The Second Doublewide on the Right, part 75

I’m Fixin’ To present part 75 of The Second Doublewide on the Right:

Quantavious almost dropped his biscuit when Draylon informed him that there was a wrecker pulling out from the driveway of Shady Grove Trailer Park, and that it was towing his purple ride.

“Son-of-a-gun!” he angrily spat out when he looked back through the rear window if the van. “The suckers are taking my ride!”

“Listen,” Draylon said, “I got some fire power, and I see you do too, sticking out of your waistband. Just say the word and we’ll repossess what is being possessed.”

Quantavious was tempted, but better judgement prevailed. “Naw, that dude driving the wrecker will be tuned into the police radio band. We need to just get on out of this neck of the woods—keep driving.”

Draylon followed directions from Quantavious, took a left on Hwy 86, ahead of the wrecker as he said, “Is that where you stay, back in that trailer park the wrecker was coming out of?”

“Yeah, that’s where I did stay until the law showed up yesterday afternoon and I had to go on the run.”

“Dang! and you run all the way down to that old store where I picked you up?”

“Yeah, I run all the way down there—well I did some fast walking, too. Then I had to sleep in that run down building with nothing to cover up with ‘cept a piece of old canvas.

Draylon cracked the window on the driver’s side and said, “You smell like dried sweat and musty old canvas.”

Quantavious sighed and said, “I know I must smell pretty rank. Sorry about that, Draylon.”

“Hey, it’s all right man, I stink myself sometime. Where you want to go? Odell told me to see to whatever you need.”

After he got Drayton to pick him up some some toiletries, underwear and two new sweat suits at Wal-Mart, Quantavious checked into a Comfort Inn in Decatur, where he showered and changed before he had Draylon take him to a car rental office.

Just before he got into the Cadillac, he expressed his appreciation to his driver and asked him to convey the same to Odell. “You can also tell him I’m on the job and will be in touch with him.”

That night he went out for a nice dinner before he returned to revel in the warmth and comfort of his motel room. On Wednesday, he took the order from Odell and then chased down the Mexicans to place the order. A date was agreed upon to be Wednesday week—location still to be determined.

On Thursday, he tooled around in the Cadillac until he found a suitable place for the dope deal to go down. That night, back in his motel room, he thought about what he was going to do. It was obvious he couldn’t go back to the trailer park. It was also a fact that he hadn’t reached his goal in the amount of cash he wanted to accumulate before he left the country, even after he picked up his fee for the upcoming deal.

What he decided was that he would take what he had and make do with it. Maybe he would settle for one little brown girl instead of two.

Friday morning came and he couldn’t stand it any longer. If he was going to leave the country he wanted to see his grandma one more time, to maybe leave her a little wad of cash before he took off for good.

He liked the way the Cadillac felt underneath him. It was much more smooth and responsive than his old ride. When he turned off of I-20 onto Hwy 86, he goosed it a little to see how it would take a curve. When he glanced down at the dash he saw he was doing almost 80 miles-per-hour. When he glanced back up he saw the blue lights in his rear view mirror.

He softly cursed himself for being so careless. His first thought was to outrun them, but then he consoled himself with the thought that all he was guilty of was speeding. Probably all they would do was give him a ticket and let him go. So he pulled off onto the shoulder of the road across from that old building that had been converted into a church.

When he looked into his rear view mirror again he saw that it was an Ocmulgee County Deputy that had pulled him over, but when the deputy got out of his cruiser he was relieved to see that it wasn’t Deputy Murphy. It was some other son-of-a-gun, and he was walking up towards his window.

With as little motion as possible he slipped his pistol out of his waistband, dropped it to the floorboard and used his foot to rake it underneath the seat. Then he hit the power button and let the window down before he cut the engine.

By the time he got his driver’s license extracted from his wallet the deputy was at his window saying, “I’m fixin’ to need to see your license and proof of insurance.”

(www.teddunagan.com)