Stuff Dreams Are Made Of

by Don Bruns

  I watched a shooting star and tried to make a wish but it was much too fast. The wish would have been that Em and I could pick up like nothing had happened. Or, the wish could have been that James and I would make a million dollars. Or, the wish could have been that the recent run of bad luck would stop. By the time I decided, the star was a distant memory.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The camp woke up about six a.m. I could smell wood smoke, and a couple of the tents had grills fired up for an early breakfast. By seven, one of Cashdollar’s assistant ministers was in the tent with a Saturday morning service. I wandered to the opening and watched for about fifteen minutes. This was a wake-up service, and this minister didn’t tote a gold Bible. Even though there was a mention of God making you rich, I didn’t hear anything about Barry Romans. However, there was one constant in the service. They took up a collection. And when it was over, they took up another one. Maybe he needed to give his employees a raise. Or maybe he needed a bigger closet or a couple more suits.

  The sky seemed to be rained out, and what appeared to be a cloudless pale blue canvas stretched out above us. James made some more of his really bad coffee, and he fried a couple of beef patties and had what passed for a morning meal. I sipped the coffee and watched the park grounds come alive. Already you could feel the heat and humidity.

  The early risers walked from the parking lot to the shelters spread out by the Intracoastal Waterway, watching the Saturday boaters who were already out. I could hear the engines as they slowed down for the “no-wake zone” on the narrow channel.

  “Hey, pal. When you and the ever-lovely Em have your expensive breakfast at News Café or wherever, see if you can find a couple of six packs of beer, would you. This breakfast would have gone down a lot better with a little cold beverage.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  I watched the distinguished black man come walking from the tent, the sharp crease in his gray trousers, a pale blue shirt with button-down collar, and a well-tailored jacket giving him the appearance of someone of great importance. I knew him before he got to our truck.

  “Skip, do you know who that is?”

  I did.

  He approached us and nodded, giving a brief glance to the four flat tires. “Boys, I’m Thomas LeRoy. I handle the finances for Reverend Cashdollar.”

  With my coffee in my left hand, I extended my right. He made no effort to take it. You always feel so stupid when that happens.

  “I’ve authorized an emergency vehicle to be here in —” he glanced at what appeared to be a solid-gold Rolex watch, “half an hour. They will replace the four tires on your truck.”

  He barely looked at the truck. Maybe he’d seen four flat tires before, or maybe he’d already seen the damage. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out the organizer, and struck several keys. He stared at the screen for a moment, then shoved it back into his pocket.

  “I keep a record of what happens here. Oftentimes it comes in handy.”

  We nodded.

  “Reverend Cashdollar and I are truly sorry this happened to you during our event, and I hope you find the rest of your stay less eventful.” LeRoy paused, stared right at me and said, “I hope this will end any questions, concerns, or problems that you may have.” He paused, looking me in the eyes. I don’t think he ever blinked. “Do we have an understanding?”

  “An understanding?”

  LeRoy pursed his lips, and I detected an underlying tension. “An understanding. We’re taking care of your concerns. You have no reason to go any further with this.” The finance director nodded, turned, and walked away.

  “Very officious.” James sat on the back of the truck.

  “Four new tires, James.”

  “Four free tires, amigo.”

  I nodded. “Stan must carry some weight.”

  James lit a cigarette and with a couple of days’ growth of beard, his tousled hair, coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other, he looked like a poster child for juvenile delinquents. “I was thinking the same thing. They really didn’t want us going to the cops. LeRoy himself comes out and tells us that it’s going to be handled? That’s pretty heavy.”

  “And, James, there was a pretty momentous occasion a minute ago.”

  “What was that?”

  “We’re now in the famous organizer.”

  “Yeah. There’s that.”

  “Listen, this morning, about three, I took a walk. Dusty, the school teacher comes out of the shadows with a gun.”

  James took a short breath. “Jesus. The school teacher? With a gun?”

  I nodded.

  “Like in the gun that someone used to shoot our four tires?”

  “He had a good excuse for this gun. He says that some of the full-time guys double doing security at night. When I started asking questions about security and Cashdollar and the two deaths —”

  “Pard, you weren’t supposed to be asking questions. Remember?”

  “Yeah. I follow the rules about like you do. Anyway, he tells me that he’s not allowed to talk to us.”

  James took a long drag on the cigarette. “He said what?”

  “He said he wasn’t allowed to talk to us.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think it means?”

  “First of all, I think it means that Stan is probably going to be pissed you’re still asking questions about Cabrina Washington. He gave you the official story on questions. But no, my good buddy has to keep prying.”

  “Fuck you, James. I actually enjoy prying. Maybe I’ll approach each of the fabled six and ask them individually.”

  “There’s only three left that you haven’t asked. Henry, Mug, and the quiet dude.”

  “Yeah.”

  “My friend, this is a very strange adventure we’re on.”

  “A movie quote?” If it was, I couldn’t place it. Maybe Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure.

