Leaving Serenity (12 page)

“Does he know we’re coming?”

Jack pulled his jeans on over his bare butt and shrugged. “Dunno.”

Frustration set in deeper as Jack sounded less sure of himself. “But you said…”

“Chill out, Baby. Everything’s hunky-dory. We’ll just take ole’ Goldie down ninety-five ’til we get to Daleton. We’re cool, you’ll see.”

He lit a cigarette, crushed the empty pack, and walked out. Suddenly, I felt out of place in the seedy motel room. I grabbed our stuff and packed it in the trunk of the car. When Jack came back from the cigarette machine, he was in a better mood.

He smiled at me and said, “Time to book, Baby.”

And Goldie was on her way to Florida.

Florida Sunshine

We merged off I-95 and landed smack dab in the middle of Daleton, Florida, a little town not much bigger than Serenity. But it did have a mall and lots of sunshine. Jack knew exactly where the motel was, and he steered me into the parking strip in front of
t
he Plaza Inn. A swimming pool, half the size of the one in my backyard back home, sat next to the flat-
roofed, orange and brown motel.

A skinny man in his forties lay in a mesh lounge chair next to the pool. He wore a pair of red swimming trunks and a dark, wrinkled tan. His dark hair hung down his back
in a low ponytail tie
d with a thin strap of leather.

I pulled into the parking space in front of the red neon office sign. Jack perked up when he saw the man lying by the pool.

“Right
on, Babe! There’s my man, Ray.”

He jumped out of the car as it came to a stop and yelled, “Yo! My man, Ray!”

The man stood, puffed on his Tiparillo cigar, and squinted at Jack.

Ray clamped down on the plastic tip of the cigar and said, “Jacko! What the hell are you doing here, boy?”

Jack ran around the car, opened the door, and grabbed my hand. “Hey, my man! Allow me to introduce my lovely wife, Nikky. The very sight
of her will brighten your day.”

Ray squinted at the smoke drifting back into his face. His eyes moved over me, cold and uninterested. I avoided his stare and checked out the shabby motel. “Yep, if you say so.”

Jack did his best to turn on the charm and make Ray happy to see us.

“Hey, Man. We just stopped by to say hey, maybe catch a little buzz. Whatta ya say?”

Ray pulled the Tiparillo from this mouth. “Oh, yeah? Whatcha got?”

Jack shifted from one leg to the other. “I got some reefer and a little hash.”

Ray looked up and down the quiet street. “That sounds good. Come on in. I’ve got a couple of Mountain Dews in the office fridge.”

Ray snapped open a couple of brown metal chairs for us next to a desk strewn with papers, file folders, and pink telephone messages.

Ray brushed the loose papers into a cardboard box and said, “Excuse the mess. I just can’t seem to get caught up around here.”

Jack packed the glass pipe with a mixture of weed and hash. He took a toke, held it, and said, “Like
m
ighty
m
ouse,
my friend, we’ve come to save the day.”

Ray held his finger over the bowl of the pipe to get the full effect of the smoke. He coughed and asked, “What’s that?”

“You know, my man, like you said up in Carolina, about needing some help around here. Me and my lady, here, came to give you a hand around the place.”

Ray nodded. “Oh, that. I like your shirts, by the way.”

Jack pulled at his tee-shirt with two fingers. “My everyday wardrobe, Man.”

Ray sat back. “Man, I had a hell of a time gettin’ rid of those shirts. The delivery business ain’t doing too good right now. The old lady is on my ass. She’s worried that I’ll end up in the pokey again. So I’m coolin’ it for a while, see? Is that what you’re looking for, some delivery work?”

Jack looked at the floor between his legs. “Ah, anything you got, really. See, me and my lady just got married yesterday. We need a place.”

Ray’s bloodshot eyes looked at me
,
and then at Jack. “Well, you’re welcome to stay here. I can cut you a deal, Jacko, seeing how you’re always good for a laugh and the occasional recreational activity. How about forty-five a month plus you and your missus keep the rooms tidy?”

Jack winked at Ray. “Let me check with my manager, here.”

