by John Oakes
She swatted him with her purse and stifled a smile. "Take me to food then. And coffee. So much coffee."
Cody drove them to a small diner a couple blocks away and they were seated. They were the youngest people in the diner by a couple decades. A grandmotherly woman came to take their order and left them to sit in silence for a time.
"God, I must look terrible," Kelly finally said.
"You look beautiful."
Giving a girl a compliment was a reach for Cody. Historically it had only backfired. But he was feeling buoyed by his conversation with Winton.
Kelly gave him a skeptical scowl. She reached for her coffee and sipped carefully.
"Thank you for coming, Cody. I'll pay you back immediately."
Cody pulled a face and waved the comment away. "The firehose comment was payment enough."
"Shut up," Kelly pleaded. "I'm tired and my filter is gone."
"Good. I'm frankly tired of your filter."
Kelly looked at him, pondering the statement. "Things haven't been easy on you."
Cody nodded. "No. No they have not."
"Cody, I—
He held up a hand. "Conflict of interest. Got it. I'm slow, but I got it by now. But I'm not the one who's conflicted, though. Things for me are simple."
Kelly was quiet and dropped her eyes to her coffee, which she sipped again.
"Now, I'm maybe not the most reliable person. And San Antonio isn't so much farther away than the construction site. So explain this to me. Of all your lawyers and other powerful, smart friends, why the hell did you call me?"
Kelly's eyes grew hard in thought. But before she could respond, Cody continued, "Did you ask me to bail you out because I'm the person you respect least?"
Kelly began shaking her head.
"Do you not care what I think about you?" he asked. "It that why you asked me of all the people you could have. Because it's just stupid Cody?"
"No, Cody!" she said. "It's not that at all!" Her eyes showed hurt, but he couldn't tell if that was pity or empathy.
"Then explain how this conflict of interest works. Because I can't for the life of me see how me, of all people, coming to bail you out fits into this conflict."
"Cody, I trust you." She shook her head with a pleading tenderness in her eyes "It's not that I don't care what you think of me," she said, pausing to find her words, "It's that I don't have to worry what you think of me."
Cody took a sip of his soda and reflected on that, trying to figure her meaning.
"Cody, you're the only one I know who wouldn't judge me." Kelly swallowed hard. "And I've come to consider you a...a..."
Cody inwardly braced himself for hearing the dreaded word. Friend.
"...an ally," she said softly, "even if that is a conflict of interest."
Phew.
"And I value your friendship."
Cody's head dropped to his chest.
"Ugh. Friendship?" he asked to his stomach. "Really?"
"Well, what else do you call it when someone helps you out of a jam? Cody I don't have as many friends as you think."
Cody shook his head and looked up at her, wondering what Winton would do, what his grampa would do.
Kelly took a sip of her coffee again. "Cody, I think you overestimate me." She circled her finger in a drop of coffee on the table. "I'm not as together as you think. I'm not easy to...to know."
"Well, you obviously have some dark criminal side. Frankly, that makes you a little sexier." Cody hoped she would laugh, but she was too embarrassed still. "Listen, I don't...well...like you because you're perfect. Hell, if you only knew the people I call friends..." Cody laughed and shook his head. "You have it together compared to me, for certain. But in some ways you're the same. There is another side to you, a freewheeling side, a side that doesn't try so hard to be perfect. Maybe even a little bit of a bad girl. It just doesn't get to come out."
A hint of a smile played at the corners of her mouth.
"I think my grampa picked you for a reason. He knew you might come to understand me and be able to help me. And despite how rough things were between us from the start, he ended up being right."
"You don't talk about him much anymore."
"I think about him practically all the time. Every minute I'm trying to figure out what he would do, how he would handle things."
"The last time I saw him, he had a bit of a scruff going like you do now. It was grey, of course, but I see more of a resemblance now than ever before. The straight nose, the shape of your eyes, the tilt of your head."
"Well, if he were here now, he'd be making you tell the story of what brings us here. So, what did they put you away for? I gotta hear this."
"It's too embarrassing." Kelly shook her head. "So, so embarrassing."
