CHAPTER 13--SUGAR DADDY

Came around the corner in Winslow, Arizona, such a fine sight to see.

-the Eagles

Spring 1997

C

ame right around that corner, Queen, but it wasn't no flat bed Ford. It was a guy in a hot red Porsche, and it was he that was doing the slowing down. As for us, we were just standing there, waiting to cross the street, to hit the Denny's for a late breakfast. Vegas via the I-40 was still the plan. And sometimes I thought, if only I had shot up the scenic route, the 89 to the 15. But I wanted to make good time. And of course, we'd have to stop in Flagstaff to pay my respects, that's for sure.

But here we were, stalled for what I thought would be a few hours. The van had overheated just as we pulled into town. Left it with a local garage and the guy told us that we'd blown a gasket, and parts wouldn't be there until the next day.

So, got us a room at a Motel 6 and stayed the night. Actually saw some pretty good flicks on TV: Independence Day. Scent of a Woman. God, I love that guy, Al Pacino. Him and Robert Deniro. But I hate Joe Pesci. Every movie I see him in, I want to see him get wasted in the end, and he always does, and it's never very satisfying. Hate the way movies fuck with your emotions like that. Stayed up half the night, the three of us, watching these flicks. Remember at one point there was this background actor that I swear looked just like Ron Goldman, the friend of Nicole Brown Simpson who was murdered along with her that unfortunate night. And I said so. Ginny looked at me dumbfounded.

"Who’s Ron Goldman?"

Made me think about how once, in a motel, we had to show her how to use the thermostat. She sometimes came across as completely clueless. And yet she was pretty sharp, Queen. It was like she could read our minds, knew what we were thinking, what we wanted. And other times, she just acted the part of a dumb flirt. A brilliant fool, I wanted to call her. And yes, sometimes she scared me.

Next morning we woke late and stumbled out to greet the bad news that the parts hadn't arrived. Tomorrow, we were promised, tomorrow we could get the hell of out of Winslow, Arizona. The sun was almost straight up bearing down with the promise of another long, hot summer. And she was dressed the way her mother used to get onto her about dressing, and you know, Queen, in that moment I could see that maybe her mother had a point. But who was I to say? Still, maybe if she'd been wearing more than just short shorts and a revealing tank top, the guy in the red Porsche might have just driven straight through to Vegas or L.A. or wherever the hell he was headed.

Now, I'm the only one who saw it, and he had every intention of just going where he was going, but something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, that being Ginny bending down to fix her sandal.

And suddenly the blinker came on, and the Porsche Guy was parking in the Denny's parking lot.

Yeah, wait until he finds out how old she is.

Grabbed a corner booth. Louie went to go get a paper, while Ginny went to the rest room.

Watched as Mr. Shark sailed smoothly into the establishment. Noticed I could see his license plates through the window: "TITIMN." It took me a while-but not too long-to figure it out, Queen.

Watched him walk in. Buff dude.

Must work out.

About 26.

Dark hair.

He was wearing an orange Texas Longhorns Shirt. He grabbed a seat at the counter and started looking around for you know who. Louie appeared moments later, oblivious to the threat that had moved in on his girl. He plopped the newspaper down and started digging for the funnies.

"Man, ever since they stopped running Calvin & Hobbes, reading the funnies just isn't the same."

Glanced back at the lurking predator to see him getting up and heading for the head. The waitress appeared at our table and took our orders.

"What do you think the sister wants?"

"She likes the fresh fruit," Louie said.

Myself, I opted for the cholesterol special: eggs, sausage, and bacon. Shit, even at 48 I was eating like I was 27. And fledgling vegetarian Louie chose the fresh fruit as well. As I found out Ginny was also a vegetarian. And there Louie and I were, 15 minutes later, our stomachs full, and a bowl of fresh fruit sitting there untouched. Hadn't said anything to Louie yet. Maybe I should have, but I opted against saying anything about the fact the square-jawed young man who'd popped up briefly had vanished as well.

"Man, I better go check on her," Louie said.

Before I could say anything he was gone!

And she wasn't in the bathroom.

She was in a red Porsche, in the parking lot at Denny's, snorting cocaine.

"Oh, are these your friends?" the man asked.

"Get out of the car, Ginny," Louie ordered.

"Don't yell at me, Louie. What's gotten into you?"

