I Remember You

by Joyce Armor

  All five of the Full Court Press party were shaken from their thoughts by a commotion at the back of the room and a collective gasp as Russell, dressed as Muskman, burst through the door carrying—could it be?—“Muskman,” Volume One, Number One. He practically skipped toward the stage as someone hooted and others clapped.

  When he reached the stage, Russell stopped, turned around and assumed the pose. More clapping and cheers erupted. “Who knows what passion lurks in the hearts and minds of men and especially women…Muskman knows.”

  The auctioneer had to ask the audience to quiet down several times as Russell turned once again and presented the comic to him. He stepped aside and proudly assumed the Muskman poster pose again. He watched in satisfaction as Sludge, looking almost green and decidedly alarmed, struggled up and stumbled out of the room.

  The auctioneer perused the comic briefly, then replaced it in the sleeve and turned to the crowd. “It’s in pristine condition, folks, the only known issue of “Muskman,” Volume One, Number One in existence. It’s had only one owner and was only driven to church on Sundays. Who will start the bidding at two hundred thousand?”

  A man raised his paddle.

  “Yep!”

  “And now two-fifty, two-fifty, two-fifty…”

  “Yep!”

  As the bidding continued, Roger looked at Spencer. “Do you want it? I’ll stop the bidding now.”

  Spencer hesitated, thinking about what the comic represented. It was a momentary temptation. “No…I guess not.” He thought about it another minute as the bid rose. “But could I have the costume?”

  “Four-fifty, four-fifty, four-fifty…”

  “Yep!”

  “Dang,” Roger smiled.

  * * *

  It took Sludge 20 minutes to get to his car and back to his cheap motel, and he had flipped off more than one driver along the way as they impeded his journey. He shoved his gray Datsun into park and jumped out, taking the stairs two at a time as he rushed to his room on the second floor. He fumbled with the key—that’s how old the motel was—dropping it twice before he finally managed to get it in the doorknob and barged through the doorway. Throwing himself onto the floor, he reached under the unmade bed and pulled out the briefcase as well as a large dust ball.

  He didn’t even bother to check the email on his laptop for the code to open the briefcase. He grabbed a baseball bat he always kept near his bed and beat the lock off the briefcase in a state of near hysteria. He knew he was screwed, but it didn’t stop him from looking. After all his frenzy, he stared at the briefcase for a long time before he opened it. Finally, he slowly lifted the lid to reveal dozens of Archie comic books.

  Outside, a couple of ladies of the evening walked to their rooms in the downtrodden motel. As they passed a certain room, they heard a keening “Noooooooooooo!” resonating through the door.

  They looked at each other, not alarmed—they’d seen it all—but curious.

  “Should we call security, May?”

  May thought about it for a second. “Naw, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense.”

  “Okay, then, what happens in that room stays in that room.”

  “Works for me.”

  They sashayed off.

  * * *

  In Ellie’s hotel room, Toni and Rob sat on the bed, their backs propped on pillows, as Tiffy bounced at the foot of the bed and Ellie leaned on the bureau.

  “That was the most fun you can have with clothes on,” Toni laughed. “Rob was magnificent. You should have seen him. I really believed he was a rich Texan. And you should have seen Tiffy. She was amazing.”

  “Yeah, even though it was hot in that sofa, but I couldn’t have done it without you guys. And Russell.”

  Ellie pushed away from the bureau. “Russell was there? My Russell?” She caught herself. “I mean, our Russell?”

  Toni nodded. “Yeah, that threw me, too, at first.”

  I forgot to tell you. He was just bringing an added distraction if we needed it,” Tiffy said. “We had it all planned.”

  Ellie was confused. “But he was so mad. I thought he left. I thought he’d be back in Bella Casa by now.”

  Tiffy stopped bouncing. “Hashtag, that was just an act we cooked up at breakfast before you got there. We knew you liked him…”

  “What?”

  Busted

  “He should have gotten to the auction by now with the comic,” Toni said. “I wonder how much it’ll bring.”

