I love writing prompts! I was that kid in school that was itching to get started even while the teacher described the project and what we should write about. Recently I discovered Reedsy’s weekly writing prompt, where they supply five versions of a prompt. You pick one and write a short story, and then share it or even enter the weekly contest. I’ve enjoyed writing short stories in the past and thought I’d start including some on my blog.

I wrote this story, “Shiny New Wheels” for the prompt: Write a story where two characters want the same thing but for different reasons. (This is great inherent conflict for any story or novel so of course I had to give it a go!)

SHINY NEW WHEELS

It’s all I ever wanted.

I walk beside the man who might steal my dream and inheritance right from under me. How did this even happen? How did it get so far without warning signs? Or did I just miss them?

It’s hot as ball out here as we walk from the dealership to Ricky’s Bar a block away, and Ben’s voice drones on, happy and fast, while I can barely hear over my pounding heart. His cologne is killing me in the heat. Why did I say yes when he asked me to walk over for lunch?

Because I wanted to get into his head. Feel this out. Find out what he’s thinking.

I turn toward him, ready to explode. Meanwhile, he’s grinning ear to ear, hands waving in the air while he talks about his sales numbers. 

He has no clue. 

He’s tall, slim, and slick. Dark hair combed and gelled, pants pressed, shoes shiny, and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to show off his muscular forearms. The ladies eat it up. The men want to be like him. That’s how he sells so many cars. 

“Ben,” I start but he keeps talking. “Ben!”

“Huh?” His face goes slack and his dark eyebrows pop up in question. “What’s up, bro?” He sees something in my expression and adds, “Zackery.” 

“How long have you been here?” In my memory, we hired him about three years ago. That’s not long.

“A couple years. Three, actually. What a ride, huh?” He shakes his head as we reach the bar’s double doors and pulls on the vertical golden bar handle. “Ricky’s Place” was a Chinese buffet long ago and much of the original look is still here in the decorations and layout. Cool darkness meets us, along with lots of deep red and velvet accents. 

“Yeah, sure.” We walk inside and go straight to the bar, which is what all the salesmen do. We know they drink on their lunches, but it doesn’t seem to affect sales numbers so no one cares. 

I care, but I’m the youngest brother. My dad started this car dealership thirty years ago. My oldest brother, Jake, helped for years before retiring. He wanted to move on to something more peaceful. He teaches yoga in Montana now. 

My other brother, Max, is still here, running the deals through the desk after the salesmen bring them in. He makes great money but has never wanted any kind of leadership role. He’d rather play golf, play in the clubs, and go on vacations. Maybe he’s the smart one. He enjoys life more than any of us.

And then there’s me. 

Working my ass off, putting in the hours, the years, the dedication. Thinking I would take over for Pops, and now I’m learning he’s considering putting this jerk off in charge. Who puts a salesman in charge like that? Did I misunderstand him earlier today? It was like he issued a challenge, hinting he was considering both of us. His son and a salesman.

I grab my collar and puff my shirt a few times to cool down.

Our usual drinks appear in front of us while I glance over the menu. It’s too dark in here to really read it, and I know what it says anyway. I order my unusual French Dip and a salad. 

Ben is still chatting up a storm, and I haven’t heard a word he said since we left. My dad took us aside after the morning meeting.

“Boys, I wanted to give you two a heads up.” He spoke as if he were talking to his sons, but like I said, he’s known Ben for three years. “I’m watching those numbers closer than ever, if you know what I mean. Ben, you’ve come in like a storm and proven how much you care about our success here.”

I finally understood the saying “my stomach dropped like a lead ball.” A cold dread hit my head like a snowball and slowly melted down my body, leaving a hot burning fury. 

I oversee the entire dealership, not sell cars. I’ve been working Pop’s job for the last five years because he was training me to take over. Did he ever overtly say that or had he let me believe it?

That’s not all I believed. I thought he saw me as the faithful son, the working one, the man who had his back no matter what. And I thought he had mine.

