Written by Stephen F. Moloney
“Ok, thanks, Teddy – I owe you one … Alright, man, I’ll talk to you in a few weeks then … Ok – alright, bye … bye.”
With Teddy having hung up on the other end of the line, Ray brought his cellphone down from his ear, hung up on his end, and shoved it back into the pocket on his jeans – at least that was one problem solved.
After checking out the kid’s car right down near the end of the ‘Champs-Élysées’ – a car which, amazingly, turned out to be a yellow ‘65 Mustang Fastback with a black stripe running the entire way up the middle of it – Ray, to his relief, had discovered that the reason the classic muscle car had lost its ability to flex was down to a blown-out radiator; thus meaning, per their agreement, the kid would have to spend the night at Ray’s place.
As their agreement also stipulated that he would then fix the kid’s car, however, that meant Ray had to somehow conjure up a radiator that would work in a car that first rolled off the production line back in the mid-sixties.
Luckily for Ray, though, that’s where Teddy came in.
In Marais des Voleurs, the nearest town to Crescent Creek, there were a few businesses that were classed as ‘institutions’ amongst the thousand or so people who still resided in the tiny, former French outpost. You had ‘Renée’s’, the diner Ray was currently standing outside of and the home of the famous – or perhaps that should be ‘infamous’ – “Gator Gut-Buster Burger” you could get for free if you managed to finish all of it (which, legend had it, no one ever had). There was the local, old-school convenience store run by Mr. and Mrs. Trudeau, an elderly couple who seemed to have been in their late eighties for the past thirty years, who sold everything from run-of-the-mill groceries to sewing kits and high-powered hunting equipment. And then you had Teddy’s garage; a small beacon of corrugated steel and oil-stained concrete on the edge of town where three different generations of ‘Teddys’ had been fixing cars and performing open-valve engine surgery since the 1940s.
So, after seeing how old a car the kid was actually driving, Ray reckoned if he had any hope of holding up his end of the bargain to get it fixed, Teddy – or ‘Teddy Jr.’ as he was known specifically to distinguish him from ‘Old Teddy’, his grandfather, and ‘Big Teddy’, his now-retired father – was his best bet at sourcing a compatible radiator. And, true to form, Teddy had said he’d be able to help him out. The only problem was that the soonest he’d actually be able to get the required radiator would be in three weeks’ time – a fact Ray wasn’t exactly sure how the kid would take.
After taking one more deep breath of the refreshingly cool night air, Ray turned around, pulled open the door of the diner and walked back inside. The usual smell of cooking food that greeted everyone upon entering ‘Renée’s’ wafted into Ray’s nostrils as he moved across the tiled floor, reminding him just how hungry he actually was after a long day at the Creek.
“Everythin’ ok?” asked Jeanie, one of the waitresses who’d been working at the diner for as long as Ray had been going there – and who he had the slightest hint of a crush on.
“Yeah, everythin’s fine” replied Ray, coming to a stop at the large counter which ran nearly the entire length of the diner. “Any trouble with my man over there?”
“Nah, he’s just been sitting down where you left him” answered Jeanie, glancing over towards the booth where the kid was sitting down. “Polished off all the breadsticks, though.”
“Yeah, he’s built up somethin’ of an appetite” smiled Ray, himself looking over at the kid, who was now busily scanning the menu as he took a deep drink from the soda Ray had bought him before going outside to call Teddy.
“And who exactly is he?” asked Jeanie, the curiosity in her voice mirrored on her face. “If you don’t mind me askin’, of course. It’s just I’ve never seen you in here before with anyone other than Bill.”
A wave of panic suddenly flushed through Ray’s body. With all of his thinking focused on getting the kid to come with him out of the swamp and then trying to source a radiator to fix his car with, he’d completely forgotten to dedicate even a solitary second to how he’d explain who the kid was and why he was suddenly hanging around with him.
“Uh … he’s my friend’s kid” answered Ray, uttering the first half convincing-sounding option that flashed through his brain. “Yeah, he and his wife had to go away for a few weeks, so they asked me if I’d look after him – they just dropped him off a while ago.”
“Oh, right …” said Jeanie, looking, once again, back over at the kid. “Well, that should be fun – though, do you have much experience of taking care of a kid his age?”
“Well, if he’s anythin’ like I was at that age, he’s going to spend most of his time just sleepin’ and eatin’,” replied Ray, dryly. “So, as long as he has somewhere to sleep and I … you know … put food out for him and stuff – it should be fine.”
