The Right Kind of Stupid

by John Oakes

"When you put your mind to it, that is."

  Cody looked over at TR.

  "And it's even ok if you aren't that smart like you and me. You just gotta be the right kind of stupid. And the right kind is the kind that keeps going when smarter folks woulda quit."

  ************

  Kelly carefully read over the contract and banking instructions in Cody's office, noting briefly that the new CEO of Cody Corp was named Winton P. Chevalier.

  "They're selling off some of your shares at $500 each, and the corporation has secured financing for purchasing the rest to be distributed as stock options for staff, with a pool set aside whose dividends are to be shared by any and all employees of...of...the...Midget Island 3000." Kelly fought to say the words. Cody smiled. It was the first time he had actually heard her say the name.

  "Well, it...um...it all seems in order then," she said faintly.

  Cody paced the room as Kelly finished reading over the instructions that'd been prepared by Winton, Kevin, his brother Murray and Robert Lewis, the man Cody'd seen sitting at the table next to TR at the meeting in the dining hall. He was a banker from Houston who Winton had hired to help with the transaction, and who was helping finance the buy out.

  Cody examined his office, appreciating how fun it had been to have one. He saw the bookcase on the wall behind his desk that held a catcher's mitt, a box of breath mints and the May '12 edition of Men's Fitness. He saw his desk lamp, his chair, his trashcan.

  He would miss them.

  "You are welcome to visit here anytime," Kelly said. "But you can't work here anymore as you cannot be seen as repaying the entity that gave you this money. Those are strict terms in your grandfather's will."

  Cody nodded somberly.

  Looking out the window, Cody saw Diego and one of the groundskeepers raking gravel that had spilled out onto the grass. If he had to depart, he couldn't leave things in better hands than staff like Diego. That went for the Glens, Coras, Tanyas and Wintons too. Oh and Darla, of course, who was now taking Winton's old job as Operations Manager. She wasn't closing her bar in San Antonio or anything. Cody was thankful for that. No, just taking advantage of new opportunity.

  Is that what Cody would have to do now?

  "And because resort funds were synonymous with Cody Corp funds, you will have to let that go as well."

  "But I won. Right?"

  Kelly looked at him for a moment. Her eyes fell away and she gave a short nod. She began arranging papers on Cody's, or what used to be Cody's, cherry wood desk.

  He'd won.

  He'd completed his grandfather's challenge. Well, not he, but everyone. He'd done his part, but countless others helped carry him to the finish line. But now, he couldn't go back, not even to his beloved Midget Island 3000. Whatever goodness it was he had found here would have to be the traveling sort.

  It just had to be.

  "You'll need to set up an account at a bank that can handle this sort of influx," Kelly said flatly. "Not just for this payout, but for your inheritance. I can recommend a few that should also be able to hold your grandfather's tangible assets, as well, like the precious metals and the stock certificates. Do you have any preference?" Kelly asked the question with her eyes on her bag, as she placed documents inside a folder.

  "No. Whatever you think is best."

  "And you'll need to get an accountant," Kelly continued. "Not Kevin Childers, someone who has specific training and experience with multi-million dollar accounts, especially for tax purposes. You may even consider putting a lawyer on retainer."

  "Well, now that you are done not being my lawyer, maybe I'll sign you on."

  "I couldn't recommend that."

  Kelly seemed awfully unenthused with all this. Leaving was bittersweet for Cody too, but it still was exciting.

  "I can make some other recommendations," Kelly said, almost as if she was angry.

  Cody was at a bit of a loss for understanding Kelly's mood. Maybe she was hungry. Cody always got grumpy when he was hungry.

  "Hey well, why don't we go pop some bubbly at some swanky place in Houston? Come on, we gotta celebrate!"

  Kelly didn't respond, but sat frozen in Cody's chair looking at the desk. Then she unfroze and picked up her soft leather briefcase. When she rose, her expression was sickly and stiff. Her blue eyes, usually so dazzling, were dull and all the blood had run out of her face.

  "I can't do that," she said with a curt shake of her head. "I really oughta get these back to San Antonio."

