‘They’re supposed to be drums,’ she said.
Rolly squatted down by the cans and tapped on a couple of them.
‘Bob says they sound really cool when it rains,’ said Macy.
‘I bet they do,’ said Rolly. ‘Doesn’t seem like you’d get to hear them much in the desert, though.’
Macy squatted down beside him and spoke in a whisper. ‘Don’t freak out, but somebody’s spying on us.’
‘Where?’
‘Over my right shoulder, behind that stand of creosote bushes.’
Rolly swiveled his head, surveying the scene. ‘Yeah, I see him,’ he said. There was someone standing outside the garden perimeter, hiding behind a bush. The bush covered the man’s face but you could see his body. ‘You think it’s Cool Bob?’ said Rolly.
‘Bob’s a lot taller.’
Rolly stood up and turned to face the man. ‘Hello,’ he called. The man yelped and ran away. They watched him run out of sight.
‘There was this guy, when I came here with No Pants,’ said Macy. ‘He started following me around.’
‘What’d he want?’
‘I don’t know. He’d stand about ten feet in front of me and just stare. That chicken-ass Randy wouldn’t confront the guy. I started screaming, finally scared him off.’
‘You think that was the same guy just now?’
‘Maybe. The other guy made this weird sound, like a bird.’
‘Teotwayki?’ said Rolly. He chirped the word a couple of times, imitating the sound of the birdman at Desert View Tower.
‘Holy shit, Waters!’ said Macy. ‘That was it. Teotwayki! Holy shit!’
‘My goodness,’ said a voice from behind them. ‘Such fervent ejaculating.’
Rolly and Macy turned towards the voice. A tall man with a scraggly beard and long hair stood behind them. He wore shorts and sandals, and nothing else.
‘Bob!’ said Macy. She ran to the man and gave him an ardent hug. Rolly glanced down at the dirt.
‘Hey, Bob,’ said Macy, breaking the clinch, ‘this is Rolly Waters.’
‘Hi,’ said Rolly, offering his hand. Bob shook it.
‘He’s older,’ said Bob. ‘Older than the last guy.’
‘Yeah. Waters here is an adult.’
Rolly let Bob and Macy exchange niceties a bit longer, then got down to business. ‘I’m trying to find a VW van,’ he said. ‘Macy told me you had one. A customized one that looks like a spaceship?’
Bob’s face clouded over. ‘Whoa,’ he said. ‘That’s supernormal.’
‘It was unusual,’ said Rolly. ‘I’ve never seen one like it.’
‘No, man,’ said Bob. ‘I mean, this is paranormal. Fatalistic. I traded with a guy three days ago.’
‘You got rid of the jam van?’ said Macy.
‘Temporarius only, Mace, not a mooch. The guy left some collateral. He’ll bring it back.’
‘When’s he supposed to return it?’ said Rolly.
‘Could be tomorrow. Could be next week. Could be a year from now.’
‘Does he live around here? Could we talk to him?’
‘Not for me to say,’ said Bob. ‘The guy’s prodigious. Totally singular.’
Bobspeak – that’s what Macy had called it earlier, describing Bob’s unusual speaking style. Bob’s vocal inflections imparted the intended meaning but the words themselves made less sense the more you thought about them.
‘What’s his name?’ Rolly asked.
‘Can’t say.’
‘You don’t know his name?’
‘Not allowed. No designating.’
Rolly wasn’t sure if Bob was refusing to give him the name or if the man in question didn’t actually have one. It sounded like both. Macy tried to help.
‘It’s OK, Bob. This guy’s cool,’ said Macy. ‘Not like the guy who was with me the last time.’
‘No Pants was heinous,’ said Bob. ‘Left me in shambles.’
‘Yeah, I know. He was an asshole.’
‘What happened?’ said Rolly.
‘Randy broke into Bob’s trailer,’ said Macy. ‘We figured he was looking for Scooby Snacks.’
‘He was looking for dog food?’
Macy laughed. ‘You see, Bob? This guy’s one hundred percent. He doesn’t even drink.’
‘Way orthodox,’ said Bob. ‘Theological.’
Macy nodded. ‘What did this guy give you for the van? For collateral?’
‘A metal box.’
‘That’s it? A metal box?’
