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

by Samuel Belcher

  “Don’t worry. It’ll just be a quick one. Besides, we haven’t been there since back in 1974, remember?” He looked over at her sweet eyes.

  “Don’t remind me,” She said in a low and irritating tone.

  The driver suddenly brought the taxi to a stop behind a wall of traffic. They were stuck in one of Tampa’s favorite daily routines. He took advantage of the moment to twist around and speak to his fare. “Sorry guys. It’s just some traffic, but we’ll get through it.” He quickly turned back, his considerable size preventing him from twisting around comfortably for too long at a time. “Say you two new in town?” He tried a hand at idle conversation to lighten the mood, but it was clear that he wasn’t that sophisticated at it.

  Tormodis looked him squarely in the face when he twisted around and caught the driver’s features. Something sparked a memory in his mind that was very unsettling. He recognized the driver’s face, and it wasn’t a pleasant recognition. “Say, fella, you been driving a taxi long here?” He asked, ignoring the driver’s unanswered question.

  The man looked in his rearview mirror again a little shocked. “Not really. This is my first day solo. I’ve been training for about two weeks. But, don’t worry, I’m good, and I know where the Marriot is at.” He smiled at them.

  “What’s your name?” Sam continued to question him.

  The driver seemed a little more worried by that kind of a direct question. “Rick,” He said.

  Sam looked at the back of Rick’s head like he was drilling holes. Margaret noticed her husband’s sudden fascination with the driver. “What’s wrong, honey?” She asked.

  “I think I know Rick here. We’ve met before, haven’t we, Rick?” He said very rudely.

  Rick tried to twist around again, realizing something very troubling was happening. “Mister I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen you before. I just moved down here not long ago. Maybe you’re confusing me with someone else?”

  Sam pointed at him to Margaret. “That’s him! I knew it!” He said emphatically.

  Margaret was just as alarmed as the driver. “What are you talking about, hun?”

  “That’s the same guy!” Sam was nodding and narrowing his eyes at Rick.

  “Mister, I don’t know you,” Rick said again.

  This time, Sam turned to his wife sharply. “He’s the guy that I met here before. I didn’t tell you the whole story. It was when I was sixteen. I didn’t know I could port yet. But, we were here on a family vacation, and I accidently ported myself out of the hotel room we were staying into the year 2010. I remember it was in March. I ended up on this street near a bar at night in the middle of nowhere. Then this guy pulls up in his taxi, and I get in. I figure I can get a ride back to the hotel. But, I didn’t have any money.”

  Rick was listening to this bizarre story intently, realizing that not a word of it made any sense. His passenger was spouting crazy tales and getting increasingly agitated. And this was his first fare of the day.

  “I was alone and scared, and I didn’t know what had happened. I didn’t have any money with me so, I ran. But, this bastard pulls out a BB gun and shoots me square in the ass. I mean it hurt too! I took off running, scared to death. I’ll never forget that face, even if it was older at the time.” He narrowed his eyes further at Rick.

  Rick shook his head. “I don’t understand a word that you’re saying, mister. I swear I’ve never met you before.” He said as he had to turn forward again as traffic began to move slightly.

  “Oh, but you will, you bastard,” Tormodis said with an untamed growl-like voice.

  “Sam!” Margaret was shocked at his behavior. “Stop it. You cannot hold this man responsible for something he hasn’t done yet.”

  Sam sat silent looking at the back of Rick’s head, trying to formulate his next words into some pithy insult. That moment and the fright it caused him were indelibly pressed into his memory. Margaret looked at her husband concerned. She had very seldom seen him so worked up. “Maybe we should just go now,” She said a little more quietly and with some hope of easing Sam’s agitation. “Let’s go back to the hotel now and then get dinner in Guam. You know you get overworked when you don’t eat.” She said.

