Five Minutes Late (19 page)

“Can you see him?” asked a woman.

“Yeah,” said the other woman. “He’s got nice legs.”

Cedric had no interest in looking at Samuel L. Jackson’s legs. In fact, just the mention of the word
legs
had immediately returned his thoughts to Ellie and their time in Starbucks. Now those were some amazing legs.
 

He stared off into the ocean, imagining Ellie swimming there in a cute bikini and her legs coming out of the water occasionally to say hello. He would be waiting on the shore for her and then he would wrap a towel around her before reapplying sunscreen to those legs.
 

“Make love to me, Cedric,” Ellie would say. “Here. Now.”
 

His thoughts were so real and vivid, like he was there on the beach with Ellie. And Samuel L. Jackson was with them too. Wait. Why was Samuel L. Jackson on the beach with them? How did he creep into his daydream? He couldn’t actually see Samuel, but he heard his voice.
 

“Fore Motherfuckers,” Samuel yelled.
 

Now why would he yell that on a beach? Odd.

Cedric opened his eyes and didn’t understand what was going on. He felt a bit hazy and his head was throbbing. He touched his forehead and then looked at his hand. Blood. What the hell happened? Last he remembered he was daydreaming about being on the beach with Ellie and Samuel L. Jackson, and the next thing he knew, he was on the ground looking up at fifteen to twenty concerned heads hovering over him.

“Give him some room,” said Michael. “Cedric, talk to me, man. Are you all right? What year is it?”

Cedric thought about the question for a second and looked confused. “How could you not know the year, Michael?”

A few people laughed as Samuel L. Jackson made his way through the crowd. He was now standing over Cedric, looking down at him, shaking his head. “Damn, did I do that? That’s some seriously fucked up golf. Please accept my sincerest apologies.”

Fifteen minutes later, Cedric felt much better, but the Golf Marshal recommended a visit to the hospital to check for a possible concussion. Fortunately, the Community Hospital of the Monterey Peninsula was just a quick drive up 17 Mile Drive to the other side of the freeway. As they sat in the waiting area of emergency, Michael flipped through the pictures in his phone.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” said Cedric.

“What?” Michael laughed. “What did I do?”

“There’s proof on your phone of exactly what you did.”

Michael flipped through a few pictures and then stopped on one of Michael smiling, giving the thumbs up. Directly behind Michael was Samuel L. Jackson squatting down as Cedric lay there, looking like he got run over by a truck.

“I’m one of your best friends, and I could have been dying, but the only thing on your mind was taking a selfie!”

“First of all, you were fine and secondly … that picture is going on my wall.”

“Glad you are able to celebrate my humiliation.”

“That’s what friends are for. Hey, at least we get another round of golf at Pebble out of it!”

“That we do.”

Samuel L. Jackson felt so bad about hitting Cedric that he bought him and Michael a gift card, good for another round in the future. Cedric thought that was pretty classy of the man to do that, but next time he golfed, he would consider wearing a helmet.

“Before I got hit by that golf ball, I was day dreaming about Ellie.”

“Life is short. Quit dreaming about her and do something.”

That was the plan. Even if it killed him.

The next morning, as Cedric approached his booth at the farmers’ market, Tony had his back to him and was eating cherries.
 

Cedric shook his head in disapproval. “You’re eating the profits.”

“Better than giving them away.” Tony popped another cherry in his mouth. “Only a lunatic does that.”

“Fine, I’m a lunatic.”

“Oh my God! Your forehead!” Tony spit a cherry pit into Cedric’s chest.
 

“That’s very nice.” Cedric wiped his shirt. “You’re overreacting.”

“You see stuff like that, the normal reaction is to scream or run. What happened?”

“Samuel L. Jackson hit me with a golf ball.”

“You mean like
the
Samuel L. Jackson?”

Cedric nodded.

“Dude, I need to take a picture with your forehead.”

Cedric’s cell phone rang and Cedric eyed the number on the screen.

“Is that Ellie?” asked Tony.

“I don’t recognize the number.”

“Pick up.”

Cedric stared at the phone. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t be an idiot. You told me she was the coolest girl you’ve met. Answer it.”

Cedric hesitated for a moment, but then decided to answer.

