Out of the Frying Pan - Part 6
Let me remind you, Marla, we are good looking! We are free, and we have more money than we know how to spend. That’s a lot to be thankful for, if you ask me.
Hey ! It’s another road trip with Haylene and Marla! This is PART 6.
Click for PART 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and PART 7
“Okay, so here’s the deal,” said Haylene, licking the salt from the rim of her cocktail glass. “Jerome and I have decided to go our separate ways. We are definitely Splitsville. We had a lot of fun, I’ll tell you what! But our romance has come to an end.”
“You mean just because of that incident with Wanda?”
“Wanda! That little mattress monkey? That girl can just kiss my go to hell, and that’s all I ‘m saying about her.”
It was a brilliant red-orange evening in the fine state of Florida. The sunlight was sliding in sideways under a layer of clouds, lighting up the sky like neon, turning the palm trees into post-card perfect silhouettes. The pelicans were parading in a long line, dipping and climbing just above the surf as Marla and Haylene sat lounging on their front porch, drinking Margaritas and eating Cheese Puffs out of a large Pyrex bowl.
“But Haylene, how many hundreds of times does that man have to apologize to you? It was just one little indiscretion — he doesn’t care anything about Wanda.”
“Oh, honey, I know. He’s apologized plenty for his little one-night fling, but I don’t care about that. Men are men, they can’t help it. It is in their DNA. A man’s brain is always his second-most motivating body part.”
“Yeah.”
“But when it comes right down to it,” said Haylene, sucking the fluorescent orange Cheese Puff dust off her fingertips, “Jerome and I, we’re just plain geographically incompatible. He wrestles alligators and he’s gotta stay in Loxahoochie where the work is, and there’s no way in hell I’m gonna leave my beautiful home and move down to that backwater.”
“Well, no, I can’t see that happening. Ever.”
“Let me remind you, Marla — We are free as birds and we have more money than we know how to spend. That’s a lot to be thankful for, kid! So why are we sitting around here? What do you say we go look for some fun? I am thinking we should take a little spin through Louisiana for a couple of weeks? You know — Cajuns and all! Think of it!
The old yellow Camaro flew up the I-95, cutting through Florida like a hot knife through butter. They pulled into Tallahassee by 4:30 and checked into a large, overpriced room at the upscale Hotel Duval for the night. Haylene wasn’t much for exercise, but they headed for the fitness center, thinking it would be a good idea since they’d just spent six hours cramped up in the car.
***
“Aaack! Get me offa this thing, Marla! I can’t get it to stopppppp!” Marla jumped off the treadmill and ran over to extricate Haylene from the elliptical. “This thing’s a goddamn death-trap. I feel like I been attacked by an egg-beater. Let’s get out of here and go get a drink, for Pete’s sake!”
Eight p.m. found them hanging out in the rooftop lounge. Haylene, with her platinum hair piled high as whipped cream on peach pie, and her short leopard-print halter dress, was flirting, as usual, with any man that caught her eye. Despite being nearly 43, she was the recipient of more than a few appreciative stares from the single gentlemen in the bar, and no doubt a few married ones as well. Young Marla was used to her housemate’s favorite pastime, so while Haylene perched on a bar stool drinking a Manhattan courtesy of a tall curly-haired guy in thick-rimmed glasses, Marla stood out on the deck with a Mai Tai. Surveying the Tallahassee city lights spread out below her, she was lost in a memory, giving thanks that Haylene had helped her escape from her stepfather in Tennessee. She shuddered to think of it even now.
By nine in the morning they were heading west on the I-10 for a six-hour drive to New Orleans. The car radio was tuned to WQIK out of Jacksonville, “the #1 country music station". They were playing old favorites such as, “I’m the Only Hell My Mama Ever Raised”, “How Can I Miss You If You Won’t Go Away”, and “It Ain’t Love, But It Ain’t Bad.”
Marla and Haylene were singing along with Bobby Bare that fine old spiritual, Drop Kick Me Jesus …
Just outside of Pensacola, the Camaro sputtered a few times, coughed and lurched sideways like it was doing the foxtrot. “What the hell is that?” said Haylene, pulling into the slow lane, and then well off the highway on the wide shoulder. The engine wheezed a few more times and died, right up next to the flowering oleanders and the chainlink fence.
“Son of a gun!” said Haylene. “Now what?” She tried to start the engine, but it was as dead as the Equal Rights Amendment.
“Let’s just get out, Haylene, and put the hood up. Somebody’ll come along.” They stood there in their little white shorts and sandals, blonde hair signaling like semaphores in the onshore breeze. They were leaning back against the Camaro, watching three fighter jets fly in formation out over the gulf, no doubt out of Eglin, when a man on a Harley FLT pulled onto the shoulder, scattering gravel and dust, and then a second man skidded right up behind him on an old Sturgis.
“ Oooo, now, look at that,” Haylene whispered. “There’s a couple of tall, handsome drinks of sweet iced tea, if you ask me.”
“Shush, Haylene!”
The men got off their bikes, pulled off their helmets and walked over. “Good morning. My name’s Trevor, and this is my brother Brad. Wow! Nice old Camaro. What is it, a ‘78?”
“It’s a ‘79.”
“What seems to be the trouble?”
“Damned if I know,” said Haylene. “You know anything about old cars?”
