LeRoi

 

 

Woman cannot be contained.
Real or ethereal,
She cannot be harnessed.

CHAPTER 1

Friday 

My MG overheated, blew a radiator hose was all, I hoped. By some stroke of luck it happened within a mile of a remote service station on the desolate highway. It had to be pushing a hundred degrees outside when I coasted into the station. The wind was beginning to pick up as the branches swayed and the leaves rustled in a lone oak tree that was rooted twenty feet opposite the barbed wire fence in a dry grassy field just east of the station. Across the street was a diner. That was it, a service station and a diner plopped right in the middle of miles of dry hills rolling off in all directions, and a bumpy, worn out highway running east and west that connected similar sparse settlements like a dot-to-dot game along this landscape that was leading me home.

It's harder than hell to get any mechanic to look at an MG. They know that with something as little as checking the oil, the back bumper will probably fall off, the mechanic getting the blame. The wrench at the service station told me that he couldn't look at it until after lunch, said it needed time to cool off before he could do anything anyway. I guess I needed the cooling off time, too, so I headed for an iced tea and lunch at the diner across the highway, if it looked safe.

The diner had a gravel driveway with a couple of old telephone poles laid out about ten feet from the front door and two plate glass windows that made up the front of the faded white building. The west corner had been damaged by a wayward vehicle, the remnants of the past having lived on, un-repaired. The telephone poles must have been an afterthought to protect the diner from the potential of another run-in.

I opened the door and walked in, my presence announced by the un-oiled creaking hinges. Without looking around, I walked to the coffee counter, slid into the end seat next to the cash register and ordered an iced tea with lots of ice. I guess the woman who was sitting in the booth behind me was immune to the non-smoking section that she was sitting in; I wasn't.

"Excuse me, I wonder if you could put your cigarette out?" I asked, assuming she knew that it was a non-smoking section.

She ignored me. A few minutes later she lit up again and set the just lit lipstick-coated Virginia Slim into the slot of the amber ashtray. I stood up, walked around to her booth, grabbed her pack of smokes and the ashtray and walked out the front door.  dumped the ashtray and stepped on her lit smoke; then, I dropped her pack and stomped them as well. I walked back inside.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" she asked, sliding her pink polyester two-ton ass out of the booth.

I slammed the empty ashtray down on the coffee counter and sat down looking straight ahead. I could feel her breathing over my shoulder.

"Lady, you don't want to find out!"

That was enough for her. I could hear the remnants of spoiled little bastard as the door swung shut.

A petite pony-tailed brunette walked up with the iced tea pitcher to refill my glass.

"Can I have some more ice please?"

"Sure," she answered, turning to the ice machine behind her and scooping a glass full while I admired the sculptured tilt of her finely proportioned ass-end. "I'm sure Flo will be out in a minute," the brunette said, as she turned around with my ice.

"Who's Flo?"

"The boss-lady."

"What does she want?"

"You'll have to ask her yourself."

Flo walked up behind the sweet little brunette. "Sarah, could you catch that back booth with some decaf?"

Flo wouldn't have been half bad in her day. She could have passed for Sarah thirty years earlier. She wore very little makeup behind her black-rimmed reading glasses that rested about halfway down on her nose and were clipped to a strand of cheap miniature pearls that hung around her neck. Her eyes were hazel with bluish flecks, and she had long straight brunette hair held up in a clip. Her hair had the gray that accompanied a fifty-five plus year old woman. She was tan, trim and took care of herself, in spite of the gravity that age had introduced. She wore cotton pants and a simple uniform-type, button-up-the-front blouse. She looked like a boss-lady should look, in control.

I waited for Flo to go first.

"Howdy."

"Hi," I answered, before taking a swig of tea.

"Purdy hot day, huh?"

"I can stand the heat. Its the stray cigarette smoke that sets me off."

"So that gives you the right to run off one of my regulars."

"I asked her to put it out."

"Did you ask her or did you beat around the bush with some rude indirect comment?"

Lady, I don't know who you are or what's on your mind, but I really don't need any more crap today."

"Well kid, right now you're in my diner, and you're runnin' off my patrons."

"Oh great," I muttered.

"I've dealt with your kind for years, so lets just cut to the quick."