He turned to me. “Whatta ya say, Baby? You go for it?”

The place wasn’t what I expected and neither was Jack’s friend, Ray. But I doubted that I had much of a choice. “Sure. I guess that’s fine with me.”

Jack and Ray hi-fived each other and clinched the deal.

Ray filled us in. “I got eight rooms here. A chick named Sunday-Monday-Tuesday, or something like that, turns tricks in Room 8. I keep a .45 here in the office in case of any trouble, but I ain’t never had any. I reckon she’s got regulars that don’t bother nothing. I get occasional drop-ins who get lost trying
to find their way back to I-95.

“D’ you remember Eddie from the brig? He stops in from time to time, keeps sayin’ he’s going to buy that paneled truck from me since I ain’t using it anymore. Oh, an insurance salesman comes by once in a while. You see anybody different like that, just play cool until they’re gone. That’s about it. Got any questions?”

Jack looked at me and said, “Nah, Man, sounds like a plan.”

Ray slapped his knee. “Well, the old lady’s going to be happy to hear about this. She’s got a honey-do list a mile long for me back at the house. You kids take Room 1. That way you’ll be close to the office.”

Ray looked at me. “You do any bookwork or typing, little lady?”

I remembered my good typing scores in the ninth grade. “Yeah, I can type a little.”

Ray lit another Tiparillo and pointed to the desk. “I’ll pay you an extra ten dollars a week just to keep this here mess straight.”

I looked at the pile of papers on the desk and said, “Well, I’ll try, if you show me what to do.”

“Sure, we’ll get around to it. Jacko, ole boy, pass me that pipe.”

The room was tight and small. I felt like I’d suffocate from the cigar, weed, hash, and cigarette smoke.

“Hey, do you guys mind if I get us settled in?”

Ray pointed to a wooden rack of keys behind the desk. “Yeah, help yourself to Room 1, little lady. Me and my boy, Jack, have some old Nam stories to hash over. Ain’t that right, Jacko?”

Jack grinned. “Right on, Ray.”

I stepped out of the office and took a deep breath of hot, stale air. I expected life to be prettier, fresher, and more exciting here than back home. Jack seemed different, too. Back in Serenity, he’d been so sure of himself. Now he acted like a little kid and looked at Ray as if he idolized him. Dragging our stuff to the room, I thought that, so far, Florida had been nothing but one big disappointment.

***

Jack and I quickly settled into a routine at the motel. I changed the linens, vacuumed, and cleaned the bathrooms in all the motel rooms except Room 8. Ray said that the girl in Room 8 did her own cleaning. I straightened up Ray’s office. He showed me how to record the room fees left in the lockbox and deposit the money. Jack slept until mid-day and lounged around the pool with Ray in the afternoons. Ray went home to his wife every night. But he obviously didn’t tackle that to-do list at home since he spent the afternoons drinking beer and getting stoned with Jack.

Jack was always kind to me and continued to shower me with compliments. We went our separate ways, even in the beginning our marriage. I felt like we were roommates rather than a married couple. When I pushed the laundry cart along the breezeway, Jack would call out, “There’s my lovely lady! Ain’t she somethin’, Ray?”

Ray would typically toss back a brew and say, “She sure is, my man!”

I felt like Jack’s compliments weren’t made for my benefit but were intended for the other people who heard them. 

Three months later, we had almost gone through the six hundred dollars that I brought with us. Contrary to what Jack had told me, the summer heat faded into mild, fall weather. Jack spent more time watching game shows on the old, black-and-white TV in our room.

I sat next to him on the bed. “How you doing, Jack?”

Jack took a drag from his cigarette. “Fantabulous, Babe. Just fantabulous!”

“Well, I wanted to let you know that the money we brought with us is almost gone.”

Jack took a swig from the beer can. “That’s your department, Baby. I ain’t good with dough. It doesn’t stick to my fingers like it should.”

Jack nudged me and laughed. “Get it? Dough, stick to my fingers?
Sometimes I crack myself up!”

I chuckled, half-heartedly. “Sure, I get it. Look, I think that one of us should get a job.”

