Jacumba Connection
Page 15
Yes, Rudolfo. Yes, they do. They also make you look gay. Very gay. Come on, Rudolfo. If you think you’re a ladies’ man and your butt is in designer jeans, you’re confused and need some guidance.
Nea was the target of Rudolfo’s affection since the day they ran their first infant.
“Do you like the thought of being my wife?” he asked Nea.
“Shut up, Rudolfo. You’re creeping me out,” responded Nea-Nea flatly.
“We would make beautiful babies together.”
“Make them yourself. Count me out.”
“What are you sayin’, my love?”
“First off Rudolfo, I’m not your love,” corrected Nea, full of disgust. “Second, this is strictly a business arrangement. I don’t even know you.”
“Ah. But if you did, you could never resist my charm. Admit it.”
“Your charm smells strangely like cilantro and musk. Yuck.”
“You don’t like Calvin Klein?”
“Musk is what hunters use – along with deer urine. To attract dumb-ass animals.”
“Precisely,” Rudolfo leered. He assumed he had just made a stunning point in his favor.
-- -- --
Rudolfo drove, while Nea was in the passenger seat with the baby in back, sleeping soundly in his car seat. Rudolfo played with his fake wedding ring as they waited at the international border.
A small child came up to Nea’s window, “Chiclets? Chiclets?”
Nea rolled down her window, handed the young boy a dollar, and received a handful of old, stale candy. When she turned her attention back into the car, she noticed Rudolfo ogling at her.
“Rudolfo, if you don’t stop coming on to me I’m going to tell Julio you’re gay.”
“What? You would not dare!”
“Try me.”
“You are so mean, Chiquita.”
“Don’t call me that. I’m not a fucking banana. And I’m certainly not your Chiquita. Just do your job and don’t talk to me.”
They pulled forward up to the booth and showed their California drivers licenses to the Border Patrol officers.
“What was your purpose for visiting Mexico?”
“Shopping,” Nea-Nea told him.
The officer asked her, “Do you have anything to declare?”
“No, sir. Just some clothes and a good meal.” She was pointing to the bags next to the car seat with the sleeping baby sucking on his pacifier.
“Move along then.”
Rudolfo collected the IDs and said, “Thank you, sir,” and received no response from the agent. The agents at the international border are all business and do not engage in any chit chat.
Nea dropped off Rudolfo and the baby in Chula Vista, and then collected her money. She headed straight to the cabin for a long shower.
Running can be a sweaty business. Nerves can cause all kinds of physical trauma. Plus, being cramped in a small space with a horny, sexually-confused Latin man adds to the misery.
-- -- --
Charlie looked at Denice, “Turn it up. Turn it UP.” Papa’s going to let you try again. Momma’s gonna love you till the end. Lyrics from a song by The Uninvited rang out from the big Ford Excursion’s sound system. The song Black Sheep was one of their all-time favorites.
Charlie and Denice had probably logged a half million miles together. As a family with the girls, and as semi-retired Good Sam club members, pulling the Love Bus here, there and everywhere.
Now they were playing the running game. The ride home after a profitable run was a joyful occasion. Cruising together, they listened to The Uninvited blissfully blaring on the car stereo.
Charlie had two younger brothers in the alternative rock band, The Uninvited – which was based in Los Angeles. When not on tour, The Uninvited played all the cool clubs on Sunset Boulevard. And when Charlie and Denice were in L.A. you could always find them dancing the night away at the Cowboy Club or the Rainbow Inn, two clubs in which the Uninvited played regularly. The memories of the music took them back to crazy times, the frivolity of their youth, when one has no concept of mortality...or responsibility.
It’s funny how a melody can bring back a remembrance. Something you can share. A musical combination to the padlock on a time capsule that starts a conversation of Do you remember when? Their love and trust was earned through years of having each other’s back. And not just when it’s convenient, or when times are good. But when it’s inconvenient. When it hurts, when you’re sick, but she’s sicker. So you do the dishes. You drive the kids to school. You go to work and then you come home with a smile.
The truly good times were ones like those: dreaming together. Struggling together. Conquering together. Then, sharing the victory.
“Is Elwood gonna meet us up at Barona?” Charlie asked.
“He’s gonna call us when he lands. Nea will pick him up in the Maxima,” replied Denice. She was in charge of keeping track of such things.
“Okay. Let’s get him a room with us at Barona. He’ll be ready to roll when we are.”
Elwood valet parked the Maxima, and then called his higher-ups.
Charlie answered. “Wood man, how’s it hanging?”
“Low and to the left.”
“How was your trip?”
“Good, dude. Spent most my time loitering at the shotgun shack. Weezen the juice with Pops and my cousins.”
“Weezen your what?”
“Juice man, ya know? White lightning.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Where you at?” Elwood asked Charlie.
“VIP, baby. Jackpot party at Barona.”
“Be right there.”
-- -- --
Elwood entered the casino and quickly found his bosses. Denice and Charlie stood up as he came around to their slot machine. Charlie’s shirt read “Head South,” with an arrow pointing to his, well, let’s just say belt buckle.
