied, tying the balloon around her wrist as well.

"Marissa, what do you say?" the man asked.

"Thank-you-kindly!" the girl shouted happily, prompting laughter from the group.

The ice now broken, Damon went to work, clapping his hands together. "So, who's in the market today?"

The man with the mullet spoke up, after he scooped the little girl up in his arms. "Actually, the car is for me and my wife. Our mudder in law will be driving, too. And the rest of them over there....well, they're just along for the ride."

"I'm Damon," he said, extending his hand.

The man shook it. "I'm Tony. This is Maria. My mudder in law Anna-Sophia."

"Pleased to meet you all."

"What are we, chopped liver back here?" the skinny man in the back complained.

"Yeah, yeah." Tony said. "Those are my other in-laws, Little Ray, Ben, Frannie. And these two are my girls. We got two older boys at home."

"Oh my, that's quite a family. Let me guess. Mini van?"

"Or SUV," Tony replied.

"Mini van!" Maria said, shooting a glare towards her husband. "You paying for the gas, mister?"

"You paying the note? Settle down, alright?"

"You settle down. I'm paying the insurance, and we're not getting an SUV! You know how high the rates are on those? Especially if we have to put Donny on!"

"The kid's not going to be driving for another year! Relax, don't worry about!"

"Tony! I don't wanna get an SUV!"

"How about a nice station wagon?" the mother, Anna-Sophia, asked.

"Well, madam, they really don't make those anymore. The old station wagon kind of evolved into what we now call a CUV, or a crossover vehicle. Like the Subaru Forester, but of course, we don't sell those here." Damon made a mental note to talk to Dad about opening a Subaru place.

Damon decided it was the most diplomatic to address the wife. "What we do have that you might find of interest is the Freestar. Seats seven. It's right out front. Would you like to take a look?"

The man and woman looked at each other and shrugged. Damon knew he had them hooked. He mentally rolled up his sleeves. A sale was practically as good as done, if he could get the two to compromise. He visualized himself filling out the financing paperwork for the two of them.

Damon led them through the paces. He got sporadic attention from the ruckus group as people dropped in and out of the pack. It was rather "like herding cats" as his Dad would say. Damon wasn't even sure who was listening anymore, but he kept talking. At one point, he was addressing Tony, who wandered away to look at the Mustangs. His "brudder in law" Ray went with him. At one point, he was even talking to Superman, who politely listened, but Damon could tell he wasn't interested.

Superman mostly kept up with the mother, and the other women, but also kept one eye on the little girls. He let his wife wander around on her own. Damon also showed the family Taurus's and Thunderbirds, just to keep the conversation flowing.

Frannie, the hot young pregnant lady, had wandered over to the compacts. He saw Bobbie heading out to greet her, but he fixed him with a glare, and Bobbie quickly ducked back inside. Damon visualized the woman driving the Focus. A nice red one. "How are you set for vehicles, miss?"

"Oh, I could use one, but who's got the money?" she asked sadly.

"What do you drive?"

"A '95 Civic," she said, wincing with embarrassment.

"Good cars," he commented. "How many miles?"

"Like, a million," she said.

"Well, maybe I can show you and your husband a little something. We can work with you on a payment plan, no money down. Maybe an Escape or an Expedition perhaps?"

"Husband? Oh no. I'm not married."

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry! Your boyfriend."

"Oh, I don't have a boyfriend, either!" She met his eyes and smiled. Damon's glance slid over in the direction of Superman.

"You mean, you two aren't together anymore?"

"Oh! We never were!"

"Ummm?" he glanced down at her belly between them.

Francesca followed his gaze. "Oh! This? This is not mine!"

"Pardon?"

"This is my brother's kid!"

"What?" Damon said, losing his profession composure for a moment.

"No, it's not what you think! It's his kid, actually!" she said, pointing out Superman.

"So you two are an item."

"No. Look. That's my brother." She indicated the skinny guy, Little Ray, who had now moved over to the Thunderbirds with Tony. "And that's his boyfriend. This is their kid."

"Ah!" Damon smiled. He visualized the sexy pregnant woman and himself together.

"I'm single," Francesca said. She batted her eyelashes, placing her hands on her hips. Damon gave her the old elevator eyes.

Thirty minutes later, he had the bill of sale for a Ford Freestar, and the phone number of Francesca Vecchio, both clutched in his hot little hands. They had a date for Saturday night. It was a good day for Damon. But then again, he knew that, because when he woke up this morning, he visualized it. He was after all, a charming man, and people liked him.

He went back to work, waiting for his next customer with a smile on his face.

FINIS