Stuff Dreams Are Made Of

by Don Bruns

  “Skip,” James gave me a grave look. “I love you like a brother, but don’t fuck this up. We’re in a position to make a lot of money. We’re in a position to learn a lot about how a major business operation runs. And, we’re in a position to find out if anyone in this group is responsible for multiple murders. Let it play out, pard. Okay? We’ll get all the information we need. Just don’t fuck it up.”

  “I’m confused.” Styles looked back and forth at each of us. “What exactly are we looking for tonight?” He asked the question that really needed to be answered. “A little excitement? A chance to ruffle some feathers? Or are you two trying to point the finger at the rev’s henchmen?” He pulled his hat down on his forehead. “If I’m going to be a party to this charade, tell me what you’re trying to accomplish.”

  “Oh, I’d like to know if one of these guys is a murderer. I’d like to find out what makes this place tick, but what I really want to find out is who shot my tires out. I want to find out who stole our money. I want to find out why they don’t want us back next year. I think Crayer was very clear about that, and I think the letter was very clear about that.” James watched Crayer slowly walking down the path. “I don’t want to walk up to these guys and start pointing fingers, but there’s got to be a subtle way to get the information. That’s what I’m looking for.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll help you guys.”

  Styles had been such a big help up to now! As far as I was concerned he hadn’t done anything. I asked the question that had been building up inside of me. “And how are you going to do that? How are you going to help us?”

  “Look, if Thomas LeRoy paid for four new tires on your truck, he knows who shot them out.”

  “You think?”

  “I’ll guaranfuckingtee it.”

  “Maybe it’s just that he doesn’t want anyone to rock the boat. Maybe there was a concern that our complaining would upset church festivities. That would rock the boat, wouldn’t it? He’s buying new tires just to shut us up so we don’t scare off the crowd. Can’t afford to have a dip in the collection plate.”

  “You’re right,” Styles nodded. “They don’t like anyone to rock the boat. And somebody has. However, Thomas LeRoy will try to smooth things over. But there’s another side to this. LeRoy knows what happened. You see, there’s nothing that goes on during this four days that he and Cash don’t know about. Nothing.”

  “They know everything?”

  “They do.”

  “Bullshit. They don’t know everything.”

  “You’re a naïve jackass, Skipper. These boys are pros. LeRoy and the rev both know what happened to you. And, they know who did it.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Maybe they do know more than I think. Hell, they know that you’re back in the camp, and I could tell by Cashdollar’s reaction that he is not happy to see you.”

  “Well —”

  “Why?”

  “I told you. He thinks I was running a scam.”

  “It’s more than that isn’t it? What does Cashdollar know? What does Thomas LeRoy know?”

  I thought he’d spill the information, but James jumped in.

  “So how are you going to get that information?”

  “The office.”

  “What office?” I hadn’t seen an office.

  “It’s back behind the tent. A semitrailer with a padlocked door and steps leading up to it. We check out his office.”

  I’d seen it, but thought nothing of it. “That’s an office?”

  “It’s the nerve center for everything that goes on around here.”

  I didn’t know whether to believe him or not. He was an idiot and to trust him would be the dumbest thing we could do. I looked him square in the eyes. “And of course it’s easy to just walk in and get all the information you want. I’m sure a business this size just closes at the end of the day and trusts the faithful not to break into the office. Come on, Daron, the place would have to be under lock and key and it would have to be guarded all night long.”

  Styles lit one of his small cigars and flicked the match at me. “No, you’re wrong, smart ass. Actually they don’t have the best security in the world, but it is guarded from midnight till six in the morning by — guess who?”

  Who the hell would Cashdollar hire to watch his office?

  “Come on, Skipper, James. Think.” He blew a stream of gray smoke at me.

  I thought. “One of the full-timers?”

  “Give the Skipper a silver dollar.”

  “So your idea is?”

  “I know the players. They’re not the brightest guys in the world. I’ve got a plan. I can get by security.”

  “You can get by security? What? You’ve got a gun?”

  Styles looked at me and gave me a sorrowful glance. “Skipper —”

  “Don’t call me Skipper. It’s Skip.”

  “Skipper, I don’t need a gun. I can find the information you’re looking for. Actually it’s quite simple.”

  What a horse’s ass. “You can break into the office?”

  “I can. You can be as sarcastic as you want, but I know something that you don’t. I know something that very few people know.”

  That scared me. The fact that James had involved Styles scared me.

  “Thomas LeRoy keeps an organizer.”

  “Yeah. I’ve watched him punch in the numbers. Stan the pizza man has one too.” James had a smug look on his face. “So what does that prove?”

  “They both keep all their notes on those organizers.”

  “Notes. Financial transactions.” I was trying to hurry him along.

  “Not just that. I told you. LeRoy also keeps track of every full-timer and the staff on that thing. He makes notes on people who work on the weekend revivals. You’re in there I’m sure.”

  “So what’s your point?”

  “Both LeRoy and Stan download their organizers every night into a master computer.”