  Rob sat up and stretched. “That jerk is such a lowlife.”

  Now Ellie looked even more confused. “Russell?” What was up with all this…this whatever it was?

  “No, Sludge. What a scuzball. The guy thinks he’s so smart.”

  “What if he goes to the police?” Tiffy wondered.

  Toni got up and smoothed out the wrinkles in her linen dress, which Ellie couldn’t help but notice was stylish and showing off her best attributes as always. Ironic, Brian always looked great wrinkle-free, and Toni looked fabulous even with wrinkles. I guess if you like somebody a lot, you don’t even notice how they look, or you look beyond how they look.

  “To report that someone stole his stolen property?” Toni glanced at the phone. “Hey, there’s voicemail on your phone.”

  Ellie looked over. “Oh, I forgot to charge it earlier and left it plugged in over there. That must have been when I went to get some ice.”

  When Toni handed her the phone, and she hit a button and pressed it to her ear. After listening for a few moments, she looked stunned. She pressed the button and listened to the message again and then hung up the phone and sunk down on the bed, somewhat in shock.

  Toni grabbed her hand. “What? Who was it? I hope no one died.”

  “No. It’s…it’s…”

  “You’re so pale. Who was it? What happened?”

  “Brian wants me to meet him.”

  Toni relaxed. “Oh, is that all? You scared me practically to death. So he wants to see you. That’s good. Isn’t it?”

  Ellie looked around at all three of them, then took a deep breath. “At the Little Chapel of the Desert.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  Fidgeting, Ellie still looked stunned. “He…he probably just has to pick up something at the chapel.”

  “Yeah, like a bride,” Tiffy said, kind of snotty. “What about Russell?”

  Yeah, what about Russell? That’s the big question, isn’t it?

  “You’ll always wonder if you don’t go,” Toni prodded.

  Ellie looked at Rob as if he had all the answers. Rob put his hands up in surrender. “I’m staying out this. And you should, too, Toni.”

  “Call me Bianca.” Then she turned to Ellie. “You have to go. Hell, I’ll go. You need to change your clothes. Did you bring that off-white lacy thing I like?”

  “No, and I’m not dressing up.”

  “Well, you’re not wearing that,” Toni said, looking askance at her knee-length shorts and tangerine Full Court Press t-shirt.

  Toni supervised while Ellie reluctantly changed clothes in the bathroom. Toni had talked her into wearing her yellow sundress and took off her own spangly, multicolored necklace and hooked it on her friend. Then she grabbed a little bottle of something from her purse and sprayed it on Ellie.

  “That better not be bug spray.”

  “It’s Coco Mademoiselle. Now stand still. Let me fix your hair.”

  Rather than fight the inevitable, Ellie gave in and let Toni have her way with her hair. She truly did have a wonderful sense of fashion and accessorizing, so she undoubtedly knew hair, too. And what was Ellie’s area of talent again? We’ll get back to you on that.

  The whole process only had taken a few minutes, and now Ellie was about to leave and face her destiny. Had every minute of her whole life been leading up to this? It was a daunting thought.

  “Wait a minute,” she said as she reached the door and turned around. “Russell was in on it
from the beginning? No one really suspected him? He didn’t really quit?”

  “Let’s face it,” Tiffy said, fluffing her hair. “You’re not a very good actress. Everything you think and feel shows on your face. Like now. You’re stunned but excited and maybe hopeful. But scared. Russell and I are the ones who made sure Sludge found out about the buyers in the penthouse. We thought Sludge would believe Russell better if he was mad at Roger and Bonnie. And your reaction made it all seem more real.”

  Ellie thought about that, hovering between understanding and extreme annoyance.

  Toni tapped on her watch. “Tick, tick, tick. Go!”

  But maybe we can go forward.

  Is this what he meant? OMG!

  After she left, Rob turned to Toni. “You know, if she marries Brian, she’ll be moving back to Vegas.”

  “You’re right. I should be trying to hook her up with the rodent.”

  Rob pulled her close and hugged her. “She’s lucky to have you as a friend.”

