Highway Song: A Smokey's Roadhouse Novel (14 page)

Before I had a chance to respond, Ike let loose all of the bitterness he
’
d been harboring since before Omaha.
“
Sure, why not? You
’
re the Big Fucking Deal. We
’
re just window dressing. Go on, abandon us here. We
’
ll limp into Rawlins and pick up another lead singer somewhere. We
’
ll be okay.
”
He spat on the ground at my feet.

Cole wasn
’
t quick to anger usually. I guess he
’
d had enough of Ike
’
s attitude.
“
Back the fuck off. Rex hasn
’
t given us the slightest fucking hint he
’
d do any such thing. You
’
ve got no call to be that way.
”

“
Oh, no? What did he say in Omaha? He
’
d fucking do it with or without us. He
’
s probably itching to get out of here the same way we are,
”
Ike said. Kirk nodded his head, and that
’
s when Axel punched him.

In seconds, all four of them were scuffling, throwing wild punches and trying to throw each other to the ground, with Mark and me yelling at them to stop. Visions of broken hands lent urgency to my pleas for them to stop, and finally they did. Kirk sported a bloody lip, and Axel nursed the hand he
’
d hit him with. Ike and Cole just had torn shirts.

“
Guys, I
’
m not going anywhere without you, okay? I know I said that in Omaha, but it was just to get you to come with me. My bad. I
’
m sorry. I got you into this, and I
’
m not leaving you on your own. We
’
re in it together. We
’
ll get out of it together.
”

Ike wasn
’
t ready to concede.
“
Fine,
”
he said.
“
Fuck me, I don
’
t want to ever hear the word Wyoming again in my life. I
’
m gonna see where I can get cleaned up.
”

It was now an issue. We hadn
’
t had showers since we left Omaha, and I was afraid we were getting pretty ripe in spite of washing up with water carried in buckets from the bar
’
s kitchen. Now the four of them were filthy from wallowing in the dirt. I asked Mark to talk to Smokey and see what we could do about it before the gig started. Meanwhile, I needed to get away from all of them and the heavy weight of accountability that settled around me after the fight. .

It was nearly six, and if we were going to go on at nine, they were going to have to have a solution quickly. I intended to just wash up again. Plenty of times when Mom was between husbands or boyfriends, we
’
d lived in shitty apartments with the utilities cut off. I knew how to get clean from a bucket. After I freshened up in the bus and changed into the clothes I
’
d wear for the performance, I headed around back of the bar, where I hoped none of them would follow me.

The passing thought about Mom made me nostalgic. She
’
d done her best for me, always thinking that whatever man she attracted would be the one to finally give us some stability. I
’
d known by the time I was twelve it wasn
’
t ever going to happen. She picked the wrong man every time.

I never knew my father. He was long gone by the time I knew I was supposed to have one. When I started asking about one, around the time I started kindergarten and realized other kids had them, Mom must have decided to find me one. I didn
’
t remember much about the next couple of years, except that we moved a lot. I was probably eight when I realized that the man we were living with at the time wasn
’
t very nice. He ignored me, which was fine. But Mom was scared of him. She had a black eye when we left there. It was a pattern she repeated a few more times.

The longest we ever stayed with any of them was when she married one. I was fifteen. I remembered him clearly, not only because I was almost grown when we moved in with him, but because he was different. He had a little girl, just a kid, named Amanda. His name was Richard, like mine, but he was called Dick, and it fit. I never understood why he
’
d married Mom. He didn
’
t have to. She never held out for that. Maybe it was because of the little girl.

He hit Mom, too, though. Just like all the others. She held out for two years, and I think that was because of the little girl. In the end, though, she ran like all the other times. She cried when we had to leave the little girl behind. She
’
d talked to a social worker, who said
“
get out of there, but you can
’
t take his kid.
”
That would be kidnapping, even if the father was an abuser who might hurt the child. The woman said she
’
d take care of it, but we never knew if she did. Mom didn
’
t even divorce the son of a bitch, just took up her old ways of moving in with the next guy.

By that time, it made me sick to think about what she had to do to put a roof over my head. I was seventeen, and I got a job. Told her to quit looking for someone to take care of her. I
’
d take care of her. That was my first failure. She got pneumonia because she slipped on ice I hadn
’
t cleared from the walk before going to work, and she broke her hip. Ended up in the hospital. They told me it wasn
’
t uncommon for pneumonia to set in, when people couldn
’
t get up and around. Wasn
’
t uncommon. Like it was
common
for a perfectly healthy thirty-six year old to die.

