Rick Carter's First Big Adventure (Pete's Barbecue Book 1) Read online

  “For someone who doesn’t like it all that much you sure been here a while. You like driving the cab?” The man steadied himself and hiccupped.

  “It pays the bills, you know? I work for myself. I contract the cab, and I set my own hours. And I get to meet some interesting people.” Rick’s mind flashed with a dozen images of past regrets in his cab but he tucked them back and pretended they didn’t exist.

  “Sounds like you got some freedom, guy. I like that. This corporate stuff has its moments but you’re always on their clock, you know? It’s always their dime. Take this Blaylock character. Nicest guy you wanna meet, and loaded to the gills with green but you cross him or make him mad and its pink slip no questions asked. Man needs freedom.” His words trailed off as he slipped into thought.

  The silence allowed Rick’s mind to wander as the conversation seemed to die away. Both of them entertained an almost hypnotic train of unspoken thoughts, the kind that often floods the mind in a stream of conscience kind of way when no one is sure what to say next. Rick finally broke the spell.

  “So you in town long then?” He said, his voice startling the man out of his daydream.

  “Wazzat?” He responded.

  “Town? You in town long?” Rick repeated.

  “Nah, just another day then it’s back to LA. I hate LA. Say, did you tell me you were from Mississippi?” The man recalled, unsure if he had thought it or Rick had said it.

  “Yeah. William’s Landing, remember?” Rick reminded him.

  “Oh, yeah. How come you came down here? This place’s not like home.” The man coughed.

  “I left there after my dad died,” Rick told him again, not sure how much detail he wanted to get into on the subject, especially since the man was half drunk and probably didn’t care all that much.

  “How old was he?” The man asked with a little more clarity.

  “He was in his 80’s. It was just me and him and after he died, I came down here. Seemed like the thing to do at the time. Been here ever since.” Rick explained.

  “You didn’t have anybody else? No relatives or friends?” He lapsed back into a slurred speech.

  “I had some friends, childhood buddies. But, things change you know? People get older, and you lose touch.” He left it at that. “Oh, here we are, you’re hotel.” He pulled the big Crown Vic. into the check-in spot and parked. “That’ll be $5,” He said.

  The man fished in his wallet and located a ten. He handed it to Rick across the seat. “Keep the change buddy. Thanks for the ride.” And he steadied himself as he opened the door and left. Rick was left alone with the ten in his hand and not even enough time to say thank you. Such was the life of a cab driver. Most of the conversations went that way when a conversation could be had. They come, and they go, and they remember no more. He put the car in drive and headed back out into the night.

  The mention of his father and his friends opened a strange door in Rick’s memories that he didn’t often allow unlatched. These were memories he kept sealed behind that door for good reason. They had no place in his ever-day life amid the noise and clatter of the mundane, the boring and the pointless. There was only one of these moments in his past that he allowed to occasionally escape, and that was his father. He loved his dad, still loved him, and for so long there was only the two of them. His dad was too much a part of his life to be buried completely away. He wasn’t Rick’s biological father. But, that didn’t stop him from being the father Rick needed.

  Rick was adopted when he was a baby. He never knew his real parents, and never felt a need to. The mom and dad he knew were mom and dad enough. But, his adopted mother died when he was very young of lung cancer, leaving a dad who was already growing old to look after a young boy. Perhaps that’s why he was so fond of his dad. Through all those tortuous years of growth, it was just the two of them and the old man stood his ground amid the worst of it. They grew very close. That’s why those memories had permission to pop out of the closet ever so often and rattle around in his mind. But, the other memories didn’t have that same permission. The ones about his childhood friends were the ones locked away for good reason. And now he had just so casually and flippantly allowed them to roll out of their lock down like a four alarm prison riot. He dismissed them to his half-drunk fare a few minutes earlier as if they were of little consequence. But, that was misleading and grossly understated. There were some disturbing memories there, and they all revolved around Mel and Roger. He shook his head and tried to force them back into solitary confinement.