“‘Put food out for him’?!” repeated Jeanie, her deep brown eyes widening in disbelief. “Ray, you’re takin’ care of your friend’s kid, not his cat!”
“Aw well, you know what I mean!” said Ray, his attempt at correcting the record being hampered by how flustered he sounded. “He’ll have a bed, I’ll give him food, make sure he doesn’t wander off anywhere …”
Having heard him, yet again, inadvertently liken taking care of the kid to ‘cat-sitting’, Jeanie just fixed Ray with a look on her face as if trying to prompt him into recognising what he’d done.
“Ok, I know that sounded like I was talkin’ about a cat again,” said Ray, quickly catching on to why Jeanie was looking at him like he’d, temporarily, lost his mind. “But, the point is, I know that he isn’t – so, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
“Hmm …” uttered Jeanie, not sounding overly convinced. “Well, just to be sure, I want to see both of you in here every day for as long as he’s here, ok? That way I can make sure the two of you are at least getting one proper meal a day.”
“Yes, ma’am” replied Ray, his tone a mixture of sarcastic and feigned exasperation, because, in reality, he was delighted at the prospect of getting to talk to Jeanie every day. “And is there a particular time we have to be in here at or …?”
“Just shut up and let me be nice to you!” snapped Jeanie, playfully, as a smile lit up her face. “Now, go on, get back over there.”
“Thanks, Jeanie.” smiled Ray, teasingly, before turning and walking away from the counter.
After taking no more than five or six steps, however, Ray was stopped in his tracks by the sound of Jeanie calling out to him.
“Actually, Ray?!”
“Yeah?” he said, turning back around and taking in the sight of Jeanie once more.
“Just so I know …” she said, noticeably lowering her voice despite the fact there was only one other person in the diner. “The kid – what’s his name?”
If Ray had felt a wave of panic at being asked who the kid was and how he knew him, being asked his name felt like a full-blown tsunami of panic had just engulfed him.
“His name?” replied Ray, blurting out the first reasonable string of words that came to mind in order to try and buy himself some time.
“Yeah, his name” repeated Jeanie, dryly. “You know, it’s that thing his parents might have told you to call out if he ‘wanders off’?”
Ray’s mind was awash. He rooted through every corner of his brain, pulling out drawers and strewing pieces of paper everywhere in search of a name. Just one single, solitary name that he could throw out of his mouth and get himself out of this situation – but, for some reason, he was coming up completely blank. The harder he looked for a name the more he seemed to forget. Every name that he’d ever read, heard, or said in his thirty-four years on Earth had just seemingly upped and left his memory without so much as leaving a note.
But then, out of nowhere, a word. A flash of letters arranged in an order close enough to resembling a name that Ray, in his desperation, decided to go with it.
“Mustang”
“Mustang?” repeated Jeanie, her face scrunching up ever so slightly in disbelief. “Like … the car?”
“Yep …” answered Ray, realising he had no other choice but to go along with the situation he, himself, had created. “His parents are … big car fans – Mustangs, in particular … obviously.”
“Clearly” replied Jeanie, still looking a touch surprised. “Well, in that case, I’ll be over to take yours and … Mustang’s orders as soon as I can.”
At that, Jeanie turned away from the counter and disappeared off through the door that led to the kitchen at the rear of the diner. As soon as she was out of sight – and, most importantly, earshot – Ray let out a quietly frustrated sigh.
“Mustang?!” he whispered, agitatedly, under his breath. “Idiot!”
With an annoyed shake of his head, Ray turned on his heels and set off walking back towards the booth where the kid was still perusing through the menu.
“If anyone asks …” said Ray, plonking himself wearily down across the table from the kid. “Your name is Mustang.”
“What?” asked the kid, sounding confused as he lifted his gaze from off the laminated menu in his hands and turned it onto Ray. “Why?”
“Why?!” whispered Ray, the words coming sharply out of his grinning mouth as he leaned slightly into the edge of the table. “Why’d you think, man?! You’re the one who wouldn’t tell me your name, right?!”
“Yeah …” he agreed, knowing full well he had no argument against that particular point.
“Well, there you go then” said Ray, peeling off his baseball cap and tossing it down alongside where he was sitting.
“But why ‘Mustang’?”
“Because the waitress who’ll be comin’ over here soon asked me what your name is,” answered Ray, making sure to continue keeping his voice down in case Jeanie overheard. “So I panicked and said the first thing that popped into my head.”
