Trent Reedy - Stealing Air

“Thank you, Mr. Davis,” Max said quietly. He stood up and hurried out of the room.

Brian scrambled back out of his uncomfortable shirt and pulled on his Yellow Submarine T-shirt.

Grandpa cleared his throat. “Listen, Brian…”

Uh-oh. Whenever an adult started a conversation with “Listen, Brian,” a big, serious lecture was bound to follow.

“I’ll try to keep this short. I know that you probably just lost track of time, but your father had really been hoping you could be here for this meeting. He wanted to show you off to that lady down there, Mrs. Whatshername.” He grinned. “Now, I’m not trying to make you feel bad about tonight. Just telling you that these next few months, your parents are going to be very busy, maybe a little tense, while your father is getting this business up and running. You’re going to be on your own some, and I need you to promise to help out and be on your best behavior.”

Brian nodded. It was a good thing he’d done that whole almost-get-in-a-fight thing before he had to make this promise.

Grandpa reached over to muss his hair. “Good man.”

Downstairs, Grandpa stopped them in the dining room so they wouldn’t interrupt the presentation. He spotted Mom in the kitchen and went to talk to her. Max looked impatient to leave, but as long as they had to wait for Grandpa, Brian peeked into the living room to watch Dad work his business magic.

Dad was dressed in his jeans and a suit-type coat, standing in front of a big screen. Dr. Warrender stood next to him in black dress pants, a shiny purple shirt, and a black jacket with shoulder pads. Her dark hair was pulled back tightly and she wore the same sort of glasses as Max. Another man, wearing a tan jacket with fancy brown patches on the elbows — probably Max’s father, with hair just like his son’s — sat stiffly at the end of the couch.

A short woman with shoulder-length gray-flecked black hair was seated on a chair facing the screen. She handed a plate of food to a little man next to her and stood up as if to speak.

“Do you need something, Mrs. Douglas?” Dad said.

“Yes, Mr. Roberts.” Mrs. Douglas put her hands on her hips. “Proof.” She paused for a moment, and the room was completely silent. Dad’s smooth smile didn’t fade at all. “The idea is intriguing, and you’re a charming man. But if charm made money, I’d be a billionaire by now, and I won’t be razzle-dazzled by scientific figures, some charts, and a lot of vague promises. That didn’t work with any of my three ex-husbands or hubby number four here” — she nodded toward the man sitting next to her — “and it certainly won’t work with you.”

Dad chuckled as if the woman had just told a joke. “Mrs. Douglas, I certainly didn’t mean to—”

“You know why I agreed to come down for this meeting?”

“Well, you strike me as a sharp businesswoman who knows a great opportu—”

“Cut the donkey diddle, Mr. Roberts. I got so much money now, I have to hire accountants just to monitor my accountants. I do little side projects like this for fun.”

This little “side project” was a company that Brian’s parents were risking everything for. What must it be like to have money like Mrs. Douglas had? She was still talking.

“Now I come here and you show me a lot of boring facts and figures. You have no proof. No demonstration. I’m not having any fun with this. You gotta impress me.”

Max’s mother took a small step forward. “I assure you, Mrs. Douglas, that Plastisteel is a very impressive substance. With your money to help us develop faster and more efficient ways of manufacturing it—”

“I expected to see a car made out of this magic plastic of yours. You can’t even make me a wagon!”

Dr. Warrender fidgeted with a sparkly pin on her lapel. “We did have samples to show you, but we had a bit of a security—”

Dad clapped his hands. “Security in knowing that Plastisteel is so great that we, um… don’t need samples. It’s fantastic enough without samples!”

Mom entered the living room. “Mrs. Douglas, dinner’s about ready. If you’d like to come into the dining room, we could get started.”

Dad gave Mom a grateful look. “Ah, let’s all head into the dining room, and we’d be happy to answer any more of your questions over dinner.”

Grandpa pushed Brian and Max out the door before Mrs. Douglas could see them. When they had all climbed into his truck and he’d started the engine, he leaned back in his seat. “Whew!” He pulled a cigar from his pocket and held it in his teeth, then flicked his lighter open and puffed the cigar to life. “I thought we’d never get out of there. That investor woman was almost tougher than some of my old army drill sergeants.”

Brian relaxed and enjoyed the warm smell from Grandpa’s cigar. “Don’t worry, my dad can handle anything.”

Max only looked back toward the house.

Grandpa rolled his window down to let the smoke out, put the truck into gear, and started to drive. They soon reached his house on the west edge of town. Instead of turning into his driveway, though, he pulled the truck over and parked on the street. Grandpa blew out a long puff, flicked his ashes out the window, and then set the cigar in the truck’s ashtray. “We have arrived.”

“What are we doing?” Brian asked. “I thought we were going to get ice cream.”

“Want to introduce you to my neighbor boy here across the street. He’s a good guy. Does chores for me around the farm sometimes.” Grandpa put his hand to his back and groaned as he climbed down out of the truck.

Brian wasn’t totally thrilled by the idea of his grandpa introducing him around, but Grandpa was already halfway up the path to the front door. He waited for Max to open the passenger door so he could get out.

“I do not believe this is the wisest course of action,” Max said.

“Can’t stop him now, though,” Brian said. He scooted across the seat to climb out the driver’s side door, then hurried to catch up with Grandpa. Max followed slowly behind.

A moment after Grandpa rang the doorbell, the door opened, and Brian realized why Max had thought this was a bad idea. Out stepped Alex, the gambler from the skate park.

“Hey, Mr. Davis,” said Alex. He leaned to see around Grandpa and spotted Brian and Max. “Um… hey,” he said to Brian. He nodded. “Max.”

“Hello, Alex! I think you know Max Warrender here, but I want you to meet my grandson Brian,” Grandpa said. Brian tried to smile, though he felt a little strange being introduced to someone he already knew. Max just stared at the ground. Grandpa patted Brian on the back. “He just moved to town and will be starting sixth grade with you and Max tomorrow. I figured you’d all have a lot in common and maybe you’d like to come get ice cream with us. My treat. Then you might show Brian and Max around the farm, since you’ve gotten so familiar with it, working there this summer.”

“Sounds great,” Alex said.

Soon all four of them squeezed into Grandpa’s truck and headed out toward the Tasty Freeze drive-in. Grandpa said he was fine with his cigar, but he bought a chocolate ice-cream cone for Alex, vanilla for Max, and a chocolate-and-vanilla twist for Brian.

“Thanks for this,” Alex said when they were in the truck on the way back.

“Yeah, this is great, Grandpa,” said Brian. Grandpa nodded.

Max didn’t say anything, and a quiet settled over the cab.

“Brian here is pretty good on the skateboard,” Alex said.

“Is that right?”

Brian felt his cheeks go hot. If Alex told Grandpa about the near fight with Frankie, Grandpa would worry again about him staying out of trouble.

“Best skateboarder I’ve ever seen,” Alex said. Brian smiled.