I'd run the weak one out the front door, but now I had one who wasn't going to scare off quite as easily. I guess it would be pretty hard to throw the queen out of her own palace.

"Look, lady, I'm sorry if I offended anybody here, but I've got some problems. My MG is broken down across the street," I said, knowing that the mechanic waiting for it to cool would have come up with a pretty damn good excuse for not being able to work on it by the time I returned.

"So what?"

"Besides that, I keep playing telephone tag with Janie, one of my lady friends."

Flo stood there and stared at me dumb-founded.

"It's her birthday this Sunday, and I need to get her address so I can send her a birthday card. Jenny's coming this weekend, and I wont be able to sneak a phone call to Janie. Well, now that I think about it, I probably can get that done. Anyway, things just aren't falling into place today."

"Would you like some chocolate milk little boy, or how about your ass wiped?"

I just stared at this piece of work as I noticed a shadowy figure looking on from behind the kitchen window.

"Yeah, you heard me. In this cafe the world doesn't revolve around you."

"I don't expect it to," I flashed back.

"As a matter of fact, for you, I think it has a way of stoppin' all together. There's not a waitress in the world, let alone any other woman, who will ever live up to your demands. We just can't sit in front of you all day waitin' on or guessin' your every need, demand, or desire."

"What?"

"You heard me Mr. Needy-Needy-Never-Enough-World-Ought-to-Revolve-Around-Me. It never has, and it never will. Besides, gettin' around doesn't sound as if it's a real problem for you anyway."

"What do you want?"

"Get over it."

"Get over what?"

"Bein' a helpless little boy who is trapped in a grown mans body."

"Wha..."

"I see your kind stumble into this place all of the time. Grow up. Get over it," Flo interrupted.

"Get over what?"

"Feelin' sorry for yourself and shruggin' your crap off onto some woman with a cigarette or any other woman for that matter."

"It was a non-smoking section!"

"I'll bet you're one of those that doesn't like to be told no."

"No I'm not."

"I'll bet that great big word NO pierces your heart every time you hear it."

"You think I'm too sensitive?"

"I think you overreacted. If you'd have given her a chance, she'd have put out the cigarette.

"She lit up a second smoke after I asked her to put the first one out."

"Did you ask her to put it out a second time?"

I stood up and reached into my pocket for a couple of bucks, threw them on the counter, stumbled out of that beehive, and then walked back across the street to check on my car. I only went in there for a goddamn glass of iced tea and to try to unwind. Now I had this self-righteous mama trying to tell me how to act. Who in the hell did she think she was anyway and how in the hell did it go from me not putting up with the used cigarette smoke to me not respecting women. That's all I needed, another run in with a die-hard feminist who felt responsible for defending the rights of all womankind. God I hoped my MG was up and running.

"How do things look?" I asked, standing a few feet back, not wanting to take up too much of this guys space.

"Not good."

"What did you find?"

"Well your radiators got troubles for starters, and its either goda be repaired or replaced."

"Doesn't sound so bad. Why can't we run it down to the radiator shop and get it worked over?"

"What radiator shop you have in mind?" he asked, cocking his head back, pulling off his glasses and then crossing his arms over his embroidered name patch that read Okie.

Great, a mechanic with an attitude: they loved it when you needed them, made them God. God was wearing a pair of dark blue coveralls and was pushing sixty if he hadn't made it yet. His graying sandy-brown, Brill-creamed hair was combed back and parted to the side. When he looked at me, his left eye drifted away in the opposite direction. It was obvious that this glasseyed son-of-a-bitch who couldn't see straight liked to argue.

"I don't care which one you use. Who's the quickest?"

"None of 'em are the quickest because we ain't got one."

"So what do you do for your radiator repairs?"

"Send 'em out."

"Can't we just drive it over to the next town?"

"No, we cant just drive it over to the next town because there ain't a repair shop in the next town either, and because I'm the only one here. This is the only gas station fifty miles in either direction. I can't just up and leave."

"What do I do?"

"I'm gunna pull the radiator, clean it to make sure it is repairable, and ship it out."

"How?"

"UPS, and they've already been here today, so cool your jets kid. Besides, I don't know that that's your only problem. Your water pump has a leak, and, as dry as you ran this little hot rod, it wouldn't surprise me if you cracked the head."