"The first time we met, I mistook you for a secretary, like some sexist asshole. The second time I was puking in the grass, clutching my nethers. Remember who you are talking to here."
Kelly exhaled heavily and pressed her hands to her face. Voice muffled, she said, "I got a speeding ticket in this county passing through a small town, Alberton or something, like 3 years ago. And I...I forgot to pay it. I moved and never got the notices."
"And...?"
"I got pulled over today driving to Houston to spend the day with an old friend."
"I thought you didn't have many friends."
"A girlfriend from school," she said testily. "And the cop came back and said he was gonna arrest me because there was a warrant out for me. I tried talking him out of it, but he was getting a little belligerent, so I...I got a little heated and..."
"And you went full lawyer on him?"
"Yeah..."
"I see that worked out."
"It might have, except, while I was pressing my luck backing him into a corner, he saw a bottle of wine in the back seat that I was taking to share with my gal pal. I really liked it and so I wanted her to try it."
"And it was open!" Cody said in smiling recognition.
"I'd only had a little the night before and then specifically decided to save it to take down." Kelly put her face back in her hands and let out a long grievous moan. "How stupid. How thoroughly unlike me. I had to take a breathalyzer! I had to walk the line! He made me practically do the Macarena right there beside the highway."
Cody laughed out loud.
"Stop. Cody, it's not funny."
"Speeding and an open container?" He guffawed again. People in neighboring booths looked over at him. He laid his head on his arms and laughed so hard his whole torso was shaking.
"Cody. That's not nice. People are staring."
Cody sat up, laughing as hard as ever. "A ticket!" He pressed his hand over his eyes. "And an open container!" He lost it again.
Kelly started laughing, unwillingly infected by his delight. "Hush!"
"No," he said between gasps, "you don't get it. You think that's a big deal!"
"It is! I went to jail."
"You. In jail. That's the funniest thing I've ever heard...over an unpaid ticket! It would have to be!" He turned to the table across the way from them, a mid-50s couple who were staring and smiling. "She's embarrassed of an unpaid ticket!" Cody jerked a thumb in her direction.
The older couple laughed back. The man, who had a grey handle-bar mustache and wore a "Margaritaville" t-shirt, said, "Four years probation for wire fraud. Still not exactly sure what wire fraud is, but I was being a fuck-up for sure. Deserved it."
His female companion, across from him, said with a gravely smoker voice, "Back in the 80s, I lit an ex's car on fire. Did three months for arson."
Cody turned to the two older gentlemen seated behind him. "And you?"
"What? The Clink?" an old farmer asked. "Oh, I got thrown in the brig once in Korea for striking an officer – some jumped up Lieutenant what almost got us killed."
The other man turned around in a trucker hat and said, "Long ago, I had a bit of a problem with the whiskey and the cat houses. Spent my share of n
ights in jail 'afore I found the Lord."
Cody turned back to Kelly and splayed his hands in victory. Kelly's eyes had softened and she seemed to be in on the joke finally. Then a sweet-faced little old lady stood up behind Kelly along with what appeared to be her granddaughter. She turned to Cody and said with an earnest smile, "I killed a man."
All the laughter died away to a confused chuckle.
"Grandma!" the younger woman said. "You hush now!" Then she led the old lady away by the shoulders hurriedly.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The Un-date
Cody wished he could capitalize on the events of the day and take advantage of the air of openness, but Kelly obviously felt shabby and tired. The poor girl needed to go home and take a nap and a shower.
Cody pulled up in front of Kelly's house in San Antonio. It was two stories and sat on a tree-lined street full of other beautiful and well-kept homes. Kelly had made clear it was not her house, but her sister's, from whom she rented an attached unit.
"So is your sister a lawyer too?"
"God no," Kelly said. "She rebelled from minute one. But luckily she fell in love with a nice man who is a bit older and settled down before she went totally bonkers with drugs or anything. Most families would balk at marrying their 22-year-old daughter to a man nearing 50, but Doug was a godsend, and they just make each other tick. It's disgusting how perfect they are. She's a year younger than me, 27, but has two kids now and a third on the way. She hated me for a long time because I was the 'good one.' But now we see eye to eye. Well, when we aren't arguing. You two would get along actually. It's scary to think how well."
