Play Dead (Part 19)
I’m Fixing To Play Dead (Part 19).
I was in a desperate state, with only a few dollars in my pocket, in a motel room which wasn’t registered in my name, with no means of transportation while Leon, the thieving old ex-con, was on the run with my suitcase containing 600,000 bucks in cash—the stash meant to be my salvation and the means to enable myself to assume a new life while the old me remained dead in the plane crash in Birmingham, just two days ago.
The only way of consoling and calming myself was the realization that I had a new plan, and considering the details of how to make it work. And even though I knew it would allow Leon’s trail to grow colder, I knew I had to sit in the motel room until the cover of darkness came on.
I knew I couldn’t rent a car, buy a plane ticket, or even catch a bus. I thought and thought, and then it hit me—call a taxi! A taxi didn’t ask for any kind of ID, they just wanted cash!
I could call one and have them drop me off near my office near the State Farmer’s Market. Then, under the cover of darkness, and my knowledge of how to disable the alarm systems, I could enter my office at the Veg-X building and rob the safe of the $22,000 thousand cash I kept on hand to buy fresh supplies. With all that money I could hire a taxi to take me anywhere, even to Birmingham and find Leon.
I was feeling real proud of myself for what I had just thought of when the phone rang. I just about jumped out of my wet towel. My first thought was that it was Leon, that he had just played a joke and was coming back to get me. I picked up the receiver and a voice said, “Mr. Martin, this is the front desk and we’re calling to remind you that checkout time is twelve o’clock. You’re welcome to stay, but if not, we do request that you check out by noon.”
I pretended to be Leon and said, “Uh, I think I need to stay one more night. Will that be all right?”
“No problem at all, sir. Just call us if you need anything.”
“Wait-wait a minute!” I stammered. “Do you offer any kind of room service?”
“No, sir, we don’t have a restaurant, but I can give you a number of a local pizza place which delivers.”
I was dressed by the time the pizza arrived. I kept the room dark inside while I opened the door, slipped the kid a twenty, snatched the pizza carton and quickly closed it.
It turned into a long afternoon after I gulped down most of the pizza. I paced the floor, did about a hundred push ups to expel some of my tension, and attempted to refine my plan in my mind.
Finally, it was getting dark. That’s when I called for a taxi and finished off the remainder of the pizza while I waited. Then I turned off all the lights in the room, opened the drapes and sat by the window while I waited for the arrival of my ride.
When I saw the taxi pull up outside I opened the motel room door and looked both ways to make sure there was no one around to see me before I dashed out and jumped into the back seat. Before the inside light went out I was able to notice the driver had bright red hair and had a mullet hair cut. And when he turned around I had seen that his complexion matched the shade of his hair. He looked to be about 50 years old and had eyes that were sunken into his head so I couldn’t tell if they were red also. “My name’s Red,” he introduced himself.
“Really?” I thought to myself just before he added, “Where you heading to?”
“I don’t know the exact address, but I want to go to the Waffle House that’s on the corner just up past the State Farmer’s Market.”
“I know exactly where it is,” he said as he began pulling out of the motel parking lot. “It’s almost straight across the street from that place that delivers all them vegetables, the one with that big Horn-of-Plenty sign in front of it.”
It almost spooked me to hear him say the name of my secret intended destination, but I managed to confirm his observation by a simple, “Uh-huh, that’s right.”
When we pulled in at the Waffle House, as I was paying the fare, I inquired, “Hey, listen Red, do you think you might be interested in a real long trip later tonight?”
“Might be,” Red replied. “Where is it you wanting to go?”
After I told him my destination he said, “The Magic City! Shoot yeah! I got a girlfriend over there I would really like to see—lives up on the Crest Line. You talking about one way or round trip?”
“Uh, right now I’m thinking just a one-way trip. Can you come back and pick me up here in an hour? I’m meeting a friend here to get a bite to eat, then I’ll need to swing back by my motel to get my stuff before we head out to Birmingham.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Red said. “Wait a minute,” he cautioned. “It’s gonna cost you about three-hundred bucks.”
After I assured him that was not a problem, he assured me he would be back at the Waffle House in an hour. As soon as his tail lights disappeared and the light changed to red I dashed across the street heading toward the front gate of the Veg-X Building.
Red had said he had a friend in Birmingham he wanted to visit. So did I. I was fixing to go visit my friend Leon.