I let Spade have the water while I drank the Coke, and looked through the Yellow Pages perched on the shelf in the phone booth for a 'Taylor, Richard' listed. I found his number, praying that the number listed in Tulsa was right.
"Hello?" a gravely voice with a definite twang said. I swallowed nervously.
"Is this Richard Taylor?"
"Yeah. Who is this?"
"Jackie Taylor. I think you knew my mom, Leanne Winston?". The line went silent for a minute, and I was beginning to think he'd hung up on me when he spoke up, his voice slightly softer.
"Yeah. What's this about?"
"She sent me down to live with you. I know you don't know me, but I really need a place to stay" I begged. I doodled on the notepad left there for messages - a flower, a dog, a truck.
"Yeah. Okay... when are you coming around?". I debated, thinking about how long my date would last, and if I could wait until the next morning.
"Tonight, if that's alright". His breathing was labored, like he was under great stress, and I guess with the news that not only do you have a kid, but she's also coming over tonight, would be a great strain on anybody.
"Okay, yeah. Could you be here at eight tonight?". I said yes, and he gave me an address. I hung up the phone with a smile on my face.
Soda had gone and changed, and apparently taken a shower as well; he looked really good, wearing jeans and a clean t-shirt. I didn't have a change of clothes, which left me feeling uncomfortable in my jean shorts, which were considerably shorter than what was deemed acceptable by society, and my cropped Rolling Stones t-shirt.
"You look really nice" he complimented when I walked up to the DX, Spade at my heel. I smiled gratefully.
"Thanks. You do too. Is there a place I could keep him?" I questioned, motioning towards Spade, because the problem that he couldn't come had just occurred to me. Soda was really gracious about it, offering to keep him in the back office, which, he said 'is so messed up, nobody will notice if he chews up a pillow or two'. He held open the door of a truck for me before walking around and climbing in the drivers seat.
"So, where're you from?" Soda began conversationally. I leaned back in my seat, looking at the rearview mirror.
"New York. You?". My answer was received with an impressed whistle. I suppose to the people out in Oklahoma, New York would seem like a really glamorous place to life.
"Wow. I've lived here all my life, but New York. I got a friend from New York; you kinda look like him". I smiled and joked, "Really? What's his name? Maybe I know him".
"Maybe. His name's Dallas Winston". I felt off the entire night after that, trying not to give the impression that I'd been hit by a truck. Man, Dallas. He left eight years ago, the night after he got arrested. I hated him - for years I hated him because he left me, and writing me a goodbye note just wasn't enough to pacify me. The thing was, I blamed him for everything, even when Ma turned to drinking and liked to slap me when I mouthed off. I couldn't quite wrap my head around the fact that he was in Tulsa.
My eyes glanced at the clock, which read seven thirty, and I apologized to Soda. I'd been having a great time with him, though our 'date' became more like hanging out as though we were friends. I don't think we minded, either.
"Could you drive me to this address?" I requested when we were in the truck again. He nodded, going to pick up Spade and put him in the bed of the truck, and as we exited the heart of the city, towards the back-country of Tulsa where barns stood and cows huddled in the fields, Soda struck up conversation.
"You never told me why your name was Jack" he reminded. I smirked, answering "I'll only tell you if you tell me why your name's Sodapop". He shrugged obligingly.
"I sorta expected it".
"Okay. Well, the short story is that my mother was drunk on a bottle of Jack when I was born, ergo, my name's Jack. End of story" I explained, smirking and waiting for his story, which I figured had to be better than mine.
"It isn't as dramatic as your story, but apparently my dad had a horse named Sodapop". He was right - it wasn't as dramatic as my story, but it did pique my interest.
"Your Ma let him name you after a horse? That's insane!" I exclaimed, laughing with him.
"Well, look who's talking" Sodapop joked. It wasn't five minutes later that we came upon a large ranch, extending miles in each direction. He swung the truck onto the dirt road that led to a small farmhouse, leaving a trail of neighing horses behind us.
"I'm gonna go see if he's home". I walked up the front steps, knocking on the door with hesitation and the knowledge that Soda was in the driveway giving me confidence. A tall, lanky man answered the door, and the moment I saw him there was no question of who he was; it was like looking into a mirror. Apparently he understood as well, because he pulled me into a tight hug.
"It's so good to see you" he said, stepping away, looking at me the way that parents and relatives do.
"You too" I replied without hesitation, "let me grab my dog and say bye to a friend real quick". I thanked Soda for the ride and the date with a promise to visit soon, lowered the tailgate so Spade could jump off, and the moment he did, he was running laps around the house to stretch his legs. Once inside, my 'dad' showed me his extra room, and we sat down to talk. I was game for talking - we had plenty to discuss and catch up on. As far as my first day in Tulsa went, I enjoyed it far more than any day in New York.