[Hyde POV]
The incident was swept under the rug to prevent gossip in the town. The girls were forced to end their relationship with me by their parents.
Scandals like this would ruin the prospect of the girls finding a guy for marriage, that's why it was such a big deal in the small town.
Kat was sent to Paris to stay with her relatives for the entire summer. She didn't even come to school the next day.
Jody's dad threatened to send her to church camp again, but she compromised and said that she would stop her relationship with me, that's how she got away.
She was also going to be sent away for the entire summer to live with her grandmother in Ohio.
Tara's dad's reaction was the biggest as he almost hunted me down with a shotgun, but Tara managed to calm him down, and broke up with me in front of her dad.
"Hyde. That sucks." Eric said sympathetically as he heard the news.
All of us sat in the basement again, and I just finished calling the resort to cancel my reservation. I lost the deposit though. It was around two thousand dollars.
"Wait… hold on. You had three girlfriends… and their parents had to send them to three different states to stop them from seeing you?" Kelso was stupefied.
Fez gasped dramatically. "Hyde, you are like a romantic war criminal."
Eric shook his head. "No, he's a public safety hazard."
Donna crossed her arms. "Or maybe he's just a jerk who can't date one girl like a normal person."
Kelso ignored her and said firmly. "No, this makes him a legend."
I laughed slightly and said, "It's nothing though."
"Wait. So how did you get caught? Like, while you were doing it?" Eric leaned forward and asked excitedly.
"Eric!" Donna called him with disappointment.
Startled, Eric stammered, "What? I'm just trying to get some information… to cheer him up. To buck up my boy. That's it."
"You're disgusting." Donna rolled her eyes at him.
Jackie laughed at my misery and said, "That's what happened when you tried to bite more than you can chew."
"Oh they bite, but they didn't chew." I said, which made Jackie and Donna groan with disgust.
"Aaaawesome." Fez and Eric exclaimed at the same time.
I wondered if the breakup happened because of the system rules that said, 'All dramas must end before the new episode began'.
The girls broke up with me quite easily, which made me wonder if the system truly interfered here.
Knowing Kat, it was hard to imagine how easy it was for her to give up.
I gave all of them a goodbye gift each. A diamond pendant for all of them. I did have a wonderful time with all of them.
That made all of them cry their hearts out.
"So you're not taking anyone to prom next week?" Eric asked.
"I'm not even going." I grimaced.
"Because you don't have a girlfriend?" Fez teased me. "I have a girlfriend, so I'm going."
Suddenly, the phone rang. Eric picked it up and said, "Fez. it's Patty."
"See. My girlfriend is calling me right now!" Fez skipped towards the phone and picked it up. "Hello, girlfriend." He greeted Patty sleazily.
Jackie shuddered, and I groaned in disgust.
Fez's smile slowly disappeared.
"…what?"
He blinked.
"But… I just bought you candy yesterday."
He slowly put down the phone.
"Fez, what happened?" Donna asked while laughing at Fez's antics.
"Patty just broke up with me." Fez said flatly.
"WHAT?!" Everyone exclaimed with shock. Except for Jackie who just laughed at Fez's misery.
"Yes. She said that… I'm too needy." Fez cried a little.
"Aww. You are too needy." Eric comforted Fez while dropping a truth bomb at the same time.
…
I took a moment to collect my thoughts and finally gave Bob his wedding video.
He and Midge watched it with excitement and Bob paid me 1700 dollars for it.
"This is worth it. Really, really worth it."
After hearing the satisfied customer's feedback, I went back to the basement and decided to knock out one job at a time, starting from designing some flyers and handing it to the print shop for printing.
The auto shop called, and I went there on Saturday after school was over. I was supposed to be enjoying a three day weekend full of drugs, sex and booze right now, but fate has another plan for me.
"Are we finished with it?" I whistled as I saw the Chevelle SS parked in front of me.
"We finished with the leather interior yesterday." Tyrell said with amusement. "Now, it's time to test drive this thing."
"Great. We're going to see if it's really worth 45 grand." I said jokingly.
They rolled the Chevelle out of the shop and onto the small local track the guys sometimes used to test customer builds.
I planned on building a track in the town soon. It took too long to drive to Sheboygan anytime we wanted to test drive a car.
"I'll need to buy more land." I sighed.
Under the late afternoon sun, the car looked almost unreal.
The paint was a deep metallic green that shifted in the light, dark and serious in the shade but sparkling with gold flecks when the sun hit it.
A black stripe ran down the hood and across the trunk, and right at the rear panel sat a small red and yellow emblem of the Portland Trail Blazers — Bill Walton's team. It wasn't flashy, but it stood out.
I opened the door and slid into the driver's seat. The interior smelled like brand new leather. Gone were the old bench seats. Everything inside was wrapped in black leather with thin red stitching tracing the seats and dashboard.
The seats hugged my sides tightly, nothing like the loose couches most American cars used. Even the steering wheel felt heavy and precise in my hands.
Tyrell leaned through the passenger window. "Are you sure you want to test it yourself?"