Jack shot me a puzzled look. “Whatta ya mean? We have a job, right here.”

“Yeah, I know. But that’s just to pay the rent. And the extra forty dollars a month barely covers your cigarettes. We still have to eat and buy stuff.”

Jack’s pretty green eyes gave me their best puppy dog look. “Yeah, I guess you’re right, Babe. I’ll be needing a fresh supply of stash soon. Got any ideas?”

“Well, I could get a job at the Waffle Stop up on the bypass.”

Jack got up, kissed me on the forehead, and headed for the door. “You’re the boss, my lady. Check ya later.”

I watched the door close behind him. Jack lived in his own world and didn’t seem to be too concerned about our money problems. He was kind to me but unapproachable at times. From that moment on, I knew that it was up to me to make my own way in the world.

The Girl in Room 8

The next week, I started waiting tables at the Waffle Stop next to the truck stop on I-95. The Waffle Stop wasn’t much bigger than the Bluebird, but it was open twenty-four hours a day and very busy. I started on the night shift from 7 p.m. to 7 a.m. Most of the customers were truckers, and I got used to being called names like Shug and Hon. I learned to rake the change off the end of the table and ignore their s
tares, complaints, and insults.

A couple of weeks after I started, a young girl walked in. I’d never seen a girl there, only men from the truck stop. Her body was trim, but shapely. Her long, straight hair was bright yellow like Miss Ruby’s back in Serenity. She wore a pretty, flowered halter dress, tied in a knot at the neck, and wedge-heeled sandals. As I approached her booth by the window, I checked out her heart-shaped face, cute turned-up nose, and full Kewpie doll lips. The sprinkle of freckles across her nose reminded me of Jack.

I managed a weak smile. “Hey, what’ll you have?”

She pointed a frosty-white fingernail at me. “Hey, I know you. You’re staying at the Plaza.”

I quickly thought,
The girl in Room 8
.

“Yeah, I’m Jack’s wife, Nikky.”

             
“Nice to meet you, Nikky. Tell Carlos to throw one of my T-bones on the grill and add an order of fries. Bring me a Dr. Pepper and one for yourself. Carlos won’t mind if we visit for a while.”

I pinned the order on the spindle. Carlos spun the order around and said, “Yah, yah. Miss Wednesday is here. I saw her, already.”

“Hey, Carlos. Do you mind if I take a break?”

Carlos flashed a gold-toothed smile, and quietly said, “Sure, sure. Take your time.”

So far, Carlos had been a cool guy to work for. The money was good, and it gave me a break from Jack and his friends. I grabbed two bottles of Dr. Pepper and headed back to the table, hoping to make a friend of my own.

She smiled at me and held out a hand after I sat down. “Take a load off! My friends call me Wednesday, you know, like on the Addams Family?”

I laughed and took her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Wednesday!”

“Of course, Wednesday isn’t my real name. Sometimes I’m Sunday because I like the sound of it. Sometimes I’m Tuesday like Tuesday Weld, the movie star.”

I blushed. “Nikky’s not my real name, either. I hate my real name.”

Wednesday looked me over. “You got an ID with your new name on it?”

I shook my head. “Uh-uh.”

“Hey, I know a guy who can fix you right up.”

I watched Wednesday pull a matching wallet from a large, brown leather bag inlaid with painted flowers. “Wow, what a cool bag!”

“Yeah, it set me back a piece. But I figure that I earned it.”

Wednesday spread her Social Security cards and driver’s licenses out on the table.

“I’ve got a friend that makes these for me. So if I get stopped by the cops, I’ve got something to show them. It’s all legit, no questions asked.”

Wednesday’s IDs looked as real as mine. “Oh, man! I really need one of these. I’m still carrying around my old ID.”

“Well, you just tell me when and where. I can set you up with the dude who does them. He’ll take your snapshot, and it’s done, like that, twenty-five bucks a pop.”

I smiled at my pretty, new friend. “Sure!”

Carlos brought Wednesday’s steak and fries and one for me, too. “Oh, Carlos! You didn’t have to do that.”