After that, there wasn
’
t anything keeping me from traveling the country, doing my best to make it as a singer. And here I was, fifteen years later, no closer to that goal than when I was nineteen. I was a fucking loser.

I sat on the boardwalk out back of the bar and leaned against the wall. Watched the sun go down in a riot of pink, orange, and red. Smoked a couple of cigarettes, and wondered if there was any point in trying anymore.

I was still sitting there feeling sorry for myself when Amy came out. She said one of the guys told her he thought I was out here, and she wanted to know if I wanted something to eat.

“
I don
’
t think so,
”
I said.

“
Come on, Rex, it can
’
t be that bad. You need to eat. And it needs to be early enough to let it settle before you have to sing,
”
she answered. That was true.

“
Okay, I guess I could have a sandwich.
”

“
How about a nice, juicy cheeseburger, with some jalapeno on it to clear your sinuses,
”
she countered.

“
How do you know I need my sinuses cleared?
”
I asked, intrigued in spite of myself. I had some kind of mild dairy allergy that clogged me up anytime I had cheese, or milk, or anything with dairy in it. Jalapenos or something hot to drink cleared it up fine, but if I didn
’
t have it, I couldn
’
t sing for the guck in my throat.

She looked confused for a second, and then her expression cleared.
“
Doesn
’
t everyone?
”

With that, she went back inside and left me to my memories. In spite of my gloom, I thought about that little girl who
’
d been my stepsister for a couple of years. She
’
d always bugged me to play guitar for her and her friends. Annoying little goober, but she always worried about my voice, too.

“
Rick, you shouldn
’
t drink milk. It chokes you,
”
she
’
d say.

“
But I like milk,
”
I
’
d answer.
“
Especially with these chocolate chip cookies you and Mom made. They
’
re delicious.
”

She
’
d preen, like she
’
d had anything to do with baking the cookies, and then she
’
d talk Mom into letting me have coffee to clear my sinuses. How strange that in all the years since, no one had ever shown that concern, and now Amy did. Crazy coincidence.

Amy

A
xel told me the band
’
s bad news. In spite of the fact it affected me, too, I felt really bad for Rex. Especially after I found him out back with a black cloud of self-doubt almost visible above his head. I didn
’
t know what to do for him except feed him. Without thinking, I offered him a cheeseburger, which I knew he used to love. And then I remembered his allergy. Quickly, I amended the offer to include jalapenos. They
’
d always made his nose run and loosened the phlegm from the allergy back then. It was a slip that almost outed me.

When he asked how I knew, I covered with a silly observation, and he seemed to accept it. I knew if I ever confessed to him who I was, I was going to be in deep trouble for lying to him all this time. Mentally kicking myself, I went in to place the order. Smokey motioned me over while I waited for it to cook.

“
You look done in, girl. I
’
ve called Sylvie to come in for a few hours so you can catch some rest. I want you to go take a nap as soon as you deliver this dinner order,
”
he said. He
’
d never done that before. Ever.

“
Why?
”
I asked.
“
I
’
ve pulled a double shift before.
”

“
Let
’
s just say I know how you finagled a ride on that bus, missy. And while what you do on your own time
…”

“
Is my business,
”
I finished for him. I was going to scalp one of the band members. It only remained to find out which one had snitched. And while I was at it, I was going to have words with Rex for not telling me they knew already.

“
Right. It
’
s your business. But it
’
s my business if my server falls asleep and face-plants with a tray full of drinks. Go on. Sylvie can cover for you for a couple of hours. Just be back in time for the band to start. She
’
ll want to be out of here before that. Can
’
t stand country music.
”

“
Southern Rock,
”
I corrected. Smokey just raised his eyebrows at me.
“
Okay, I get it. Soon as I get this to Rex, I
’
ll take a long break.
”

“
Take a
nap
,
”
he insisted.

“
I
’
ll try.
”
There was no use telling him I couldn
’
t sleep this early. Most of the time I couldn
’
t sleep at all, but if it would make him happy to think I
’
d had a nap, I
’
d pretend I had.