“Hello?” He didn’t hear anything. He pulled the phone away from his ear to look at it. “Too late, it went to voicemail.”

“I should kick your ass right now.”

“First of all, quit being so dramatic. And secondly, you couldn’t kick the ass of a flea.” Tony gave him one of his serious looks. “Is that right?”

“Okay, you could kick the ass of a flea. Maybe an entire village of fleas. Happy?”

“Penis particle.”

“Dingleberry.”

“Cock cobbler.”

“Nutsack.”

An older woman approached and raised an eyebrow. She picked up a garlic bulb, smelled it, and put it back down, staring at Cedric, then Tony.

“Do you have any celery?” she asked.

“Sorry, we don’t.” Cedric pointed to the table. “Just garlic and cherries.”

“That’s too bad. I need to make some Bloody Marys. How about lemons?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“Almonds?”

“You put almonds in Bloody Marys?” asked Tony.

“Of course not. That’s disgusting.”

Cedric scanned the tables looking for almonds even though he knew he didn’t have any. “Hmm. Looks like we’re out of almonds at the moment.”

The woman scanned the tables again. “What
do
you have?”

“Just what’s on the table.”

She lifted the table cover of one of the tables to look underneath. “What do you have under there? You hiding any almonds or celery?”

“I assure you, if I had almonds or celery, you’d be the first one I’d sell them to.”

“I certainly hope so.” She roamed over to the booth next door without saying goodbye.

Cedric and Tony watched the woman talk with the man who was selling Kettle Corn. They could hear her ask the man if he had any celery or almonds.

“I think we should legally be able to shoot people,” said Tony. “Someone’s got to put them out of their misery.”

“I think when they are in our presence, we suffer more than they do. Maybe we should be shot.”

Cedric’s phone beeped three times.

“Yes,” said Tony. “Looks like Ellie left you a voicemail.”

“You don’t know that. It was a random number that could belong to anyone.”

“Just listen to the damn message so we can find out.”

“Fine.” Cedric dialed his voicemail.

“Hi Cedric, this is Ellie. You know, from the library? Of course you know. Crap, I hope I don’t start rambling again. Well, uh …”

Ellie paused, sounding nervous and Cedric grinned. Like she had to explain who she was. It’s difficult to forget a person when you think about them twenty-four hours a day.

“Is it her?” asked Tony.

Cedric nodded.

“Yes!”

“Anyway,” Ellie continued. “I already left you one message, but just thought I’d call and thank you again for the beautiful flowers and the card. And I’ll definitely take you up on the free hug. Sorry I kicked you out of the library. I’ve been a little stressed. And I— Well, just give me a call, okay?”

Cedric saved the message and pocketed his cell.

“Well?”

Cedric smiled. “She wants to talk.”

“Great!”

“Yeah, but—”

“You’re thinking too much. Just talk with her.”

“Right.”

Tony slammed his hand on the table. “Look who’s coming our way.”

Cedric turned and saw Maria, the waitress from Piccadilly Pete’s approach their booth. “You’re a brave woman.”

Maria smiled. “Thanks, but I can handle him.”

“Yes, please,” said Tony. “Handle me.”

Cedric threw his palms up. “He’s a good guy. He just hasn’t figured out how to evenly-balance his testosterone output.”

“How’s my future wife?” Tony asked, leaning over to kiss Maria on the cheek.

“Not sure.” Maria blocked his lips with her hand. “I can ask her next time I visit the zoo.”

Tony laughed. “You see, Cedric?
That’s
what I’m talking about. This woman is fan-fucking-tastic.”

“She just insulted you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. This is our version of foreplay. This woman is a firecracker and she almost cracked a smile. She’s enjoying this.”

“I’ll let you believe that,” said Maria. “But the real reason is, I came here because I saw the garlic sign.”

Tony grabbed three baskets of garlic, placed them in a bag, and handed it to her. “Complimentary garlic for the lovely lady. Enjoy.”
 

Cedric almost fell over.

Maria smiled and grabbed the bag from Tony. “That’s very kind of you, thank you.”

Tony smiled. “Does this mean we are ready for our first kiss?”

“Check back with me in the year 2050.”