  He turned left onto Belcher Street. There was very little traffic on the street, and the lights were mostly green so he could cruise a little and try to forget again. There was a lot of time on the job to forget, sometimes too much. A 42-year-old unmarried man with a span of years in his past that consisted of things he would rather forget, had no business contemplating anything other then what’s for dinner and how much money he had. But, that wasn’t the real world and, unfortunately, that wasn’t how Rick’s mind tended to work either, especially once the dogs were out and barked too loud to ignore. Sometimes these moments took him by surprise. At least this time, he saw it coming. Mel and Roger were loose in his memory now, and they weren’t going to go quietly back in their cages. He could see their faces in his mind with such clarity that he could have described their likeness to a sketch artist to within a fraction of accuracy. The memories were like yesterday, not moldy and distorted by the more than 20 years that had flowed under the bridge of forgetfulness. At least, that was the last time he saw Roger. For Mel, it was longer, nearly 26 years since he mysteriously disappeared. Rick was stunned by the thought that so much time had passed. No, impossible, he thought, has it been that long? Mel’s been missing for 26 years? Apparently he was better at forgetting than he thought, at least on most nights.

  The year was 1984. Roger Parcel, Melvin Thibadeaux, and Rick Carter were all sixteen years old, living in William’s Landing and causing as much havoc and destruction as the law would allow, provided the law knew about it. They had practically grown up together, since the 2nd grade, and had attended the same grade school and high school together and drove the same teachers mad with frustration and anger together. By 1984 they were inseparable. Despite all the bickering, the petty fights, and jealousies, they hung together. Maybe this was because they were so much alike. Sure, each one had his personality, and each one was caught up in the throes of being sixteen and knocking on the door of adulthood but that’s how young men are. Their friendship was solid now, despite the raging hormones and the raging egos. It had been bonded by countless summers of running through the nearby woods and finding things to experiment on and trying to make gunpowder, among other things it’s just best not to discuss. They were the non-jocks, the non-geeks, the non-caring. They had their agenda, and they pursued it happily and ignorantly from the rest of the world.

  Rick lived with his dad, Mel with his aunt and Roger with his two parents and sister all in separate areas of the small town and its tiny suburbs. Roger was the one who lived the furthest out of town, out in the woods sort-of-speak, on the edge of the Mississippi Delta. Roger’s house was where they most often gathered and held court. It afforded them multiple opportunities at mischief and intrigue, and they never failed to disappoint by not getting into very deep trouble doing something they were told not to do. But it was never serious enough to worry anyone, at least, the stuff the grown-ups knew about. But, all of that changed in 1984, the year Mel went missing.

  Rick still had no clue how it happened or even what happened. Mel’s aunt reported him missing, from his bedroom, on Thursday morning. The last time Rick saw him was the evening prior. The three of them had been to the Veteran’s Park, not far from Mel’s house, playing with some firecrackers that Roger had bought the day before. They had fun, until the sun starting going down and the street lights popped on. Then they parted ways, Mel going home, Roger’s mother picking him up and Rick riding his bike to the other side of the small t
own. They would not all be together again after that evening, but none of them knew that then. Not until the next morning at school when the news got out that Mel was missing. His aunt said he went to bed that night as usual, but he wasn’t there when she went to wake him up the next morning. The searching began on the afternoon of that Thursday and continued for six months with no trace, no evidence of what happened to him. He was simply gone, into thin air as if he had evaporated. But, people don’t evaporate. They don’t just disappear. They run away or get kidnapped, but they don’t just vanish. Mel was never heard from again. Their childhoods together as the three compadres ended that fall. Their innocence ended as well. The investigations petered out by spring and Rick and Roger slowly started to drift apart until the last time he saw him was by accident during a chance meeting at a food mart just before his dad died and before Rick moved to Florida. He hadn’t heard from him again. He heard rumors, from other acquaintances that Roger joined the service but never knew which branch or where he was. It’s how things go, you grow up, you move away and life just sort of sweeps you up in an uncontrollable current.

