Roadside Bodhisattva (9 page)

“Are we gonna scrape every single cabin before we can paint even one of them?”

“You bet. No point in setting up all your brushes and turp and shit just to pack it away and get your scrapers out again the next day.”

“Ever heard of variety being the spice of life?”

“Ever heard of Henry Ford and the invention of the goddamn assembly line?”

“Forget I even asked.”

“Consider it done.”

Noon rolled around at last, and I got ready to head back to the diner. That was when the cop car arrived.

The cops here drove navy-blue cruisers with gold seals on the doors. This one pulled into the lot near the office, and kept on coming, until it came to a stop right next to us, half on the grass.

Sid got down off the ladder. He wore that same dopey expression he had put on for Angie yesterday at the pumps. He moved slow and easy toward the car, hands hanging loose at his sides, and I followed.

The door opened, and the cop got out.

I guessed right away this was Al Vakharia, the guy Ann had warned us against yesterday. When he got closer, seeing his last name stitched onto his shirt just confirmed my guess.

Vakharia wasn’t really fat, just a little overweight, but he must’ve put on that weight since his uniform was new, because it was really too tight for him now. Or maybe he was one of those guys who couldn’t admit to themselves they had gone up a size. Or maybe he thought he looked like some kinda stud in tight pants. But the way his stomach was cinched in by his belt, puffing out above and below, just made him look like a conceited jerk. His face was kinda pasty, with a narrow mouth and sharp nose. I couldn’t tell anything about his eyes because of his sunglasses.

When Vakharia spoke, his voice was pleasant enough, I guess, in an official way, but there was still this undertone of “don’t-fuck-with-me” in it.

“Howdy, gents. I heard tell we had some new residents in the county. Would you be them, by any chance?”

Sid stuck out his hand, trying his trick of getting Vakharia to shake. But the cop wasn’t Angie, and he didn’t make any move to accept Sid’s hand. After static and voices had crackled from the cruiser for what seemed like a long, long interval, Sid dropped his hand and spoke.

“Well, officer, you heard right. Me and my buddy here have signed on for a hitch at Rancho Danielson. Sid Hartshorn and Kid A, at your service.”

The cop ignored me for the time being. “Got any ID, Hartshorn?”

“Sure thing.” Sid dug a license out of his back pocket and handed it over.

Vakharia took it, strode to his car and radioed it in. He came back shortly and said, “Okay, you’re clean. Now, you.”

I gulped, and my throat felt sore. I was scared, but at the same time I was a little angry. “I—I don’t have a license. I don’t drive.”

“What’s your name then?”

Should I tell this cop my real name, and risk him finding out that maybe my parents had a runaway notice out on me? I didn’t want my road trip to end so soon. I had hardly begun to experience anything at all. I swore in my head at myself and Sid. Why had I ever agreed to stay nailed down in one place, especially a place that featured such a hard-ass cop?

I didn’t say anything, and I could see Vakharia starting to scowl. That was when Sid jumped in.

“Officer, my little buddy here wants to keep his name to himself for a while. Personal reasons, nothing illegal about it. Kid A is all he goes by when he’s on the road. Now, I don’t believe that he necessarily has to supply you with his actual moniker, unless he’s under suspicion of some crime. And you can plainly see that’s not the case. He’s not a vagrant, he’s a gainfully employed working man. In fact, his boss is expecting him in the diner right this minute. You got my credentials, and I stand bond for the Kid. Plus I think Miss Danielson will vouch for us too. Can’t we all be satisfied with that? After all, we’re not going anywhere. You know right where to find us if you need us for anything.”

Vakharia said, “Don’t like anyone in my district not having some id.”