  “I just want her to be happy and get everything she deserves.”

  “I wonder if that’s what she really wants,” Tiffy said, almost under breath.

  Several minutes later, Russell, still in his Muskman regalia, knocked on Ellie’s door as Tiffy strutted down the hallway in another killer bikini, this one white with tiny green polka dots. How many bikinis could one woman own? She was carrying a towel and a spray can of sun block. He should have been drooling, but he wasn’t. He must be tired.

  “She’s not there,” Tiffy said.

  “Oh, okay, I just wanted to let her know everything’s cool.”

  He started off.

  “I think she’s getting married.”

  He stopped, with effort keeping his jaw from hitting the floor. “What?!”

  Tiffy stopped and adjusted the top of her bikini. Yes, it spoke volumes that Russell noticed but didn’t really give a hoot.

  “She’s meeting her old boyfriend at some wedding chapel.”

  He wanted to not care. He wanted desperately to not care. So he wouldn’t. It was a matter of willpower. She made her bed; she could lie in it. Literally. But did it have to be with Mr. Perfect with creases in his jeans?

  “Well, fine…if that’s what she wants, great. Super. I’m sure they’ll be very happy together in their perfect house with perfect creases in their pants.” He headed toward his and Tiffy’s room.

  “Yeah,” Tiffy said over her shoulder as she headed toward the elevators. “You’ll probably find another soul mate next week.”

  Russell put the card key in the door and entered the room as Tiffy stood waiting, tapping her sandaled foot. A moment later, as she knew he would, Russell came flying out of the room.

  “What chapel?”

  “Little something.”

  Now Russell tapped his furry foot. “Come on, come on.”

  “Little…Little Chapel of the Something!”

  “Close enough.” He started off, then came back to her, grabbed her to him by the shoulders and kissed her on the cheek.

  She smiled. And then he headed for the stairs at a dead run.

  * * *

  At a Bellagio casino bar, Roger, Bonnie and Spencer sat sipping on soft drinks. Spencer picked his up and studied it.

  “Dang, we sure have mellowed,” he said in a philosophical tone.

  Roger looked at his friend fondly. “Did you get what you wanted in life, Spence? Not that it’s over.”

  Spencer thought about it so long, Roger almost forget what they were talking about. Then he said, “Well, I’m still getting it, but honestly, I don’t think I’d change much. I had some hard times, some incredible highs, both chemically-induced and naturally, and have few regrets. I should have stopped drinking sooner, and I might have treated my first wife a little better, but she did let the kids color on my first edition of Catch-22.”

  Bonnie smiled. “Whatever happened to Carla?”

  “She died sometime in the mid-‘90s. Liver cancer.”

  “That’s too bad. I liked her, even though she was kind of bitchy.” Bonnie looked out over the casino, which was noisy and vibrating with gamers on slots and tables. The clang of coins and the shouts of “Coming out!” from a craps table echoed as “Smooth,” the catchy Santana/Rob Thomas song, piped through the speakers. She felt such a camaraderie with the two men seated next to her and somehow a disconnect with the setting.

  “Do you ever feel like life is passing you by?” she asked somberly.

  “Nah,” said Roger. “We’re just old so everybody looks like they’re moving faster.”

  “Uh, I think they are moving faster,” Spencer said.

  Bonnie adjusted her jeans, which were a skosh too tight. She was looking forward to their move to France without a moment of doubt. It would be an adventure, something new and different, a chance to explore and dream. It wasn’t as if they couldn’t come back if they didn’t like it or got tired of it. As Roger said more than once, France was their Volume 2, and they would make the most of it. Maybe it would even entice their kids to travel.

  Spencer had definitely mellowed over the years. The angry drinking man had gradually evolved into the less hostile (usually, not counting encounters with Sludge), more thoughtful (in the actual thinking sense) man. He was another one of those active people who lived life and loved life. He didn’t wait for it to come to him. He still enjoyed getting his creative on but was not out to change the world anymore. Perhaps he would still change his little corner of it, though.