“Sure do. We could take a look for you. Might be something simple – you never know.” Trevor got his tools from his saddlebags. “Come on, brother, let’s see what’s going on here with this beauty.” They monkeyed around under the hood for about ten minutes. Then Brad got behind the wheel, turned the key and it started right up.
“There you go. All set. A wire came loose from the distributor, is all, but we got it back together for you. You’re good to go - but you might want to get that looked at pretty soon to make sure it’s running right.”
Haylene weaseled them into going to lunch together – her treat, before getting back on the road, and the four soon found themselves on the sun deck of the Oar House looking out over the water, tall frosty Arnold Palmers in their hands, fish and chips on the way. “So, are you two ladies sisters?”
“Nah, we’ve just been hanging out for a year or so, best friends – sorta like peas and carrots.”
“Where you headed?”
“We live down in Vero Beach and just decided to spend a couple of weeks driving around Louisiana, hoping our reputation does not precede us.”
“I’m just trying to keep Haylene out of trouble, but it doesn’t always work out. She landed us in jail twice on our last trip. How about you two?”
“We’re from Philadelphia and we’ve been riding around the country together for about a year now –we try to stay out of trouble, too, if we can.”
“Well, that’s a damn shame,” Haylene laughed. “ I can’t help you there, boys.”
“A whole year on the road? Why on earth did you decide to do that?” Marla wanted to know.
“We are on what we call a vision quest,” said Trevor. “We both lost our families in a terrible car accident over a year ago and since then we’ve sort of dedicated ourselves to helping out families who are in trouble.”
“Yeah, we both sold our businesses to free up our lives,” said Brad. “Losing a family is a hard, hard thing to live with, as you can imagine, and it really helps make our lives a little more bearable, if we are able to reach out to others – you know, to make a difference in someone else’s life.”
“Wow! That is some story!” said Marla. “I am so sorry to hear about your family, but thank goodness you have each other. Tell you the truth, I feel honored to meet you both.”
“You two gentlemen are just as sweet as cherry pie,” added Haylene, brushing the bread crumbs off of her lap, and emptying her glass. “Where are y’all going next?”
“We are here in Pensacola visiting an old navy buddy for a few days, and then we’ll be traveling back home by way of the coast. There is a veteran up near Savannah we need to see – we think maybe we can do him some good.”
Haylene and Marla arrived at the swanky Bourbon Orleans Hotel in the center of the French quarter about two o’clock. Their second story suite had two large beds with fluffy white duvets, a minibar, and a wrought iron balcony that looked out onto the bustling New Orleans streets. They’d decided to forgo exercising, and were lounging around the huge swimming pool in their bikinis, resting up for the evening’s entertainment. Taking a sip of her gin and tonic, Haylene, noticed that there were only women around the pool at the moment. “We might as well be at the YWCA,” she said. Marla was content to float around on her back in the shallow end of the quiet pool and lie in the sun.
An older woman with long white hair was sitting alone on a lounge chair. She was wearing a wide-brimmed, chartreuse hat and a hot pink swimsuit that looked a bit skimpy for a woman her age, but she did it justice. She had a glass of white wine in one hand and a copy of Shades of Gray in the other. She looked up and smiled at them.
“Now that woman,” Haylene whispered. “is rocking that swimsuit, if you ask me.”
“How old do you think she is?” Marla whispered.
“Hard to say, but I would guess at least 70.”
“Let’s invite her to join us, Haylene. Might be fun.”
***
Bella had agreed to sit with them, and they discovered, to their amazement, that she was 81. She was booked to read Tarot cards in the lounge that evening. She apparently traveled all over the country by bus, doing readings and participating in ritual theater shows.
“Eighty-one years old! Well don’t that beat all!” said Haylene. “That’s an interesting life you got going on, Bella.”
“You two come to the bar tonight after eight. I’ll read a couple of cards for you. Then we can hit the streets, in a manner of speaking. We’ll go around the corner to Bourbon Street for some bar-hopping and a little Zydeco. Maybe go on down to Tipitinos.” You like to dance?”
“You bet!” Bella was old enough to be her mother, but she was a woman after Haylene’s own heart. “Lets see what kind of fun we can find.”
Bella was standing at the bar dressed all in black and silver. Her low-cut black sweater, which showed off her dragon-fly tattoo, among other attributes, was sprinkled with silver studs and sequins. She wore high-heeled silver sandals with ankle straps, long dangles of earrings. A couple of black feathers decorated her long white hair – crow, or maybe raven? Her capri pants were so tight you could see her religion.
“This woman has more style than Carters has pills,” said Haylene.
• In Part 7 the second half of this adventure, we’ll follow the women for a night out in New Orleans with Bella, and run into Jimmy Swann who is taking a break from the Caballo Loco Ranch in Arizona.
• Thank you to
for allowing brothers, Trevor and Brad, to ride their motorcycles through my story. To read Scott’s Vision Quest odyssey, click HERE. I recommend it.
This is great! Happy to see the girls again. I recognized Trevor and Brad right away. Such a clever idea to incorporate the characters from another author. I will be interested to see how they get along with old Jimmy Swann. And now, since you're borrowing characters, I'm wondering if Bella is someone I should recognize. She is an intriguing character, for sure.
"Capri pants were so tight you could see her religion." One of the many lol moments.
It was fun reading about Marla and Haylene again. Thanks, Sharron, for including Trevor and Bradford in your story. I guess now I need to get them down to Pensacola.