Tony pulled out his smart phone and scrolled through it. “I’ll put it on my calendar right now.” He looked up. “Is ten in the morning good for you?”

Maria smiled and held up the bag. “Thanks again. See you at the restaurant.”

“You can count on it.” Tony pocketed his cell and watched her walk away.

Cedric let out a loud sigh. “Pete’s going to be pissed off when she quits because of you.”

“When she quits, he will be congratulating me and handing me a cigar because she will be pregnant with our first child.”

“Okay, topic switch, please.”

“I can do that. Let’s talk about the hot librarian again.”

“Please call her Ellie.”

“As you wish. What’s your next move?”

“I have no clue. We’re kind of in limbo. There’s an obvious attraction from both parties, but circumstances are getting in the way of us making any headway.”

Tony pulled his cell from his pocket again and stared at the screen. “Hang on, I just got a message.” He read the message and frowned. “Shit.”

“What?” asked Cedric.
 

“The planned online auction for the farm has been canceled and will now be a private sale coordinated by the County Supervisor.”

“That’s okay, right?” asked Cedric as he grabbed three more baskets of garlic from under the table. “I mean, even if there are multiple offers, I’ll top them all. I’ll overbid if I have to.”

“I don’t know. According to this email from the Tax Collector’s assistant, there are plans to sell it to a local contractor.”

Cedric placed the garlic on the table and turned to Tony. “What?”

“That’s what it says, but it says there are plans, not that they’ve already sold it. My advice is talk with the County Supervisor and get them to stop the sale.”

“How am I going to do that?”

Tony considered the question. “Maybe you need to have that place declared a historic monument. There’s so much history there, and that has to mean something to the county and especially the city of Gilroy.”

Cedric scratched his chin. “That’s brilliant.”

“That’s because it came from the mind of Tony Garcia. You’d better go now, though, before it’s too late.”

“Good idea. I’ll be back.”

   
Cedric made his way over to the County Supervisor’s office on Hedding Street and took the elevator to the tenth floor. As he waited for the receptionist to finish up a phone call, he inspected the two aerial photos on the wall of Santa Clara County. The first photo was from the year 1960 with thousands of acres of farmland and trees visible in the shot. The second photo—from last year—showed the complete opposite, with hundreds and hundreds of buildings and thousands of houses where the farmland used to be. The only remaining farmland seemed to be in the south in Morgan Hill and Gilroy, near Cedric’s farm.

“Amazing,” muttered Cedric. “What a difference.”

Next to the photos on the wall was a map of the districts in the county. He scooted over to get a closer look at the map and scanned south with his finger to the city of Gilroy.

“District one, there you are.” He read the designation on the map.

The receptionist hung up the phone. “Can I help you?”

Cedric spun around. “I’d like to speak to the Supervisor for District One.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No.”

“Can I ask what this is regarding?”

“I’m inquiring about a farm in Gilroy that’s going to be sold by the county.”

“Just one moment.” She picked up the phone and pressed an extension. “There’s someone here inquiring about a farm in Gilroy.” She hung up the phone. “You can head back. It’s the second office on the right.”

“Thank you.” Cedric smiled and walked to the office, feeling hopeful. There had to be a way to stop the sale. Someone had to understand the history there and why a garlic museum was such a great idea and a wonderful tribute to the region known for its garlic.

Cedric peeked inside the office and saw a man with his head down, working on his laptop. “Come in.” The man closed his laptop.

“Hi, my name is Cedric Johnson and I’m inquiring about a property in—”

Cedric froze after he spotted the desk nameplate.
 

It said Dominic Cunnings.

“You okay?” asked Dominic.

Cedric took a moment to speak. “Yeah. It’s just … your name.”

“Ah, that. I was named after a famous World War II pilot.” He shrugged. “My dad is ex-military.”

“No, I meant your last name. Would you happen to be related to Vlad Cunnings?”

Please say no.

“That’s my brother, you know him?”

Yes. He’s the biggest A-hole I’ve ever met.
“He’s a friend of a friend.”

“What’s your name again?” asked Dominic, now looking suspicious.

“Cedric Johnson.”

“Cedric Johnson.” Dominic sounded like he was trying to memorize the name. “You came about the farm in Gilroy, right?”