“And that first thing was … ‘Mustang’?” said the kid, still not sounding all that sure how Ray had come to land on his new moniker.
“Alright then, genius,” replied Ray, having grown weary of having his choice of name questioned. “Put yourself in my shoes – what name would you have come up with?”
“Off the top of my head?”
“Off the top of your head” clarified Ray, confidently.
The kid turned his head and looked idly off at the small metal basket filled with condiments sitting at the end of their table.
“Arnold …” he said after only a few seconds of contemplation and with his eyes still firmly locked on the bottles of ketchup and barbecue sauce.
He turned and looked back across the table at Ray.
“Because of my golf club”
Now it was Ray’s turn to look off at the ketchup and barbecue sauce.
“Yeah …” he conceded, turning his attention back onto the kid. “That would’ve definitely made a lot more sense. Still, though … ‘Mustang’? It’s a pretty cool name nonetheless, right?
“I guess” replied the kid, looking back down at the menu. “Plus, it’s not like I’m going to be here all that long anyway, so it doesn’t really matter what you call me.”
Suddenly, Ray was reminded of the conversation he’d had with Teddy Jr. outside the diner and how it was going to be at least three weeks before he’d have the radiator needed to fix the kid’s car with – a good fortnight longer than what Ray had initially said it would take. Though the thought of holding off on telling him the truth briefly crossed his mind, Ray was reluctant to lie to the kid or fudge the truth – again, he needed him to trust him. So, he decided to bite the bullet.
“Yeah … about that” began Ray, forcing himself to get the words out. “You know how I said I was going to call that mechanic?”
“Yeah …?” replied the kid, his voice sounding as wary as the expression that had suddenly appeared on his face as he peered back over the top of his menu at Ray.
“Well, I did call him,” continued Ray, feeling strangely similar to when he used to be brought in before his superiors in the army for misbehaving, such was the level of scrutiny he was under. “And, as it turns out, the part that your car needs? It’s gonna take a little bit longer to get than what I first thought.”
“How much longer?” asked the kid, his wariness growing.
“Three weeks”
As soon as the words fell from Ray’s mouth, the kid let his menu drop down onto the smooth, white surface of the table in exasperation – this wasn’t meant to be part of the plan.
“But …” said Ray, eager to keep the kid from spiraling and possibly doing a runner. “Nothin’ has changed as far as I’m concerned. Ok, I’ll still pay to get your car fixed. You can stay with me until it’s ready. And if you’re in a particular hurry to get somewhere? I’ll take you in my car.”
From his reaction, Ray could tell the final part of his trio of offers seemed to particularly pique the kid’s interest.
“You mean that?” he asked, the most serious he’d seen him since they’d left the swamp an hour previously.
“Take you somewhere?” replied Ray. “Sure – I mean, within reason, obviously – but yeah.”
“How about Houston?”
“Houston? Yeah, we could go to Houston – and the reason you want to go there is …?”
From the manner in which the kid averted his gaze and looked through the window at the empty street outside the diner as opposed to answering told Ray everything that he needed to know about Houston – which is to say ‘nothing’ … for now, at any rate.
“Obviously on a need-to-know basis” continued Ray upon seeing the kid wasn’t going to be forthcoming with any answers. “Gotcha.”
With only the music being piped through the diner’s speakers preventing the pair of them from sitting in total silence, Ray, having seen that Jeanie was still nowhere in sight, decided to try and reignite the conversation between him and the kid.
“So …” he began, desperately searching his brain for a topic that might get the kid speaking, yet not result in him clamming up again. “How long you been playin’ golf for?”
“I don’t play golf” answered the kid, flatly, before taking another drink from his soda.
*
“What?!” cried Maggie as she grabbed Ray’s outstretched hand and he helped her back to her feet.
“That’s what he said” smiled Ray, enjoying the fact the look of shock on Maggie’s face probably closely resembled the look that was on his own face when he heard Mustang say it in person.
“So, hold up,” said Maggie, taking a second to get her thoughts straight and wipe the few bits of cobweb and dust that had clung to her clothes whilst down looking at the Mustang. “You asked him how long he’d been playing golf … and he said he didn’t play?”
“Correct”
“Even though you’d seen him hitting balls like a pro just out there?” said Maggie, gesturing towards the wall of the workshed just off behind where she was standing.