  “And?”

  “That master computer is in the office.”

  “How is that supposed to help us?”

  “I’m telling you, LeRoy probably wrote down the story about the tires, and if he did, he knows who shot them out. If he paid for the new ones,” Styles pointed to the black beauties, “then he’s got the info on who shot the other ones. My guess is, that person’s going to have to pay Mr. LeRoy and Mr. Cashdollar back.”

  James’s eyes rolled. It was obvious he was getting a little tired of his friend’s arrogance and crazy stories.

  I couldn’t stand the arrogance either and verbally demonstrated it. “How do you know this? You were a one-weekend wonder. They asked you to leave the park. And now you claim to know more than almost anyone here?”

  Styles hesitated, staring at his fingers. “I’m in that organizer.”

  James shook his head, obviously tired or bored with this conversation. “Let’s move on.”

  “James, I can’t tell you how I know, but I know. You get into that computer and you’ll find out why they’re after you.”

  We had one more day. Sunday. One more day and we could walk away with the kind of money James said we would make. The new tires were a gift. They more than made up for the old ones that were shot out. James made back the money that was stolen from us by playing poker. We weren’t out anything, and by next year, I was hoping we wouldn’t need to do this carney game again. So why didn’t I just pack it in? Why didn’t I just tell them I was out? Two reasons.

  First of all, James is my best friend, and he wanted more information. He’d leveled with me. I knew up front he wanted information on how Cashdollar succeeded, he wanted the blueprint of success and neither James nor I had ever been this close to success before. He wanted to take advantage of that. James wanted information on who these characters were, and why someone had taken our money and shot out the tires. And, he wanted to know if anyone in this organization had the balls to commit murder. Multiple murders. And finally, I think James wanted revenge. Revenge on whoever had
messed around with us.

  Second of all, Em drove in at that exact moment, and I’d promised her I’d show her around. I should have jumped in her red T-bird, told her to head northwest, and said adios to Cashdollar and company. But I didn’t. The world is full of should-haves.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  She looked great, in a pair of red shorts and white halter top, her blond hair looking just a little wind-blown. Styles couldn’t stop staring as she stepped from the car.

  “Jesus. She looks better now than she did in school, and in school she was —”

  “She was what?” I glared at him.

  “Smokin’.”

  She saw the three of us watching her and smiled. Maybe for effect, maybe for our afternoon delight, maybe because she’d really missed me for three months, Em walked over and planted a really juicy kiss on my lips.

  “Em.” James nodded.

  “James.” Frosty. I think if I left the two of them alone for a couple of hours, the freeze would thaw, would turn hot. I didn’t plan on letting it happen.

  “So,” she smiled at me, her eyes shining, “what are the plans?”

  The fading daylight caught her silhouette and I knew what plans I’d like to make. But there was James, and I had to help my partner. “You and I need to talk.”

  I took her hand and we walked up by the tent. She gazed at the yellow monster. “So this is where the magic takes place?”

  “Isn’t that usually a line from a rapper on TV when they take a tour of his house and they enter the bedroom? The rapper will say, ‘and this is where the magic happens.’ ”

  “I know. I’ve seen the shows.” She looked into my eyes and I thought I might have a heart attack. “Well?” She squeezed my hand. “From what I hear, you get screwed in this tent too.”

  “Cute.” The response and the girl. “There’s some truth to the magic.” I told her about the Meet And Greet boys, and I could see she was impressed. “And you should have seen James when Cashdollar dropped by and suggested that we could be the next billionaires.”

  “He really said that?”

  “He did. However, he also asked us to leave and not come back.”

  “He told you to vacate the premise? I can’t believe that. Come on, Skip. He really asked you to leave?”

  “No.” I was overly negative. And, I thought, for good reason. “He said ‘obviously this business isn’t for everybody.’ ”

  She gave me a hard look. “Well, it’s not.”

  She was right. It wasn’t.

  “It’s just been a rough couple of days.”

  “And James wants to settle some scores?” Now a quizzical expression. She had a face that could change in a split second. And she could see right through me.

  “Well, I think he wants to know who’s threatening us.”

  “Skip, you’re twenty-five-year-old guys. You’ve never been in a fight in your life to my knowledge.” She paused. “Well, you got your asses kicked in that Cuban thing, but other than that —” She trailed off.

  Asses kicked? We’d about got our lives snuffed out. The first of James’s truck episodes. But that’s another story.

  Looking down the path that led to the nightly poker game she said, “You’re new to the real world, and here you are playing with con men, felons, billionaires. A little scary isn’t it? Don’t you think you might be out of your league?”

  “Maybe.”

  “There’s no maybe about it. I’m just guessing here, but it seems to me these guys wouldn’t even think twice about chewing you up and spitting you out if they thought you were in their way.”

  “Apparently they do.”

  “They do what?”

  “Think we’re in their way.”

  “Then leave. Right now. Pack up the truck, save yourself the five hundred dollars for tomorrow and go home. Or, better yet, stay tonight with me.”

