Little Chuck
The car roared down the street with its ten cylinders and gigantic, polished exhausts. The newest horse in Wick's stables was out tonight to stretch its legs with Bix at the helm. Riding in the back, Mitzi and Wick passed the time laughing over their latest handiwork at the photo booth in the park.
"Look at this one! What were we thinking?" Wick said as he held up one of his favorite works of art. The two of them had tried to switch around as much of their attire as possible between frames. Both ended up looking drunk, which in all honesty was likely the case.
Mitzi giggled at that one, but then held up her own. "This one will need to get a frame, though." She said, pointing at the two of them passionately kissing. "One of these days I'll need to get Ethan's sister to take some proper pictures of us together." She added.
In the several months since Lackadaisy closed, Mitzi could hardly believe how much brighter life had gotten. Sure, she still missed Atlas and the busy speakeasy still brought fond memories, but lately she hadn't even wanted to go down and turn on the lights to look around. Slowly but surely the world was still moving, and she had to move with it or be stuck alone in the past. What Ethan had said all those months ago was still true though, and she had some comfort in that. Her "crew" were building lives of their own but frequently checked in on her. If she needed anything at all, Rocky was a mere phone call away. Ethan was done with "tying up loose ends", but he and Freckle would happily shoot the breeze with Wick. And just last week she got to witness Ivy and Alena taking third place in the regional precision match.
As for Wick, he was just happy to have finally found someone who enjoyed him. There were a lot of women out there who would love his money, but Mitzi loved him as a person. While he wouldn't call Rocky, Freckle, or Ethan close friends, they were happy to hang around, fix things if he needed them, and provide him with some entertainment now and then. His reputation for generosity was finally paying dividends in life. In the back of his mind was the possibility of a more… committed relationship and producing offspring. Mitzi didn't seem too keen on either idea so he left the topic be for now, but eventually someone would have to inherit his estate when he was old and grey.
Tonight wasn't the time to think about such things though. They were headed into the heart of St. Louis for an evening at the only speakeasy still worth going to, the Marigold Room. Burying the hatchet with Asa Sweet gave them free access to the high-end establishment. While they were far from friends, Asa knew all too well what the consequences would be of double-crossing any of the former Lackadaisy crew. At least for all his sleaziness, Asa wasn't cruel or stupid.
Pulling up to the curb, Wick got out and held the door open for his lady. Bidding Bix farewell and instructions to return in a few hours, the two of them entered the gold-trimmed five-star hotel. Ghosts of the past seemed to surround the two. Officially, they were welcome guests but that didn't mean there wasn't some hard feelings among some of the associates of Marigold's gang.
"Mitzi, how ya doin' doll face?" Came a loud voice from across the lobby. Cigar in his mouth and a pocket watch in hand, Asa Sweet walked across the marble floor and shook their hands.
"I'm well, Asa." Mitzi said, putting on her best smile. Asa acknowledged her before putting his hand on Wick's shoulder. "And Mr. Sable. It's an honor to have you back. It's nice to have some of the old gang back again, lord knows I've been missing those days."
"Is this need for nostalgia partially rooted in you being surrounded by out-of-town goons." Wick said, gesturing toward the shadowy figures prowling around in the dark areas of the lobby.
"Ah don't mind them; the Chicago boys went back to town. Something about rising tensions between Capone and some of his 'friends'. These guys just happen to know who you are." Asa then turned around and yelled at the gangsters. "Hey, scram and go do your jobs! Yer making the guests nervous."
Asa then turned back to Mitzi and Wick, walking with them into the elevator. "Truth be told, one or two of them would still like their chance at revenge."
"I'm sure they would. And I hope you've made it clear how unfortunate it would be if one of them acted on it."
"Hehe, yeah…" Asa said nervously. He sighed before straightening out his attire. "If any of those idiots are stupid enough to act on their compulsions, you have my express permission to remove them."
"If I were you, Asa, I would make it plain what Ethan would do if anyone violated the peace terms we've worked out." Mitzi said, confident that the mention of her ghost's name would be enough to get the point across.
"I'll work on it. No one is in danger, I swear. Hand on the bible! You aren't even competition anymore. Just give them some more time and they'll get over it. Now then, about Ethan. If he were wanting to—"
"Ethan says he's retired, Asa." Mitzi countered. "He has no interest in getting involved anymore. He's about to get married, you know. Family man and all that."
"No shit. Well, give him my regards next time you see him. I respect that." His last comment drew a raised eyebrow from both Mitzi and Wick. "Honest, I really do! Loving wife, a great house, little ones tumbling about in a couple of years, it sure beats doing a gang's dirty work."
The doors to the elevator opened and the three of them walked into the back of the hotel. Behind a secure door made to look like a utility entrance was a long and isolated hallway. Slowly, the sound of jazz music got louder and louder as they approached the second set of doors. The two guards smiled at Asa and opened up the entrance to the Marigold Room.
Zib blew away on his saxophone, matching Sy and J.J. note for note as the brass section of their small band played the melody and harmony. Behind them, Big Ben tapped away at his upright bass while Walter kept everyone in time. Together the two of them made up the foundation of the band's music. Filling in a lot of the gaps was the hard-working pianist, Mozzie Alonso, who always liked to show off when he got the chance. While everyone else had to take short breaks, Mozzie could play the grand piano all night long and often took to playing some of his own short pieces of ragtime and Dixieland jazz.