“Correct again” confirmed Ray as he turned and began to move back over towards where the rope he’d used to hoist open the trapdoors with was still safely tethered.
“So … what?” posed Maggie, still sounding no more enlightened as she turned the flashlight she’d been using to examine the Mustang with over in her hands. “Was he trying to … I don’t know … ‘lie’ for some reason?”
“See, that’s the funny thing,” replied Ray, undoing the knot keeping the rope tied to the metal loop set into the wall. “He wasn’t lyin’. Because, in his head, for someone to say they ‘played golf’? That meant actually goin’ out on a golf course – which he never had.”
“But if he’d never been on a golf course …” said Maggie, still sounding confused. “How did he get so good?”
*
“Because of my job, I guess?” answered Mustang, distractedly. “Any chance we can order soon?”
“Yeah, yeah, Jeanie will be over soon” said Ray, hurriedly, eager to get back to finding out more about how the kid had gotten so good at golf despite the fact he, apparently, didn’t even play. “What do you mean because of your job? How did that help you get so good at golf?”
“I dunno …” replied the kid, not understanding why Ray was making such a big deal of how he hit golf balls. “I used to be a Range Picker at this big, fancy country club after school and on the weekend to make some extra money for me and my mom, and I used to hit balls there.”
“Ok …” said Ray, knowing better than to try and ask the kid about his mother. “And were you given lessons by someone? Is that how you started hitting balls the way you do?”
“Naw, no lessons” answered the kid, turning his now near-empty glass of soda in a circle on the surface of the table. “Just did it one day to help me with work, liked it, so then I just started doing it every day when I’d be finished working and when everyone else had gone home.”
“I see …” replied Ray, sounding quietly stunned. “And when you say you started hittin’ balls to help you with work … what exactly do you mean by that?”
“Well, one day I showed up to work as normal, but when I went to start the actual range picker you drive around in, it wouldn’t start. So, because I didn’t want to spend the afternoon walking all the way out to the end of the range, filling up a bucket and walking all the way back like … I dunno … fifty times to get all the balls out near the net, I thought I’d grab one of the old clubs my boss used to have lying around for anyone to use, walk out to the net once and just hit the balls that were out there as far back down the range as I could.”
“And that club you used …” mused Ray, sounding positively intrigued by the kid’s story. “Is it the one you have now?”
“Yeah, it was ‘Arnold’” said the kid, who’d now taken to swirling the few remaining ice cubes in his soda around with the straw that had come with it, but he hadn’t used. “I was going to take one of the ones that make the ball go really far, but make a really loud sound when you hit them …”
“A driver?”
“Yeah, one of them” continued the kid. “But as I didn’t have any of those small, wooden sticks you put the ball on, I said it would just be easier to use ‘Arnold’.”
“I see” said Ray, quietly deciding to save teaching him the word ‘tee’ for a later date. “So, you grabbed ‘Arnold’ and … did you just start hittin’ the balls like you were at the range a while ago?”
“Uhm … not straight away, no” replied the kid after taking a second or two to think over his answer. “The first few barely got off the ground, but then, after a while, I kinda just figured out how to make them get up in the air and go farther down the range.”
Ray could only shake his head quietly in disbelief because he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Every answer the kid gave him to his questions just prompted five more to pop into his head.
“Just … ‘figured it out’, huh?” said Ray, still struggling to comprehend what he’d heard. “Simple as that?”
“Pretty much” said the kid, still sounding blissfully nonchalant. “I just tried to copy what I’d seen some of the club members doing when they were hitting balls and went from there.”
“And did any of those members happen to include Tiger Woods by any chance?” joked Ray.
“He’s the really famous guy, right?” asked the kid, completely seriously.
“Yeah,” said Ray, smiling. “Tiger’s the famous guy.”
Before Ray could ask one of the many more questions he had, true to her word, Jeanie finally arrived at their table.
“Hey! Sorry for the wait!” she said, sounding a touch breathless. “But there was a problem with the fryer and then the grill started acting up, so it was just this whole … thing!”
“That’s alright,” smiled Ray. “Me and Mustang were just talkin’ about how we’re gonna spend the next few weeks anyway …”
Ray looked very deliberately across the table at the kid.
“Ain’t that right … Mustang?”
Between his slightly widened eyes and the tone of his voice, the kid knew exactly what Ray was trying to hint at – so he responded appropriately.
“Uh … yeah,” he said, trying his best to come across as normal as possible. “It should be a lot of fun.”