Those words made Sid bristle. “You know, officer, that’s one of the great things about America. Leastwise, the America I know and grew up in. We don’t have any national id system. No internal passports like the Red Chinese and the goddamn South Africans before Mandela. I showed you my driver’s license, but that was just a courtesy. That square of plastic is permission from the government for me to drive a car, not permission for me to exist. And I sure as hell ain’t driving no car as I stand here jabbering to you. So if I were you, I’d be content with the half a loaf I got, wish us a pleasant goodbye, and let us get back to work, before I ask for your badge number and your boss’s name.”

Vakharia glared at Sid for a long time. One corner of his mouth was twitching. Finally he said, “You sound like a troublemaker, Hartshorn. The kind of troublemaker we don’t need around here.”

“Maybe that’s because you forgot what a real goddamn American citizen sounds like, officer. Been so long since you heard one, maybe. But then again, we might just both be right. In my book, troublemaker and real citizen have always been more or less synonymous.”

I braced myself for the cop to take out his cuffs and slap them on Sid. But then, incredibly, Vakharia laughed. It was a nasty laugh, but it was better than the alternative.

“Okay, Hartshorn. You talk tough, but you don’t look like any ex-con I’ve ever met. Plus I respect Ann. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. I’ll cut you and your friend some slack. But just remember this. If anything bad goes down within my district and the perp’s not obvious, then you two’ll be the number one suspects on my list. And we’ll see then if you walk it like you talk it.”

“Fair enough, officer. Got any raffle tickets for the fop you want to sell me while you’re here?”

“Don’t push your luck,” said Vakharia. Then he got into his car and took off. He used his siren to stop the traffic on Route 1 so he could merge, even though there was obviously no emergency.

I turned to Sid. My anger toward Vakharia was swamped by my gratitude toward Sid. “Boy, thanks, Sid. I didn’t know how I was gonna get out of that one.”

“Small lesson for you there, Kid. Respect and deference as a tactic only goes so far with some jerks in positions of power. Sometimes you gotta rear up on your hind legs and let out a roar. Shout it to the top, right? Might not even make things go any smoother, but at least you’ll be able to look at yourself in the mirror in the morning. Now why don’t you go help the ladies inside? And don’t bother Ann with an account of this crap, okay?”

“Sure.”

Inside the diner, Yasmine scowled at me. “I got two dirty tables here, Kid. You’re not earning your share of my tips this way.”

I started to say something sharp back, but then I bit my tongue. The story Sue had told me about Yasmine and her mother left me feeling kinda bad for the woman.

“Sorry, Yasmine. I was busy with Sid.”

My apology seemed to throw her for a loop. “Well—okay, then.”

In the back I strapped on my apron, grabbed the scratched plastic gray tub and went out front to bus the dirty tables.

Time went by pretty quickly. Sid came to pick up lunch for himself and Angie. By three I was really hungry. Sonny made me a triple-decker tuna sandwich with fries. I scarfed it down, finished my share of the cleanup, got my few bucks from Yasmine, then went to look for Sid.

I found him at the garage, sitting in the little office with Angie.

They were playing chess.

At first I didn’t believe my eyes. There they sat, underneath a tattered calendar of a babe in a bikini stroking a transmission. Fanbelts in their cardboard sleeves hung from a pegboard. Tottering piles of new air filters and oil filters and spark plugs stood all around them. The greasy wrappers from their sandwiches lay across the rubbery green desktop. There was barely room left for the chessboard. They were hunched over it deep in concentration, and didn’t even hear me come in.

“Uh, Sid, shouldn’t we be getting back to scraping?”

“Shhh! Not now, Kid. This bastard’s getting ready to whip my ass, and I gotta focus.”

I had never played chess before, so I couldn’t tell who was winning. It seemed like each player had about the same number of pieces left. But I knew that some pieces counted for more than others.

At last Sid moved a piece. Angie followed up quickly. Sid said, “Damn!” and knocked over one of his own pieces. “You got me, Ange.”

The burly mechanic did not smile exactly. But he gave off this kinda satisfied glow. “Well, you put up a good fight.”

The phone in the office rang, making me jump for some reason. Angie picked it up. “Uh-huh. Right near the Li’l General store? I’ll be right out.

