by Bill H Myers
I'd probably missed a lot of calls and a few texts from people who might have been worried about me. I needed to let them know I was still alive.
When we got to the Verizon store, I asked Taylor if she wanted to go in with me. She didn't. She said she'd rather stay out in the car. There were calls she needed to make and, if it were okay with me, she'd make those while I was inside the store.
I didn't mind her not going in with me, she had things to do, and I could get a new phone without her at my side.
There was a short line of customers waiting to buy new phones or upgrade their old ones. The four employees behind the counter were moving things along, and it didn't look like I'd have to wait long.
A few minutes after I'd gone inside, an older gentleman wearing a red blazer with a Verizon logo ushered me up to the service counter. The woman there, a tall, middle-aged blonde, was also wearing a red Verizon blazer. Her name tag said she was Dianne.
She smiled and said, “Welcome to Verizon. What can I do for you today?”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my broken phone. “I need to replace this.”
She looked at the screen and the warped case. “Looks like it took a pretty big hit. What happened?”
I pointed out the showroom windows toward the light at Forty-One and Jacaranda. “You know the big wreck? The one with the motorhome and the Corvette?”
She nodded like she knew what I was talking about.
“I was driving the motorhome. The phone was with me. I survived. It didn't.”
She seemed confused for a moment then turned to the man who was working the station next to hers. She said, “Scotty, could you please join us?”
The man, who I assumed was Scotty because that's what she called him, came over and stood beside her. He smiled at me then asked if there was a problem.
She shook her head. “No, no problem. I just wanted you to look at this phone.”
She held it out, and his response was, “Wow, what happened to it?”
She tapped the cracked glass and said, “You remember that bad wreck? The one where the Corvette crashed into the motorhome?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I remember. Why do you ask?”
She turned and pointed at me. “This is the guy who was driving the motorhome. The phone was with him.”
Scotty looked at me and asked, “You were in the motorhome? I didn't think anyone survived. I've watched the video over and over. That Vette almost cut the motorhome in half.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I know. I was in it when it hit. And yeah, I survived. But like I told Dianne, my phone didn’t, and I need a replacement.”
Scotty nodded, turned and whispered something to Dianne. Then he walked away.
Dianne returned to me and asked the questions they always do when you take your phone in. She needed to know my name, the phone number, and the name on the monthly bill.
As I answered each question, she entered the details into the small tablet she was holding. When she was done, she said, “Mr. Walker, you qualify for a free replacement phone. Which one do you want?”
I knew that new models had come out since buying the one I had been using. Most were only slightly better. The changes were mostly to the user interface, which didn't make the new ones easier to use than the old.
For that reason, I said, "I want one just like the one I had before. I liked the way it worked and don't want to try to learn how to use a new one. I want the new phone to have the same number as the old one. And I want to be able to retrieve any texts or voice messages I may have missed."
She smiled again and explained that my old phone was a discontinued model. They didn't have it in stock. But they did have the newest one. She said other than having a better camera and a longer lasting battery it was pretty much like my old one.
She went on to say she could pull the SIM card from my old phone and load all the data and settings from it into the new one. I told her to do it.
Fifteen minutes later, I had my new phone in hand and walked out of the store. I quickly checked my voice mail and saw there were sixteen unheard messages and forty-two texts.
They'd have to wait until I got back to the beach house before I could deal with them. I had more important things I needed to do.
When I got to Taylor's Miata, she was inside talking on her phone. I didn't want to interrupt or listen in on her call, so I moved to the front of the car and waved.
She smiled then pressed the button to unlock the doors, letting me know it was okay for me to get back in the car.
I climbed in and took my place in the passenger seat. She still had her phone to her ear and was saying, “Thanks for letting me know. I'll be sure and watch.”
She ended the call and turned to me. “That was the producer of the show. He said they missed me on the set and after talking it over with the rest of the crew, they wanted me back. He wanted me to be sure I watched TMZ this evening. He said they had a segment on the show and I needed to see it.”
I nodded. “That's great news. I guess they figured that, after being assaulted by Chance, they couldn't risk you filing a lawsuit.”
She frowned and then said, “About that, if anyone from TMZ calls and asks about what happened on the beach that day, you need to tell them it wasn't you and you don't know anything about it.
“It's really important you don't tell them anything. Nothing at all. Just say it wasn't you.”
I thought about her request then asked, “Why would TMZ be calling me?”
She shook her head. “Apparently, they have a video showing Chance and me on the beach that day, and of you coming up and getting involved.
“They plan to run the video tonight. Before they do, they might call you to hear your side.”
I shook my head. “How they'd get my number?”
She looked at me and started to say something but then stopped. She thought about it for a moment and then said, “It's important. If TMZ or anyone else calls asking about what happened on the beach that day, tell them you know nothing. Okay?”