  That current had deposited Rick Carter in a Crown Vic. riding the lonely streets of greater Tampa with a vague feeling that his life hadn’t gone the way he thought it would. The difference between now and 26 years ago was telling and he didn’t like the self-accusation that he had gone nowhere in a hurry. He had to admit to himself how surprising it was that he could remember so much of that time, that day. It was the clearest memories he had from his younger years. Perhaps, the trauma had caused him to seal them indelibly in his brain. Perhaps the trauma was the reason he sat staring out of a dirty windshield most nights wondering what his lunch was going to be. Whatever the case, it was there for good, and it wasn’t until a time like this when he allowed himself to think openly about it that he still felt the pain, the loss, and the confusion. It wasn’t just the loss of Mel. It was the loss of all three of them, the loss of the innocence. It was like they all ceased to exist that fall in 1984. Or, it all could be a load of emotional hogwash.

  Rick held the steering wheel with one outstretched arm and rubbed his forearm with the other hand. He was staring absent-mindedly out of the windshield when the old man stepped into the road. He would have hit the old guy had he not just begun to come out of his deep thought. Instead, he hit the brakes hard and the big Crown Vic. came to a sudden stop just feet away from the old man who was standing there, unmoving, looking at Rick with a glazed over pleasantly blissful look on his face. Rick was returning his stare with a look of deep shock and surprise. It was a good thing he hadn’t been going that fast. He powered his window down and leaned out.

  “Hey! You okay?” He tried to hide the shakiness in his voice.

  The old man smiled a broad smile inside a full white beard. “Yes. I’m okay. Are you okay?”

  “Just scared out my shorts. You got to be careful crossing the street, mister.” Rick implored.

  The old man waved. He was a large man, rotund and tall. His had long white hair. He looked remarkably like Santa Claus without the red suit. “Oh no, I wasn’t crossing the street. I was looking for you.” He said.

  Rick thought this sounded very strange but decided not to test the old man. “Were you looking for a cab?”

  “Yes, a cab. I was looking for a cab.” He said happily. “May I get in your cab then?” He asked. He was very pleasant and cheerful, another Santa Claus like trait. But, he was wearing a rather strange outfit. Underneath a long gray coat, he was wearing what appeared to be a gold suit. It wasn’t metallic, just gold colored. The long coat was also a little strange as the temperatures that night were in the low 70s.

  Rick decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He didn’t usually care much for walk-ups. They typically brought trouble with them and were the types of fares that could end in robberies or worse, murders. But, the old man looked safe enough. So, Rick put the car in park and got out to open the door for him. There were no other cars around.

  The old man sat comfortably and happily in the back seat like he was stepping into an old home he had been away from for a long time. Rick was less concerned about his state of Zen then he was about the destination. “Okay, where to?” He asked casually.

  The old man leaned forward a little. “Please just drive to Howard Street. I will tell you where when we arrive.” He said. His voice was remarkably clear with no hint of an accent.

  Rick put the car in drive. “You know that’s about five blocks the other way, right?”

  “Yes, yes. I know. But, that is where I wish to go.” The old man reiterated.

  “Okay, you’re dime.” Rick replied and he turned the big car around in a perfect U-turn and headed toward Howard Street. “You goin’ home?”

  “No.” The old man simply replied.

  “So, what’s on Howard Street then?” Rick plied as much for conversation’s sake as to gain a clear idea what he was getting into.

  “Something very interesting.” The old man replied. He watched the scenery as it passed by, amused at the sights like a young child visiting a theme park for the first time.

  Yeah, Rick thought. That’s how horror movies start. Once again the awkward silence descended between him and his customer, the same awkward silence that sprouted between two sober strangers meeting for the first time. But, this was what Rick had built his conversational skills around. It was his little study in sociology and how to get people to talk. It also helped him to gauge people and watch for threatening movements or gestures. The old man was quiet, and his quietness kept Rick’s eyes glued on him in the rearview mirror. He decided to open with his first and most reliable icebreaking salvo. “So, you from her…” He started. But, the old man cut him off with a sudden return fire that threw him completely off guard.

