“Okay. Got it. Later.”
“See ya.”
When Charlie was called to the paging phone, they were already cashed out and ready. Denice hit the walkie-talkie the moment they were in the truck.
“How about it, Woody.”
“Gotcha, boss.”
“Go-go, gadget.”
The box truck rumbled down the Highway 8. Elwood’s eyes were scanning both sides, straight ahead and behind. Slowing down to 35 miles per hour through Jacumba, he dodged shadows and tried not to think about apparitions wandering the night. Out of town, just past the airport. He made a right and parked at the Shell gas station, “Boss man, boss man. You copy?”
“Go ahead,” replied Charlie.
“All clear. Good to go.”
“Ten-four.”
Charlie and Dee pulled into the post office parking lot. Charlie jumped out and rolled up the back door. He already made a place behind the trees for the people to sit.
They came single file in fast pace, up and into the back. No more than 30 seconds, tops. Charlie rolled down the door, jumped in the driver seat, and pulled out onto old Highway 8. The whole encounter took less than a minute.
Across the street, from the elementary school, Wiley Coyote watched as the gringo’s taillights faded from view. He dialed his boss, Ramona. “Lots of landscaping going on out here tonight in Sand-land.”
“Good, we could use more green.”
“You ain’t kidding, sister.”
-- -- --
Because it was almost midnight, almost too late to be on the road, and definitely too late to be going through a checkpoint as a landscaper, they headed toward Indio.
Question: What word has the most alphabetically consecutive letters? Give up? It’s the word almost, as in horseshoes and hand grenades. “Almost” don’t cut it,” as Charlie would say. Landscapers landscape in daylight. The Borrego Springs exit was almost too fresh in his memory, so it was on to the pride of Sand-land, which included the Indio Desert Inn and Motor Lodge. Hopefully Mrs. Cabbage Patch would be on duty.
As luck would have it, the big, pink vacancy sign was lit up. So Charlie did as the little sign on the door instructed and pushed the button. Mrs. Cabbage Patch opened the door looking like a Shar-Pei in curlers. She motioned Charlie inside. The haze of cigarette smoke filled the office, made bluish by the reflective glow of her illuminated television. It created a dive bar feel, like a middle-aged stripper could casually saunter by any moment. Charlie noticed the rabbit ears on top of the TV had only one ear.
“Hello, Elvis,” Mrs. Cabbage Patch said sarcastically.
“Hey, good lookin’.”
“Landscaper now, eh?”
“Busy as a beaver.”
“You’re full of shit on both accounts.”
“But not when I tell you you’re a looker, though.” Charlie turned on the high-wattage charm.
“Yeah. Maybe 100 years ago,” she shot back, as she slid the key across the counter. “Room 100. And I don’t need one of your pornographic registrations. Chuck about had a coronary last time.”
“Your husband’s name is Chuck?”
“Yup. Don’t give a fuck Chuck. Been not givin’ a shit for ‘bout 30 years now.”
“Magin’ that. Can’t understand it,” said Charlie ironically. He slid $200 across the dusty blue counter. “Here’s a little gift from me and the missus. Find a cabana boy and get yourself a massage.”
“Hell’s fire, two hundred dollars? Landscaping’s been that good, huh?
“Definitely. See ya, good lookin’.”
“Later, Elvis.”
Charlie pulled the gutless wonder around the side of the motel, while Elwood pulled into the parking space in front of the room. Denice took the key and opened the door. Charlie went to the back of the truck, opened the roll-up door about a foot, and asked, “Anybody speak English back there?”
“I do, señor,” came from behind the bushes in the back of the truck.
“I’m going to leave this backdoor open two feet. We’re at a motel.”
Charlie waited for translation.
“Quietly roll out one at a time, two minutes apart. And go into room 100.”
“Si, señor.”
“I’m going to sit in that car and watch. If I bang on the side of the truck, stay where you are. Understand?”
“Si señor.”
The off-loading went smooth as silk. But the room was crowded and smelled like ass. Denice said quietly, “Honey. Lover lips. Could we get another room, please?”
“Woody, you and Dee go find us someplace nicer than this. And pick us up some food.” He handed Denice some cash, and then she and Elwood were out the door, leaving Charlie alone with this latest batch of hopefuls.
The men in the group could not be happier about the break in their travel itinerary. “My everything hurts,” said one of them in Spanish. Once the ice broke the questions and comments flowed like a melting glacier.
“Can we bathe?”
“Holy mother of Mary. My culo’s killing me.”
“Hey, Martinez. The gringo say anything about food?”
“I like the kid’s car.”
Charlie addressed the crowd. “Who speaks English?”
Martinez spoke up. “I do, señor.”
“Tell your friends to keep it down, shower if they want. Food is coming. We leave in six or seven hours.”
Denice located a room at a chain motel, handed her Visa to a size 10 woman squeezed into a size 6 dress.
“How many?” the woman asked her.
“Two beds, please.”
“No. How many guests?”
“Three,” replied Denice with a completely straight face.
