Rory drove them all back to the motel after confirming that the $4,500, what he called a monthly maintenance fee, would be paid by his father to the two ladies. As it was to maintain Reginald’s freedom, Rory told him he should be happy to pay it. He was anything but happy, but he did agree with the arrangement.
Rory had told Maud she should spend the night in Landale, and she’d said that as Trace would be leaving the next day, this was her last night with him and she wanted to be with him.
At the motel, he told the boys they could go swimming, but he had to go do some stuff, and he’d be back in time for dinner.
Cary said, “We thought we might wait till dark to swim again. We were in the pool some this morning. We’ll wait till tonight.”
Rory quickly looked at Trace, and he blushed. Rory turned back to Cary. “Letting your suits dry, I suppose? Nothing as unpleasant as climbing into a cold, wet bathing suit.” He grinned at them before saying in a more sincere voice, “I’m delighted you two are getting along. It would be a long drive back to L.A. if you weren’t.”
Then in a low voice, pretending his words were just for Cary but were loud enough for Trace to hear, and with a devious look he hoped they’d both see, he said, “I asked Kenny if bathing suits were required in the pool, and he said no, he often swam nude when it was dark. Just saying.” Then he stifled a laugh.
Cary took a look at Trace, saw his face was beet-red, and shook his head. “You’re terrible. You know that?”
“Just trying to help.”
« »
It was late afternoon. Rory drove to the Old Town Tavern, parked a block away and walked around the neighborhood. The bar was on the edge of a residential section of town.A small creek ran through this area and a few streets had bridges. The bar was located near the creek with a small parking lot behind it. The lot was paved, although its blacktop was old and unmaintained; it had many cracks and potholes. When laid down originally there had been painted white lines designating parking slots, but they’d mostly worn off over the years and never been repainted. Concrete wheel blocks were laid at the very back so cars wouldn’t inadvertently overshoot and tumble into the creek.
Rory looked around as he walked on the sidewalk across the street from the bar. In the early afternoon, the bar was closed and no one was on the street. Looking as nonchalant as he could, hands in his pockets like he was just taking a leisurely stroll, he meandered past the bar, walked another block, then crossed the street and made his way to the edge of the creek. The land was about four feet higher than the water below. A narrow bank varying between four and seven feet wide ran along the creek in both directions as far as he could see before the creek curved away.
Rory gazed at the moving water as though mesmerized, then raised his head, looked in both directions, and began walking along the bank back in the direction of the bar.
The bank supported a smattering of groundcover plants and weeds. It was easy to walk along. There were park benches spotted randomly along the creek so people could sit and watch the flowing water and enjoy the area’s serenity.
Eventually he came to where the back end of the parking lot met the bank.
Rory stood still for some time looking at the creek, then turned and viewed the back of the bar. There was a park bench where he was standing, and he sat on it—to any onlooker, he was obviously communing with nature. He fidgeted a bit on the bench, somehow dissatisfied with the view, then stood and moved the bench a little, sat again, and then nodded as if its placement or his view from it now improved the ambience of the scene. He spent more time just watching the water move in its bed, then eventually stood up, stretched and strode along the bank till he neared where he’d parked.
He needed to write a story in his head, to choreograph the upcoming proceedings. Words would need to be spoken and should be thought out in advance. As should how they needed to sound that would be appropriate to the situation. He decided to do this while driving back to the motel. He drove away from the bar, only stopping once, popping into a minimart to buy a disposable cellphone.
« »
It was late when Rory dressed in work clothes, the work clothes of his Ranger training: dark but loose-fitting jeans with no back pockets so as not to give opponents anything to grab hold of; a black tee shirt; black running shoes with enhanced-grip soles and imperceptible toe guards of hard plastic. He considered taking his pistol but decided against it; he wasn’t going to wear a jacket, so it would be difficult to conceal. And, too, he knew that what he planned on happening and what actually would happen wouldn’t necessarily be the same. He would be much better off not having a gun if he were stopped somewhere this evening, no matter what the outcome of his activities.
Maud spoke to him when he was ready to go out. She’d come to his room to talk with Trace about how good she expected things to be for him in L.A., and to arrange for frequent emails and phone calls from Rory to keep her abreast of how Trace was doing. Trace wasn’t there. Rory told her the boys were in the pool.
“Then they’ve been in there a long time,” she said, “and it’s completely dark out there. There’s not much moon tonight, and what is there is covered with overcast. Maybe I’d better go out and check on them.”
Rory smiled at her and shook his head. “Unless you want to embarrass either or both of them, I wouldn’t do that. Did you notice they were wearing shorts and carrying their suits and towels? A buck would get you ten that they’re not wearing anything in the pool. Boys love skinny-dipping, and this is probably the first chance Trace has had to do that. It’s exciting and even arousing. This is the first of many firsts for Trace. We’ll visit you here next summer—or fly you out to L.A. I think you’ll have a hard time recognizing him then. He’ll be a much more confident boy.”