"We can ask the racer to check the performance later. I just want to see if it drive well."
Tyrell shrugged and went to the side of the track.
The engine fired instantly with a deep, controlled growl. It didn't have the rough shaking idle of old muscle cars. The sound was smooth, almost refined, but you could feel the power humming under the hood.
The 500 horsepower LS engine was the most advanced engine in this era. I swear if people knew about the engine, huge companies would fight to acquire it.
I rolled the car onto the starting line of the empty track and pressed the throttle gently once, just to feel the response. The engine barked and the whole car rocked forward like it was impatient.
"Ready?" I asked.
"Punch it." Tyrell shot a gun.
I floored the pedal.
The car launched forward like it had been kicked by a horse. My back slammed into the seat as the speedometer climbed faster than any American car I had driven before.
Thirty. Forty. Fifty. Sixty.
I lifted slightly and glanced at the stopwatch mounted to the dash.
"Five seconds for the 0-60," I said calmly through the walkie talkie.
"Five seconds?! For a Chevelle? It's not even boosted."
Most muscle cars in the 70s struggled to hit sixty in seven seconds. Five seconds was European sports car territory.
I pushed the car harder down the straight. The engine pulled smoothly through the gears without the usual shudder and vibration. The car stayed perfectly straight, planted on the pavement with the superior suspension.
At the end of the straight I looped around and lined up again for a quarter-mile run.
"Alright," Tyrell said proudly, "Let's see what this monster really does."
I launched again, harder this time.
The Chevelle exploded off the line, the engine roaring as the speed climbed brutally fast.
The finish marker flew past.
I eased off the throttle and checked the timer before stopping next to Tyrell on the track.
"Eleven point one seconds." Tyrell stared at the numbers.
"Eleven seconds… Hyde, that's Porsche fast."
He looked back at the car, then at me.
"You built a damn supercar out of a Chevelle."
The real surprise came when we reached the corner at the end of the track. Normally a Chevelle would lean like a drunk sailor when turning hard. I turned the wheel anyway.
The car stayed flat.
No wobble. No body roll. Just grip.
It drove like a modern BMW.
"We can call Bill. Also, we should shoot some footage of the car first."
I wanted to upload the car to YouTube, and also add a scene in my TV show, which will have its final season next week.
Of course, I wouldn't show Bill Walton there—just the car. Otherwise people would think my channel was entirely AI.
After taking the car back to the auto shop, I sent it for detailing before calling Bill Walton to come pick it up.
He didn't have anything planned, so he told me he'd come by tomorrow.
"I'll make sure Red will be here. He's a huge fan of Mr. Walton." I mumbled.
Now that the first custom car was finished, I could relax a bit and start taking orders for the next one.
Bruce had already placed his order, and once the shop expansion was finished, I would begin working on his car. He wanted a custom Trans Am build and planned to use his own Trans Am as the base.
That would make things much easier.
Megan stopped me before I could leave. I thought she was going to scold me for ignoring the renovation of her house, but instead she thanked me.
"Steven. I saw what you did with the floors. There are new pipes… So there will be an indoor bathroom too, right? That's amazing."
"There will be three indoor bathrooms," I told her. "One in the master bedroom with a bathtub, one shared bathroom with a shower, and one guest bathroom. Would you like to see the designs?"
"There are multiple designs?" Megan gasped.
I nodded.
"Yeah. I hired a professional company to do the design. I can bring it to your apartment later."
"Yes! Do come by! I'll make dinner too!" Megan said excitedly.
"No. I don't want to eat your food." I whispered to myself.
Megan was a terrible cook. Tyrell and I had eaten something she brought before. It was so salty and oily it was barely edible.
"I already promised Mrs. Forman I'd have dinner with them. I'll come by afterward," I told Megan.
"Oh." She said with disappointment. "Too bad. Talia will be the one cooking today. Unlike me, she's a great cook."
I scoffed inwardly, not believing her in the slightest. Talia was the youngest sister in her family. I had met Sheila before—the one who wanted to marry a rich man and worked here for less than a day.
When we went to the races, all of her sisters went with her, so I knew what they looked like. But I never actually talked to them.
…
"Hey, you're here." Megan said excitedly when I knocked on her door.
She lived in Victoria's old apartment, and as I entered I saw that she had made the place her own.
Family photos, decorations, and little personal touches everywhere.
Talia, the youngest sister—who was about the same age as me—walked down the hallway and greeted me.
"Hello, Hyde."
She had a petite figure and blonde hair. Her eyes were piercing green, and she wore large hoop earrings.
Her shirt was messy, streaked with paint stains across the purple fabric.
"Hi Talia," I said.
"I'm going to my room to paint." She said flatly before leaving me alone with Megan.
I popped open a can of beer while Megan and I sat on the couch, looking at the farmhouse design.
I wanted to hear her opinion, but all she could say was,
"It's great!"
"Oh. Right." I suddenly remembered something and pulled a check from my pocket, sliding it toward her.
"Is this—"
"Yup. Twenty percent."
