Chapter 34

Ray Ryan had taken nearly an hour showing Bud how to clean and hook up the spray gun and then had demonstrated the proper method of adjusting the nozzle and spray pattern.

"Now you try," Ray said, handing Bud the gun and stepping over the hose to the compressor.

Bud squeezed the trigger and made a swipe across the old quarter panel, beneath the swath Ray had just painted with primer.

"OK," Ray said, "but keep it moving and always end off the surface before coming back the other way. Do another."

Bud sprayed twice across the wet metal, trying to stay the same distance from the surface as he had been instructed, feeling a bit nervous for some reason, concentrating on what he was doing, watching the paint fill in.

"Not bad, not bad," Ray said. "Always keep it moving. You have to avoid the sags. Remember two thin coats are better than one thick coat."

Bud nodded.

"Put on a mask and go prime that Ford in the booth, the one you masked yesterday. It's all set up for you. Just flick on the compressor and get to work. Start on the roof and work down, use that step stool in there, just like you were washing it. Two thin coats, right?"

Just before lunchtime, Ray came into the paint booth and found Bud running thinner through the gun. He walked around the Ford Tudor, moving his head up and down to look at the surface closely, being careful not to touch the car, putting his fingers on the newspaper-covered windows. "Nice job," he said to Bud, smacking him on the back. "Let's eat and then we'll look at it again when it's dry. It might be thin in one or two places."

Bud unwrapped his bologna sandwich and sat on a bent metal chair, stretching out his legs, his dented thermos by his feet. The smell and taste of paint was still in his mouth.

"You're married, ain't'cha, Bud?" asked a fellow called Charlie, a genius, everybody said, with the torch. He had gray in his hair, a grizzled beard, a bleeding heart tattooed on his right bicep and a foul tongue.

Bud nodded and chewed.

"So how often do y'get get it now?" Charlie showed his missing teeth when he smiled.

Bud wiped his mouth with his fingers. "None a'your damn business," he said.

"Leave him alone," Ray Ryan said, "he's still on his honeymoon."

"She one a'them skinny little gals or has she got some meat on her bones?" asked Joe Fisher who did much of the leading and putty work.

"Oh she's plenty big enough," Bud said. "Got plenty to squeeze."

"You pop her cherry?" asked Charlie with a chortle.

Bud glared at him and took out the other half of his sandwich.

"She pack you that lunch?" asked Ray Ryan

"Yes sir," Bud said, glad to change the subject.

"Well, that's a good wife you got, boy. My old lady, she's still snoring when I leave home."

"Shit, boss," Charlie cackled, "bet she'd rise an' shine if'n she knew about young Trixie."

"Charlie," Ryan said, "one of these days your mouth's gonna get you fired or you're gonna lose some more teeth."