Play Dead (Part 23)
I’m fixing to play dead (Part 23).
Now that I had learned from Old Man Jenkins, the manager of the trailer park where that sorry, thieving, lowdown ex-con Leon lived, that his whereabouts was somewhere in Biloxi, supposedly staying with somebody named Bo, I had it in my mind to visit Leon’s girlfriend, Louise, and find out exactly where this guy Bo actually lived. But when I mentioned my intentions to Mr. Jenkins he dashed any hopes in that direction when he said, “It ain’t gonna do you no good to go down to Louise’s trailer.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Cause when Leon’s truck pulled out of here she was with him, sitting up close to him, and him with his arm around her like they was both still 16 years old. Seeing them like that made me feel a little bit jealous, ‘cause Louise is a fine woman, and deserves a lot better than Leon.
“Listen here,” he continued, as he began rummaging through a cigar box full of keys, “I’ve got an empty trailer, furnished and everything, if you want a place to stay tonight. Won’t cost you but forty bucks.”
The thought of spending another night in a trailer got me moving real fast. I began searching my pockets for the business card that Red had given me. When I found it I said, “Thanks for the offer, Mr. Jenkins, but what I really need is to use your phone.”
He pointed toward the cradle phone on his desk and said, “Help yourself.”
Red answered with what I thought was a lot of irritability in the tone of his voice, but that didn’t stop me from saying, “Hey, Red, it’s Ralph Cooper. Listen, I need for you to pick me up exactly where you dropped me off. And I need for you to come right now.” Silence ensued. “Red, hey Red, are you there?”
Finally he exclaimed, “Are you crazy? Shoot fire! I ain’t even got to my friends house yet, and she’s icing down some beverages for us. I don’t think so, cuz!”
I felt panic rising within me, but then I remembered an article I had read about how taxi drivers could not resist long trips if the tab was tempting enough, so I continued, “Red, I need to go down to Biloxi, Mississippi, and I need to go tonight.”
I could hear the sounds of traffic over the phone when Red further dampened my hopes. “You are nuts! That’s a good six or seven hour trip and it would cost you more than double what you paid to get from Atlanta to Birmingham!”
“I’m quite sane, Red,” I told him. “I’ll pay you a thousand up front and a bonus when we get there. Now, what do you say?”
I heard a long sigh from him and I knew I had him. I breathed a long sigh of relief myself when I heard him say, “I’ll be there in 15 or 20 minutes.”
When I hung up the phone the old man said, “Sounds like you got yourself a ride. You want a cup of coffee while you wait?”
I figured I was going to need a lot of coffee before the night was over, so I might as well start now. “Yes, sir, a cup of coffee would be mighty fine.”
While the old man was busying himself at the kitchen counter with the coffee, with his back to me, I figured I wanted to do something for him because he had been kind and helpful to me. The only thing I had at my disposal was money, so I quickly slipped a hundred dollar bill underneath the phone a moment before he turned back toward the desk with a steaming cup in each hand.
We sipped our coffee and made small talk until I saw the shine of car headlights through the frosted glass. I jumped up, rushed to open the door and made a motion with my arm for Red to pull on up to the double-wide.
“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Jenkins, and I appreciate your help and the coffee,” I said after I picked up my duffle bag and started down the front steps, not waiting for a reply, before I dashed toward my ride.
Red wasn’t in a good mood. As soon as I got into the back seat he began to complain. “Did you know that I had to call my friend, who was sitting out on her deck, overlooking the lights of the city, with a fire going in her little Mexican fire place, and tell her I wasn’t coming after all? And instead of being there I’m back in front of this low rent trailer park!”
Without saying anything I passed 10 crisp 100 dollar bills over the seat to him. While he was counting them I reminded him there would be a bonus due when we got there. “I do feel some better now, Mr. Cooper,” Red declared.
At this point, while we were heading for the south bypass, I told him my whole name, well, the one I was using, and asked him to call me Ralph.
“All right, Ralph,” he responded. “By the way my name is Alan Sexton, but folks call me Red. And now that we got the money and the names straight I need to ask you one more question—after we get to Biloxi, you ain’t gonna ask me to drive you to Dallas, are you?”
I assured him that would not be the case and emphasized that I intended to be fixing to conclude all my business in Biloxi.