Another day, another dollar, thinks Darren as he cleans his brush in the laundry sink. He has repainted the entire ground floor of this big house by the river in less than a week, and he feels good. Fenton couldn’t make it again today but that was OK — Darren managed to finish the job by himself. He is whistling to himself, getting ready to leave, when Joe Davis knocks on the door. He says he is selling tickets for the rocket car jump across the river. He lives just across the road from the ramp. (Darren knows this — Davis lives in a trailer so crooked and parked so close to the bank of the river it looks like it might topple in.) He says people are buying tickets to sit in his yard and watch the jump tomorrow.
“Twenty-five bucks each.” Davis holds a limp fan of handwritten tickets in his filthy hand. They say: Rocket Car — Admit One — $25. He smells like urine and sweat. Darren looks from the stubbled face down to Joe’s mud-covered rubber boots and thanks God he didn’t invite him in.
“What are you talking about? Who says the jump is tomorrow?”
“They brought the car up from the States last week. I seen it. They’re keeping it at Danny Franklin’s garage in Chesterville.”
“Listen, I know the guy. He isn’t even in town right now. They haven’t even finished fixing the ramp.”
“Guess he’s comin’ back then, and I guess it’ll have to be done. One o’clock tomorrow is what Danny says. You want some tickets or what? I only got ten left.” Darren finds this hard to believe. He finds all of it hard to believe.
“OK, even if the jump was happening, why in the hell would anyone buy tickets? If it was actually happening — which it isn’t — and I really wanted to see it, why wouldn’t I just drive over there, pull over to the side of the road, and watch it? For free?”
“Suit yourself. Won’t be no refreshments, though. Me and the boys are gonna be selling beer, too.”
This makes even less sense. Darren thinks about exploring this further — Why couldn’t he bring his own beer? — but decides against it. There is no point.
“Thanks, anyway.” He takes a step backward, reaches for the door.
“You sure? Last chance.”
Darren is pretty sure. He raises a hand as if to wave and takes another step back, closes the door. Unbelievable. Darren might be new in town, but he has heard all about this Davis character. He is a known lunatic. Claire told him that Davis used to chase girls when she was a teenager. Just break out and chase them down the street with his dirty hair sticking out all over the place. He never caught Claire, but she heard from other girls that he would knock them to the ground, pin their arms down with his knees, and tickle them. Hard. Then he would just get up and walk away. Leaving them there on the ground.
You might think this would diminish his popularity. But everyone just sort of takes Davis’s behaviour as a fact of life. Still wave at him at the gas station or the grocery store, still ask about his family. And they make damn sure they warn their daughters not to walk by his place, to take the long way home if they have to.
Darren has seen some rough towns in his life with some strange people, but Preston Mills is something else.