  Now that was an offer worth considering. “I can still stay with you.” God in heaven, she just made the offer. It’s amazing how sex overpowers any other emotion. “But hold that thought. I sort of promised James that I’d hang around and see if I could find anything out.”

  Now she had the wild-eyed expression, that ‘Skip, you dumb-ass’ expression. I’d seen it before.

  “What the hell do you expect to find out?”

  And I realized, I didn’t really have an answer.

  “Come on. What do you think you’re going to find.”

  “Well, if James has any balls, he’s going to ask questions during the poker game. He’s going to ask them if they know anything about the truck tires, about the money being stolen, and about the threatening letter.”

  “He won’t. He doesn’t have the balls, does he?”

  “No.”

  “Then leave, Skip. We can go right now.”

  “I can’t, Em.”

  “I should be pissed. I come back after three months, and it’s the same old crap. You refuse to grow up.”

  “But?”

  “But in a very strange way, I find it somewhat charming. Trust me, that won’t last for long.”

  “Can it last just for tonight?”

  “You really think these guys are crooked?”

  “I think that Cashdollar and his crew may be responsible for three murders and another attempted murder this afternoon.”

  “Okay. So go to the cops.”

  “With what?”

  She kicked at a loose stone, and walked away. Maybe ten feet. Then she spun around and looked at me. “Somebody has been following me ever since I dropped you off this afternoon.”

  “Following you?”

  “I wasn’t going to mention it.”

  “You weren’t going to tell me? Why not?”

  “Because maybe it doesn’t concern you.”

  “And maybe it does.”

  “There’s always that.”

  “What? Who?”

  “A late model Cadillac.”

  “Now you sound like James.”

  “Please.”

  “Same car? Or did they switch? Are you sure you’re being followed? I mean, maybe someone was just going the same way you were.”

  “Skip, I know what it’s like to be followed. I’ve had several stalkers in my life.”

  I thought about that for a moment.

  “You know, you almost get used to it. Some guys think it’s their right to stalk a blond with a good figure. It happened in high school, it happened in college, and it happens now. It gets old, but I know when I’m being followed. I’ve been stared at, gawked at, ogled, and stalked. I know what it feels like, and I’m telling you with a great degree of certainty that I was being followed. No question about it, okay?”

  I was working with the idea that other guys stalked her. How could I relate? “Because of us?”

  “Two guys in their thirties, one black, one white.”

  “What does it mean? You think they’re after you? Predators? They want to kidnap you?” I couldn’t bring myself to say the rest of what I wondered.

  “Could be. But I think it has something to do with you and James.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “I don’t know. I really wasn’t going to tell you about it. But I do have the license number.”

  “Damn. You come back, and the first thing that happens is I involve you in —”

  “In what? You don’t even know what you’re involved in.”

  I glanced over at the truck and James was watching us. The light from the sky had faded and he and Styles were standing by the truck, smoking cigarettes and apparently waiting for me to join them.

  “So what are you, what are we going to do tonight?”

  “Help Daron.” I didn’t want to tell her the rest.

  “Help Daron what?” She knew something bad was coming. I could tell by the tone of her voice.

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  “I never do. However, it seems we’ve piqued someone’s curiosity.”

  “Piqu
ed?”

  “I’d like to know why someone is following me. And I’d like to know why someone is threatening you.”

  “Well, we’ve got a plan.”

  She was getting impatient. “Skip, what is it?”

  “Break into Cashdollar’s office, go through Thomas LeRoy’s computer, his files, and see if we can find any evidence.”

  “Jesus, Skip. You have lost your mind.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “We’re not going to ‘break in.’ I mean, if we did breaking and entering, we’d do prison time.” Styles tugged on the brim of his hat, finally pushing it back on his head. It seemed to me that the hat was an extension of his personality, whatever personality he had.

  “I believe you either said that or certainly insinuated it.” Making me look like an idiot in front of Em. To be fair, she already knew that.

  “Listen, I understand what goes on back there. Usually, the security guy walks from midnight till maybe twelve thirty. That’s it. He doesn’t expect any trouble, he doesn’t get any trouble. I would guess that the security man on the rev’s office has never once — never once in all the time he’s been doing this revival meeting — had to deal with someone who tried to break into the trailer. No money is kept in there. That’s all taken to the bank and night deposited.”

  “So what are you saying?” James tapped his cigarette, knocking off the ash. I wished I had something to smoke, but Em frowned on it.

  We all stopped talking as three people walked up the path, talking in low voices, and smoking cigarettes. A female voice laughed out loud, and when they passed, Daron responded.

  “Whoever is patrolling parades back and forth in front of the office for half an hour, then goes into the trailer, stretches out on the office sofa, and spends the rest of the night sleeping. The appearance is of tight security, but whoever is in charge just crashes, leaves the door unlocked. It only locks with the padlock from the outside.”

  “You’re kidding.” I couldn’t believe things were that lax.

  “I’m sure it hasn’t changed since the last time I was here.”