“Lady with a flat,” Angie said after he hung up. “You guys wanna come?”

“Sure,” said Sid.

“All right,” I said.

Angie flipped a cardboard sign in the office window to closed, but didn’t bother to lock up. We piled into the front seat of the Deer Park Filling Station tow truck, with me in the middle. Angie and Sid both smelled sweaty, but not gross. I figured I probably smelled worse than either of them. I’d have to try to take a shower before I hung out with Sue tonight. That is, if she even showed up.

We had to wait for a break in the traffic to cut across all four lanes, but then we drove fast.

While we drove, Angie and Sid talked about chess. Angie had learned to play at a Boy’s Club when he was a kid. Sid had learned in New York City, from people who played in some park somewhere. It was hard to imagine Angie as a kid. Sid in New York I could picture better, even though I had never been near that city myself.

The woman was standing outside and behind her car in the breakdown lane. I had been kinda fantasizing about some real glamorous young babe in distress, maybe because of that calendar picture. But instead she turned out to be short and stocky and maybe thirty-five years old, wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants. But her face was kinda pretty, and she smiled real big when we pulled up.

Between the two of them, Sid and Angie made short work of changing the tire. The spare was a doughnut, not good for much, and the woman agreed to follow us back to get the real tire patched up.

Back at the station, I helped too. Angie showed me how to find the hole and plug it. That was cool. Pretty soon, we had the woman back on the road. She gave us a five-dollar tip to split between us. I told Angie to keep my share.

“No way, boy. You earned it.”

I stuck the dollar and change in my pocket. With what I made yesterday and today from Yasmine, I had over ten bucks. There was nothing to spend it on here at Deer Park, so I thought I’d keep saving whatever I earned, as a stake for once I hit the road again.

“Well, Kid, guess we should get back to our scraping, at least for another hour or so.”

Angie said, “Another game tomorrow?”

“Sure, Ange. I gotta reclaim my goddamn honor somehow.”

Sid and I headed back to the cabins. I wanted to ask if Sid had lost the game to Angie on purpose, but in the end I kept that question to myself.

We went back to work until around five o’clock. Then Sid said, “Hellfire, that’s a long enough day for me. Ann’s paying us, but she’s not paying us time-and-a-half. Let’s call it a day, Kid.”

“Fine by me.”

We cleaned up our stuff. Sid said, “Race you for a shower.”

“You’re on!”

He beat me to the outer door to Ann and Sue’s rooms by about five seconds.

While I waited outside for Sid to finish his shower, Sue strolled by. She looked more bored than tired.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Still think you wanna listen to some music with me?”

“Okay. But just till nine or so.”

“That’s cool I’ll meet you at the trailer. Bring some sweet stuff.”

Sue grinned wickedly. “Oh, I always bring that.”

I got flustered. “Well, all right then.”

Sid came out. He had on clean clothes. “You the angel that washed these?”

“That’s me,” Sue said.

Sid took Sue’s hand, bowed down and kissed it. “You got a big heart, young lady.”

Sue seemed to eat up this cornball shit, and I got a little angry. She smiled and said, “Oh, it was easy”

“I’m gonna keep your aunt company. You guys have a ball.”

“We’ll try,” Sue said.

Sid went into the rental office, while I went to take my shower. My clothes from the road, all washed and folded, were waiting inside for me. When I came out, Sue was nowhere to be seen, so I headed back to the trailer.

She was inside, sitting on my bed, already spinning the wheel on my iPod, which she had lifted from my pack. That burned me a little, but I tried to put that stupid feeling aside. I should just be glad to have her company. I noticed she hadn’t bothered with my books.

I sat down on the edge of Sid’s bunk. The trailer was so small our knees were almost touching.

“Not bad, not bad,” Sue told me. “No rap though?”

“I don’t like that hip-hop shit.”

Sue shrugged. “Your loss. Let’s listen to some Foo Fighters.”