The Feet of God

19 - I’VE GOT A SECRET

After our capture and release at the hands of the Remington men, me and Bob and Rufus trekked up and over the steep and narrow trails in an oppressive heat to get back to the car we’d left parked by a wide ravine.  Of course we arrived to find our gas tank was siphoned off, and the windshield wipers was bent back, so we kept on walking.  Yet another development that didn’t put me in my happy place.

We reached the Seekers’ hideaway long after sunlight gave out.  Rufus pointed me in the direction of a somewhat better accommodation than the underside of a pickup truck: his unused bunk.  I guess he was sharing his assigned sleeping quarters with me because he’d made other arrangements for the evening.  I didn’t really think about my bedding situation too much since I was beat.  While the two lovebirds stole off into the night, I removed my shoes and fell down on top of the sheets underneath his snoring roommate.

At daybreak, following a bad night’s sleep, I headed straight for the breakfast buffet since I was starved enough to eat anything the Seekers was offerin’ up.  I wasn’t too surprised to run into Bob and Rufus along the way.

I asked, “So now that we made first contact with the Remington camp, what’re you guys gonna tell Ma?”  I didn’t have to wait long for an answer.  On the porch a vision in orange gossamer gauze was whirling about, frantically waving in our direction.  She caught our attention right away.

“Come here!”  A great wing of translucent fabric swooshed around while her hand held tight a wrinkled newspaper.  “Inside,” was all she said once we got there, shooing us into her parlor.  Before anyone had a chance to say anything Ma cried out, “That bastard is out to get me!”  She paused long enough to calmly ask Rufus to get her an eye-opener.  “Listen to this.”  She returned to the matter at hand and began reciting every word of the tabloid rag’s interview with Gorda Fortuna’s newest and most famous resident.

Rufus quickly returned with a fresh cocktail.  Ma grabbed the tumbler of premium scotch whisky from him, and then Rufus quietly slithered down alongside Bob and me at her feet.

Ma continued to read the ravings of a lunatic with all the gusto of a lunatic.  After she finished we sat together in a moment of shared silence.  She turned her attention to her scotch and soda, and I watched mesmerized as a fuzzy upper lip quavered toward the brown liquor and a pink tongue darted between the tinkling ice cubes.  “Ahhh,” she slumped back in the overstuffed chair.  She pulled a cigarette from a pack lay’n on a nearby table and fired it up, blowin’ two huge clouds of smoke from her nostrils.

“Moses knows I’m here,” her head nodded with conviction, “and he’s out to get me.”

“Why do you say that, Ma?” Bob asked.

The old woman patted Bob’s hands, “Lamb, I’m the one who taught Moses all the tricks in the book back when I was his accountant and personal assistant.”

“You were?” Rufus seemed genuinely startled by this revelation.

Ma sighed and enjoyed a leisurely sip of her drink and another hit on her herbal cigarette.  Blowing smoke rings she explained, “I’d been knocking around Hollywood for years back in the 70’s when Moses was experiencing something of a midlife crisis.  Gold medallions, hairy chest, Big Sur, acid trips, nude photo layouts.  He went through a phase where he thought he was a celebrity swinger, a big check-writer at liberal Democratic fundraisers, and a hanger-on with some of the Rat Pack.  He kept rushing the stage at The Sands until Frank had him permanently banned.

“His modest talents weren’t in demand much anymore as a leading hunk.  In fact, he was desperately waiting for a call to do a game show gig on Pyramid of Gold when he asked me to help him save his assets.

“I’ve always had a way with numbers since my days in accounts payable at Mammoth Studios.  My services were in big demand, especially since I knew how to hide cash from ex-wives, operate offshore tax shelters, and shield money from the bloodsucking IRS and the Washington corporate war-machine.  I could do it all.  And I could stick it to The Man.”  As if to prove her point she took a huge slurp of scotch.

“And?” Rufus asked.

“I learned a lot of Remington’s secrets.”  She snuffed out her smoke.

“And?” Rufus pushed.

Ma slammed back her cocktail.  She lit another cigarette.  “I was his woman.”

Rufus ran outside where he proceeded to get sick all over Ma’s front porch.