I didn't know why she didn't want me to tell the truth about what happened, but if it were a condition of getting her job back, I'd play along.
“Okay, if that's the way you want it. I won't say anything.”
Then I said, “I guess that means you won't be my driver much longer.”
She nodded. “Didn't you say your girlfriend will be back tomorrow? She can drive you around.”
Abby wasn't my girlfriend. At least I didn't think she was. But maybe I was wrong. She'd rescued me from the hospital, nursed my injuries and had gone to New York on my behalf to try to get the guilty parties to pay up.
Maybe there was more to our relationship than I realized. I would have to ask her about it when she returned.
I didn't share this with Taylor. I just said, “I guess she'll be my driver if you quit.”
Taylor had kept the engine in the Miata running while I was getting a new phone. It was the only way to keep the air conditioner going, and in Florida when you sit in a parked car very long, you need AC, regardless of the season.
With the engine already running and me with my new phone, she asked, “Where to, boss?”
I thought for a moment and then said, “Take me to the fire station on Englewood Road. The one next to the church.”
Chapter Fifty-One
She didn't ask me why I wanted to go to the fire station. She just drove. Quicker and a little more recklessly than she'd been driving before. Maybe she was thinking about her new job or the video that would be on TMZ that evening. Either way, we got there quickly.
She found an open parking slot on the side of the building away from the fire truck entrance and turned to me. “You need any help getting out?”
“No, I'm fine. I'm going to thank the EMT team that rescued me. I figured I owed them. You want to come with?”
She shook her head. “No, you go in without me. I need to make a few calls.”
For reasons I didn't und
erstand, she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I smiled, climbed out of the little Miata and made my way to the front door of the station.
I opened the glass door and stepped inside. A short, stocky woman behind the customer service desk greeted me and asked, “What can we do for you today?”
I smiled. “I was driving the RV that got hit by the Corvette. I'd like to thank the team that responded. Are they here today?”
The woman looked at me and asked, “You were in that motorhome? And you survived? We didn't think you would.”
She picked up her phone and over the intercom I heard the words, “Team six, come up front, please. You have a special guest.”
I didn't know if I was special or not, but I wanted to meet team six and thank them.
A few moments later, the swinging door that separated the front office from the fire and rescue station swung open and four men and a woman made their way through.
The woman behind the desk turned to them and said, “You're not going to believe this, but that man is the one who was driving the motorhome. The one that was hit by the Vette. Not only did he survive, he came to see us.”
She turned to me. “Was there something you wanted to say?”
I nodded and told the team members how much I appreciated their work. They had saved my life.
I wanted to say more but couldn't. All I could do was thank them, over and over.
One of the men in the group stepped forward, put his hand on my shoulder and said, “We're all glad to see you made it. We appreciate you coming in and thanking us. Not many people do.”
I shook hands with each of the team members and then posed for a group photo. Each member would get a copy.
I'd been there ten minutes, and I didn't want to take up any more of their time, so I thanked them again and headed for the door.
Then I remembered a question I needed to ask. I turned back and asked, “Did any of you see my cat? He was in the motorhome with me.”
Each of the team members thought for a moment then started shaking their heads. They hadn't seen a cat. Or the remains of one.
This was a bit of good and bad news. The good was they hadn't found him dead. The bad was no one had remembered seeing him in the wreck.
I thanked them again and started heading for the door.
Before I got to it, a woman's voice behind me said, “Wait.”
When I turned around, she turned to the other team members. “Didn't Haywood say something about a cat?”
Chapter Fifty-Two
I didn't know who Haywood was, but if he had seen a cat, I wanted to know more.
The tallest man in the group rubbed his chin and said, “Now that you mention it, he did say something about a cat sleeping in his van. He didn't know the cat was there until he got home that day.”
I nodded. “Tell me more about Haywood and this cat he found.”
The tall man thought for a moment then said, “He was here on a training exercise that day. He had bought a camping van the day before and had driven it in that morning to show it off.
“It was an older one; a conversion. A GMC, I think.
“Anyway, he said he bought it for his wife and was going to surprise her with it at the end of that day.
“He had all the doors open to air it out and to show us the inside. He was proud of it.
“We were outside looking at it when the station alarm sounded.
“We grabbed our gear and headed out. Haywood went with us.
“At the end of the day, he headed back to his home in Fort Myers.
“When he called the next morning with our team score, he mentioned something about finding a cat sleeping in the back of his van.
“We didn't think much of it. A lot of feral cats hang out in the woods behind the station. We figured one of them saw the van with its open doors and climbed in to take a nap.
“That's all I know. I don't know if it's still there or not.”
“Did he say what the cat looked like?”
“No, all he said was there was a cat in his van.”
I nodded. “Is Haywood around today? Can I talk to him?”
The woman from team six spoke first. “He is our regional fire response trainer. He only comes up here once a month. He won't be back for another week or so.”
