The Devils in the Details

Ever wonder how life takes a detour?

One moment, I was starting a high-profile gig, ready to make my old man proud. Now, well now, I’m scraping tomato soup off this diner floor, flipping pancakes, and refilling coffee for folks just passing through. If things had gone the way they were supposed to, let’s just say I wouldn’t be burning my hand on a scalding hot plate of biscuits and gravy with rubber eggs over easy.

Sure, there are perks to working here—free pie and discounted waffles that are as stiff as cardboard and don’t taste much better. Still, it’s a far cry from the dreams I once had.

My new sales job was going to put me in the big leagues. It was my chance to shine, rub elbows with the higher-ups at my dad’s company. My world was about to become corner offices, fast cars, and too much expensive bourbon. I was also one step closer to finally being the man my dad wanted me to be.

Ya see, my old man expected me to follow in his footsteps. And, to be honest, they’re some pretty big Armani shoes to fill. You could even say the man is something of a legend. People look up to him. They fear him. They respect him. I grew up hoping to possess just half the power he has.

Alas, my first day on the job was also my last, leaving me with nothing but shattered dreams and grease stains.

Last year, armed with ambition and a sales quota, I hit the road toward Missouri, heading southwest on Route 66.

 I’d never taken this route before, but all the big city newspapers were touting it as the “Main Street of America.” One headline read, “Route 66: The Nation’s Highway to the American Dream.” The clipping commended the highway for being the “Lifeline for travelers seeking opportunities.” I remember reading that article over and over, each time envisioning my future, my opportunities. I actually saved that clipping, as a reminder.

That first (and only) day, I drove for what felt like an eternity, the sky darkening with every song I hummed along to, the radio my only companion. I had been told the life of a traveling salesman wasn’t for the faint of heart. My eyes grew heavier, and the steady hum of the tires on the pavement began to lull me into a trance.

A few miles down the road, bright lights cut through the darkness, shining on the black pavement. A motel sign flickered in the distance. Deciding to play it safe, I pulled over for the night, eager for some rest before the road called again.

I pulled my black leather suitcase from the trunk of my dark blue Chevy Bel Air, the flickering parking lot lights of the motel casting long shadows.

Soft but audible cries soon caught my attention. My eyes squinted and shifted toward the sound. At the bus stop across the street, I could barely make out the dark silhouette of a young woman.

Excitement sparked inside of me as I quickly saw my chance to make my first sale. 

Now, don’t look at me like that. 

I was a salesman. And the first thing we’re taught is selling isn’t about persuasion. It’s about helping people solve a problem, and the best solution is whatever it is you are selling. It’s about helping people get exactly what they desire.

This young woman appeared to have something she desperately desired. I walked toward her with confidence, offering a smile and a tissue.

“Can I ask what troubles you?”

Her bright green eyes gazed up at me. They stood out against her pale skin and ruby red hair.

“I used to be somebody,” she confided, taking the tissue from my hand. “I was a famous jazz singer. But time’s a relentless bitch, and I fear my days are catching up with me. My time in the spotlight is coming to an end.”

That was it—that was the opportunity all the newspapers had been talking about. I tried not to show all my cards at once or come on too strong.

“Imagine,” I proposed, “if I could offer you a chance to reclaim that spotlight, to be somebody again?”

“I’d give you everything I have left to be back on stage. To be loved once again. To be somebody,” she cried.

“Everything?” I asked.

“Yes, everything,” she responded. “You have to understand, I have nothing left to lose.”

“What if I told you I could make that happen for you?” I asked, producing a contract from my briefcase.

“What do you mean?” she asked apprehensively.

“I present to you the opportunity of a lifetime,” I said with a smile. “All you have to do is just sign on the dotted lines. Before you know it, you’ll find yourself back in those sold-out jazz bars.”

“What’s the catch?” she asked with a puzzled look on her face.

“I’ll give you everything you desire, and in, let’s say, 10 years, I get your soul.”

“My soul?!” 

“Hey, it’s just business, doll,” I said.

She took the contract from my hands, her gaze still on mine. Her green eyes scanned the pages, paying close attention to the details.

To my surprise she took that pen out of my hand without another word and signed with no hesitation.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” I said, taking back the contract. “I’ll see you again soon. Until then, I’ll catch you on the radio.”

“No. no you won't,” she laughed. 

Her laugh grew louder, turning into a full-on cackle.

“You see, you’re not the first salesman to find me here. Don’t they teach you in sales training to ask questions? One of the first ones being: Do you have the means to pay?

I told you I’d give you everything I had, which isn’t much. You should have read the fine print. If you did, you’d see if I can’t pay, the salesperson who made the deal will be held accountable to pay all debts,” she said with a grim smile.

My blood raced and my heart pounded. “You tricked me?” I stammered.

“No, no, no. I didn’t trick you. It’s just business, doll,” she said slyly, standing up to catch the approaching bus.

And that’s how I wound up here, working in the diner next to a beat-up motel and dusty old bus stop.

The now yellowing news clipping, “The Nation’s Highway to the Dream” hangs near the stove in the kitchen.

 I remember the dreams I once had. Now, the only dreams I have are daydreams.

The radio starts playing softly behind me as I close up. The radio DJ’s deep voice penetrates my ears as I shed one single tear.

“And now, another soulful tune from legendary jazz singer, Lily, with her top hit ‘I Stole the Demon’s Soul Down at the Crossroads.’”