"Hell, I was less than a mile from here when the hose blew, how could I have a cracked head?"

"Son, I don't break 'em, I fix 'em, and this ones not gunna be fixed overnight. If I were you, I'd make sleepin' arrangements. It'll be at least a week before I've got your radiator back and whatever other parts I'll have to order."

"Hell, I haven't got a week. I got a girl coming to my place for the weekend."

"Well, maybe you better think about havin' her meet you here."

"Mister, I live in California. There's no way in hell I'm gunna get her to drive twenty hours for a weekend roll in the hay."

"Well kid, looks like you've just had a change in plans. I can fix your car, and I'll get it out of here as quickly and inexpensively as possible, even if you are one of those impatient hotshot Californians."

"So that's as good as it gets, huh?"

That's as good as it gets, and you might as well start trustin' me right now. You don't have much choice. You can tow it to the next town, but you know as well as I do that not many mechanics will even pop the hood on this British tub to check the oil. Count your blessin's, I've owned a couple myself, so you can be damn sure I've had my practice wrenchin' on these moody critters."

"Fuck," I thought, but kept it to myself. "All right, any suggestions on a room?"

"I'd see Flo across the street at the diner. She runs the place, lives upstairs and usually has a room to rent."

"What other possibilities are there?" I asked, realizing that I'd been fighting with my new landlord and had yet to even fill out an application.

"If that doesn't work, I might be able to set you up on a buddy's cattle ranch, but the accommodations wont be nearly what they are across the street, plus you'd probably have to work, and you don't appear to be the type that likes to get too dirty."

I wanted to stomp the cocky old mans little toe along with the rest of his smart-ass self, but I needed him just like I needed Flo across the street. I had to shut up and start kissing both of their asses. As I waited to cross the highway, a semi roared by, leaving me in a whirlwind disarray to match my frustration and anger that was rapidly turning into helpless despair.

Days like this that made me question why I left my hundred thousand dollar a year company job selling John Deere Tractors. I always had a new Chevy extended cab Silverado that drove more like a touring sedan than a pickup truck. I had traded it all just to be able to sleep in as late as I damn well pleased and for the freedom to do business on my own terms.

I walked back in to the coffee counter and sat down. Sarah was scooping some more ice. I watched her until she turned around and then shifted my gaze to the daily special board.

"Fish and Chips with a cup of clam chowder for $4.50, tea or coffee included," had been scribbled in pink and blue chalk on the blackboard. Friday in Five Points was just about the same as anywhere else.

"Hungry?"

"Yeah, I'll try the special."

"Tea?"

"Yes, please, with..."

"Lots of ice," Sarah interrupted.

"You got it. Is Flo around?"

"She's upstairs. I can call for her."

"Only if she's not busy. I don't want to bother her."

"I'd say you've all ready done that."

"I'm sure I have," I said, feeling like a fool for having argued with the woman.

"Can't see what a little more could hurt. Let me get your soup and then I'll go after her."

I had bothered her, but there was no changing the past, even if it was only twenty minutes earlier. I didn't have much of a choice. Okie was right; I wasn't into punching cattle. A few minutes later Flo walked back up to the coffee counter.

"Well, look who's back for dessert," she said with a smartass-now-I-gotcha grin.

"Okie across the road says you might have a room for rent."

"Sounds like Okie across the road probably had more bad news than just that for you kid. Things got to be pretty shitty if youre back here for a room."

"Yes ma'am, I guess you could say that," I answered, wanting to tell her to fuck off in the worse way.

"Why does this not surprise me? Okie is always stickin' me with your kind. I guess it isn't his fault that guys like you always end up broken down in those good-for-no-more-than-fifty-miles-from-home British sports cars that you try to run away from life in."

"Lady, I know I seem to have left what little courtesy I have back at home, but I really would appreciate any help you could give me."

"Yeah, I got an extra room. Sarah, will you show him upstairs when he's finished lunch?"

"To the non-smoking room?" Sarah asked with her back to me facing Flo. They both broke out in a giggle.

"I guess well have to try to be nice to him," Flo said, as she turned from Sarah to me.

"How much for the room?"

"I don't know yet. Depends on how many more of my patrons you run off.

CHAPTER 2

Friday

After lunch I walked back to the service station to get my duffel, laptop, and cellular phone. Okie was at the gas pumps.

