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The sky was full and black with the promise of rain by the time Olander’s battered pick-up pulled into the trailer park. Jo helped Ben out of the vehicle. He was still sodden and wrapped in the same blanket she’d given him on The Lady Ann. Jo glared at Bill Olander and slammed the pick-up’s door shut on him, but the fisherman still seemed oblivious to her anger and the gesture just bounced off him. He turned and waved a hello to Crazy and Leyton, who both sat on orange crates outside Irma’s office playing cards. Leyton eyed Ben and then the heavy clouds gathering above their heads.
“How the hell did you get wet this time?” he said. “It ain’t even rained yet.”
Jo tightened the blanket around Ben and ushered him away before he could reply. As they walked away, Ben turned and saw that Olander was out of the pick-up. He was standing opposite Crazy, giving the older man a cold stare. He then noticed Leyton turn to stare at the old man too; the surfer’s features suddenly appearing stony, rather than stoned. Ben kept watching and saw Irma’s painted face appear at the office window too; a third hostile look aimed at Crazy. He saw the old man shuffle and fidget uncomfortably, starting to buckle under the weight of the stares. Crazy caught Ben’s eye and looked embarrassed. The old man coughed and stood up, pushing past Olander and Leyton to catch up with Ben and Jo. Crazy nodded a greeting to them and helped walk Ben back to their caravan. Crazy glanced back to see Leyton and Olander still watching him. When he turned back, Crazy saw Ben frowning at him.
“Sorry,” said Crazy, a little too quickly. “I should’ve warned you about Olander. You both OK?”
“Not really,” said Ben. “You got any of that whiskey left?”
“Sure,” said Crazy. “I’ll bring a bottle over.”
Jo gave Ben a worried look, but quickly decided this wasn't the time to challenge him on his drinking.
“I was actually hoping you two might want to join me and Leyton down at The Cat tonight,” said Crazy.
Ben noticed something different about the old man today. There was an awkwardness to him at odds with the reckless, my-way-or-the-highway bravado he'd projected the day before.
“I’m singing,” continued Crazy. “It ain’t Caesars Palace, but I thought you might enjoy it.”
“Ben’s had a really rough day,” said Jo. “I think we better rest up.”
“It’s a short set,” said Crazy. “I’ll even throw in a couple of rounds on me.”
“No thanks Crazy,” said Jo. “We’d better...”
“We’ll be there,” said Ben, cutting in. “We just need a little rest and a shower first.”
Jo’s eyes flashed with anger, but she held her breath as they reached the caravan. Crazy supported Ben while she fumbled for the key and opened the caravan door. She quickly disappeared inside without a word. The two men watched her go and then looked at each other.
“Looks like you might be in the doghouse,” said Crazy.
“She’ll be OK.
The two men lingered there and for a moment, Ben saw a sadness and appreciation in the older man’s eyes that touched him. It suddenly dawned on him that it was a huge deal for a man like Crazy to ask them to come and watch him perform. A man who had obviously failed, yet still proudly believed in himself; believed he still had something to give.
“Look,” said Crazy. “Maybe you shouldn’t come tonight. You do look pretty banged up. I just, I just had to ask.”
“It's OK,” said Ben. “We’ll be there.”
“No, you don’t look so good.”
“I said we’ll be there,” said Ben. “Now if you’re still offering, I could really use that drink.”
“OK.”
“OK.”
Crazy then helped Ben inside the caravan and left him to Jo.
Jo was quiet, too quiet. Ben watched her fill the kettle and pull two mugs out of the cupboard. He thought about his request for Crazy’s whiskey and his promise to go to The Black Cat, all straight after the strange events on The Lady Ann. He knew Jo was angry with him and that a storm was brewing in the caravan every bit as destructive as the one churning in the sky outside. He stared at the boiling kettle, trying to think of something to say that might lighten her mood. She had over filled it and the water quickly began to bubble over, the lid flipping and juddering, as it rode the steam’s building pressure. She put two spoons of sugar in Ben’s mug with a shaking hand, then filled it with hot water. She began stirring the tea automatically.
“Are you all right?” he said.
“I’m fine,” she said, still stirring. “You’re the one that came this close to dying.”
“Maybe you should sit down.”
“Is it me,” she said, “Or did that bloody boat trip not happen?”
She turned and looked at him. He could see she was fraught, strung out.
“I thought you were going to be ripped apart in front of my eyes,” she said. “And I made you go out there.”
“You didn’t make me do anything.”
“How come you’re so fucking calm?” Her voice was wavering now.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m tired, and I guess I’m just glad to be alive.”
Jo turned away and snatched the spoon from his mug of tea. She frowned.
“Fuck. You don’t even take sugar.”
She tipped the tea down the sink and sniffed, as her eyes began to well up. Ben moved in and closed his arms around her, as she started to cry.