  He looked at her with the clear presence of anger in his eyes. But, he could never look at her in anger for any length of time. Her sweet eyes always melted his fury, and he could never tell her no. He grabbed her hand again and nodded his head. “Okay.” He said. “Grab your bags and we’ll go.” She did as he said and then there was a bright flash of light that filled the car and temporarily blinded Rick. When he opened his eyes again, he realized he was alone. They were gone, and cars behind him were honking their horns at him annoyed.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” He muttered. “They didn’t even pay me.” So much for my very first day driving in Tampa, he thought. A slow and perceptible anger began to well up from deep within him. If I ever catch up with that little turd again, he thought. Visions of slamming his fist into the fare-jumper’s face filled Rick’s mind as he drove off into the thick Tampa traffic.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Chaos Ensues

  Rick was awake for a long time, long after Mel was snoring on one side of him and Roger was mumbling in his sleep on the other. The three of them were camping out on Pete’s dining room floor. The tables were pushed back to make room, and they were each lying on pallets made of old blankets supplied from Pete’s house by Maria. The pallet was very uncomfortable, and the floor was cold, which was strange to Rick because this was the tropics and he thought he should be too warm. However, Pete, like most other islanders believed in the heavy use of air conditioning. Rick felt like he was in the subarctic.

  They hit the sack shortly after Pete collected his guns and brought them over, apparently to prepare for something akin to WWIII. It was a huge arsenal of weapons ranging from AR-15s to .45s to .50 caliber sniper rifles to M1 Carbines and AK-47s. They were lying, in a pile on the countertop, waiting for the morning, or an invasion of ravenous spiders whichever came first. Rick wasn’t alarmed about the weapons. He loved guns. He had always loved guns. He was more concerned about the fact that they were lying on the cold hard floor when they could be slumbering away in a nice three-star hotel room courtesy of Mel’s unlimited expense account. He couldn’t understand this need to do everything the hard way. Where was the sense of comfort, of ease? You don’t drive a cab in Tampa for fifteen years without learning a thing or two about comfort and ease. You had to make your own comfort and ease in the world because no one else was going to do it for you. This was what was on his mind when he drifted off to sleep. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long before something bizarre startled him awake.

  Rick sat sharply upright from his pallet on the floor of Pete’s Barbecue. A very loud noise had jolted him awake. He turned to see Roger sitting up beside him, his face outlined by the faint light of the diner. “Did you just scream?” Rick asked.

  Roger looked over at him, not blinking. “I smell eggnog...and the color blue.”

  Rick tried to push the sleep from his mind so he could process that statement. “I’m sorry, what?’

  “He said he smells eggnog, and blue something or the other,” Mel muttered sleepily from the other side. He, too, was sitting upright in the dark, kind of unsteadily.

  Rick was just starting to get irritated from being jolted out of his sleep by Roger’s scream when Pete came bursting through his diner’s back door. Apparently, the scream had been loud enough to wake him up next door. “What’s wrong?” He asked, breathing heavy standing there in the doorway with his ragged tee-shirt and boxer shorts, and a bleary look in his eyes. “What happened?” He asked, trying to steady himself.

  Rick spoke, “Roger smelled eggnog.”

  Pete looked wide eyed. “Dat’s not good. Dat’s sign number three now.”

  Roger stood up still fully clothed in the shirt and pants he got from Pete. But, he looked ridiculous, almost like the po
ster boy for a late night weight control infomercial. Then Mel bolted up alongside him, his hyper-metabolism kicking into overdrive. He was looking expectantly at the windows that were still covered in the turned down blinds. His eyes darted from window to window as if something very bad was about to come crashing through them. When nothing happened, he sighed and let out a breath of relief. Pete turned to glance out the opened back door. The sun was just starting to come up. Its early rays were already lighting the tropical foliage around the dinner. “I don’t see anything. “

  Mel turned and half-heartedly smiled. “Maybe it was just a bad dream.”

  Rick noticed Roger was still standing there, still looking at the windows. There was no expression on his face, just a calm reflectiveness that, in itself, was terribly disturbing. Rick decided it was time for him to get up too. He felt like walking outside to shake off the chills from the diner but a last moment voice in his head told him that might be a bad idea.