The gum-smacking desert debutante raised an eyebrow. She cast a glance at Elwood who was buying a fossilized Snickers Bar from a snack machine in the lobby. A bit confusing, but not completely off the mark. “Here. Fill this out, room 220,” she said, as she slid the registration card over to Denice.
Dee used her real name because of the Visa card, but she listed her her license plate number as IM EZRU.
Miss Sand Storm 1990 Behind-the-Front-Desk blew a bubble and popped it as she read the card. “Some girls have all the luck,” she commented, and slid a key card across the counter.
Elwood winked at her on the way out. “Ma’am.”
Denice drove them around looking for somewhere open in which they could buy food. “Nice,” she commented, referring to the car, “but nowhere near as nice as my Camaro.”
They found a Jack in the Box near the intersection of Highway 8. This one still had a clown head on the drive-up menu and one in the pick-up window. It looked like he had been living on Ben & Jerry’s Meth Monkey ice cream and crack-head soup.
Denice shouted their order into the scary clown mouth, and the crackly, disembodied voice repeated their order back so fast all she heard was a low hum. Denice looked at Elwood. “Any chance he’ll get that right?”
“None whatsoever,” Elwood said chuckling.
Denice and Elwood pulled forward to the pick-up window, where an arm that resembled a stick tossed bag after bag at Denice. Then a head with missing, crooked teeth, and exhausted sunken eyes popped out the window like a tree squirrel and slurred, “Have a wonderful evening.”
“Let me make a suggestion,” replied Denice with a tight smile. “Try ingesting something that doesn’t come in a plastic baggie. And get some SLEEP.”
The burned-out kid slammed shut the drive-up window. Elwood was impressed. “Pretty cool, Mrs. DeVille.”
“I have my moments.”
It was a glorious moment when Denice and Elwood returned with food. It goes without saying that even a semi-warm Jumbo Jack and rubbery fries
taste fabulous to a starving man.
Everyone devoured the nasty food as if it were their last meal. And truth be told, they knew that it could be.
“Mr. Martinez,” inquired Charlie while everyone ate.
“Si, señor.”
“We’re going out. Do not answer the door. I have a key.”
“Si.”
“We’ll be back at daylight. Be ready to go.” He continued.
“Stay quiet. Turn off the light. Do not go outside. Understand?”
“Si, señor.”
And do not EVER use the motel room phone.
-- -- --
The next morning it was already 80° as the sun came up. The landscapers were up before the dawn, loading client cargo deep into the depths of the box truck bushes, after which Charlie, Denice, and Elwood had a little planning session. “Hey, Elwood. Dee and I decided to go balls out. We’re goin’ straight through.
“Okay. Me, first?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Okay.”
“We need you for the temporaries they set up out there.”
Denice said, “Just follow us till we’re through. You got your shirt on. You work for us.”
“Why not just go the long-way around? I can run the point till it’s closed,” Elwood offered.
“Too hot, Woody. Those people will roast back there.”
“Okay. Then let’s do this.”
They took a left out of the parking lot and crept through town, heading towards the Salton Sea to the checkpoint, about three miles west of town.
The sun had not quite crested the purple mountains that surround the desert floor. Until you’ve seen the blue and amber of predawn in the western U.S. desert, you just haven’t lived. The colors change moment by moment, and it fills you with humbling awe. It was a perfect way to start the day.
-- -- --
Charlie pulled up to the stop sign at the checkpoint, with agents at both driver and passenger windows.
Dee had her left foot on the dashboard, painting her big toe bright red, causing her short shorts to all but disappear. She had her knee pressed against her chest to accentuate her cleavage. Add to that her huge boobs and push-up bra and the effect was outstanding.
The officer speaking to Dee’s chest said, “Destination, please.”
“Palm Springs,” Charlie said.
“U.S. citizens?”
“Yes, sir.”
His partners’ eyes were on Denice, and never left the nonexistent inseam of her skimpy shorts.
“Any fruit trees back there?”
“No, sir.”
“Mind if I check?”
“Go ahead, you’ll need this key.”
“Mel, go check the back.”
And without moving an eyeball, or even blinking for that matter, Melvin said, “You look.”
Searching for the hint of a nipple in Denice’s deeply low-cut T-shirt, there was a moment of awkward silence. Denice pushed her knee harder against her breast, causing a little more double-D to protrude. You could almost hear the blood draining from those poor fellas’ brains. Peeping Tom, a.k.a Officer Tom said, “Have a nice day, drive safe.”
“Thank you,” replied Charlie, not questioning why they didn’t want to look in the back after all.
Denice flashed a flirty, coy smile, and a bimbo finger wave. “See ya, boys.”
Charlie checked the rearview mirror as they waved Elwood through without incident.
Back at the checkpoint Officer Melvin grumbled, “Lucky bastard,” referring to Charlie.
“You see her looking at me?” asked Officer Tom. “She wanted me bad.”
“Yeah, chicks dig law enforcement officers.”
“Melvin, chicks dig me. Period. Someday I’ll share my secret.”
“Is it the donut sprinkles in your mustache?”
“Really, man?” said Officer Tom, quickly wiping his face.
“’Fraid so, stud.”
“Shit.”
Back in the cab of the truck Charlie said to Denice, “God, I love it when a plan comes together.”