“I hope so,” she said. “He’s had no kind of a life till now.”
“That’s going to change, and it’s up to him how much he grows. I hope a lot. Just like I hope that for, uh, well, I introduced you to him as Wyatt. His real name is Cary. I’ll tell you about the alias when I have the chance. Right now, I’ve got things to do. I’ll be back late. See you for breakfast in the morning.”
« »
Maud had been right: the night was very dark. Rory drove to the Old Town Tavern and parked in the lot behind near its back end. There were several cars there, but they were bunched near the building at the front of the lot. His was the only one in the back near the creek.
There was a rear door into the building with a dim, bug-encrusted light over it, obviously for access to the bar from the parking lot. Rory walked to it and opened it. An immediate stench of stale beer and cigarette smoke assailed him as well as the funky sound of country music.
He stepped inside and let the door swing shut behind him. He was in a short hallway leading to a large, dimly lit room. He stopped short of entering the room and looked for Levi Edwards. The man was easy to spot. He was the tallest man in the room and the widest, and he seemed to be holding court for several men who were grouped around him, listening while he spoke.
Seeing him, Rory took out his phone and punched in the number he’d memorized. When it was answered, he spoke with a strong but suspect accent. “Hey, sheriff, I’m at the Old Town Tavern, and it looks like ve’re about to haff ourself a riot. Ya better get over heah, try to settle dese guys down. Might be a lynching if’n you don’t.”
“I’m not the sheriff,” was the answer.
“And I’m not German,” Rory said, this time with a strong Japanese accent. “You have about five minutes.” Then he wiped and dropped the phone in a nearby trashcan, pushing it deep under whatever trash was on top.
Rory had several ways to do this, one of them preplanned. Now, seeing the room, seeing the crowd, he changed his mind. He had been going to act tough; if there’d only be a handful of old men in the tavern as he’d expected, he’d planned to yell out, “Hey, fatso”’ when he spotted Levi, but with this large a crowd, some of them middle-aged, he decided it might be better to take another approach.
His principal problem would be getting Levi outside in the right position, meaning with his back to the creek. If he ran from the crowd, then turned to face the man coming after him, that positioning would be hard to manage. He needed Levi where he wanted him to be for the fight, which most likely would be brief. Better for him that way: less opportunity for others to get involved.
A moment of thought was all he needed. He stepped out into the main room of the bar, looking uncertain but waiting to be noticed, not looking at Levi at all. It didn’t take long. The bar wasn’t accustomed to unknown men walking in. Within fifteen seconds of Rory being there, there was a noticeable quieting of voices and then one loud one.
“What the fuck you doing here?”
Rory tried to look scared. It wasn’t that hard to do with adrenaline rushing through his body. He opened his eyes wide and turned away quickly, making it apparent he hadn’t expected to see Levi here. “Uh, uh,” he said, looked around wildly, then raced for the door, running back the way he’d come in.
He heard a whoop behind him and footsteps, followed directly with, “Out of my way! He’s mine! I’m going to beat the shit out of him and then stomp him to death!”
Rory sprinted for his car, not intending to get into it, but to use it for a diversion. The crowd followed, but Levi was well in the lead. Rory stopped at the car, looked back, showed a fearful face, then, as Levi neared, raced around the car. Levi followed him. Rory ran around the car, coming back out into the parking lot.
“Stop him, but don’t touch him. He’s mine!” Levi roared.
Rory stopped as he faced the crowd, then turned so his back was to it. That brought him into position so he was facing Levi and Levi was facing him; Levi now was standing with his back to the creek, just as Rory had planned, but he was a long way from it.
“Payback’s a bitch,” Levi said and grinned. He made a fist and pumped it into his other hand. Even after the short run he’d had, his chest was heaving.
Still dancing around, trying to look elusive, Rory managed to move a few feet to his left. Levi moved with him; Rory did this again and again, moving sideways and slightly forward each time, Levi matching him until he’d moved Levi to where Rory wanted him. Both were now much nearer the back of the parking lot but still several feet too far from the creek.
Rory had to fix that. He made a sudden move farther to his right and farther forward than the few steps he’d taken before. Levi countered, a smile on his face, moving to his left and backwards. Now he was exactly where Rory wanted him.
Time to forget the sham. Rory stopped looking scared. Simply dropped the pretense and smiled. He said in a soft voice, meant only for Levi’s ears, “You’ve had it coming for a long time, friend. It all ends for you right now. Beating up kids and women. That’s all you got. You’re a puny-ass, cowardly cocksucker, and you’re going down for good. Let’s do this. Go ahead—you can have a free first punch.”