Cody laughed. "I'd like to meet her."
"Some other time."
"I wasn't saying right this second."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean...I just have this thing about keeping things in my life segmented, compartmentalized, even when it's not a threat to my job and ethical standards."
"Well, would it be a threat to your ethical standards if you took a nap, got cleaned up and then texted me later if you feel human?"
"Like for Valentines day?"
"Valentines..." Cody thought back to the day. He'd seen a lot of red and pink. And, of course...Winton's red "Sexual Dynamo" t-shirt.
"Oh man. I had no idea."
Kelly pinched him.
"Oww! What was that for?"
"It's Valentines Day, and you forgot to wear red."
"I thought that was only green on St. Patrick's Day." Cody massaged his arm.
"Meh," Kelly shrugged. "Same diff."
"Not cool."
"We can't go on a date, though Cody. I hate to be a broken record. I really do, especially with how...I know I haven't been totally consistent here."
"We can't go on a date," Cody said to himself. "But you know what? That's fantastic! I'm terrible on dates. The worst!"
Kelly's eyes were charming and searching at the same time. She turned slightly toward him in her seat.
"So, we would have to do the least romantic thing possible," Cody said. "Then no one could accuse us of going on a date, least of all on Valentine's."
"I dunno. It's a fine line. I—
"Tell you what. Later on, you pick me up, for starters. Then we will proceed to not go on a date. If at any moment you feel we are crossing some sorta line, you may leave." Cody made a magnanimous wave of his arm.
Kelly bit her lip and looked at him for a moment. Then she got out of his car and walked inside without looking back.
At 9:43 pm a red SUV pulled to the end of the gravel drive that ran up to Cody's pool house. He emerged a moment later in his finest tennis shoes, ratty jeans, a black concert T-shirt and backwards ball cap. Kelly exited her vehicle and came around to open the door for him...the rear door. She wore a red overcoat over jeans and a Houston Oiler's shirt stained with old paint. Cody got in with a grin. After he put his seatbelt on, she leaned back in and pinned a small red heart on his t-shirt. She patted his chest and said, "You have to wear the right colors on the right holidays, or what's it all for?"
When they pulled away form the Latour estate, Kelly asked, "So where to?"
Cody directed Kelly south and west. After fifteen minutes, she grew plaintive.
"Just drive," Cody said. "I'll navigate from back here."
"You know, if this were a date, I'd probably have to be concerned about being driven out into the middle of nowhere at night."
"Exactly," Cody said. "So, it's all good."
They pulled off of main roads onto increasingly small roads, until they were driving down a sort of path, narrow enough that leaves and thin branches swept the sides of Kelly's sister's car. They finally came into a small clearing. Kelly's headlights illuminated a small cabin and a dock leading out onto a small lake.
"Well, I guess I'll just let myself out," Cody said. He got out and stretched his limbs. He waited for Kelly to get out and then said, "This is a special place."
"Where are we?" she asked.
"One of my grampa's favorite spots. Come on."
They took two steps forward. Then Cody heard something, a voice. No. Voices. He stopped cold and pulled Kelly behind him. He turned and whispered. "Shhh. I hear voices."
"What? This isn't funny, Cody."
"I ain't joking. Stay here." Cody crept forward on the balls of his feet. With the vehicle lights off, his path to the hut was only illuminated by weak moonlight. He looked around for another vehicle. There, an old Taurus, at the edge of the clearing to his right. And there, just beyond it, a small dirt bike. He heard a rustle in the bushes way off to his left, but before he could investigate it or the vehicles, the door of the hut flew open. A lantern sitting inside the small cabin silhouetted a thin man in the doorway. The bead of a cigarette illuminated his face.
"Fucking shit, Ricky. You scared the shit outta me."
Ricky stepped down from the cabin. "I could say the same. You bring a date?"