"I just need to get my goods out of the car, and I'll be out of your hair," I told Okie as he watched me walk up to the station.

"I'm gunna need some money."

"For what?"

"For fixin' your rig. What do you think?"

"You haven't done anything yet."

"And I won't if I don't have parts to repair it. No money, no parts, no fixed car."

"Can I put it on my VISA?"

"Cash or a local check," Okie muttered.

"How much you want?"

"Couple hundred; I've got to pay the radiator man, and that'll be at least fifty bucks. The rest ought to cover the water pump and hoses."

I reached for my money clip and handed him two crisp hundreds. "Do I get a receipt?"

"If I had a receipt book you would, but I don't, so like I said, you're gunna have to learn to trust me."

About all I trusted Ol' Deadeye for was slipping it to me, but I didn't have a choice. "OK, I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"You can talk to me, but it won't do you any good. I don't wrench on Saturday or Sunday unless it's a quick fix just to keep a car on the road. Otherwise, I clean the shop and take care of stuff 'round the house."

Okie lived about two hundred yards behind the gas station in a mobile home that appeared to have been moved right into where a house had possibly burned down. It made sense. The yard and everything else he needed was in place, so instead of trying to restore the remnants of the past, he had done the smart thing. He moved into a new home. I hoped that he had more faith in his trade than he did in his domestic repairs. He had faith in something though, because it was a wonder that the whole damn station hadn't gone up in flames when his house had. Okie and I were done doing business for the weekend, so I hoofed it back across the highway to the diner.

The lunch hour had passed and the place was empty with the exception of two old men in the back booth who were playing gin. Sarah was waiting for me when I walked in with my duffel and portable office.

"Would you like me to call a bellhop?"

"A bellhop won't work for what I have in mind," I said grinning.

I followed Sarah toward the stairs, curious to know what she was really like after she had showered off Flo's influence.

"I've always heard that it doesn't make much difference to you Caliboys."

"Well it's your lucky day. You don't have to hear about us Caliboys second hand anymore."

"More like unlucky."

"You've got yourself a real live one now," I answered, following her up the stairs.

"Like I said, unlucky."

"You get to see first hand what pulls the rope of this Caliboy. If you're lucky it might even be you."

"A true California dreamer."

"Dreams come true."

"Well it's time to wake from this one," Sarah said, as she stepped up onto the second floor.

There was something about Sarah that I liked, maybe more than just something. She was sassy but wholesome. I was looking forward to finding out what exactly it was about her that was so enticing. She was in her mid-twenties, about five-four with long dark brown hair in a ponytail. She wasn't one of those anorexic looking model types, but she damn sure wasn't overweight by any standards either.

Sarah had natural beauty. If she wore make-up, I couldn't tell, and it was quite apparent that she took her health seriously. She was full of energy... almost too much energy. I say too much energy because that's what attracted me to her but also scared the hell out of me. I doubted my ability to keep up with a woman like her, to keep her happy.

"This is your stop. There's no key, and it only locks from the inside with a dead-bolt."

"Well now, how do you know that?"

"It's where I stayed when I first arrived."

"Broken down car?"

"I wish," Sarah said, as she turned to walk back downstairs. I decided not to probe too quickly. That was one thing that always seemed to scare them off. Although, I'd been known to use the scare tactic to see how quickly they spooked just to cut through the crap and save myself a lot of time and grief. I walked in and set my goods on the bed.

The room was about fifteen by fifteen with a double bed, a dresser, and a desk with a red rotary dial trim-line phone. I looked for the phone jack so that I could access my e-mail to do business from my new loft, but it was the old style wiring. The room had wooden floors and an area rug. A few pictures with American Indian motifs hung from the walls. I had my own private bathroom with a huge cast-iron bathtub, the type with claw feet. I wouldn't be taking a shower for a while.

There was a small bookshelf with a handful of paperbacks. None seemed to reach out and grab me. Still, it wouldn't be long before I picked one up to pass time. The room had two windows that came together in the northwest corner. I could see Okie piddling around his shop across the street to the north. I thought of how I'd like to shoot the grumpy old fucker and put him out of my misery but needed him too damn much. I looked west to watch the remnants of the sunset melting into the dusk of the rolling brown hills and decided on a hot bath to soak off the weather I had collected while driving the convertible.