Elwood glanced casually downward and said, “Cool shirt. Can I have it?”
Charlie smiled, “Not until you can live up to it.”
Woody laughed and then kissed his other boss, the prettier of the two, on her cheek. “Looking good, Mrs. DeVille.”
“Thanks, Elwood. Did you have a good time?”
“Yes, ma’am, I did.”
Denice wore a tight, charcoal black top that laced over her shoulders, down her arms, and across her ample chest. Or, as Charlie called them, The Girls.
“Hey, Woody. Want a drink?” asked Denice.
“Naw. Still hung over.”
“Ya wanna play?” Charlie pointed at a machine.
Woody moaned, “Naw. I just wanna take a nap.”
“Okay, little brother. Here’s your key. You’re on the same floor as us. We’ll try to keep it quiet.”
“Thanks. Hey. Nae told me about the Dick Rod thing. Holy shit.”
“World’s a better place without him. I feel sorry for the people who were shut in the subfloor, though. Jesus.”
“No doubt. What does Ramona say about it?”
“Julio’s looking for Larry.”
“Uh-oh. Man, that ain’t good for Ugly Pants.”
Denice broke into their conversation with a decent southern accent, “Don’t you fret none, ya hear? Big Daddy’s here. I’ll never have you flying blind, child.”
Elwood, looking shocked, said, “You ever live in the South, Dee?”
“No, hon, just funnin’ with y’all.”
“Okay, Woody. Well, we’ve got to go now. That was sexy as hell, and she needs to, um...practice that southern accent, uh...up in our room. So, um, beat it.”
“Why mist-ah Dah-ville. Don’t be rude!” mocked Denice.
“Fuck that. Later Woody. Come on baby, cash out. Let�
��s roll.”
-- -- --
Fast forward, past a couple of hours of pornographic Gone with the Wind meets grits and girls raised in the south, Charlie and Denise lay there smoking, and not just cigarettes.
“Frankly my dear… I DO GIVE A DAMN,” declared Charlie with a satisfied grin on his face.
-- -- --
Charlie, Denice, and Elwood were dining at Kenny Rogers’ favorite steakhouse, in the VIP section of the Barona Casino.
The three amigos had ordered the same; the special of the day, rib eye wrapped in bacon, pan-fried asparagus with hollandaise sauce, and cheese potatoes and chives. Charlie ordered a bottle of a hearty Malbec with their dinner, and a silky excellent Sonoma pinot noir for afterwards. Topped off by a cheesecake with chocolate rum sauce for dessert.
Forking up small bites of the decadent desert, they talked a little business.
“So I hear Rudolfo is falling for your daughter,” said Elwood with a chuckle.
“Oh, he’ll literally be falling all right, if he doesn’t cool his jets,” Charlie replied.
Denice opined, “He doesn’t stand a chance; we’re moving her up to Live Oak Springs.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Ron and Lily have a single-wide that’s going to be available soon. It’s nice. Charlie is going to put in new carpet and new kitchen counters. It’s got a new heater. It’s perfect for her and my little cutie pie.”
Charlie lit Denice’s smoke and offered one to Elwood, who shook his head. “I didn’t like her living alone in the El Cajon valley. She can take care of herself but… you know,” said Charlie, ever the overly protective dad.
“Y’all need help moving her?” ask Elwwod.
“When the time comes? Yeah.”
“Cool. So anybody seen Larry?”
“Nope,” Denice replied. “He’s off the radar. His sister hasn’t seen him since Johnny tried to smoke his handgun.”
“That was some funny shit.”
Charlie took a sip of his wine, “Got that right. Did you know he drove a Pacer? A freakin’ AMC Pacer, for chrissake?”
Just then Denice’s phone rang. She fumbled in her purse for six or seven rings. “Dammit.”
Charlie looked at Elwood, “Don’t say a word, dude, just don’t.”
Denice looked at the missed call, “Hey, baby. That’s Ramona’s number.”
“Okay. You go up to the room and call her back. I’ll settle up and meet you there.”
Back in their room Denice filled Charlie in on her conversation with Ramona. They laid out their plan. Down the backside of the mountain to the Imperial Valley checkpoints. There was some odd construction going on at the off-ramp near the Kitchen Creek checkpoint, so it was way too hot to go west.
That left them all evening to play. Charlie went to the electronic room safe and pulled out eight one-hundred-dollar bills. He handed Denice $400.
“How’s the horseshoe, baby? You feeling lucky?”
“I got you covered, handsome. I’m always lucky.”
“I’m getting a little chubby right now.”
“Save it for later. I’m way too full from dinner.”
“Rain-check for Mr. Happy, right on.”
-- -- --
Playing the double diamond dollar machines, they sat next to each other. Elwood played quarters on some space alien cartooney machine, giggling like a moron. But it kept him busy.
Elwood wasn’t much of a gambler like Charlie and Denice. Mostly he just looked for girls to impress, but instead they became instantly turned off by his bad Elvis impression.
Charlie and Denice were dropping dollars in the double diamond machines, waiting for the Progressive Blazing Seven’s magic moment, when Denice’s machine suddenly lit up and blared that familiar DING DING DING of a fat jackpot.