Denice started singing, “…all I need’s a buxom woman and an occasional brew.”
The radio came alive. “How about it, boss man. That’s what I’m talking about,” said Elwood through the receiver.
“And the Academy Award for best actress in the big boobs-small shirt category goes to...Denice DeVille!” exclaimed Charlie.
He handed the walkie-talkie to Denice. She keyed the mic, “I just want to thank everyone who supported me. Charlie, Elwood, and my inspiration, Daisy Duke. I...I...I just love you all!” she cooed while blowing kissing during her mock acceptance speech.
Denice handed the radio back to Charlie, “Do that voodoo that you do, Wood Man.”
Elwood squealed the tires catching second gear as he passed the tree truck, and then disappeared into the shimmering mirage that was a thousand shades of beige.
-- -- --
On the way home, as Charlie and Denice passed the rock tower, Denice flashed back to a week ago when Charlie wanted to recon the road down “The Backside.”
There was no better place than the Fieldstone Rock Tower that clings to the precipice of the rim of the world. Like a lighthouse in a sea of desert sand, you can see all the way to Arizona.
Denice recalled in her mind when Charlie had found the perfect flat rock among the boulders that afforded an unobstructed view of Highway 8 to the desert floor. Perched on top of the world, he put the binoculars to his eyes. “When I was a kid,” he told her, “we’d come to this mountain, eat mushrooms, lay on a flat rock like this one and watch clouds. They’ve got the best clouds up here.”
Denice pondered that for a moment. “You ever notice that when you look at clouds they seem to always take the shapes of animals?”
“The shamans call them cloud people...man, back then I was free. Unleashed and unbridled. Big bong bubbles, no life troubles.” Charlie removed the binoculars from his face, looked at Denice, and gesturing with an all-encompassing sweep of his hand said, “All this emptiness reminds me of the futility of our chosen occupation.”
“What’cha mean baby?”
“No rational person would believe that they’ll never get arrested. There’s a thousand of them out there and only two of us.”
Charlie put the field glasses back up to his face and continued his search.
“A thousand of who?” Denice asked.
“Law-dawgs. Border patrol. CHP. Sheriffs. Hell, this whole valley is a national park. I never even considered the game wardens. I feel like I’m still looking for a rush, but in the wrong place.”
A warm breeze blew Denice’s hair into her face. She tucked it behind her ears, a familiar gesture Charlie found so endearing.
Charlie spoke into the breeze, “My baby girls are having babies. I’m turning a corner in my soul and I don’t recognize the territory. You know. The cosmic province, not the GPS territory.”
He smiled.
These kind of inner reflections from her husband came few and far between. Denice understood he was standing on his personal precipice, giving her a glimpse of what he sees in his abyss. She remained quiet, looking up at the stone sentinel that clung to its own abyss.
Charlie, trying to articulate his feelings, stumbled on, “The kid inside me says this is living life. Balls out. But the man inside me asks, What the hell are you doing, Grampa? How about you, Pumkin?”
She thought a moment.
“As far as the Cosmos goes, it’s all about heaven for me.”
Charlie nodded his head. “The cosmic jury is still out as it pertains to my Karma. On the plus side, getting grandma Izzy home wasn’t a bad thing.”
Denice smile
d at the memory of her husband face down in the kitchen. She added, “Bringing Celia into the world safe and sound was good, too. She’s such a doll. I can’t think the world would be better off without her.”
Charlie pulled the binoculars from his face and handed them to Denice.
“Look at the Border Patrol unit in his hidey hole behind the runaway truck ramp.”
Denice focused the binoculars on the spot. “I see him.”
He’s waitin’ for us, like a deer hunter in a tree stand.”
“If we were runnin’ right now we’d be toast,” said Denice.
She handed the field glasses back to Charlie.
“There’s a million ways to screw the poodle out here. Bound to go down one day. I can’t help thinking we’re on borrowed time.”
Denice contemplated her husband’s words, a warm breeze blowing on her face. Charlie picked up a beautiful wild orange California poppy and placed it in her hair behind her left ear. He kissed her full on the mouth and said, like all smugglers do, “Someday. Maybe. But not today. Let’s ride, baby-cakes.”
GET YOUR KICKS ON ROUTE 66 … THOUSAND
Chapter 27
Standing under the porte cochere of the Golden Acorn Casino, the hot wind blows off the desert floor and shrieks past the three-story rock view tower. It picks up speed and dust, and then mixes with the moist ocean air coming from the west. They meet in a frenzied competition for airspace, causing 50 to 60 mile per hour gusts that end up blowing sideways through the huge parking lot. Leaves from the Jacaranda trees, pieces of wild oat grass and Devils comb, and refuse left behind by mindless travelers all dance in the hot wind. Thousands of bugs try to seek refuge by flittering around the incandescent and neon lights of the Casino Truck Stop gas pumps.
Charlie opened the first set of doors of the casino for Denice. “Elwood is missing a hell of a sandstorm.”
He opened the second set of doors and his wife passed through saying, “He better not convince Espy to elope. Ramona and I have wedding plans.”
Jacumba Connection Page 22