I toweled myself dry before stretching out on the bed, exhausted from the day and relaxed from my steaming bath. The bath was good for my aching bones as well as my aching mind that had been fighting everything that had happened that day... actually, everything that had been happening for most of my life.

I could never nap, but felt as if I had no choice, as if something else had taken over. I woke around seven that evening and after watering down my hair and combing it back, I went downstairs to see if I could get some dinner.

"Where's Sarah?" I asked, greeting Flo.

"Just missed her. Why?"

"I don't know. I guess if she's gone it's too late to eat?"

"Well things don't just stop because Sarah gets off work."

I don't know why I expected Flo to have changed her attitude; I was the one who had had the hot bath and nap.

"Can I get a French dip and a green salad, please?"

"What kind of dressing?"

I wanted to ask her what kinds of dressing she had, listen to her rattle them off and then ask her to repeat them, but I was too scared of her.

"Do you have Catalina or French?"

Flo just looked down her glasses over her nose and in a disgusted wake-up-dumb-ass-you're-stranded-in-the-middle-of-nowhere look shook her head from side to side.

"I'll have the house dressing," I conceded.

Flo scribbled my request onto a pale green ticket, tore it from the book, snapped it under the clip of the chrome order-up wheel and spun it around.

"Order Jimmy. French dip, no fries. I'll take care of the salad on this side."

Jimmy was at least six and a half feet tall, but hunched over to six feet, having had to duck under everything for the last forty-two years of his sixty-year life. Jimmy wore a white faded T-shirt that was starting to unravel from wear, not over-washing. Under his tan colored, Big Ben work pants spurted his black Reebok tennis shoes that housed a pair of size fourteen feet. He had a grease-stained dingy white apron that for most people would cover their knees, but for Jimmy hardly cleared his waist. The slender face housed his deep, sad looking blue eyes, and his bridged nose made his eyes appear to be sunk further back into his head than they really were. With arms as long as Jimmy's, there wasn't room for another cook.

Jimmy slid my French dip under the hot lamp and slapped the bell a few times, summoning Flo, but there was no sign of her. I finished the last few bites of my salad with the ranch style house dressing and decided that next time Flo was going to have to give me a bigger choice of dressings. Jimmy stretched his neck through the opening above the counter out into the dinning room to see if he could spot Flo.

I watched Jimmy's Adam's apple bob around over my French dip. He didn't shave it very well or couldn't shave around it and the graying whiskers protruded out around it like grass that grew out from under and around a rock. I waited for him to say something, knowing that if he did, he'd end up dipping his goiter in my au jus sauce. Not a peep came out of Jimmy, nor was there a sign of Flo.

A few minutes later, Flo walked in through the front door. She headed straight over to my sandwich, picked it up and set it down in front of me. The thought crossed my mind that this old bitch was testing me. Maybe she had walked out the back, around to the front and just stood there watching to see how I handled having to wait while my French dip went stale. I wasn't certain if she was actually fucking with me, but my mind sure wanted to believe it.

"Been putting out a fire?" I asked.

"Is it cold?"

"In here?"

"You know what I mean."

"No, its fine." The French dip was still warm, and if I hadn't watched it sit there, I never would have guessed it had been under the hot lamp for more than a minute, but ..its fine' was all I was giving her. I had no intention of fighting her, but I also wasn't about to rave about how delicious the dip was either. Besides, I'd lost a good portion of my appetite watching Jimmy's goiter dangling over my plate. I could only stomach about half the meal and pushed the rest aside.

"Eyes bigger than your belly?"

"Just like a hungry little boy who piles it on before his siblings have a chance at it," I said, indulging her.

"Sounds about right for you."

We both smiled at each other for the first time.

"Dessert?"

"Whatcha got?"

"Bread pudding with loads of California raisins."

"I'll pass on the dessert, but I would like a cup of coffee."

"Cream?"

"Low-fat or non-fat, please."

Flo reached into the refrigerator below the counter, pulled out a pint of half-and-half, and set it down next to my coffee.

"You'll have to pour it from the carton."

"Exactly how I do it at home."