  Roger had never let much of anything bother him. Even Sludge he felt more sorry for than angry at. When they realized Sludge hadn’t sent the insurance premium in and they would get no recovery from the fire, Spencer and Bonnie were furious. They wanted to pursue legal or physical recourse, as in beating the crap out of him. It was Roger who had argued successfully that Sludge was his own worst enemy and what was done was done.

  Roger glanced over at Bonnie. He couldn’t have picked a better life partner than Bonnie, who shored him up when he was feeling down and told him he was full of it when he was full of it. She had a good heart, a sharp mind and a pure soul. Roger was excited about the move to France, where he could reminisce about the good old days and drink a beer now and then while watching the sun set over the ocean. Oh, wait, they’d be on the Mediterranean, wouldn’t they? Maybe he’d watch the sun set over the cantina. Or that would be the café, wouldn’t it? Ah, life was good. And it was about to get better.

  What Roger really needed now, though, was a little more air. Huh, that was funny. His ears started buzzing for some reason, and he was losing his peripheral vision, as if his world was narrowing to his little group at the bar. Then he felt a weight on his chest and his jaw hurt. Why would his jaw hurt? Oh yeah, that was some kind of sign of a heart attack, wasn’t it? It was his last thought before he saw dots, lots of dots, and then everything started to go black. He never had a chance to call out to Bonnie or Spence. One minute he was sitting on his barstool talking to his wife and friend, and the next minute he was sliding off said barstool and onto the floor as Bonnie and Spencer both lurched forward trying to catch him.

  Chapter 18

  A million thoughts had gone through Ellie’s mind as she drove to the Little Chapel of the Desert. And most of them, in spite of her efforts to focus on Brian’s call and what it meant, were about Russell, not about Brian. What a consummate actor he was. She remembered the look of anguish on his face after the falling out at the booth. She’d need to give him a little payback for that. She had suffered with him, only he wasn’t suffering. An actor, singer, entertainer, agitator. He kept her hopping, kept her on her toes, and tweaked her conscience. And he said their kiss lit up the sky. It did. It really did. And they were inside at the time.

  She loved the way he acted as her conscience. No! That annoyed the hell out of her. Did it? He loved his mother. In fact, he seemed to just about love everybody, including Muskman. And you love him. What? Face it, he’s the one, with all his a
nnoying ways. She nearly hit the car in front of her as she rolled that thought around her head. Then again, maybe you’re just in love with Muskman, the superhero. She laughed at that. That was too stupid even for Head Voice.

  And then a kind of peace settled over her, like her soul had been touched. And she knew suddenly with an absolute certainty. She couldn’t marry Brian. Dear, beautiful, thoughtful, classy Brian. Perfect on paper Brian. Perfectly creased Brian. It was a relief she wouldn’t be doing Cindy wrong, but it was really about what she wanted, not what she didn’t want.

  At the Little Chapel of the Desert parking lot, Ellie finally got out of her truck, where she had sat for several minutes, trying to work up her courage. She spent so much time trying to gather courage in her truck, the damn truck must be full of courage by now. You wanted to be more spontaneous. Yeah, but not like this. Straightening her yellow sundress with the strawberries on the border and pushing her hair behind her ears, she slowly walked toward the chapel, which looked like a Swiss chalet. A very small Swiss chalet. For some reason that made her smile. Only in Las Vegas, the desert of Las Vegas, would there be a Swiss chalet.

  Inside, it was quite charming, with several wooden pews on either side of an aisle that led to a white, draped altar bordered by lots of flowers, particularly daisies and black-eyed Susans, as well as a few lilies. As she stood there taking it all in, Brian, looking more handsome than ever in a very expensive-looking black tuxedo, approached from a side door. Her heart should have practically stopped beating from the magnificence of him, but it didn’t. Still, he was a beautiful man, and she could appreciate that.

  He smiled. “You got my message.”

  “Yes, I…I…” God, this was hard.

  He took her hand. “You look beautiful as always. Can we sit for a minute?”

  She smiled tentatively. “Of course.”