"It's definitely not a date."
Kelly walked up behind Cody and asked, "You know him? What's going on Cody?"
"Yeah I know him. Kelly, this is my oldest friend, Ricardo motherfucking Sanchez. But we call him Ricky."
"Hi Ricky," Kelly said hesitantly. "I think I met you at the hospital?"
"Yep." Ricky pulled on his cigarette. "How do you do? Been reading your Kant?"
"Oh, I Kant complain," Kelly said with a smile.
Cody looked back and forth between them with a pained expression on his face, and his mouth agape.
They all stood there for a moment dumbly.
"Wanna come inside?" Ricky asked.
They stepped inside the hut. Ricky stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray on a small round table that sat under an open window in the rear wall. There was a kitchenette to the left and a set of bunk beds to the right. It was all just shy of cramped. One could easily touch the sink, beds and table all at once using both arms and a foot. Ricky collected a couple empty beer cans off the table and threw them in a cardboard box by the trash. "May I offer the lady a drink?" Ricky asked.
"Why not," Kelly said.
Ricky reached into a cooler and handed her a cheap, off-brand beer. He threw one to Cody and took one for himself.
"Was someone here with you? I thought I heard voices."
"I chased a coon out the place when I came in. Been scratching around trying to get back in. I had to scare him away good."
"Why are there two vehicles outside?" Cody asked.
"Oh, I rode in on the bike t'other day." Ricky stroked his Fu Man Chu. "Yeah, yeah. Associate picked me up, but his car was too small. So I, uh, borrowed a car big enough to bring the bike back this time."
"What is this place?" Kelly asked.
Cody patted the kitchenette counter. "This is one of Bruce Latour's many hidey-holes."
"Kept 'em secret, so his wives or business partners or cops couldn't find him, if he didn't want to be found," Ricky said.
"Did you know Bruce?" Kelly asked Ricky.
"I did
," he said and broke into a smile, uncharacteristically large for Ricky. "I knew him." He nodded once.
"How did you and Cody become friends?"
Ricky sat down on a chair by the table. Cody and Kelly perched on the bottom bunk bed.
"I spent summers out at Grampa's ranch as a kid," Cody said, "out in Jessup County, just south of San Angelo. I met Ricky in a hardware store on a trip into town with Grampa, and we had a sword fight with wooden dowels. We were thick as thieves after that."
"Musta been six," Ricky said.
"That's a long time to have a friend," Kelly said.
Ricky pulled out his cigarettes, but Cody looked at him and tilted his head toward Kelly. Ricky placed them onto the table, and picked up his beer instead. Kelly picked up on the subtle exchange and said, "Oh, don't worry about me. One second hand smoke isn't gonna hurt me. I grew up in Houston."
Ricky nodded to her and took out a cigarette. Then he offered the pack to Cody.
"Nah, I'm good," Cody said.
"I'll take one," Kelly said. "I'm a bad girl now."
Ricky and Cody exchanged another glance. Meanwhile, Kelly reached out and took a cigarette from Ricky's pack. He handed her the lighter and she positioned them both awkwardly in front of her face. The flame sparked, and she drew. The coughing didn't stop for a minute or so later. Cody took the cigarette and laughed at her. "Maybe your descent into the world of the black sheep bad girl can start with cheap-ass beer."
"Oh, my God." She coughed again. "I'm so embarrassed."
"Stop with the embarrassed talk. You don't gotta care what people think, remember?"
Kelly swallowed a big gulp of beer and sighed. "Right. Fuck it!"
Cody had never heard her cuss before. He laughed out loud.
"Fuck it!" Ricky said and hoisted his beer. All three of them toasted and cries of "Fuck it!" resounded.
They talked and laughed into the night, mostly around stories about Bruce Latour: The one about when he almost bought the Cowboys, the one about him running for Congress, the one about him burning down the church, the one about him getting hired by the CIA, the one where he saved a beloved and notoriously well-endowed Country and Western star before she was really famous, when a pack of thugs tried to accost her outside a club in Texarkana, and of course, the one about the Jelly Beans.