Mango Glades

by Bill H Myers

  I rolled my window down as he approached. He tipped his hat and said, “A beer truck turned over down there. It'll take another hour or two to clear the broken glass. Until then, you're going to be stuck here. We're going to arrest anyone who tries to drive across the median, so just stay put until traffic starts moving again.”

  He tipped his hat again and walked to the car behind us.

  Since it looked like we weren't going to be moving anytime soon, I killed the motor and got up out of the driver's seat. I hadn't eaten lunch so I figured I'd make myself a sandwich and just chill until the road re-opened.

  I was sitting at the kitchen table eating when Lori walked up from the back. She looked surprised to see me at the table instead of up front driving. “What's going on? Why are we stopped?”

  I pointed at the long line of stopped cars in front of us. “Big wreck down there. A trooper came by, said we'll be stuck here for an hour or two.”

  “We're stuck? We can't go anywhere?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, we're stuck. No one's going anywhere until they get the mess cleaned up.”

  She frowned. “This is not good. I need to be at Oasis before they close for the night. Isn't there something you can do?”

  I shook my head. “Look around. No one's moving. The exit up ahead is closed. The shoulder is blocked by emergency vehicles. We're not going anywhere.”

  She reached for her phone. “I have to call and let them know I'll be late.”

  She punched in a number and when it was answered, she said, “Let me speak to Kenny.”

  She waited a few seconds then said, “Kenny, this Lori.”

  Apparently they knew each other pretty well. At least that's what it sounded like. I could only hear one side of the conversation. It went like this.

  “I know; I was hoping to be there by now. But there's been a wreck on I-75, and we're stuck. They say it'll be an hour or two before we can get moving again.

  “No, I'm in a motorhome. It belongs to a friend.”

  “Hold on, I'll ask.”

  “Walker, how long is this motorhome?”

  I told her. “Twenty-eight feet.”

  “How tall is it?”

  “Ten feet, six inches.”

  She nodded and continued her phone conversation.

  “Kenny, it's twenty-eight feet long, ten feet six inches tall. Fully self-contained.

  “Good. I'll call you when we get close.”

  She ended the call and turned to me. “Kenny said we could park the motorhome behind the hangar. They lock the gates at 4:30, but he said he'd stay near the office phone until we get there.”

  I nodded. “So we'll have a place to park for the night. What about our sleeping arrangements? ”

  Lori paused then said, “They have a cot in the hangar. It's not very comfortable, but if I can't find anywhere else, I'll sleep there. But maybe you'll let me sleep in here. You did say the couch folds out into a bed, right?”

  I smiled. “Yeah, the couch folds out into a bed. You're welcome to sleep on it. But you might have to share it with Bob. He likes to snug up when you're sleeping.”

  Lori nodded. “As long as it's only Bob who wants to snug up, it won't be a problem.”

  She sat down on the couch and tested its firmness with her hand. “This won't be bad at all. A lot better than the cot.”

  She leaned back and said, “Now what? You said we're going to be stuck here for at least another hour. What do you want to do?”

  I could think of several things I'd like to do, but none involved Lori. I smiled and said, “We could talk. You could tell me about yourself. Or maybe you could tell me whose idea it was for me to drive you to Oasis.”

  She smiled. “It was Polly's idea. Call her and ask her about it. See what she says.”

  I nodded. “I'll call her. But first, tell me your story. Tell me where you grew up. Where you went to school. Whether you're married or not.”

  She smiled and got comfortable on the couch, folding her tan legs underneath her. It was a pleasant smile, one that I could get used to. She said, “Get me water and I'll tell you my story.”

  I got a bottle of water from the fridge and handed it to her. She took a drink and started to say something but was interrupted by a loud scream from outside. It was followed by a stream of profanities and a blasting bass note, loud enough to rattle the windows in the motorhome.

  The noise continued, increasing in volume, more than enough to wake Bob. He came running from the bedroom, looking for cover. He was crouched low to the floor, frantic, trying to escape whatever was producing the ear shattering racket. Finding no escape, he ran back to the bedroom.

  With her hands over her ears trying to block the sound, Lori shouted, “Do something!”

  Chapter Nine

  It's almost always an old Honda. Lowered suspension, expensive wheels, tinted windows. More often than not, painted primer black. This one had three wannabe gangsters in it wearing baggy pants, wife beater shirts, do-rags on their heads. Their amped up sound system was blasting out a bass track loud enough to rattle windows half a mile away.

  It was parked in the lane beside us, audio system cranked up so loud we could feel each thump of the bass vibrate through our bodies.

  Lori, with fingers in her ears, shouted, “I can't take this. I've gotta get out of here.”

  She picked up her bag and headed for the door.

  I stopped her. “Stay here. Let me go talk to them. I'll see if I can get them to turn it down.”

  She shook her head. “No, don't do that. They might have guns.”

  She was probably right. A lot of people in Florida have guns. Some aren't afraid to use them, even for trivial things. I'd read a news report about a man who was shot and killed after asking a car load of kids to turn down their music.

  I was about to do the same thing. Hopefully without getting killed.