Bob nodded his head. ‘I got it in the trailer,’ he said. ‘You wanta’ see?’
Macy turned back to Rolly. Rolly nodded. Bob turned on his heels and walked away. Macy and Rolly scrambled to catch up with him. They tramped to the far end of East Jesus, stepped across the tire perimeter and headed further into the desert. Bob took long strides. It was hard for his shorter companions to keep up.
‘Where are we going?’ said Rolly as he and Macy dropped into a steady trot ten feet behind Bob.
‘Bob’s trailer is out on the range,’ said Macy.
‘Home, home on the range …’ Rolly said, singing the cowboy tune.
‘Not exactly. It’s a shooting range.’
‘That doesn’t sound peaceful, or safe.’
‘Depends on who’s around. Bob likes guns, anyway.’
Rolly’s stomach grumbled. He wished he’d eaten before they set out, but daylight had been waning. They’d wanted to find Bob before sundown.
‘We’re almost there,’ Macy said.
Cool Bob turned in behind an embankment of dirt. Rolly and Macy followed him. There was an old Coachmen trailer parked on the other side of the embankment. An awning had been stretched from the top of the trailer, providing a rectangle of shade. A white plastic table sat under the shade, a mismatched assortment of chairs gathered around it.
‘Wait there,’ Bob said, indicating the table. He opened the door to his trailer and went in, then closed it behind him. Rolly and Macy sat at the table, across from each other. The sun was lower now but it still felt good to be in the shade.
‘What are Scooby Snacks?’ said Rolly.
‘Ecstasy. MDMA. You know what that is, right?’
Rolly nodded. ‘Is Bob a dealer or something?’
‘No Pants thought so, I guess. I asked Bob to show me around the Slabs. Randy was going through his trailer when we got back.’
‘Did Bob think you set him up?’
‘At first. I found a way to make up with him.’
‘Oh.’
‘Bob’s hung like a horse.’
‘Didn’t need that information.’
‘Sorry. Oversharing again.’
The door of the trailer opened. Cool Bob stepped down, carrying an assault rifle. Rolly glanced at Macy, wondering if he should be nervous. She looked nonchalant. Bob handed Macy the gun.
‘This is beautiful, Bob,’ said Macy. ‘Is it new?’
‘Yeah,’ replied Bob. ‘You wanna go shoot some stuff?’
‘Maybe later,’ said Macy. ‘We wanta’ see that metal box thing.’
‘Okey-doke,’ said Bob. He trudged back to the trailer.
‘Whattya think, Waters?’ said Macy. ‘You like crazy chicks with guns?’
Macy looked perfectly relaxed holding the rifle. She’d clearly handled one like it before, unperturbed by the firepower held at her fingertips. Rolly wondered if he’d have to go to the gun range with them later and peel off a few rounds to be sociable. Both Macy and Bob would outshoot him – he felt sure of that. He just hoped he wouldn’t embarrass himself.
Bob returned with a black metal box and placed it on the table. He remained standing between them. The box was rectangular, about two feet wide, eight inches tall and perhaps a foot deep. It looked like a wall safe, solid black steel with a panel in the front, thickly bolted. There was no slot for a key; no keypad or combination to spin. There was only a single extruded hole in the front panel, held in place by a six-sided nut.
‘You trade
d the van for this?’ said Macy. Bob nodded.
‘What is it?’ she said.
‘Don’t know. He said it was valuable.’
‘You must really trust this guy,’ said Macy.
‘Impeccable,’ said Bob.
‘That looks like a quarter-inch jack there in the front,’ said Rolly. ‘Like you could plug a guitar into it.’
Bob giggled and put his hand over his mouth. ‘What is it?’ said Macy.
‘He calls it a vibrator.’
Macy laughed. ‘What’s it a vibrator for – Robbie the Robot?’
Rolly pursed his lips and leaned forward, put his hand on the box, inspecting it.
‘Does this mean something to you?’ said Macy.
‘Maybe. I’m not sure.’
Rolly turned to Bob. ‘The guy who gave you this – does he play guitar?’ he asked.
‘Not a player,’ Bob said. ‘He builds guitars, though, these one-stringed things, like for kids. He builds all kinds of stuff. Totally Edison.’