Megan unfolded the check and immediately jumped up from the couch. She froze standing there, staring at the number.
"That… that much?" she asked, shocked.
"Yeah. Eighty grand. I made around four hundred thousand from the documentary."
"You said you were going to subtract the costs… and the materials for the house!"
"Ah. I forgot to do that."
I pulled out another check and quickly wrote a new number.
"Sixty-two thousand."
"That's not much of a difference!" she scolded.
"That's a huge difference," I replied with annoyance. "Anyway, since you have the money now, can I suggest something? You still have the land. Why not restart the farm?"
"I…" Megan was still overwhelmed by the number. She could barely process what I was saying.
It took her a while to calm down.
"So what do you want to do with it?" she finally asked.
"Strawberries. Blueberries. High-yield crops, since you only have seven acres. You could also plant pumpkins."
I smiled and added, "There's also a smarter way. Split the land and grow different crops. Blueberries take about three to five years before they produce a good harvest. Strawberries could bring in profit before summer ends."
"No. Strawberries take a year." Megan shook her head.
"Not the ones I'm vying for"
In the future, there were newer varieties that could produce fruit in just three months. I'd need around eight thousand dollars to buy the crowns, which was about sixteen hundred dollars in 1977 money.
Once the strawberries were harvested, even one acre could produce around 12,000 to 15,000 pounds.
If she sold them at roughly one dollar per pound, she could make 12,000 to 15,000 dollars.
"But I don't know anything about farming," she complained.
"That's the best part," I said. "You don't have to know anything. You have money. You can hire people to plant the crops, harvest them, and manage the farm."
Labor was cheap in the 70s.
She could hire workers to till the land, prepare strawberry beds, install deer fencing, add wire mesh for birds, and lay plastic mulch to protect the crops.
All of that would cost around two thousand dollars for one acre of work.
Adding the price of the strawberry crowns, the total investment would be under four thousand dollars.
Once the harvest was sold, she'd be about eight thousand dollars richer for doing almost nothing.
Megan thought about it for a moment and finally agreed with me.
"Great." I grinned.
She stretched slightly and said, "Your brain is always thinking about money, money, money. Why did you turn out like this?"
I shrugged. "Economic anxiety. Unreliable government. Dark future."
She snorted. "The economy is still good."
"For at least two more years. Then we'll be in a recession." I laughed.
And when that happened, small towns would be hit the hardest.
I left Megan's apartment and went back to the Formans'. Fez was hanging out in the basement, still depressed after losing his first girlfriend.
"Now Fez, it's not the end of the world. There are plenty of fish in the sea." Eric said, not sounding very convinced himself.
Donna laughed and added, "Yeah Fez. You're just a terrible fisherman, so maybe you need to work on that a little more."
"Don't make fun of Fez," Jackie said, defending him. "I think Fez is already excellent the way he is."
I snorted and quipped, "Maybe for you. Since you want him to fawn all over you."
"What—" Jackie blushed slightly, then glared at Donna.
Donna cackled. "What? I didn't tell him that."
"Tell him what?" Fez asked.
"Nothing, Fez. So Hyde, where were you?" Donna asked me. "Trying to get Kat and the gang back?"
"No. I went to Megan's apartment." I replied casually.
"You're already moving on to another girl?" Donna said angrily.
"It's for her house renovation." I looked at her strangely.
Eric quickly changed the subject. "By the way Hyde, someone named Joan called. She said you should call her back."
"Okay."
I picked up the phone and dialed while sitting in my usual spot.
"Now there's a Joan? You're worse than Kelso." Donna mocked.
I ignored her and spoke with Joan for a moment. Eventually, I had to address Donna.
"Uh-huh… okay. I'll see what's going on."
I turned to Donna, covered the microphone with my hand, and said,
"Hey. Do you know why your dad stopped supplying light bulbs in the Wisconsin area?"
"What? No. He doesn't talk to me about business." Donna frowned. "Is this an angry merchant?"
"No. It's the supplier." I said casually. "The merchants are the angry ones. They found out your dad was buying bulbs for $1.50 and selling them for $6.50. So they got together and contacted the suppliers directly."
Donna's eyes widened.
"Your dad is going to lose all the stores he supplies tomorrow."
"What?" she gasped.
I continued, "Not to mention, he's been ignoring their calls for weeks."
Donna rubbed her forehead.
"No… wait. I think I know what happened. He was trying to get back together with my mom and planning the whole wedding."
She looked up at me anxiously.
"Is there anything you can do, Hyde?"
"Not really. Now that the merchants found the suppliers, they can buy the bulbs much cheaper. Your dad's middleman business is basically finished."
I shrugged and added, "I told him not to spike the price too much, but he didn't listen."
Donna sighed heavily. "I'll go tell him."
"Thanks a lot, Big D."
Once Donna left, Eric asked me, "So, is Bob going to be okay?"
"Not really. Maybe he should find a job at Pricemart. Because he's going under soon."
"How soon?" Eric asked.
"Within a month." I replied with a sigh.