“Man, to think the old man trusts me that much,” Ben says, beaming. 

“Why is that?” I swivel on my bar stool and study him while he answers.

“Have you seen what I can do? Have you seen my numbers?”

“Sure, I have. And I know what you take home. But that’s not the same as building a customer base and trust with the public.”

“Trust?” He laughs and takes a long swig of his beer. “People don’t care about trust. They want to feel good. They want to look good in a new, shiny set of wheels. Know what I mean? They trust me because I give them what they want.”

Now it’s clicking. He likes the rush of a sale, like many of the people on the floor. It’s a power rush to some. They’re paid on commission and the competition gets fierce. Ben has been at the top of the leaderboard since he arrived.

“Okay, so why would you want more? A higher role with more responsibility? That would take you away from the customers, put you behind a desk, and then you’re planning marketing and thinking about budgets.”

“Ah, man, but the money.” He raises his pint in the air to toast no one in particular.” 

And there it is. 

I want to continue a legacy and he just wants the money.

Why would my father put the dealership in his hands? There’s just no way that’s what he’s thinking. 

Our food arrives and Ben digs in. I try to force down a few bites of my sandwich. 

I think through my next moves. Should I talk some sense into Ben, see if I can get through to him about how much work it’ll be, for little tradeoff? Or do I try to get into his head and mess with him, shake his confidence. That has little chance of working. 

Or I could… No, I couldn’t mess with the numbers. My mind races, wondering if there’s any way I can make him look bad to Pops. That’s not something I’ve ever considered doing, even though it’s common in this industry. It’s all about image and playing the game. 

I’ve gotten under my own skin. Now I’m doubting myself, and I feel a dark envy growing in me. No, I can’t let myself turn into someone like Ben. He would stab me in the back without a second thought.

“Yo!” he calls out. Two other salesmen enter: Selina and Mike. Their lunch is starting so Ben’s is coming to end soon. I ask for a box as they sit down. The three of them are back slapping and bragging, greeting each other with all kinds of nicknames. It’s annoying as hell, but in reality salespeople need to be macho. That confidence sells cars. 

“I’m heading back,” I say, giving up on eating or getting anything more out of Ben. They wave as I walk out. 

The sun is blinding after the dark bar, bringing up my daily debate about finding a new place for lunch. I love the French Dip. But I’m tired of eating around the other salespeople. I should start ordering in. 

Back at the dealership, I put my food away, stop by the bathroom, and make my way to Pop’s office. He’s on the phone but I linger until he hangs up a minute later.

“Hey, Zackery, my son, come on in.” He sinks down into his chair and picks up his old baseball to toss from hand to hand. He’s a fidgeter so he always has something he can do to look calm. 

“Pops… about earlier…” I sit down facing him across his expansive desk. “You know what this place means to me. I like to think that matches what it means to you.”

“I know, son. You’ve always been here. You make sure everything’s done right.”

“That matters, right?”

“Sure it does.”

“I’m curious why you talked to me and Ben together. He thinks you’re considering him to take over for you.” I don’t scoff but my tone implies it. 

The ball pauses in one hand for a few extra seconds.

“He’s got a lot of potential.”

“So you are?”

“No, no, not take over. Not follow me in my footsteps. But he’s ready to move up.”

Sweet, cool relief splashes into my stomach. The heartburn I’d been ignoring subsides. Then I think about running this place with Ben under me. All of them, for that matter. Not really approving of their methods, or speech, or how they live their lives. It’s probably not fair to lump them all together, but there’s a culture here, one that I’ve lived on the outskirts of. 

Suddenly I don’t want it. 

“Okay, I see,” is all I say to Pops. 

“How’s the numbers looking for the week?” he asks, going back to business. Odd. Why did he talk to us earlier? Ben will be pushing even harder for sales now. That might be it. And I’m rethinking everything. Is that what Pops wanted?

As we go over the numbers, new possibilities start running around in the back of my mind. I don’t feel so hedged in, stressed about my future here. It’s time I started driving my life instead of sitting in the passenger seat.