  Pete closed the backdoor and went over to flick on the two fluorescent lights that hung from the rough dirty ceiling and a few seconds later they came to light, one blinking badly and the other bright and clear white. Pete rubbed his eyes and yawned. There wasn’t going to be anymore sleep this morning. The next order of business needed attending. “I guess I better get to fixin’ some breakfast.”

  Rick stretched his back, popping his lower vertebrae in the process. He was too old to be lying all night on a cold hard floor. The only consolation was someone had just mentioned food, which immediately got his attention. “You gonna reheat some of that barbecue?” He asked. Any thought of life threatening giant spiders was now pushed back behind his stomach.

  Pete was banging around in the kitchen. “I was thinkin’ some ham and eggs and some rice, bra. Dat sound good?” He shouted back.

  “It sounds great,” Rick replied. His back and his lack of sleep were now a memory.

  Shortly after Pete began banging pots and kitchenware around, Maria suddenly reappeared through the back door. She came in without a word, wearing the same clothes she had on the day before. Rick was surprised to see her so well dressed and made up for the day considering how early it was. She didn’t look like she had slept at all and she showed no signs of tiredness. Instead, she walked quickly with her head down back to the kitchen to help Pete with the preparations. That’s odd, Rick thought. But, the loud banging on the front door instantly distracted him from that thought. All three of them turned to look at the door simultaneously. They were all thinking the same thing. Who or what was it? None of them moved to find out. Pete popped his head out from the kitchen, a semi-aggravated look on his face. “What was dat?” He said quickly.

  “Um, something’s at the door.” Mel volunteered.

  Pete looked at each man in turn with a look of puzzlement. “What’s the matter wid you guys? Can’t you open a door? Spiders don’t knock you numbskulls.” He stomped around the counter. “Probably just some haole, too.” He quickly unlocked the door and cracked it open about a foot. A head popped through, surprising him. It was the face of a young man, and he was smiling broadly.

  “Hi!” He said. “My name’s Tormodis. You guys open yet?” He and the young woman with him stepped through the door and into the diner almost pushing Pete aside in the process. Pete closed the door behind them and joined everyone else in a look of surprise and shock.

  Tormodis was young, not the old man that Pete and Mel had described. He was clearly in his mid-twenties if that. The woman with him appeared to be about the same age but with a fairer look and disposition. She was shorter and her hair was long and dark brown as were her eyes. Her eyes drew attention to her like wells that draw you in before you’re able to understand why. Somewhere in those dark wells a temper lay dormant just under the surface. It was the only sign of such a temper, and you had to look there a long time to see it. The rest of her was too calm and composed to speak of such things. Of the two, she stood out as a story that might reveal itself if given the chance. But, it was clear she wasn’t the conversationalist of the pair. That was her husband’s role who stood beside her filled with youthful energy and forcefulness. It was clear from his expression and his posture that he was very full of himself. And when he entered in the diner he brought that sense with him, like a force that comes along and suddenly filled a vacuum in the room. Everyone was aware of it, but it wasn’t necessarily a pleasant feeling.

  The silence that quickly fell on the two groups was uncomfortably awkward. They stared back and forth at each other as if some great thing had just happened but no one wanted to say anything or acknowledge it in case it went away. Tormodis looked back and forth at each of the men’s face. They were all struck silent by the sheer magnitude of the coincidence that had just occurred, all except for Roger who was smiling and not sure why everyone was quiet. Tormodis, feeling like he had just stepped into something private or come in at the end of a joke that he wasn’t meant to be part of, thought he should try again.

  “Um, hello, again. I’m Tormodis; this is Margaret, my wife. We were hoping to get some barbecue.” He said, still scanning the stunned faces in front of him.

  Nothing happened. No one moved, no one spoke.

  Tormodis’s expression started to slowly change like the man excluded from the joke starts to realize that he was the butt of the joke. He began to look slightly annoyed. “What’s wrong with you people?”

  Finally, Roger spoke. “Hey, it’s Tormodis!” As if he just woke out of a deep sleep.

