The Feet of God

121 - I JUST DID IT

I guess it was nothin’ but an act of faith I threw my lot in with Crespo Laërtes.  It was on impulse, that’s for sure.  I mean, he didn’t know where Baby Harmonica was any more’n I did, but we both had a firm belief we was destined to find Baby.  Or maybe it was all a wild goose chase and a mirage?  Who the fuck knows?

“I ship out tomorrow at sunup,” Crespo leaned forward.  “Get your things.  You can spend the night sleeping on the boat.”

“This is sorta fast,” I sipped my Manhattan.  “You mean, I gotta quit working for Sandi Dollar right this minute?”

“It would seem so,” Crespo replied.

It was hard to suddenly give up my lifestyle here at The Rusty Trumpet.  I mean, the bar had been my home since I arrived in Punta Gordita.  And I loved my job.  The perks was great.  It was easy living in paradise.  But something called on me to drop everything and follow him.  I agreed to Crespo’s offer.

I heaved a sigh.  I hoped there wouldn’t be an emotional scene with Sandi when I resigned my position.  I know I was feeling sorta emotional myself right now, lookin’ around at all the late-night bottom feeders, knowing I’d never see ‘em again.

“I’ll go talk to the owner.”

“Good boy,” Crespo laughed. “I’ll get my rental and meet you out front.  Then I’ll take you to The Tempest.  There’s a dinghy lifeboat aft.  You can sleep there.”

As I got up I realized Crespo and I had been talkin’ the night away.  We both swapped story after story about Baby (although a few of his remembrances should’a been edited for content).  But Baby Harmonica was one to make an impression, that’s for sure.

I was amazed to see it was actually close to closing time, and almost time for me to start my normal swamping routine.

I approached Jar-Boy and asked, “Queen Bee in?”

“Nah,” Jar-Boy shook his head.  “The Head.”

Well, I wasn’t sure what to expect.  So I went around to the little lean-to and gathered my stuff in an empty Hefty Bag.  I always made it a habit to travel light.  I checked my pockets and knew my accounts was settled with the bar.  I was paid up, so all there was to do was hand in the keys and quit.

Outside I noticed the night was warm and humid.  Some clouds was rolling in.  I thought I felt a few sprinkles as I knocked at the door to The Head.  “Are you there?” I knocked some more.  “Sandi?  Everything all right in there?”  Still no answer.  I figured no one was inside, or else maybe Sandi was in need of some kind of immediate emergency assistance.  So I let myself in.  I should’a been better prepared for what I saw.  There was Sandi Dollar, passed out and wedged between the toilet and the wall.  Again.  Her album of Durwood Dobbler collectables an’ shit was entirely submerged in the filthy water that collected back there.

“I don’t know how to say this, especially since you showed me so much kindness,” I addressed Sandi, even though I knew she couldn’t hear a single word I said.  “I really appreciate the confidence you had in my abilities.  And I’m grateful for the opportunity to swamp at The Rusty Trumpet.  I’ll never forget it.  But you see, I only come this way to continue looking for my sister, so I gotta be on my way.”

No response.  She didn’t move.  I hoped she wasn’t dead.  Her dress was hiked up very unladylike around her waist.  (It was apparent her new prescription drugs wasn’t producing the desired effect.)

“As I said, I gotta go.”  No sooner do I say them words, I had to go.  So I went over to the urinal and quickly scooped up my tips, then proceeded to relieve myself.  After finishing my business at the pisser, I returned to the matter at hand.

“So here you go,” I tossed my work keys at her.  “And thanks for everything.”

The door hit me on the way out.  I could see Crespo was already waitin’ for me outside.  I slid in the passenger side and we drove off to where his boat was located only about 15 minutes away.  I saw his boat The Tempest.  A real rust bucket if ever I saw one.  But I trusted Crespo’s assurances it was seaworthy.  We got aboard.  In the back area of the boat was suspended a much smaller boat, The Gypsy Soul.

“Like your accommodations?” Crespo asked.

“I’ve slept in and under a lot worse,” I forced a tight smile.

“Fine.  I’ll return around the break of dawn, and then we’ll shove off.”

Crespo left and drove back to his motel.  I looked around and resigned myself to making the best of things.  Then rain started to pour down.  I hurried and jumped into the lifeboat and pulled the protective tarp covering over me.  There was a life preserver handy for a make-do pillow.

I was actually not too uncomfortable.  I thought back on all the many places I bedded down in my time, but there was none like this one.  The Gypsy Soul gently rocked me like a cradle, and I drifted away….

 

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