"Hey, I thought you said you didn't have a boyfriend," the guy pressed.

"I don't have a boyfriend."

And then I saw Louie do something I rarely ever saw: get violently angry. He started running straight towards a nearby dumpster, leapt into the air, and kicked it, putting a big dent in the side.

He stormed off, out the driveway and down the street. I figured it was just as well he had a chance to chill. Ginny got out of the Corvette and came up to me.

"Listen, Jack, I'm sorry I forgot to come tell you I didn't want any breakfast."

That was when I noticed the big coke flakes in her nose.

Could see she had already had her breakfast.

"Can we talk?" she said. We walked back across the street towards the motel.

"Hey, Jack, I'm gonna take off with Larry here for the day, give you and Louie some space. I'll meet you back at the motel."

Hey, I was all for space, Queen. But I felt pretty bad for Louie that she was sharing space with this guy, call him Larry the Lizard. And scared for her. And him. Chances were he just wanted to get laid. And maybe that was what she needed too. Maybe she just needed a fuck, and fucking some slick stranger was a way to release tension.

And what the fuck business is it of yours old man?

Still, the urge to wax parental was too much.

"Ginny, you don't know this guy."

"Yes, I do. We've been talking. His last name is Flanders. His dad is Mel Flanders, produces films in L.A. You know. You've heard of him haven't you?"

Shook my head no.

"Anyway, he says I could be an actress."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It occurred to me, Queen, that here I was being called upon to be her father.

What about her real father?

"Ginny, can we talk a sec, away from here?" I said under my breath.

"One sec'" she said, and ran over to Slick's car window, whispered something to him, and shot back.

"Let's go," she said. We walked around to the other side of the Denny's.

"Did you happen to get a look at this guy's license plate?"

"No."

"It says tittiman."

"Whatever, Jack."

"Look what's up with you father? Your real father? What would he think about you running off with a tit man from UT?"

"My real father is none of your business."

"Not when I see you wanting to run off with some coked-up Daddy's boy.

"You're not my Dad. Louie is not my lover. I'm my own person. Got that?"

She turned and strutted off.

"I'll see you guys back at the hotel tonight," she shouted as she rounded the corner and headed for Larry the Lizard's Porsche. Heard it fire up and disappear from the parking lot.

She called that night to say to she'd be back in the morning. And it was agony, Queen, watching the guy over the next five days, as we waited for the garage to just about overhaul the whole van as an unsettling absence appeared in our world where none would have been noticed a month or so ago.

No page.

No phone call.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

And the thing that ate Louie up inside most was that she had no way of knowing that we didn't leave the next day. She had ditched us for Larry the Lizard, and yet there was something dignified about the way Louie took it. But I could tell he was hurting, really hurting. Those were long strange days. Louie was very quiet most of the time, writing things down in that notebook he always carried around.

At this point, I was beginning to appreciate the relative calm of being back to just me and the kid. Hell, I thought he'd be able to put her behind him. I mean, Queen, it was pretty shitty the way she just didn't call or anything.

The page didn't come until the first night we spent in Flagstaff, at a KOA on the outskirts of town on Interstate 40. Was almost asleep when Louie poked me and asked me for the keys to the van.

"I've got to go back to Winslow and get Ginny."

"Why? Louie. Just forget her. Forget about her, man."

"Dude, she was crying and she says he hit her. I gotta go get her. She took off and is hiding from him."

My jeans were just lying there crumpled and he saw them and helped himself to the keys which were in the pocket. Could hear them jingle and, hell, I thought it was stupid for him to go running back to her. But I was way too fucking tired to mount a protest.

When I woke the next morning the van was back. And there were two full sleeping bags on the ground. Later that morning, when she crawled out of her bag, and I saw the black bruise on her cheek and the dried blood on her lip, I was glad Louie had gone back to get her. I was still mad at her. Very mad. This whole business about taking off with some rich dude reminded me of that first day we ever spoke. How she wanted to marry into money.

So what was her plan? Sticks with us untill Los Angeles so she could cash in? She kept saying she'd never been to Las Vegas, and really was looking forward to it. What did she think- that she was going to meet Robert Redford and he was going pay her a million bucks if she slept with him?

Yeah, I was glad he'd gone back to get her, for her sake.

Not for ours.