  Tormodis’s attention shot toward Roger. “Yes.” He simply said. “I said that.”

  Mel let out a deep breath like a slow diffusion of an awkward bomb. “Wow. Where does that rank on the weird meter?” He was looking at Pete.

  “Is there a problem here?” Tormodis asked, still very suspicious and alarmed from hearing his name from strangers. “Have we met before?”

  Pete started to lightly chuckle and shrugged his shoulders. Then he quickly held out both arms in a welcoming gesture. “Welcome to Pete’s Barbecue, Tormodis,” He said.

  Tormodis and Margaret were not relieved. “No, really, have we met before? ‘Cause I’m starting to get some creepy backwoods vibes from you guys.”

  “No, we not met you before,” Pete said, lowering his arms. “But, we will, when you’re older, bra. So, yes, no, we not met you before.”

  Tormodis shook his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. “What language is he speaking? I didn’t understand any of that.” He looked at Mel. “Is he crazy?”

  Mel was looking at him half amused and half disgusted. “No, Roger’s crazy. He’s not.”

  Tormodis looked like he didn’t believe him. “Look, are you guys open or not?”

  “What time do you think it is?” Mel asked in a sharp and directed tone, nodding his head toward the dark of the early dawn outside.

  Tormodis drew back as if someone had just attempted to strike him. “Well, pardon me,” He said defensively. He turned to his wife. “I’m sorry honey. We’re too early.”

  Pete quickly interjected. “Nah, you just on time, hoss. We was gonna come lookin’ for you dis morning’ but now you here. Dat’s a good ting.” He smiled. “I’m Pete Reyes, dis my place.” He offered his hand to the young man. Tormodis took it tepidly.

  “I don’t understand,” Tormodis said still annoyed.

  Pete shook his head and walked back toward the kitchen while Mel stood staring at Tormodis and his wife. Only Rick had not moved. The appearance of the young Tormodis instantly struck Rick with a sense of memory. He didn’t have to search long to find it. The young man’s face had not changed, his demeanor had not changed and his attitude was certainly not changed. Rick moved closer to him from behind Mel; his eyes fixed on the famous Tormodis. Mel had to move aside slightly as Rick advanced. The movement caught the young man’s attention, and he turned to see Rick emerging from the others. Their eyes met and locked and the recognition was instantaneous for both of them. When Rick got close enough, he realized t
hat the same person that Pete and Mel had been going on about the night before had been in his cab before…twice before.

  “I remember you,” He said in a low and menacing voice.

  Tormodis looked at Rick in confusion which slowly materialized into an unpleasant recognition. “What is this some kind of joke?” He said emphatically. “We can’t get away from you can we? You gonna shoot me in the ass again? And what’s with the skunk spot in your hair, Rick?” He pronounced his name with a sound of vehemence in his voice.

  Rick smiled and then pulled back his arm and swung with force at Tormodis’s face, delivering a right hook that stunned the young man with its suddenness and power. He fell backward into the wall with stars and ringing in his ears, just missing his wife who instinctively stepped to the side. He quickly recovered and pushed himself up from the wall holding his jaw, a fury in his movement and the youthful rage of challenge in his eyes as he prepared for retaliation. “What the…!” He shouted.

  Rick pointed at him. “That’s for sticking me on two fares you cheap bastard.” He said calmly. Mel stood beside Rick smiling. For once he was glad to see Rick hit someone else other than him. Making Tormodis the target was just icing on the cake. He had been tempted to do that himself on a few occasions.

  “Don’t worry, that’s just his way of saying hello.” He calmly told the couple. Rick replied with an icy stare.

  Pete came scrambling back out from the kitchen, a look of alarm on his face. Recognizing the gravity of the situation, he immediately got between the two of them and pushed them back from each other. “Hey wat dis, here?” He looked at them both.

  “Why don’t you ask your Neanderthal pet here?” Tormodis said fiercely. Margaret had grabbed his arm by now.

  Pete stood his ground. He spoke quickly to Mel. “I tink you better do some explainin’, boy. Dis gonna get outta hand.”