  “No, just the truth. Somebody shoots out our tires, somebody steals our money, you have someone tell you that he’s not supposed to talk to us, and,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, “then we get this.” He handed it to me, folded.

  I opened the paper and read it out loud.

  We know who you are, we know why you’re here. It

  would be best for all concerned if you left now. The

  next time, it might not be the truck.

  “You were thinking of telling me about this?”

  “Of course, pard. It was laying on the truck bed when I woke up this morning. I needed some time to process it in my mind.”

  “Jesus, James. We’re getting new tires, maybe we should just hit the road.”

  “And I think we should stay. I’d like to know who’s shooting out our tires. I’d like to know why people can’t talk to us, and I’d like to know who we supposedly are and why we’re supposedly here.”

  “Isn’t it enough the person who wrote the note knows those things? We know who you are and we know why you’re here. Come on, James. There’s no reason we have to know the answer too.”

  He smiled. Not a laugh, but a smile. “Free tires, pard. There’s always a silver lining, eh?”

  I needed time to process it too. Last night I’d agreed to stay. Now, someone was threatening our lives. That didn’t sit well at all.

  “Come on, Skip. I don’t think they mean it. They’re not going to kill us, for God’s sake, and they really don’t have any reason to run us off. Do they?”

  “You know, James, everyone was being so nice, then you had to spoil it. You had to go and do it.”

  James’s eyes got wide. “What the hell did I do to spoil it?”

  “You don’t even know?”

  “You tell me.”

  “You won at poker last night.” I was only half kidding.

  He flicked his ash in my direction. No smile. “Yeah. Maybe that’s it. But my guess is it’s something to do with you asking too many questions, pard
ner. In fact, I’m sure that’s exactly what it is.”

  “Maybe. But what aren’t they supposed to be talking to us about? And was that a threat that they might shoot us next time?”

  “It beats me, pard. I just want to make enough money to get this little business venture on its feet.”

  “And now there are full-timers with guns walking around the grounds.”

  James smiled a grim smile. “Yeah. Let’s hope Mug doesn’t do guard duty. A three time felon with a gun. Scares the hell out of me.”

  “And what were the felonies?”

  The repair truck showed up on time, and with power jacks and two able-bodied men, they had our truck re-tired in half an hour. James couldn’t stop smiling. It was the most expensive repair on his pride and joy so far, and it hadn’t cost him a penny. In James’s world, this was nirvana.

  It was closer to nine thirty when I saw the red T-Bird working its way down the narrow park road. I’d figured maybe she wasn’t coming, then I thought she might have had an accident, and finally I decided if she didn’t show up, it was just as well. But there she was. I checked my pocket one more time for the money and walked out to meet her.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  She sat across from me looking fresh, blond, and wonderful. The News Café was bustling, with a steady stream of walkers and gawkers parading up and down the sidewalk. We sat by the street, feeling the morning heat starting to steam the place up, as cars lined up, going nowhere very slowly, and the sideshow that is South Beach played out for us in every direction.

  “You haven’t said four words since I picked you up.”

  Twenty minutes, driving A1A through ethnic villages, past big hotels and ritzy shopping areas, by Indian Creek where the elite rich live, and down to South Beach. She’d asked how I was and I think I answered “okay.” Then she’d talked about her father and how she was working for him again, although she’d really never gone off the payroll. Then she asked how James was, even though the two of them do not like each other, and I think I answered “okay.” The other two words I don’t remember.

  “Skip, what are you thinking?”

  It came spilling out. “That you left. That I know you needed some time to work things out, but I was stuck here with everything closing in on me, and I missed you and needed to talk to you every day and you weren’t here.” It wasn’t what I wanted to say. Not even close. I wanted to hold her, ask her if things were back to normal, and ask her to never leave again. I know it sounds sappy, but I really care for this girl. It just didn’t come out right.

  She stared at the sidewalk and the review marching by. Overweight tourists in T- shirts and shorts, girls in bikinis, half the gay population of Miami Beach, and two dogs as big as horses being walked by a midget. Finally she looked at me. “Well, I asked, didn’t I?”

  “What do you want me to say? I don’t know what you went through. You thought you were having our kid, then found out you weren’t. I guess you needed some space, but I thought you were having our kid, then found out you weren’t. And I guess I didn’t get any space. Maybe I needed some space too.”

  She turned and looked into my eyes. She took my hand, covering it with her own. With a slight smile she said, “I’ve got the answer.”

  I took my free hand and picked up my cup of coffee. “I’d love to hear it.”

  “You take off. You go away for three months. Whatever harebrained scheme James is working on, I’ll take your place while you get the space you need. Okay? I’ll fill in with James, and you get your space.”

  Just the picture of that made me laugh out loud. If she only knew what James and I were into. “I would pay to see that. I really would.”

  “Now, can we get past the self-pity? I’m ready for a new start.” She laughed too.