  Winton popped his head in the door.

  "What are you still doing in my office?" he asked with a smile. "I've had enough of your shit, Latour. I need your gun and your badge. Security here is ready to escort you off the premises." Winton walked in followed by TR, Ricky and Jason.

  "The big one was saying some pretty convincing stuff about steaks." Winton threw a thumb over his shoulder at TR.

  "There's nothing in all this legal mumbo jumbo that says we can't eat steaks with Winton right?" TR asked.

  "No I don't think that would be considered a problem," Cody said with a smile.

  "Good. He's funny. I like him."

  "And I like you giant, hairy man." Winton was in an exceptionally cheery mood. He turned around and punched a fist playfully into TR's thigh.

  Cody saw Kelly making for the door. "There's no rush to get back is there?" he asked. "At least have dinner with us."

  Kelly looked over her shoulder and opened her mouth to speak. She glanced from the guys over to Cody. Then she turned silently and left. She was already at the wide curving stairs heading down to the main lobby before Cody's long legs could catch up to her. Cody shuffled down the steps next to her.

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where you going so fast, huh? What did I do?"

  Cody's heart was in his throat, to think that he'd upset her somehow.

  "I'm sorry. Did you hear about the eggs benedict? I was just joking with Diego that it was as good as sex, but it was just breakfast, I swear."

  But none of his entreaties would slow her steps or turn her shoulders as they stepped into the lobby. Cody stayed on her heels, struggling to keep up. They stepped outside and were crossing the gravel to her car. Cody raced around in front of her, holding up hands, pleading with her to stop.

  She halted, staring off at a spot in the driveway.

  Cody stepped up to her the way he would a spooked animal and placed tentative hands on her shoulders. She gave in and looked up into his eyes. He saw pain written plainly on her face. It mingled with her usual sweetness and took on a terrible beauty.

  "I didn't think you'd do it," she sputtered pitifully. "I mean before I knew you, I thought you wouldn't even take the challenge seriously."

  Cody just searched her eyes for understanding. He saw a tear trickle out over her lashes and roll quickly down her cheek. She wiped at her face and sniffed.

  "And then you did. And you started doing it. And I was never supposed to feel this way. And then you still weren't supposed to win, and then you did."

  Kelly's face was twisted up and tears were running freely down her face.

  Cody pulled her closer and hugged her to him. She didn't pull away.

  "And you fought so hard." Her words were muffled in his chest.

  "And I just keep, falling deeper and deeper..."

  Kelly pushed herself away from him, head bowed. She looked up at him, mouth pursed, sniffing and wiping away tears.

  There was perhaps a foot of space between his face and hers. Cody felt every one of those twelve inches stretching, elongating.

  "Kelly. What are you talking about? I don't understand." His voice held a plea for her to stay, for her to fight against whatever was pulling her backward.

  "Did I do something wrong? What did I do? I'll fix it. I'll grow up and be mature and wear nice suits. I promise!"

  Kelly let out a sob and shook her head at the ground. "No," she cried. "Don't you change a thing."

  "Then what is it?" he begged.

  "Cody
," Kelly said with strain in her voice. Hearing his name on her lips was so bittersweet at this moment, like honey rolling down a knife blade. "I can't be with the man I just executed a will to. Not for 84 million dollars!"

  "But it's over now! They can take their convex of incest and shove it up their asses! If I hear that one more time I'm gonna barf all over!"

  "It's not just for show. I have a legal obligation, Cody. If my firm finds out, when Monica finds out, she'll come at you and come at me. And if we were...together, she would win a suit and take it all, and I could go to prison or at least be disbarred."

  Cody looked at her, waiting for her to tell him how it could all work out.

  "We can never be together, Cody."

  "But I won..." Cody said weakly.

  "You did. You did an amazing thing. No one else in the world could have pulled this off. Not the way you did."

  Kelly shook her head gravely.

  "Well, hell, Kelly. Give it to her then. I don't want the 84 million dollars if I can't have you."

  Cody felt the truth of those words so deeply that his own eyes welled up. Kelly put a hand to his face, clutching at him tenderly. She gently swept a tear from his cheek with her thumb.