The fire station was less than a mile from the crash, and it could have been Bob who hid in the van. I needed to find out for sure.
“I want to call him. Do you have his number?”
The woman shook her head. “Haywood is on duty. You can't talk to him until his shift is over tomorrow morning. But I've got his wife's number.”
She gave it to me, and I thanked her and the team again. Then I headed back outside.
When I got to the Miata, the engine was running, and Taylor was on the phone again. When she saw me, she ended the call quickly and reached over and unlocked the passenger door.
When I stepped in, she asked, “Where to, boss?
There was only one place I wanted to go. To Haywood's home to check out the cat.
Chapter Fifty-Three
I called Haywood's wife and she answered on the first ring. “I hope you're not calling trying to sell me something. Because if you are, you've wasted your time.”
I was afraid she was going to hang up, so I quickly said, “I'm calling about the cat. The one in your van.”
She didn't hesitate with her reply. “Good, come get it. If it's not gone by the end of the day, I'm taking it to the shelter. I'm allergic and don't need one hanging around here.”
To keep her talking, I said, “Ma'am, could you tell me what the cat looks like? I've lost mine, and I'm trying to find him. If he’s there with you, I'll come get him today.
“Mine is a big, orange tabby. With a bobtail. Does that sound like the one you have?”
I was hoping she'd say yes, but she didn't. Instead she said, “I don't know what the cat looks like. He hides in the van. Stays out of sight under the couch in the back.
“The only way we know he's there is when we open the door to give him food and water, we can hear him crying.
“There's one thing for sure I know about that cat. Today's the last day he's going to be living here. Tomorrow he's going to the pound.”
Since the woman couldn't give me a description, my only option was to go see the cat in person. “Can I come look? I want to see if he's mine.”
“Sure, come on down. Bring a cage because the cat is leaving with you.”
She gave me her address, and I showed it to Taylor. “Think your Miata can make it to Fort Myers?”
“Yeah, if we stay off I-75. We can take Forty-One all the way through Port Charlotte and Punta Gorda. It's safer going that way.”
I didn't care how she got us there; I just wanted to see the cat before Haywood's wife dropped it off at the shelter. I said, “I'll pay you an extra two hundred if you can get me there.”
She didn't hesitate. She said, "Deal."
According to the GPS, it'd take about an hour for us to reach Haywood's home. Halfway there, Taylor said, “I need to tell you something.”
I didn't know what she was going to say, but I wanted to hear.
What she told me was totally unexpected.
She said, “Here's the deal. What you saw on the beach between me and Chance was a rehearsal for a play we're auditioning for. As part of the play, Chance comes home and finds me in bed with another woman. Things get out of hand, and that leads to the slapping scene.
“That's what you saw that day. Us rehearsing for a play.
“When Chance saw you come over to us, he thought you were going to hurt me. That's why he punched you, to protect me.
“We were rehearsing a scene. He didn't expect you to butt in, but you did. He was trying to keep me safe when he hit you."
She continued, “It wasn't your fault that you didn't realize we were acting out a scene.”
She wouldn't look at me while she was saying this. She just stared ahead. T
rying to act like what she'd told me was the truth.
Of course, I didn't believe her. It sounded like a story someone made up to make sure the show stayed on the air. Maybe that's the way it works. When an actor gets caught doing something bad, the kind of thing that can get him booted off the show, the actor's agent comes up with something that'll clear him. No matter how far from the truth it is.
I wasn't happy about it and said, “So that's the way you're going to play it? Tell the world you were both acting out a scene and that what I saw wasn't real?
“I know better. You weren't acting. The fight was real. You and I both know that what happened on the beach that day wasn't an act.
“They must be paying you pretty good for you to go along with their story.”
Taylor nodded. “They are. They've given me twenty thousand dollars and added me as a cast member on the show. I'll be the shy girl from next door that Chance falls for.”
I shook my head and said, “Congratulations. You made the show.”
Then I asked, “Is that the only secret you've been keeping from me? Isn't there something else?”
Chapter Fifty-Four
We arrived at Haywood's home around three thirty that afternoon. A ten-year-old GMC conversion van was parked in the driveway. It looked to be in good condition.
As soon as we pulled up, a woman wearing gym clothes stepped out of the house with car keys in hand. She said, “I hope you're here to get that cat. He needs to be gone.”
She handed me the keys and said, “Open the side door, take a look.”
I got the door open. I didn't expect to see a cat right away, and I didn't. There was a bowl of food and another of water behind the passenger seat. A small litter box sat behind the driver's.
That told me they'd been taking care of the cat. They didn't let it die.
From behind me, she asked, “Is it yours?”
At that point, I didn't know. I hadn't seen the cat yet. I didn't know if he was my Bob or not.
I crawled into the van and whispered, “Is that you, Bob?”
From under the bed in the back, I heard a whimper. Maybe it was him.