I drank my coffee contemplating what I could possibly do for the evening and what I'd be doing if I were home. I thought about asking Flo for some suggestions, then reconsidered. I wasn't in the mood for another one of her smart-ass answers and didn't want to open myself up to another one of her attacks.

Instead of hanging out and drinking more coffee than I should, I decided to return to my room, to hang out with myself. Since there was no television, I tried to settle on a paperback, hoping to get lost in the drama of some other fool less fortunate than myself. Getting lost in the life of some fictional character in a paperback would have been great, but shuffling through the books, all I could find was the happily-ever-after-fairytale stuff that I'd given up on long ago. It was close to eleven when I decided to walk downstairs to look for the newspaper. Flo was sitting at the coffee counter when I stumbled off the last step.

"Whatcha need?"

"Couldn't sleep. Why are you up at this hour?"

"Tryin' to balance this checkbook, but now you made me lose my place."

"Sorry."

"Guess I need a break anyway. What's your excuse?"

"Don't know."

"This place too quiet for you?"

"Maybe. I feel... I don't know, maybe a little rejected tonight."

"Rejected?"

"Yeah, Janie never called back with her address and Jenny never called to get directions to my place for tomorrow, even if I won't be there," I explained as I went over to the coffee pot.

"And you don't have any others at your beck and call out here either, do you?"

"Sure doesn't look that way," I answered, pouring a decaf.

"Guess I feel a little lonely, too."

"Yeah, problem is, when you're stuck out here, there's not many ways to escape it."

"I don't know. Something's not right, though."

"You're needy."

"I am not needy."

"Yes you are."

"Bullshit."

"You're lonely."

"What?"

"You'd like to have a woman, but without any obligations."

"Without any obligations?" I asked.

"You don't want to have to fake it anymore! You don't want to worry about losing her because you can't fulfill her every wish and desire."

"I'm not worried about that."

"Yeah you are, but you don't want to get lost in her."

"I what?"

"Like tryin' to get your mother's attention, even if it was just a fleeting response."

"Don't drag my mother into this shit."

"I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"You just need to look at how you relate to women."

"How's that?"

"How many kids in your family?"

"Four boys."

"No sisters?"

"No sisters."

"No wonder you don't know how to have a woman in your life."

"Bullshit."

"Kid, I've seen a whole lot of grown men just like you that have a little boy trapped inside of them. A little boy who still runs the show."

"Yeah, right."

"The way you relate to a woman and the type of response you usually get is like dope. If you don't get your fix, you go away mad, and if you do get your fix, you wake up in the next day longin' for more."

"You've lost me." I said, thinking about all the idle time Flo had for watching Oprah and reading self-help books.

Flo put her stack of bills and checkbook back into the clear Tupperware container, snapped on the blue lid and slid it under the counter below the cash register.

"I think we've had about as much of each other as we can stand for one day."

"I think you're right. Maybe even a little more," I answered, thinking about the suffering I was going to endure while the MG recuperated.

"Pleasant dreams," Flo said, walking back into the kitchen.

"Yeah, you too," I answered. Pleasant dreams; hell!

I headed up the stairs. When I walked into my room, I could see the lights from the parking lot shining inside. My boyhood bedroom had windows that came together in the northeast corner. I had no American Indian art dangling from my walls, but for some reason this place was stirring up old memories. I put on my sweats and a loose T-shirt before crawling into bed and drifting off.

Mom had once sent me to my room for something that I'd done wrong. I was pissed off, sitting on my bed that was under both windows. I got a pencil and left a note that said that I had run away, opened the window, and crawled under the bed. Not long after that, my mother started calling for me. When I didn't respond, she came looking for me. I watched her feet coming towards my bed, a few seconds passed before she discovered my fugitive status and proclamation of freedom from her tyrannical rule.

Mom climbed up on my bed and stuck her head out of the window yelling for me. I let her carry on for a few minutes with her idle threats and realized that she loved me in spite of herself, and I started belly laughing. I don't think she spanked me that time, but she damn sure didn't run off to cut me a piece of chocolate cake. I caught myself actually laughing out loud, but soon the image of Flo starring down at me through her glasses came back to me.

Flo was right; I'd had all of her that I could stand for one day. In fact I think I'd had enough of her to last a lifetime. Who made her the queen shrink anyway?

 [Home]