Levi didn’t hesitate. He threw a hard right hand at Rory, putting his weight behind it. Had it connected, Rory would have been in trouble.
Rory easily ducked it, having expected this would be Levi’s initial attack as he was too close for a bull rush to be effective. After ducking, Rory came up from his crouch in a lunge right at Levi’s face. He came forward so fast, in fact, that Levi reacted on reflex. He stepped back.
He was only inches from the tire block at the end of the blacktop. His heel caught it when he backed up. Just as he was trying to regain his balance, Rory was on him, and after delivering a solid blow to Levi’s stomach, Rory put two hands on Levi’s chest and pushed hard. With his heel solidly against the tire block, Levi tripped and fell backwards. As he fell back, his neck came down hard on the top edge of the upright back of a park bench that was behind the tire block. All Levi’s massive weight came down on his neck. The crunch of his neck breaking was loud enough that everyone in the parking lot heard it.
When the crowd rushed forward to help Levi, Rory managed to slip sideways away from it and in seconds was back in his car and pulling out of the lot.
« »
Rory had a phone call the next morning. He found himself speaking to Chief Rodgers.
“Rory, I made it to the tavern just in time to see you facing off with that big guy. I heard the death threat about the stomping. I saw him throw a punch. I saw you try to push him away. Self-defense all the way.
“Then I had to calm the crowd. I think they were going to go hunting for you with a rope with a noose on the end of it once they saw Levi was dead. Then one of them said, ‘Hey, look! This bench is out of line with the others. I know they were lined up. I was on the crew that installed them. This has been moved. I’ll bet that bastard moved it. He set Levi up!’ Then he turned to me and said, ‘If you find fingerprints on it, it’ll prove it.’”
Rory snickered. “So, you think you’ll find my prints on it.”
“Well, not really.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“Because when I went there this morning when it was light enough to check for prints, I found some kid there painting the thing. I asked him what the hell he was doing and why had he ignored the crime scene tape I’d put up around the bench? He said some dude had given him fifty dollars to paint the bench, but he had to do it before seven in the morning. When he’d arrived at six thirty there wasn’t any crime scene tape. I thought that very odd because I’d left that bench marked off with it last night.
“Anyway, I got there at quarter after seven and the kid was just finishing up. Not quite done. I think you should ask for some of your money back.”
Rory laughed. “It’s outrageous that someone in this town would mess with your crime scene tape. Hey, did he describe the dude who’d hired him?”
“Yeah, but it was so general it would fit half the men in town. Anyway, it saved me a lot of trouble. Now I have a great reason why I didn’t check the bench for prints first thing in the morning.”
“Okay then. Nice doing business with you, Chief.”
“Take care, Rory. You’ll be gone soon.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. And then he disconnected.
« »
Now that there was no threat, Maud and Trace were able to go back to their house and collect anything they wanted to take with them. Trace didn’t have much, but he did have quite a few books. They were put in a box and into the back of the Mercedes. Maud grabbed some more of her clothes and said she could come back with her sister later on and decide what to keep and what to dispose of. As Levi had no relatives, it seemed likely the house would come to Maud. She could sell or rent it as she thought fit. She told Rory she’d sell it, and the money would go into Trace’s college fund. She was looking forward to living in the big house with her sister.
The four of them had a leisurely breakfast at a coffee shop in Landale. Then they dropped Maud off at her new home. She spent a few private minutes with Trace, then waved at Rory and Cary and walked inside. Rory was happy that she didn’t come back to the car to thank him again. When she’d heard the news that Levi had been in a fight and died the night before on the local news report on TV in the coffee shop, she’d immediately looked at Rory. Rory had looked at his waffle and hadn’t met her gaze.
That was when she’d started thanking him for all the help he’d provided. Rory liked helping people but hated all the fuss afterwards. Now, sitting in the car in his old driveway, he was happy not to undergo any more of it.
He hadn’t gone inside to say goodbye to his mother. She’d made amends, but he still didn’t feel any great amity with her. She’d been a large part of his unhappy youth, and her excuses now, while heartfelt, were too little too late.
Trace had tears in his eyes when he came back to the car. He got in the back seat and hugged Morris and cried a little longer, then sat up and wiped his eyes. Morris’ attention to him and the licks he was applying to his cheeks improved his mood.
Rory glanced at his watch. “We have a short stop to make before we hit the road going west,” he told the two boys. “I think we’ve done some good here. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t make a quick stop. Besides, I want to.”
He drove them to a nicer area of homes than they’d seen before. The house Rory had grown up in was at the crest of a hill and was apart from the rest of the town, above it, looking over it. Reginald’s ego had been the reason he’d built it there. There were no other houses close by. Where they were now was where the affluent Landaleites lived. There were only a handful of houses, but they were all impressive.
Rory pulled into the driveway. “Let’s go for a visit. I called and they’re expecting us. Even Morris.”
