Chapter 56

I went back to the truck where Bill and Mr. Baugus were talking about the windows for the sides of the sleeper.

"Mr Baugus, can you give us directions to this sleeper place?"

After he told us where it was we got back in the truck.

"Jimmy, why don't we go over there in your truck, so we can show the guy exactly what we want him to do again?" Bill asked.

"I'm glad you though of it. I was shocked Dad seemed so happy about me asking him to have the IRS leave the sleeper man alone and I guess I'm kinda in a daze," I said.

"I'm just trying to be worth my exorbitant salary," Bill said, grinning.

"Damn, I forgot to asks George about the V8 for this truck and I didn't tell him to go ahead and order the other trucks," I said.

"I told him to get his ass in gear on the V8 and to make sure we started seeing more trucks here pronto. He also said he'd call the seat manufacturer and get them started on loveseats for the passenger side," Bill said.

"I don't know how I ever got anything done before I met you," I said, and I meant it.

"Before you met me, you weren't worrying about anything except sniffing around the girls," Bill said, and laughed at me.

He'd parked my other truck at the Cadillac lot and when we got there he took it. I followed him to the house and all the way there I thought about how odd it was for a fourteen year old kid to be driving a big truck around by himself.

Damn, I didn't even have a regular driver's license and I knew the CDL required to drive the truck was strictly regulated by the Federal government. After a second that eased my mind, Dad seemed to be getting along just fine with the Feds right now.

This little jaunt was going to fuck up everyone's schedule, but there was no help for it. Mom had spoken, and we were going to get this mess out of the way, now.

We left the practice truck parked by the curb near our house and headed for the sleeper place. It wasn't hard to find, but it was halfway around Atlanta and I was glad Bill was driving. I noticed right off I-285 was no place for me to be practicing.

The building we found was neat looking and pretty big. There was plenty of room for us to park and several new looking tractors scattered around, most of them with sleepers mostly attached.

We found the office and went inside. They had the cutest little thing there for a receptionist. Her face was really pretty, but she seemed to be a little down. Bill introduced us and told her we wanted to see Carl Jenks, the owner.

"I'll put you down, but he may not be able to see you today. He's on the phone now and it won't be good for his mood," she said.

"We'll wait, and we will be good for his mood if he can see us," I said.

Bill and I sat in the little waiting room. I figured it would be a while so I was paging through an old magazine. It wasn't as long a wait as she'd thought though.

The phone buzzed and she picked it up.

"Yes, he just came in," she said.

She was looking at me like I was a ghost or something and then she said, "Yes sir, I'll send them in."

"Mr Jenks will see you now," she said, getting up and showing us to his office.

We went in and she introduced us to Carl Jenks. After she left, closing the door behind her, Mr Jenks waved us into chairs in front of his desk.

"I don't want to be rude, but I am confused. I just got off the phone with the lead prosecutor for the IRS's case against me. He told me you would be coming by today. He encouraged me to see if I could come to terms with you. Who are you?"

"If you can fix me up, I'm the answer to your troubles with the IRS," I said.

"The prosecutor hinted it might be the case, I just don't understand why or how," he said.

"First things first. I have to know if you can keep quiet about this. If I get you out of your mess can you keep it to yourself?" I asked, and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Believe me, the fewer people who know about my troubles the better off I'll be," he said.

"I do believe you, and the answer is simple. I need something out of you and I have the political pull to help you out so you can be around to help me out. None of this will stand up in a court if you should change your mind about talking," I said.

"That's the last thing I'm thinking about. Hell, they have me dead to rights. I'm guilty. I over extended myself and made the mistake of trying to fix my problem by borrowing from the IRS. It didn't work out for me," he said.

I noticed Bill was taking all this in, but being unusually quiet. I wondered about it for a few seconds and then blew it off.

"If that's the case Mr Jenks I'm sure I can cure your ills," I said.

"I want to believe you. I can't tell you how much I want to, but I don't understand how you can," he said.

"I can because of my situation and because I know who to ask to get it done and the one I'll ask won't mind doing it. The IRS isn't short of people to prosecute. If there's someone they'll listen to who tells them you're needed elsewhere, they can just drop it and move on to the next poor soul. I have someone they'll listen to."

"But how can I be sure of that?"

"You can make sure by doing what I want done," I said.

"That sounds good, but the IRS wants a million six from me and I can't take any chances," he said.

"You've already taken chances Mr Jenks and now your ass is in a crack. I'm betting I'm the only one who's been interested in helping you out so far."

"That's the damned truth, but I don't understand how it will all work and I don't know you from Adam's off ox," he said.

"I'm sorry you feel that way Mr Jenks. It's going to cost me some extra time, but if you don't want my help, Bill and I will be going. You can agree to my terms or you can sit your ass in jail and worry about how I can do it," I said, standing up.

"Wait! Please wait. I didn't mean to insult you, but I don't know how you can possibly help. I just don't understand."

"And I'm not going to tell you. It's obvious if you knew how it worked you wouldn't be in the shape your in. Who do you want to hear from to convince you? You said the lead prosecutor called you, isn't that enough?"

My cell phone went off then and I nearly ignored it. I made excuses to him though and answered it.

"Jimmy Breslin," I said.

"This is Dad, Jimmy. Did everything work out?" he asked.

"Mr Jenks is having a hard time believing my offer."

"Didn't the prosecutor call him?"

"Yes, but it seems he still isn't convinced."

"We should just let the tax cheating son-of-a-bitch spend a little time in jail. Tell him the prosecutor will be calling back in two minutes or less and that he'd better pay closer attention this time," Dad said, and dropped off.

"Mr Jenks, the prosecutor is going to call you again. I don't want to seem bossy, but I suggest you listen more carefully this time."