Rolly felt a glimmer in the back of his brain. He needed to talk to the man and show him the diddley bow to confirm it. The man could be Buddy Meeks.
‘You play guitar, huh?’ said Bob.
‘Yeah,’ said Rolly. ‘I play.’
‘You any good?’
‘Are you kidding, Bob?’ said Macy. ‘This guy’s the hottest guitar slinger in San Diego. He’s a killer. Hall of fame.’
Bob folded his arms and squinted at Rolly. ‘How many frets on a guitar?’ he asked.
‘What?’
‘Macy says you’re the shit. So answer the question.’
‘I didn’t know I’d be taking a test.’
‘C’mon, Bob,’ said Macy.
Bob didn’t say anything. He stared at Rolly. ‘How many?’ he said.
‘Well,’ Rolly said, ‘first I’d want to know what kind of guitar you were asking about. Classical or Electric?’
‘Why?’
‘Well, classical guitars usually have nineteen frets. The electrics I’ve played usually have twenty-two, though there can be more.’
‘Outstanding,’ said Bob. ‘What’s the tuning frequency?’
‘Concert A, you mean?’ said Rolly.
Bob nodded.
‘Four hundred and forty hertz is the modern tuning,’ said Rolly.
‘Exemplary,’ said Bob. ‘Now, what’s a Solfeggio?’
‘That’s not a guitar question, is it?’
Bob had a glint in his eye, like he’d just won the shootout. Rolly smiled. He still had a bullet left in the chamber. He sang the notes of the major scale.
‘Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti, Do.’
Bob laughed. ‘I like this one Macy. Smiling Jack.’
‘Smiling Rolly Waters,’ said Macy. ‘The last decent man in the West.’
‘How ’bout it, Bob?’ said Rolly. ‘Can you help us meet with this guy?’
Bob put his hands on top of his head and closed his eyes.
‘There must be something you can do, Bob,’ said Macy. She placed her hand on Bob’s thigh.
Bob’s eyes popped open. ‘I got it,’ he said. ‘You can sit in with the band. If you’re any good he’ll want to talk to you afterwards. He always talks to the guitar players, if they’re virtuoso. You up for it?’
Rolly nodded. ‘Count me in,’ he said.
‘I’m looking forward to this,’ said Macy. She leaned back in her chair.
‘What?’
‘Tonight only. At The Range. Rolly Waters and the Slab City Rockers.’
FIFTEEN
The Camper
The jam session went on past midnight, well into the morning. Cool Bob and the Slab City Rockers were better musicians than Rolly had expected. Their style leaned towards psychedelic jams with a looser groove than Rolly preferred, but still agreeable. It was fun to play without the usual worries about the schedule, the P.A., the audience or the club owner. He loosened up, had a good time just letting things rip. He even pulled out the diddley bow for a couple of songs. The crowd loved it. They cheered. They went wild.
After the concert, he and Macy returned to their camping spot. They sat in the Tioga’s dining booth munching on Yo-Hos and tortilla chips they’d found in the larder. Macy drank a couple of beers. And they talked. A lot. Macy asked questions about his glory days, back when The Creatures were the hottest band in town. She asked him about everything: the gigs, the girls, the chemicals and the craziness. She even managed to get him to talk about the accident, about Matt’s death, how everything had imploded. He told her about his recovery, how far he’d come, how far he still needed to go. He told her more than he’d ever told anyone.
And when he’d finished talking, when he’d told Macy all the things he’d never said to anyone but himself, she got quiet. She stopped asking questions. She leaned in to him and kissed him on the lips.
‘How about we go in the back,’ she said, ‘and have a good fuck.’
He was more than willing to let Macy take charge at that point. She led him to the bedroom and took off his clothes. She pushed him onto the bed, then took off her own and climbed on top of him, shoving herself onto his mouth, then down on his hips, then back to his mouth, spending time in each position until they’d both had as much as they wanted, as much as they could take. Macy slid off him and turned on to her back. They stared up at the ceiling.
‘You remember when we were at Salvation Mountain,’ Rolly said. ‘You said I should let you know if I thought you were crazy.’
‘Yeah?’ said Macy. ‘What?’
‘Well,’ Rolly said, ‘that was crazy.’