  "Some men's dying wishes I could stand stepping on. But Bruce Latour's?" Kelly shook her head. "I can't stand in the way of that man's dying wish, and neither can you. That's why we are here to begin with, remember."

  Kelly held his gaze for a long moment.

  She stroked his cheek with her thumb again, and then, before Cody could speak, she'd stepped around him and gotten in her car. The car started and pulled out of the circle drive.

  Cody turned and faced the sun setting at the end of the long gravel road heading out to the highway. He wiped his eyes and felt the remaining moisture evaporate away from his face in the heat of the evening.

  Jason walked up with TR.

  "Hey big man. You alright?" Jason clapped an arm on his shoulder, coming around to stand on his side.

  "She left."

  "I thought that would be the part where you kissed her," TR said.

  "Me too," Cody said flatly.

  "Do you think she'll regret not hooking up with a millionaire in the morning?" TR asked.

  "Nah man. She is a woman of principle."

  "And my god that little ass," Jason said. "You could bounce a—

  "You could bounce all sorts of things off it, Jason," Cody agreed.

  The three of them stood side-by-side, staring at the growing cloud of dust behind Kelly's car.

  "What went wrong?" Jason asked. "What did you do?"

  Cody shook his head, lost in thought, watching Kelly's golden Toyota glitter in the orange light ahead.

  "I won," Cody said. "And now I can't have her."

  "Well ain't that a kick to the nuts," Jason replied helpfully.

  "Yep."

  "Right square in the nut sack," TR added.

  "Mmm hmm," Cody agreed gently.

  "So, then are you gonna hold her in contempt of courtship?" TR asked smiling on Cody's left. "You not gonna ask her to approach your bar? You aren't gonna have her examine your briefs?"

  "Jesus TR, the man is in pain right now," Jason chided. "Isn't that obvious? Did you spend the entire last 6 months learning innuendo lawyer jokes?"

  "Not all of it."

  Cody was lost to their bickering. He just watched as the cloud of dust expanded larger and larger on either side of Kelly's car, all of it illuminated a burning orange.

  "What are you gonna do man?" Jason asked after a moment. "Don't you have to go after her?"

  Cody shook his head slightly. "I have not the foggiest clue. But I tell ya what..."

  They both turned to Cody, expectant.

  "She will be mine," Cody said with perfect calm. "Oh yes. She will be mine."

  Jason and TR eventually returned their gazes to the ever-diminishing Toyota.

  "Is that from "Wayne's World?" TR asked, after a moment.

  "Yup," Cody answered.

  Ricky came up next to TR. He lit a cigarette and together they all stared into the sunset.

  Cody hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans and took a deep breath.

  "Oh yes...She will be mine."

  The End

  Epilogue

  The Third Way to Die

  Before they left for the steak joint, Ricky walked over to Ramon and Travis who were raking the gravel at the side of the parking lot. They each got out their wallets, put their money together and handed him eighty dollars. Ricky fished around in his fanny pack and handed them a sachet of very fine powder.

  "Just do everything like I taught you. One quarter teaspoon and then another a half hour later. Works best dissolved in hot liquid, like herbal tea. But don't use anything with caffeine."

  They both smiled and Ramon pocketed the sachet before walking away.

  Instead of all cramming into one car, Winton jumped in with Jason and TR, and Ricky got into Cody's Trans-Am.

  They drove for ten minutes toward Houston until they reached G. Williker's.

  Cody parked the car and Ricky went to get out.

  "Rick, hold up a sec."

  Ricky let go of the door handle and sat back.

  "Ricky, I probably should have done this long ago. But...it was all I had of him really."

  Cody was holding an envelope in his lap.

  "Ricky, I want you to keep the ranch."

  "Don't matter really, Cody. We all use it."

  "No. Ricky. It's been your home for twenty years. It's yours by rights. You should own it fully. I think Grampa just gave it to me so that I could give it to you. You know, like after I made peace finally with him being gone."

  That was, in fact, precisely what Ricky had told Grampa Bruce to do.

