Disclaimer: Due South doesn't belong to me, darn it.
Summary: Written for the Mendacity Challenge on the Due South Flashfiction Live Journal Community. Ray hears some devastating news and thinks it's a lie until he sees with his own eyes.
A. Kite (August 2003)
Ray was in the kitchen cooking dinner. Fraser had the TV on watching the PBS Business News. Why, Ray didn't know, but it was there in the background as he stirred the spaghetti sauce. He'd picked up a few things here and there about Italian cooking from Ma Vecchio, mostly.
He heard it, and he couldn't believe his ears. Ray leaned over the bar between the living room and kitchen and looked at the television. Numbly, he walked into the room and stared at the screen. Spaghetti sauce dripped from the spoon onto the floor unnoticed.
It was a lie. It had to be a lie.
"That can't be right. It's a lie, right Ben?"
"Ray, I don't believe a fine organization such as the Public Broadcasting System would perpetuate a falsehood." Fraser looked at Ray and saw the mess he was making. "Perhaps, you should sit down, Ray. I can finish dinner."
"Dinner? Who can think of food at a time like this?" Ray still stood, stunned and standing in the middle of the living room floor. He didn't protest at all when Fraser wrested the spoon from his grip. Ray barely took in the fact that Fraser had a wad of paper towels in hand, seconds later, cleaning up the dribbled sauce.
The next thing Fraser knew Ray was on the telephone. From the kitchen he heard Ray say, "You're kidding, right?" A pause then, "Man, you people are fucking with a classic, excuse the French." Though, it hadn't been French that Ray was speaking, it was good old Anglo-Saxon. He ended the conversation with a, "This I've gotta see. There right now, huh? Right!"
Fraser had never understood Ray's fascination with all things automotive, but nether-the-less, he went with Ray to the GM dealership the next day to check out the all new 2004 Pontiac GTO. The more timid salespersons backed off at the 'don't fuck with me' look that Ray gave them when they stepped out of the car and onto the lot. Fraser attributed Ray's bad temper to the fact that he'd eaten almost nothing of the excellent spaghetti last night or that he'd had nothing but three cups of very strong coffee this morning rather than the healthy breakfast one needs to start the day.
One bravehearted salesman followed them into the showroom. He was quite enthusiastic about touting the merits of the new Grand Tourisimo Omolagto. "It's a beauty, isn't it? It's got driver and passenger airbags, A/C, a console with accessory power outlet and twin cup holders..."
Ray made a sour face. "Can that crap, man, tell me about the engine."
The salesman smiled, "Surely, sir. It has a LS1 5.7 liter aluminum block."
Unimpressed Ray countered with, "What's that in American?"
The salesman shrugged, "I'm sure I could find out for you, but please note the Ram Air intake system. It's 340 horsepower, measured at 5200 RPM, of course."
"Of course," Ray answered. "No hood scoops and a plastic grille?"
"I'm assured that the 2005 model with have the scoops. By the way, I'm Harold Tinker, your name, sir?" The man held out his hand.
Ray ignored it. "Call me curious, ok?"
Undeterred, Mr. Tinker continued, "This car has 360 lb - ft of torque and an electronically controlled Hydo-Matic 4L60 Four-speed automatic transmission..."
Ray snorted. "Automatic, right!"
"Or a six-speed close ratio transmission, independent rear wheel drive suspension and limited slip differential..."
The salesman's spiel was cut off by another gentlemen's interruption, "Excuse me, is one of you the owner of the '67 parked out front?"
"That'd be me," Ray answered. "Why, did I park in the wrong place?"
"No, not all at," the man said. "Allow me to introduce myself." He pulled out a card and handed it to Ray. "I'm Don of Don's Classic Cars, and I was wondering if you'd be interested in selling that marvelous machine out there to me?"
For the second time in as many days, Ray seemed to be stricken dumb. Even more so when Don offered, "I'd give you $30,000 for it, right now - cash or bank check."
Fraser was compelled to take over. He pulled the card from Ray's fingers much as he'd done the spoon the night before. "Forgive my friend..." Ben paused to look at the card and continued, "Mr. Farber, I'm sure Ray will get back to you if he is in indeed interested."
Fraser tipped his hat to both gentlemen and steered Ray out of the showroom and into the passenger seat of the car. He'd have to drive them home.