“Red seven! Double diamond! Double diamond!” Charlie shouted excitedly to his wife.
“That’s 800! Double that, and double that!”
“What? That’s $3,200. I can’t wait to kiss you right on the horseshoe,” said Charlie, knowing that going back to the room a winner made his wife extremely horny.
The cashier runner came back with 32 one-hundred-dollar bills, and Denice gave her one as a tip. The casino staff took Charlie and Denice’s picture and they heard the jackpot announced over the PA system. The photographer handed them a Polaroid of their smiling faces next to the machine. Denice stuck it in her purse.
“Hey, good lookin’, let’s run $2,000 up to the safe,” suggested Charlie. “And then I’m gonna give you a tongue bath. You’ve been such a good girl.”
“Only if you order strawberry cheesecake from room service,” said Denice conditionally.
“You gonna eat it, or wear it?”
She whispered seductively in his ear. “Both.”
“Sweet!”
-- -- --
Elwood knew what time it was. He went up to his room to get some sleep in preparation for the upcoming run. He would need it, as this was going to be the run from hell.
PASTOR CHARLIE DEVILLE
Chapter 21
Charlie pulled the K-5 Blazer into Nea’s driveway. He saw Denice playing in the side yard with her grandson. Noticing Charlie pull in she stood up, dusted off her knees, walked over to the truck and jumped in the passenger seat to enjoy some air conditioning before Charlie shut the motor off.
Charlie reached behind him and into the back and pulled out two magnetic signs that were face down on the back seat. He told Denice, “I had a stellar idea on the way to rent the Ford Excursion.”
Flipping over the signs Denice read aloud: Church of the Holy Redeemer, Indio, California, Pastor Charlie DeVille.
With excitement in his voice and exuberance in his gestures, Charlie ran down the game plan, “This is genius. Slap these babies on the truck doors. I’ll wear a tie, you put on your Sunday best.” Charlie winked and smiled, turned to face Denice. “We put ten people sittin’ up, seat belts on and drive straight through the check point Sunday mornings. Is that not freakin’ brilliant or what?”
Denice’s smile fell off her face and was replaced by shock and then anger. It flashed in her dark eyes. Slowly and quietly she said, “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Charlie barked.
Her voice rose, as did the flush on her neck, “It means you’re jeopardizing our eternity.”
Charlie raised his voice to match, “What’s that? More of your anal retentive Catholic guilt raising its ugly head?”
“No asshole, you’ve crossed the line here. Not with God, with me.”
“Ahh, Jesus Christ!” Charlie said, throwing his hands up in disgust.
Denice made a fist, knocked it on the side of her husbands cranium and said, “I want to talk to the compassionate loving Charlie I know is in there, so you dig down deep, find him and bring his ass out here to communicate face to face with his wife!”
Silence.
Denice continued, “It’s not all fun and games. How are you going to stand at The Gate and make your case to the creator? You’ve got to draw the line somewhere,” she summarized, pointing at the vinyl magnetic signs in his lap.
“Dammit Dee, it’s a job. It’s a dangerous occupation. We need an edge and I don’t need this kind of shit from you!”
Denice, shaking her head, summed it up like this, “You pray to God for success, you do not use God to trick your adversary.”
Stone cold silence. But Charlie’s body language cried out Bullshit!
Denice lowered her voice and brought the attitude down a notch, tapping his chest with a polished index finger. “You wear God on your heart like armor to protect the inside, not the outside.”
Charlie wiggled uncomfortably
in his seat, but still said nothing. So Denice dropped a bomb, “If you don’t want to draw a line, I’ll draw it for you. I’ll turn my back on this smuggling crap and you can fly solo.”
Charlie was completely dumbfounded. His first reaction was incredulity. How could she? The bitch. Then, astonished that it had come to this, her comments left him bewildered and pissed.
Denice defused some of the anger by appealing to his intelligence, “Think Charlie. You know there’s more out there than just this,” pointing out the window. “You pray to God for victory, you don’t use him as a disguise. Deception is Satan’s tool.”
Charlie’s mouth was a straight and severe line, his lips barely moving, “The last thing I want to be is a tool, honey. You know that.”
Using Charlie’s father’s advice Denice said, “Then straighten up and fly right.”
Charlie sat still silent, as understanding dawned on him like water drawn from a well. The best thing he could do was to think this thing through: This is important. My next move will have a huge impact on how she perceives us, our relationship. Gotta get this right. She won’t want just an apology, she will want conviction. I know this woman, she needs me to understand how important her faith is, and if I respect that...well, that there’s real estate I can’t just trample on.
More silence.
No jokes, no compromise, no ego-driven man crap.
As it turns out, it was as easy as rolling up the signs, rolling down the window, tossing them next to the trash cans and saying, “I’m a dork. I didn’t see it. I’ll try not to sabotage our eternity. I’m sorry, Pumkin.”
And because Charlie had priors for being a clown in important situations, Denice held his eyes for a moment longer than necessary, searching. However, she found nothing but truth and maybe some remorse. She took his face in both hands, kissed him on the forehead and softly said, “Thank you.”