  I didn't want to get shot, but I had to do something. There was no way I was going to sit and do nothing while the racket coming from the car parked next to us damaged our hearing and ruined our day.

  I grabbed my ball cap and sunglasses and headed for the door. Lori shouted, “Walker, be careful.”

  I nodded and gave her a thumbs up. I planned to be more than careful. I planned to have a friendly chat with the guys in the car. Nothing more.

  Unless the chat didn't work.

  I stepped out of the motorhome and scanned the long line of cars leading to the wreck scene. Nothing was moving. The crane was still in place, lifting large chunks of burned out metal and moving them to the side of the road.

  From the look of things, we were going to be stuck for a while. If I didn't do anything about the car next to us, we'd have to sit and suffer through the noise until traffic started moving again.

  I wasn't going to let that happen.

  When I cleared the front of the motorhome, the thumping bass from the Honda hit me like a sledgehammer. So loud that I wondered how the people in the car could stand it. Maybe they had ear plugs. Or maybe they were already deaf.

  It really didn't matter; I just wanted to get it stopped.

  I decided the best approach was not to surprise them. I wanted them to see me coming. I wanted to look harmless. I sure didn't want to give them any reason to start pulling out guns when they saw me.

  If this turned into a gun fight, we'd all lose. Especially me, since I wasn't carrying. I'd been in firefights before. But this was different. This wasn't a war zone; this was a public highway in Florida with thousands of bystanders and witnesses. In this kind of situation, the way to win was to eliminate any reason for the other side to want to fight.

  To do that, I needed to come up with something the guys in the car would like doing more than just sitting there listening to loud music.

  I took a deep breath, walked up to the front of the car and waved. The driver, a young man with a red bandana around his head, looked up. He didn't wave back.

  I motioned to him, showing I wanted him to ge
t out of the car and talk. He didn't respond. He just turned to his buddies and laughed. I figured I needed to do something else to get his attention, so I got out my wallet, dug around for a twenty and held it so the driver could see.

  It worked. He saw the twenty and waved for me to come closer. I shook my head. If he wanted the cash, he needed to come to me.

  He turned to his buddies, said something, then turned off the music. He stuck his head out the window and asked, “What you want?”

  I pointed to the wreck scene. “You know what's down there?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, a wreck. So what?”

  I smiled. “It's more than a wreck. It's an opportunity.”

  The driver shook his head. “Why you bothering us? Go back to where you came from.”

  I smiled again. “Beer. That's what's on the road down there. Cases and cases of beer. Free for the taking.”

  I'd gotten his attention. “What you mean, free for the taking?”

  I smiled. “That's a beer truck wrecked down there. It was hauling almost a thousand cases of beer. When it turned over, all that beer landed on the side of the road. Now it's just sitting there waiting for someone to come haul it off.”

  I paused and let the driver think about what I had told him.

  He nodded. “Keep talking; I'm listening.”

  I smiled. “It was a refrigerated truck. Means the beer is going to be pretty cold. Hate to see it go to waste. Especially on a day like today. Getting a case of cold beer for free sounds pretty good to me right now. What about you?”

  The driver nodded his head. He was starting to understand the opportunity.

  I continued. “So I was thinking, you guys look pretty strong. Maybe you could go grab a few cases of cold beer. If you brought me back one, I'd give you twenty dollars.”

  The driver laughed. “If we go down there and get some beer, we're not bringing any back for you. What about the police? Think they'll just stand by and watch us when we start grabbing beer?”

  I smiled. “Look around. The police have their hands full directing traffic. They're not going to care if you clear a few cases of beer off the road. They might even thank you. Other people are already down there doing it, and nobody's bothering them.”

  I didn't really know whether anyone else was at the wreck picking up cases of beer or not. But I figured if these guys thought other people were doing it, they might want to get some for themselves.

  The driver turned to his buddies. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I had my hopes up. When he turned back to me, he asked, “What about my car? Who's going to watch it?”

  I smiled. “I'll watch it. Just lock it when you leave. If anyone tries anything, I'll stop them. But you got to bring me back a beer.”

  The man grinned and turned to his buddies, “Let's go get some beer!”

  The three men piled out of the car and took off running toward the wreck site. I figured they'd be gone for at least twenty minutes. Maybe more if they got arrested. Either way, it would be twenty minutes without their loud stereo blasting painful noise to those of us parked nearby.

  The car behind the black Honda beeped its horn. When I turned to look, the driver gave me a thumbs up. I nodded and headed back to the motorhome.

  Inside, Lori was sitting on the couch. From her vantage point, she would have been able to see me talking with the driver of the black Honda, but she wouldn't have been able to hear what was being said.

  She asked, “What did you say to those guys? They took off like they were being chased by a lion.”

  Chapter Ten

  “They weren't running from me. All I did was convince them there was a better use of their time than to sit there listening to their stereo.”

  “You didn't threaten them?”

  “No, of course not. I'm a civilized person. All I did was suggest they do something else. They liked my suggestion, and they went off and did it.”

  Lori didn't believe me. “Walker, Polly told me about some of your past exploits. She said not to be fooled by your mild-mannered act. She said, when necessary, you can become quite uncivilized.”

