Don Bruns - Stuff Dreams Are Made Of

“But, dude. He said please.”

“Nice guy, that Bruce.”

“I’m serious. He said please. He was trying to be nice. But he followed with something about saving ourselves a lot of pain.”

“Here’s what I really think, James. For some reason — either my questions or the fact that we’re not full time, or they don’t think we fit in with their country club set — one of these guys is messing with us. And they pushed it a little too far. Now, they just want to call off the dogs so we don’t call the cops. They’re going to make it all right tomorrow with new tires, we can stay through Sunday, and everything is all right. Just a fraternity hazing. Sort of. Nothing to worry about. Okay?”

“Just a fraternity hazing?” He grunted.

Somebody whistled as they walked up the muddy path. I looked at my watch in the pale moonlight. Eleven p.m.

James was quiet and I thought maybe he’d drifted off to sleep. Finally, “Is that really what you believe? Fraternity hazing?”

“No. That’s not what I believe.” And it wasn’t. I was pissed. “I don’t know, James. There’s obviously a body of politics here that we’re not part of.” I lay on the truck bed, acutely aware of the unevenness of the plywood floor. “Man, we should get some sleep.”

“Yeah. Listen. Do you know when all this shit started? The robbery? The flat tires?”

“About three hours ago.”

“No, I mean think about what happened.”

I thought for a moment. “When you put eight bucks in the collection plate?”

He mulled over my sarcastic remark. “Maybe. But I think this whole thing happened when you asked Crayer about the Washington girl’s death. When you mentioned the death of the food vendor, Michael whats his name.”

“Bland.” He was finally understanding that the questions might be responsible for the destruction of his tires. “Oh, come on.”

“You think about it. You mentioned the girl’s death. You even suggested Crayer might have been working for Cashdollar at the time.”

I thought my sarcasm was obvious, but he never once picked it up. “For Christ’s sake, James. I asked how long he’d been with the show. Of course I never insinuated anything else. Not me.”

“Doesn’t matter. He immediately responded with a retraction of his statement from the night before.”

“You see?” I raised my voice, rolling over on the hard surface and pointing my finger at him. “I try to tell you this and you tell me I’m crazy, but now that it’s your idea — ”

“Crayer was worried. You mention the Washington kid, and he defends with the senator.” He was quiet for a long time. “And he makes a big point of telling you that the food vendor, Michael — ”

“Bland.”

“Yeah, that he had an accidental death. You might be on to something, pal.”

“I told you that several hours ago.”

“Crayer is trying to protect someone. My guess is, it’s Cashdollar. And who the hell shot our tires out? I mean, who would do something like that?”

I’d told him that before too, but he hadn’t listened. Carneys. “James, I’m tempted to say let’s hit the road tomorrow. Once they get the truck fixed — ”

“I’d like to finish what we started, Skip. We’ve got two days, and if the weather holds we could make another six, seven thousand dollars. That is so huge. Do you really want to walk away from that?”

“It’s just the money?”

“Mostly.”

I could tell from the tone of his voice it wasn’t. “What else? What could make you stay in a place like this? Where people take potshots at your truck and steal your money? Where people basically threaten you? Where people die? Huh?”

“It’s a whole lot of things, Skip. It’s the money, okay. More money than you and I’ve made in a while. It’s that, and some of it is that I’m pissed. I feel like going down to Stan’s wagon and whipping somebody’s ass.”

“You couldn’t whip anyone’s ass.”

“Not only that, I wouldn’t know whose ass to whip.”

We both laughed.

“But it’s a little more than even that. I’m watching this little business venture, with Cashdollar, Thomas LeRoy, the full-timers, and his cadre of suits — ”

“Cadre?”

He hesitated. “Wrong word?”

“No. I just didn’t know you threw around words like that.”

He shot me a nasty look. “Anyway, his cadre of suits and employees, I’m watching these guys. And I’ve got to tell you, pal, I’m impressed. They may be doing the wrong things for the wrong reasons, but there’s a lot of business tips to be had. This is like a dream, where everything this guy touches turns to gold.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am. I’ve never worked for, or with, an organization like this, and besides the money, besides being somewhat pissed, I say we stick around and get an education. And let’s face it, Skip, we’d be stupid to leave two more days of money on the table. Saturday and Sunday could be huge. Am I right?”

I was a college graduate, with a finance/business degree. And James was right. There were lessons here that we’d never learned at Sam and Dave University. Was I crazy? Yeah. I was. I must have been because I said, “You’re right. It’s too good to pass up. But we watch each other’s backs. Somebody’s screwing with us and we’ve got to be aware of that.”

“I’m with you, pally. I didn’t tell you, but Brook is coming in tomorrow. She offered to help a little — maybe spell you for a while.”

“We have to divide the profits?”

“Amigo,” I could hear him sigh, “she did bankroll the entrance fee. I’m thinking a couple hundred bucks for the day?”

“What the hell.”

“You know, Skip, there’s something about Cashdollar and these three deaths. You mentioning it just seems to have started this whole chain of events.”

“Yeah. And James — ”

“What?”

“We’ve got to start watching more comedies. I say we rent The Producers and drink some beer and laugh our asses off.”

“Skip, fuck you. Go to sleep.”

At that very moment my cell phone rang.

I checked the number. I knew it by heart. “Em.”

“Hey, you.”

I didn’t know what to say. I’d thought about what to say for three months. I’d talked it out in my head so much that it was almost real. And then when she finally called, I didn’t have a clue.

“Skip?”

“I’m here.”

“I’m back.”

“Yeah. I kind of knew that.”

“Been checking up on me?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Maybe that you missed me.”

“I missed you. Are you okay?”

“I am. Where are you? You sound funny.”

I glanced over at James. He was sitting up, and even in the dark I could see he was watching me intently. He knew what I’d been going through. James was the only other person in the world who I’d told about Em getting pregnant, and I knew he was worried about how her return would affect me. “I’m in the back of the truck. James and I are doing this food thing out at Oleta River Park and there’s this revival meeting and we’re staying over because the truck has some problems and — ”

“Whoa. You lost me in the back of the truck.”

“It’s a really long story.”

“Where will you be tomorrow at nine?”

“Morning?”

“Morning.”

“Oleta River Park. The place where they have the kayak tours? Right on the Intracoastal. Em, we took a kayak trip last year, remember?” We’d done something else there too. Back in a private grassy area by a picnic table. I was pretty sure that was still in her mind.

Silence on the other end and I thought maybe I’d lost her. “Of course, I remember.”