  “I bet you’re not from here.” The old man said. “You strike me as a man not from Tampa, Florida even though you’ve been here for a while.” He quickly blurted out.

  Rick was too surprised to respond.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to be from Tampa. I mean, how many people in Florida are actually from Florida? Not many would be my guess. You like to drive at night, don’t you? I can sense that. I have that ability you know. I can sense things about people. Which reminds me, you should be about ready to find out.” He said kindly and cryptically.

  “I’m sorry?” Rick added. I really hope this nut ball has got a wad of cash in that overcoat and not a pig sticker or a drop gun, he thought. “What did you say?”

  “It’s time. Time you find out.” The old man repeated.

  “Find out what?” Rick was keeping a good eye on him in the rearview mirror, his right foot poised over the brake. They weren’t going that fast, but if he hit the brakes even at this speed, it would be enough to unbalance the old guy if he tried anything. Maybe buy Rick enough time to jump out and run for it.

  “That you’re the most important man in the world.” The old man simply replied as if he dropped that sort of remark into every small conversation he got into in his day.

  Rick looked at him now with even more caution. Oh, boy, what have I picked up now? “Uh, huh. That’s nice.” His tone was condescending. I’ll be glad to get this guy out of my cab. Serves me right for picking him up in the first place. And look, all the lights are red now. He had to stop for each one. There were four between him, and their destination and that was four too many.

  “You shouldn’t be alarmed by what I say. It’s not a pride thing. Nothing egotistical about it, just a fact. A cold, solid undeniable fact.” The old man added.

  “I’m sure. Look you want to give me an address, mister?” Rick tried to change the subject. He was growing intensely uncomfortable with the conversation.

  “It’s just a few blocks up Howard Street…once you make the turn.” The old man informed him.

  Good, Rick thought. Not that far. He made the last light and took the turn to the left onto Howard. After three blocks he slowed the car down. T
his wasn’t a residential area. It was full of old factory buildings and warehouses. His alarm bells started sounding. He stopped beside the windowless brick wall of one of the old warehouses, covered in layers of graffiti. Time to get out of here, he thought. “Here?”

  “Yes, here is fine. How much?” The old man asked as he reached into his overcoat. Rick was relieved to see him pull out a bulging leather bi-fold.

  “Just three bucks,” Rick said.

  The old man grunted. “So little? That’s ridiculous. Here’s a fifty.” He handed him the nice crisp new bill. “But, I need one last thing. I need you to wait here for ten minutes.”

  “For you?” Rick asked.

  “You’ll see. Just wait ten minutes. Okay?” He leaned forward again and waited for Rick’s acknowledgment. “Promise me. Ten minutes.”

  Rick nodded, looking at the nice fifty in his hand. “Yeah, okay. Ten minutes.” He couldn’t believe he agreed to it. Everything about the old man screamed crazy. And he was so tired of crazy.

  The old man opened the door and stepped out. “Good. Don’t be worried.” He reassured Rick. Then he closed the door and disappeared quickly into the deep shadows of the night. Ten minutes, Rick thought. If you’re not back by then, I’m leaving you here old man. Don’t think I won’t. He looked around into as much of the dark that he could see, his headlights still on and the motor running. He was taking in the surroundings, memorizing everything in his vicinity on the street as he waited. It turned out he didn’t have to wait the whole ten minutes. In fact, it was only four and a half minutes before his calm was destroyed by a completely different stranger. This one was also disheveled, but he came running out of the darkness in front of the car, into the light of the headlights, and hit the hood of the car with a loud resounding slap of his hands. Rick was looking in the rearview mirror at the time. The sound made him jump in his seat. When their eyes met, the wild man was staring at him. They locked their stares, both in surprise and fear, both panting from fright. Rick’s heart rate went through the roof which probably wasn’t good for a 340-pound 42-year-old man. His hands were tightly holding the steering wheel from reflex. For a few seconds, neither of them moved or said anything. Then the wild and crazy looking man quickly made his way to the back door of the cab, opened it and fell inward, pulling the door shut behind him. “Drive!” He shouted. “Quickly, just drive!”