“I nearly lost you,” she said. “I nearly lost you.”
He remained there, hugging her tightly, as she bawled into his chest.
Crazy rapped on the door and opened it. He saw the two of them embracing as she sobbed. Ben caught his eye and Crazy nodded at him, putting a half-full bottle of whiskey on the work-surface. Crazy then carefully retreated, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could.
Crazy stood outside Ben’s caravan, staring into space. He swallowed hard, trying to reconcile his feelings of guilt and defiance wrestling inside. He thought about the couple, about this man and what he'd been through. He thought about what was yet to come. Something in Crazy snapped and he about-turned sharply. He reached for the caravan’s door handle again, but before he could turn it, a woman’s wrinkled hand closed over his. Crazy turned to see Irma standing next to him, her insane dark eyes shining at him from that painted face. He hesitated, but kept his hand on the handle. Irma stared at him and slowly shook her head. She then opened her mouth as wide as it would stretch, revealing a lolling, severed stump where her tongue used to be.
Crazy stared at the severed tongue in disgust. He withdrew his hand from the door and backed away from Irma and her mouth. He reluctantly retreated in the direction of his own caravan.
Message received and understood.
Irma closed her mouth and continued to stare blankly at him as he walked away.
*
Jo and Ben slept through the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening. She lay in his arms, in the darkness. It would have been a peaceful scene, except for Ben’s eyes dancing and rolling beneath their lids, as he replayed the same nightmare that awaited him every time he closed his eyes. He moaned and his face tightened, as if in pain, as he watched the car crash play out in his mind yet again; the day his wife was taken from him. It was the same dream, countless times; again and again, always the same.
His eyes snapped open.
For a moment, he stared deep into the shadows of the darkened room, through them. His brow creased in confusion, as he tried to fully emerge from his memories. He slowly unraveled himself from Jo, making her murmur, and crawled to the edge of the bed. There, cast in a moonlit glow, he rolled a cigarette and stared out through the window at nothing. A light tapping on the caravan’s door roused him from his introspection.
“Yeah?” he said quietly.
The door opened to reveal Crazy. The old man was squeezed into a showy, black tuxedo that had seen better days.
“Are you still coming?” He whispered.
Jo groaned and turned over, burying her head beneath the pillows. Ben coughed, as a wave of Crazy’s aftershave hit him.
“What is that, eau de mace?” he said. “Yeah, give us ten minutes.”
“I’m driving,” said Crazy. “You’ll be sharing with Leyton, so no more fist fights, OK?”
“Don't worry about me,” said Ben. “I've had enough drama for one day.”
Crazy half-smiled and turned to leave.
“Hey Crazy,” said Ben.
The old man stopped and turned to face him.
“You look like a real pro.”
Crazy's mouth stretched into a wide grin before he could stop himself. He opened his mouth to speak, then just blinked something away from his eyes instead, and quickly turned away on his heels, shutting the door behind him. Ben moved over to the bed and raised a pillow to reveal a snug and drowsy Jo beneath, complete with wild sleep-hair. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. She slowly opened her eyes and gazed up at him. He felt the last echoes of fear and guilt from the dream finally melt away. He looked into Jo’s eyes, and he experienced a brief, but true moment of pure clarity. In that moment he had just one thought. He realized how much he truly loved this woman.
*
Thunder rumbled through apocalyptic skies above, as Crazy’s Camira hurtled through the night towards Sweetwater. Crazy was behind the wheel with Leyton beside him, smoking a joint. Jo and Ben sat in the back; Ben unable to take his eyes off the road speeding towards them through the windscreen. Another loud clap of thunder rolled out from the skies overhead.
“The Gods are sure pissed tonight,” said Leyton, smirking. “Eh Crazy?”
The older man stared ahead and said nothing.
“What’s the matter with you?” said Leyton. “Stage fright?”
The surfer turned back to speak to Jo, his eyes getting lost on the way and finding her legs instead of her face.
“Believe me, it ain’t him that needs to be afraid. It’s the audience.”
“I’m sure you’re going to be great, Crazy,” said Jo.
“C’mon old timer,” said Leyton, sarcastically. “You’re not normally so jumpy. After all, you played Vegas. Apparently.”
Leyton then leaned in close to Crazy and whispered in his ear, all traces of humor suddenly gone.
“Lighten the fuck up,” said the surfer.
Crazy looked back at Leyton, but still said nothing.
The Camira pulled up in town, and its four passengers stepped out into a street as black as the night sky. All the streetlamps were out tonight. The only source of light was radiating from the Black Cat’s sign and doorway. Ben turned his collar against the wind and looked up, as more rumbles of low thunder growled above. Jo and Ben shared a glance, as they steeled themselves for Sweetwater's nightlife. They followed Crazy and Leyton through the seedy looking doorway, into the bar known as The Black Cat.