‘Shut up, Waters,’ said Macy. ‘I’m still digging on the afterglow.’
‘You did sound a little crazy, you gotta admit.’
‘Shut up,’ she whispered, putting a finger on Rolly’s lips, ‘Or I’ll climb on your face and make you do me again.’
Rolly massaged his jaw. ‘I may have to drink through a straw for a day or two.’
‘You got yours. Ungrateful bastard.’
Rolly chuckled. He stroked Macy’s hair. ‘Oh, I’m grateful,’ he said.
‘Been a while?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, you passed inspection,’ said Macy.
‘Glad I could … measure up.’
‘Waters, you are pathetic.’
‘What?’
‘I didn’t fuck Cool Bob.’
‘I thought you said …’
‘I know what you thought. You thought Macy Starr was a size queen. I’ve seen Bob’s equipment at the hot springs. That’s how I know. People get naked a lot around here.’
‘Where are the hot springs?’
‘Near the water tower, other side of the shooting range. You wanna go later?’
‘Maybe. We’ll see.’
‘Everyone gets naked there. There’s no hiding your junk.’
‘I doubt Bob would want to.’
‘Yeah. He probably picks up a few dates at the springs.’
‘So how did you make up with him?’
‘I posed for some pictures.’
‘What kind of pictures?’
‘Bob’s got a thing for naked chicks shooting guns.’
‘Oh.’
Rolly dropped his head back on the pillow. Macy tucked her head into his shoulder. It had been quite an evening.
‘Who was that guy you were talking to?’ Rolly said.
‘When?’
‘At The Range. Looked like you were having an argument.’
‘You saw him, huh?’ Macy sighed. ‘That was No Pants.’
‘Your old boyfriend?’
‘An old mistake, coming back to haunt me.’
‘What’d he want?’
‘He wanted to know what I was doing, like I got no right to be here. He’s a douchebag.’
‘I guess you got rid of him.’
‘I told him I was with you. He got really quiet, then, when he saw you on stage.’
‘Rock gods have that effec
t on people.’
‘Yeah. Just like the old days, right, Waters?’
‘What’s that?’
‘The crowd goes wild. You nail another groupie, add a notch to your guitar.’
‘Shut up, Macy.’
Rolly drifted to sleep, the half sleep that comes with a new bed and a new place. His body was past tired but his mind stood on alert. There was a lot to process. Something clattered against the window. He jolted out of his post-coital haze.
‘Ow,’ said Macy, rubbing her nose.
‘Sorry,’ said Rolly. ‘What was that?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Sounds like the wind’s kicking up.’
The window clattered again.
‘Someone’s out there,’ said Rolly. ‘It’s him.’
Macy turned over, crawled to the window and peered through the shades.
‘Do you see anyone?’ Rolly asked.
‘No. Not yet.’
Pebbles scattered against the window again. Macy jerked her head away.
‘Teotwayki!’ The bird cry came from outside. ‘Teotwayki!’
Rolly climbed out of the bed and put his pants on.
Macy sat up. ‘It’s that guy, isn’t it? The one who followed me? It’s him.’
Rolly flipped on the light, found his shirt, slipped it over his head and turned back to Macy.
‘I guess Bob’s plan worked,’ he said.
The window clattered again. Macy climbed out of bed and started putting on her clothes.
‘I’m going with you,’ she said.
‘No,’ said Rolly. ‘You need to stay here.’
‘Don’t pull that macho protection thing on me, Waters.’
‘Just let me talk to him first,’ Rolly said. ‘Find out what he wants.’
‘I’m your client. I got as much stake in this as you do.’
Rolly knew he couldn’t stop her. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Just let me go out first and look around.’
‘Yeah, yeah, whatever,’ said Macy. ‘Let’s go.’
They walked to the front of the trailer. Rolly stepped down, unlatched the bolt and cracked open the door. He looked outside. There wasn’t much to see except the night sky.
‘Hello,’ he called. ‘Who’s out there?’
No one responded. He pushed the door open wider and stepped down onto the dirt. The light from inside the Tioga spilled out onto the desert floor. He walked out past the circle of light and saw the gray shapes of other trailers and mobile homes. In this part of Slab City, at least, everyone was asleep.
Desert City Diva Page 10