  I smiled. “Don't believe everything Polly tells you. We already know she sometimes stretches the truth. Just this morning she told me about your digestive issues, and you know that wasn't true.”

  Lori laughed. “I don't know how she came up with that.”

  She pointed to the back bedroom. “Has Bob had all his shots?”

  “Shots? What kind of shots?”

  “You know, distemper, rabies, leukemia.”

  I shrugged. “I don't know. He's only been with me for six months and I haven't taken him to a vet. The woman who left him said he'd had all his shots. According to her, she took him to the vet when he was a kitten and then again when he was about a year old. You think he's due?”

  She shook her head. “No, if he had his shots within the last couple of years, he's good to go.”

  As she was telling me this, I saw Bob come out of the bedroom heading in our direction. He'd probably heard us talking about him and wanted to join in the conversation.

  I pointed over Lori's shoulder in his direction. She turned and saw him. “Bob, we were just talking about you. It was all good. You won't be getting any shots today.”

  Bob said, “Murrrph.” Then he moved over to Lori and rubbed against her ankle. When she petted him, he started purring. He was happy. The scary noises from outside had stopped, and he wasn't going to get any shots. It was a good day for him.

  ***

  Lori was still sitting on the couch, Bob at her feet. She patted the space beside her. At first, I thought she wanted me to go sit next to her. But it wasn't me she wanted. She said, “Come up here, Bob. Let me pet you.”

  He obliged. With his stubby little tail at full mast, he jumped up on the couch and settled in beside Lori. She waited a minute then started petting him. When he relaxed, she examined his ears and eyes. He didn't seem to mind, so she continued her examination. She felt around his neck then moved her hands to his back, rib cage and finally to his tail.

  It was clear she'd performed this kind of examination many times before. She was gentle and Bob didn't mind. In fact, he seemed to like the attention.

  After checking all the parts on his top side, she rolled him over onto his back and checked his belly. As she moved her hand toward his man parts, he reached up and grabbed her. He held her hand tight and started kicking her arm with his back legs, rabbit foot style.

  Apparently, he didn't mind being petted, but he wasn't going to let a stranger mess around with his private areas.

  Lori looked over at me. “He's playing. He's not even using his claws.”

  I'd been down this road before with Bob. He'd lull you into thinking he was playing, and then it'd get real. He'd hold on to your hand with his front paws, and the claws would come out in the back ones.

  If you didn't know what was coming and didn't get your hand away quick enough, you'd come away with scratches. I warned Lori. “Be careful. If you let him do it too long, his claws will come out.”

  She nodded and slowly withdrew her hand. Bob rolled over onto his belly and when he was settled in, Lori stroked his back. She looked at me and said, “He's in great shape. No cuts, no ear mites, no fleas. His teeth and gums look healthy. It looks like you've been taking good care of him.”

  I nodded. “I try. I make sure he has plenty of food and a safe place to sleep. And I never ever let him outside.”

  Bob had grown tired of Lori's poking and prodding. He stood and stretched then jumped down from the couch and headed back to the bedroom. It was time for him to resume his nap.

  Lori smiled, patted the couch beside her and said, “Your turn.”

  Chapter Eleven

  My turn? Was she kidding? Did she really expect me to sit down on the couch and let her examine me?

  She was cute and had an interesting smile, but I didn't want to get physical with her. At least not yet, not until we got to know each ot
her a little better.

  She patted the couch again. “Come on over. There's nothing to be afraid of.”

  I wasn't so sure about that. She was moving kind of fast for me. Or maybe I was over thinking it. Fortunately, before I had to decide what to do, my phone buzzed. Out of habit I pulled it out and checked the caller ID. It was Polly, from Mango Bay.

  I smiled at Lori and said, “Give me a minute, I need to take this.”

  She nodded. “Go ahead, take the call. I'm not going anywhere.”

  She might not have been going anywhere, but I was. I wanted to talk to Polly in private, to find out what was going on. I stepped outside the motorhome and answered the call.

  “Polly, what'd you get me into?”

  “Walker, what are you talking about? I didn't get you into anything.”

  “Polly, tell me the truth. Why am I driving Doctor Joy? And don't give me any BS about her having stomach problems and needing to be near a bathroom. It's not true and you know it.”

  She laughed. “But it sounded reasonable, didn't it? I mean why else would someone need you to drive them in your motorhome?”

  She quickly changed the subject. “So have you reached Oasis yet?”

  “No, we're stuck in traffic. A beer truck turned over and they shut down I-75. We've been here almost an hour. You didn't answer my question. Why'd you trick me into driving Doctor Joy?”

  She laughed. “I did it for your own good. You've been spending way too much time hanging around all the old people at Mango Bay. I thought you needed to get out and spend some time with someone your own age.

  “So when Lori called this morning and complained about how she hated driving to Oasis, I thought why not get you two together?

  “You're single, she's single, and you're both about the same age. I figured if I put the two of you together for a couple of days, sparks might fly.”

  This was so like Polly. Trying to fix me up. “So Polly, you're telling me this is a date? A blind date? Does Lori know?”