  I was ready. “I’m working on it, Em. And I suppose you’re not too far off with the harebrained scheme that James has hatched.”

  “Oh, Jeez, I was hoping it was something halfway decent.”

  “I think it started out that way, but things have a way of —”

  The waiter brought two steaming plates of eggs, hash browns, sausage, and English muffins to the table.

  “A way of what?”

  “Things have a way of not working out.”

  “Are you in trouble?”

  “We may be. It’s too soon to tell.”

  “Skip!” She was looking at me like she didn’t even know who I was. “What are you thinking? Get a real job. Quit buying into your roommate’s dreams and find something that works for you. Have you noticed how many of his ideas turn into nightmares?”

  I told her how he’d turned the truck into a traveling kitchen. I told her about the carneys, Cashdollar’s message of wealth, dreams, and destruction, about the poker games, the threats, and the flat tires. I told her about Crayer and Stan, Henry, Dusty, his gun, and Mug. I think I left out the silent partner. Again, everything came pouring out of me. I’d wanted to talk to her, tell her exactly what was happening, but never figured the situation would present itself. And now that it had, I unloaded. All concern for our relationship, my hurt feelings, whatever, disappeared for the moment. I told her everything. When I was done she was stone-cold silent. Neither of us had touched the eggs, hash browns or bacon, and breakfast was cold.

  “You know, this is a novel. Fiction. No two guys stumble into this much crap, just by accident. Either you are making half of this up,” she paused, “no, two-thirds of this up, or you are the most unlucky son of a bitch that ever lived. I should not only keep you at arm’s length, I should move to another state, west of the Mississippi. Tell me you’re messing with me, Skip. Please, tell me.”

  “Come on, Em. You know I’m telling you the truth.”

  “Jesus, Skip. You’re nuts if you stick this out with him.”

  “Easy for you to say. How much do you make? How much money do you make? My God, Em. I make nothing. We stand to clear two to three thousand dollars apiece when this is all through. To me, that’s a fortune.”

  She was quiet. She was breathing deep through that cute little nose, and I marveled at how perfect her face was. Even the teeth, straight as an arrow. I figured the teeth had been worked on, but not the nose. She was so out of my league.

  Finally she reached for her untouched coffee, took a sip and made a face. “Cold.”

  I caught a waiter’s eye and he replaced the two coffees. She nibbled on a piece of cold, greasy sausage and stared past me.

  “Look, we’re seeing each other for the first time in a long time.”

  “We are.” I agreed.

  “When I left the last time we were both in a lot of trouble.”

  “We were.”

  “And now —”

  “I’m in trouble again. Or on the verge of trouble.”

  “Skip, this doesn’t make the relationship very stable.”

  I looked into her eyes. There was a lot here worth saving. “No, but it certainly makes it interesting.”

  She squinted, a frown gracing that lovely face. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

  “Maybe. But there’s a grain of truth to it. I’ve got an uncle named Buzz, and —”

  “Buzz?”

  “Buzz.”

  She shook her head. “Buzz is not a name. It’s the sound bees make. It’s a condition.”

  “Like getting a buzz on?”

  “Yeah.”

  “My uncle Buzz, he told me something about life.”

  “Oh, jeez, a life lesson from Uncle Buzz. I can’t wait to hear this one.”

  I ignored her sarcasm. It had been an hour and she was already down on me big-time.

  “Buzz said ‘the only thing we have to look forward to in life is the next big revival.’ ”

  Em sipped her warm coffee, leaning back in her chair and staring up at the clear blue morning sky. “So Buzz was a philosopher?”

  “Well, we’re all philosophers sometime in our life.”

  The morning sun crept under the shade of
our umbrella and Em reached into her purse and pulled out her Ray-Ban sunglasses. I couldn’t read her eyes, but I could hear the sarcasm drip from her voice.

  “The next time you see Uncle Buzz, please tell him for me that life is a little more than looking for the next buzz.”

  “Think about it, Em. What else is there? I mean, I’m trying to get to the next level. That’s what he was talking about.”

  “And how does that fit into big trouble at the yellow tent?”

  I knew how it fit in. I’d spent half the night, looking up at the stars, thinking about it.

  “I’d like to tell you. But some of it involves you. And some of it involves James. That’s a mixture that never seems to go well together. And some of it involves me.”

  “Well at least tease me. Give me a hint.” She had picked up her spoon and was softly tapping it on her napkin. Irritating.

  “James gives me some vision. Some dreams.”

  She shook her head, her streaked blond hair shimmering in the light. “Dreams? James?”

  “You give me some dreams.”

  “We’ll table that for now.”

  “Cashdollar gives me some dreams. He says that if you give generously, you will be rewarded.”

  “And you believe that?”

  “I’d like to.” I hesitated. She wasn’t buying this. “James thinks the Cashdollar machine can teach us some things, about how a business organization should run. I can’t argue that this guy is a huge success. He’s got more money than —”

  “God?”

  “It would seem.”

  “Oh, please.”