The front door opened and Betty, at sixty a very stylish woman, stood in the doorway, watching and waving, a broad smile on her face. There was a loud woof from inside the house, and then a large Labrador raced out, stopped in front of Morris with a rapidly wagging tail. Morris let out a woof, too, and evidently it was understandable in Dog, because the two quickly took to sniffing and then galloping all around the front yard together. The woman laughed, and the boys joined in.
Inside, the dogs now tired and lying next to each other in the living room, the Tates were introduced to the boys. Rory’s way of introducing them was to tell the boys, “These two are the parents I wish I’d had growing up. They saved me time and time again. I owe everything to them.”
Garland Tate scoffed and waved the comment away. “Rory was a great kid, helping Bobby, becoming his friend, when no one else in the school would even talk to him until he became a football star. Any help we provided Rory he more than earned. We grew to love him. I’m as proud of him and what he’s accomplished as I am of Bobby.”
Betty chimed in. “We love Rory to death. He writes us all the time. Well, I prime the pump, but he does his part and keeps up with me. Much more than Bobby does!”
Cary was puzzled. “You both called him Rory. Everyone here calls him Roy. You know his real name?”
Garland laughed. “Do you?”
“Yeah, he told me, but I had to promise never to tell anyone or speak it out loud.”
Garland laughed even harder, and Cary joined him. Garland’s voice was a deep basso, and his laughter filled the room. “Betty just mentioned he writes to us. We know all about him and how he’s done with his book and the film. We know how he changed his name and that of the others he wrote about to protect his background and Bobby. But since he goes by Rory now, we use that, too.”
Rory formally introduced the boys to the Tates. “This is Cary Reynolds. He’s a movie star and perhaps the son I’ll never have. He’s something of a scoundrel and a ne’er-do-well, but I’ve grown fond of him in the aberrant way I have of taking to kids from the dark side.”
Cary grinned. “If you know Rory well, you know he’s an accomplished liar and fool. He’s being both right now!”
Betty laughed. “You do know him well, don’t you? If there’s any way to avoid being serious, especially if emotions are involved, that’s our Rory.”
Rory rushed on, changing the subject. “And this is Trace Edwards from Briston. He’s actually my cousin, someone I didn’t know about till just a short time ago. He’s coming back to L.A. with Cary and me.”
“Didn’t I just hear about an Edwards from Briston who died yesterday?” Garland asked.
“That was my father,” Trace said unemotionally. “I hated him. I’m not sorry at all that he’s dead, and in fact am glad because this way he won’t be beating up my mom any longer.”
Betty appeared shocked, and Garland just looked at Trace a little closer. Then he said, “Why don’t you boys take the dogs out back. We have a huge yard where you can play with them. Tick loves to chase balls. Never gets tired.”
The boys agreed, with Cary saying, “Tick Tate?” then laughing.
They stayed with the Tates later than Rory had planned. The two boys were having a ball with the two dogs, and Rory hated to pull them away. Trace especially hadn’t had much joy in his life. What he was getting now didn’t need to be interrupted for the sake of an extra hour driving.
The Tates had insisted they stay for lunch, but Rory excused them, saying they needed to be on the road.
Betty kissed Rory’s cheek, and Garland gave him a firm hug. They were on their way. Rory drove them to Sullivan, a town about Landale’s size, and Rory thought it was a good place to stop for lunch. While looking for a place to eat, he told the boys maybe they could decide what route to use getting back to L.A.
“We came here on the northern route. Maybe you’d like to see the middle of the country, Cary. We could take I-70 through St. Louis, Kansas City, Topeka, and then a mess of smaller towns till we hit Denver. Or we could go farther south through Nashville, Memphis, Oklahoma City, or farther south still through Dallas/Fort Worth and then across Texas and New Mexico.”
Cary shook his head. “Isn’t that for you to decide? You’re the adult. Adults decide this kind of thing, not the children. What do they know about anything?”
“They didn’t years ago, but today, the kids have a way of seeing what’s out there to see. They check things out and then pester the adults into doing what they want to do.”
Cary frowned at him for a moment, then smiled. “My phone! I can look things up!”
“Which reminds me,” Rory said. I think there’s a Walmart in this town. We’ll stop there and get another one. Trace, you get to pick what you want.”
“I get my own phone? Really? But I don’t know anything about cellphones.”
“You have an expert sitting next to you. He’ll help.”
“Who, Morris?”
“Trace! Wow! Way to go. But, oh, God, I have another one to deal with now?” Trace was blushing in the back seat and grinning while looking embarrassed, but Cary, laughing, raised his hand for a high-five. Trace looked uncertain, but softly slapped his hand. When Rory, in the front, started murmuring under his breath, “Two of them! I’m double teamed!” Both boys giggled.