45~
Across the borders in another town the lives of Mary Ellen and Charles Eldorado went along in their respective fashions. The tragic death of their daughter had brought them closer as husband and wife and ever since that fateful year, Charles hadn't again engaged in any extra-marital affair. This ended up upsetting Margot and the likes of her, but he had made that decision and was keeping it.
Of course, Charles was still Charles, and he still could be quite egotistical, blunt, and an all around loudmouth. No place experienced this Mr. Eldorado better than The Chrome Cabaret. He still fancied a strong drink with "the boys" even now when The Classy Cord had finally gone off of TV. A shadowy bar, a good bit of guy-talk and the camaraderie he had with fellow Cadillac Harlan was too great to leave behind. Not to mention, he could still at least look at some of the girls. Just because he was on diet didn't mean he couldn't look at the menu, so to say.
It was this day that he had brought interesting news to share with the bartender though.
"Your average, Chuck?" Harlan asked when the sparkling metal-flaked gold Cadillac pulled up. Charles didn't conceal his displeasure.
"The answer is yes, but if you call me that one more time, you can say farewell to my business." he warned. Harlan gave his friend his drink and answered, "Empty threat, Charles. The Cabaret is the only place for you."
"True, but don't act like an idiot either." the gold car said before tossing off nearly half his drink in a single swig. Harlan assisted another customer before eventually gravitating back to the oft-rude larger-than-life car who somehow always remained his best friend. The gold Cadillac finished his beverage, leveled his topaz eyes on the silver one before him and said, "I've got news, friend."
Harlan was unsure what this would entail so kept his voice even in reply. "Do you now?"
Charles nodded his long hood, causing the "Flying Lady" ornament on the end to catch the yellowish light from a lamp nearby. The finely polished chrome sparkled dazzlingly. "My daughter's killers were found and locked up." he said. A female patron nearby gasped at the not exactly quiet words he had said. The gold car didn't react. Harlan refilled his friend's drink.
"I'm glad they've been caught but it's a shame that this can't bring Cornelia back." he said. Charles sighed harshly and answered, "You don't think I wish that every day? I've been a damned horrible husband to my wife and not nearly as good as I could have been to my daughter, but I still wish I had another chance. I came to my senses too late. I've mind to drive out to that jail and give those asshats a piece of my mind."
"Well, why don't you?" Harlan inquired. Charles tipped back his drink before answering.
"Because," he began, setting the glass down sharply. "If I went out there, I'd likely find a way to maim one or both of those ignorant damned-to-hell criminals."
"What's so bad about that?"
Charles fixed Harlan with a strict look the lesser would flinch under. "I'd be thrown in a cell too, that's what! I'd be an inmate also and I don't exactly find delight in that. For three reasons."
Harlan gave him an encouraging look, not that Charles needed one. "One, a car that looks like me does not belong in a disgusting cell. Two, I do not want to be cellmates with the shitters that killed my daughter. Three…" He let the word hang in the air.
"Yes…?" Harlan asked, feeling slightly confused, just slightly. The infamous smirk curved across Charles's gleaming front bumper.
"Three…" he continued in a tone that made a newly arrived female nearby look up. "I couldn't be all by my lonesome for a very certain reason. After all, one of the easiest ways – if not the easiest way – to my heart is from the undercarriage." Harlan couldn't help but chuckle.
"You're unbelievable, Charles." he said. Nearby, the attention-caught lady – a slim Pierce Arrow – casually came up to Charles and asked in a seductive tone, "What's shakin', sailor?"
The big Cadillac rolled his eyes and said, "How about the ice-cubes in my glass?" She made a sound of disgust and answered, "I was hoping for a more interesting reply than that."
"Sorry. I'm only a wordsmith when it comes to cussing." he said. She rolled her eyes as well. Two could play at that game. She decided a different approach that she was sure he'd react to. Leaning up against his sparkling gold side, she murmured, "Hey friend… I need a little help."
"Don't we all," the Cadillac said, accepting his refilled drink. The Pierce Arrow took a deep breath and continued, "I'm looking for a man who knows his ways around balls, sailor."
Charles took an unhurried sip of his drink and replied when he set it down, "Well, I certainly know my way but I'm completely unavailable."
Her eyes widened. "But… aren't you the man who always was looking for a good time? Aren't you the infamous Mr. Charles 'Helldorado?'" He flashed his amber gaze onto her.
"I was. I traded my ways when my daughter was killed and it's a damned shame it took me that long also. I've got a wife and everything I need. Nice seeing you now." he answered and didn't give her a second look. Her mouth fell open at this unexpected affront. She decided to try one more tactic.
"You're the most handsome man I've ever seen, sailor." she claimed, meaning every word. He turned away from his drink to flash her his dangerously charming smile.
"Thanks a lot; I'm quite aware." he chuckled, giving her his well-known wink which in this case meant simply nothing. She glared. Never had she seen a man so unappreciative towards her fawning.
. . . .
Charles spent some time at the bar having a nice talk with Harlan before returning home after having what to any other car would be 5 drinks too many. The Cadillac though never seemed to get drunk. Harlan had to be a responsible tender to any of his guests for safety's sake, but it never seemed like his friend could ever hit his limit. If he showed any drunkenness at all, it must have been simply his fonder usage of coarse language. His repertoire of cuss words was pretty wide and would certainly come out when he was orating about a tense subject, such as his daughter's killers. He managed to say words that evening that even a few of the barflies winced at. But, as he himself said to Harlan's mild warning, "I don't give a microscopic shit."
The gold Cadillac returned home an hour before evening set in and was met at the door by his wife. "I was hoping you'd be home soon, Charley." she said.
She would always remain the only one who could call him that.
"Hoping I'd be home, huh?" he asked, pushing the door shut with his rear bumper. "Don't tell me the sink is clogged again. I'm not handling that slop."
She laughed lightly and answered, "No Charley, the sink isn't clogged and even if it were, I'd have called the plumber by now."
"I don't like that guy…" Charles grumbled.
"Just because he's Italian doesn't mean he's bad, you know. You have to stop being so hard on other nationalities."
"He has shifty eyes and is crass as all hell." he mildly argued. Mary Ellen rolled her eyes.
"Look in the mirror, Mr. Eldorado. You're a little crass also, you know. And you know something else?" she asked. Charles knew there was no quarrelling now.
"What, dear one?" he asked, deadpan. She locked her eyes on his from where they looked out over what she called his "banquet table-sized hood."
"The Italian plumber may not like you either, you know. He may think you're a shifty American."
Charles stared at her and watched as a smile slowly grew across her face. He narrowed his eyes in mostly mock disgust.
"I need another drink," he griped.