  "He'll always be here, though." Cody pointed to a place over his heart. "I'm realizing that I don't need to try and hold onto things so hard."

  Ricky nodded. "S'pose I could take that off your hands for you."

  Ricky accepted the deed from Cody.

  "Well good," Cody said. He held up a fist. Ricky bumped it with his.

  The fare was delicious as usual. The waitress had messed up Ricky's order and brought him a steak covered in mushrooms. He scraped them off and wondered how, after numerous eye-opening trips on 'shrooms, he still had never learned to enjoy the normal kind much.

  Ricky ate the whole steak by himself, which was a challenge, even though it was about a quarter the size of the one TR took down. He was going to have to learn how to eat more if he was going to bulk up to his goal of 150 pounds. After the meal, they reclined in their chairs, laughing about the time a Japanese man got so drunk, he took off his pants and put them on his head and sang Poker Face by Lady Gaga.

  Jason and Winton started in on TR about how pent-up he was and why he needed to get a massage from Becky, the gal who worked in the spa.

  "Massages are for gays and tennis players," TR said. "Nuh, uh. Plus, little hands freak me out, man."

  Winton started making spooky noises and moving his hands ominously toward TR.

  "Cut it the fuck out, man!"

  While Jason and Winton continued to pester TR, Ricky nudged Cody and leaned in to whisper.

  "Can I borrow the Tranny tonight?" he asked.

  "Sure man, why?"

  "I have some affairs to attend to, and this is shaping up to be an all-nighter. You boys ain't leaving the resort tonight I figure."

  "It's a rager in the making if there ever was one." Cody handed Ricky the keys. "Sure you can't stay? We're celebrating!"

  Ricky indicated with a shrug that he would love to stay and fête, but matters at hand precipitated his departure. Ricky stood up and made his goodbyes by waving two fingers silently at the table before walking out and getting into the car. He moved the seat forward about eight inches, then lifted both legs in pain.

  Ricky enjoyed the freedom a nice pair of cutoffs gave a man, but those leather interiors could really burn your h
ams good in the summer, even after the sun had disappeared.

  Ricky drove though the evening. When he reached San Antonio, he took the 1604 through the north of the city, until he got back on I-10. He continued west for another two and a half hours through rolling, wooded hills, into scrub and ranch land, before turning north toward San Angelo. In the bright moonlight, Ricky saw cattle grazing around big round troughs. The ground rose a little, and the earth became drier. The summer had taken its toll on this stretch of semi-desert.

  This is where Grampa Bruce had made his home, preferring the austere hardscrabble to the lights of the city or the lush wooded land of the east. This was where he had grown up. This was the place where he had kept all of his memories and some of his secrets. For Bruce, life had been better in a place where each tree and rock had a story, even if they weren't always factual.

  How Bruce loved his stories. He was known to have made up a story now and again, but he had a way of making it feel real. That was the most important part. He made you experience his stories. And besides, no one seemed to mind his little fibs and tales. You always knew he was trying to impart something bigger.

  Just after midnight, Ricky pulled up a long dirt road, crested a small ridge and descended a long gravel driveway leading to a single-level dwelling. A four-car garage dominated the façade. To the left of the garage, across the entryway, stood the living room's picture windows. In the moonlight, Ricky could spot the brown leaves of a thoroughly dead ficus.

  Ricky took out his key, the same one that had been made for him twenty-two years ago, on a July day much like this one had been. He inserted it into the lock, turned it and lifted the handle slightly so that the mechanism wouldn't stick. It'd done that for years, but neither he nor Grampa Bruce had much felt it was worth fixing. He closed the door behind him and removed his shoes. He walked through the entryway, past the living room into the kitchen.

  Moonlight found its way into the house, mingling with door frames, light fixtures and chairs to lay a patchwork of light and shadow on every surface. Ricky dropped his keys in one of these light patches on the corner of the kitchen counter. He opened the fridge and saw a loaf of moldy bread, a container of cream cheese and a black ball of some sort that may have once been an orange or a tomato. Ricky fetched out a beer and cracked it open.