But in just a few short measures it would be Zib's time to shine. He conserved his breath, letting the sweat run down his hair and over his brow. It was hot under those spotlights, but it was here that he felt alive. The other twenty hours a day he was just some washed up old orchestra player, but in the early evening he could expend all his pent-up energy with one goal, to entertain a lovely crowd.
The stagehands dimmed the lights right as Zib stepped forward in a move that had been practiced for weeks by this point. It was all down to the brilliant fingers and mouth of Zib Zibowski as he let out a loud and long fifth before improvising the melody of the song with a splash of his own flair. Since this was the last set for the night, he intended to give the audience their money's worth. Blasting away, Zib winked at Sy who rested his trumpet and admired the man. Sy knew from experience that Zibowski's fingers were nimble and that mouth could do wonderful things. It was no small wonder how he had once wooed Tipsy Mitzi all those years ago. Of course, he kept such thoughts to himself. Sy could never quite figure out what Zib thought of their "drunken flings" as Mitzi called them. Usually Zib was so hammered that he was liable to feel up a lamp post or his own saxophone as if it were the most beautiful woman on God's green Earth.
Just then something small tugged on Sy's pant leg. He looked down and had to do a double take when he realized who the uninvited guest was. Somehow a young child hand found his way onto stage and the toddler was enamored with Zib's saxophone. Sy crouched low and got the kid's attention.
"Hey buddy, where did you come from?"
The toddler gurgled and clapped his hands before pointing at the Saxophone. Just as Ben came back in with the base to assist Zib, the boy started to bounce while standing up and using Sy's knee for support. He picked up the trumpet and winked at the kid. "You think that's neat, huh? Watch this, kiddo."
At the perfect moment Sy came crashing back into the song. He stayed down low on the stage, letting the kid get a close-up of how the valves on his instrument worked. Zib noticed that Sy wasn't standing back-to-back with him like he usually was and immediately noted that their band had an unofficial member. The bouncing baby caused Zib to smile. He too had been enamored with music from a young age and Zib's mother would often tell him how he loved listening to the ragtime bands at the park in their Milwaukee neighborhood when he was still a baby. Now he was on the other side of that relationship and could look back to see who might one day come up on stage with an instrument in hand to entertain the masses.
Letting go of the Saxophone with one hand, Zib got the toddler's attention and let the kid waddle up to him in the middle of spotlight. The crowd started to laugh and holler at the bouncing baby and when the kid turned around, he saw that he was the center of everyone's attention.
"Get a load of this kid!" Asa said, nudging Wick by the elbow.
"I say, when did the band get a new member?" Wick asked Mitzi.
"Oh no, the poor thing must be lost." Mitzi said. "Ah well, the boys have always loved entertaining children. You should have seen them in the early years, they'd get dozens of kids to dance and sing in front of the stage."
With one last, long note, Zib closed out the set to thunderous applause. After all these years he still had it in him, it's just too bad that they could never get a record contract. Picking the young boy up, Zib held the kid up for the crowd to applaud before letting the boy feel the saxophone.
"Kid has stars in his eyes, Zib." Sy said as he reached out to take hold of the kid. "Alright buddy, where's your mom?"
"I am so sorry for my son. Thank you so much for finding him!" A woman said as she worked her way through the crowd. "I set him down to get a drink and he walked off!"
It's no trouble at all, ma'am." Sy said. "When did the tike start walking?" Sy then handed the boy down to his mother.
"About a month ago. Now Charles Edward Anderson Berry, what am I going to do with you?!" The woman said as she looked at her kid with disapproving eyes. "I can't set you down for one second and you're getting too big for one arm."
"Martha, there you are! When I saw little Chuck up there, I just about spit out my drink!" A male cat said as he elbowed his way to the front of the stage.
"It's alright, Henry. I didn't think he would run off like that. I'm so embarrassed that Chuck found his way up here in the middle of their set."
"Like Sy says, it really isn't a problem, Mrs. Berry. Most kids get stage fright, but I think this one was made to be a star."
"You're closer to the truth than you think, mister…" Henry said.
"Zibowski, sir." Zib said while hopping off the stage and extending a hand. Henry shook Zib's hand vigorously. "Henry Berry, it's great to meet you Zibowski. Again, thank you for your patience with my son. We take him to places like this because he loves music. I'm quite certain that in a few years I'll be paying for music lessons."
"Just start him on something simple and cheap like a guitar." Sy mentioned.
"I'll keep that in mind. Come on dear, let's leave these gentlemen to their work." Henry said, taking his wife by the hand. Little Chuck made an attempt to wave at the two musicians as he was carried away. Sy playfully reciprocated the gesture, getting a smile from the kid.
"Hear that, Zib? He called you a gentleman." Sy teased.
"I believe that was addressed to you. Seriously, how are you still so sharply dressed after a whole evening?"
"It's called basic hygiene and caring for your clothing, Zib. You should try it sometime."
"And ignore my hidden God-given skill of looking like some drunken bum no matter where I go? Yeah right!" Zib laughed as Sy helped him back on stage. "Okay boys, we got one minute to clear out and make way for the next act."
"Well, that was quite the spectacle." Mitzi said as the band rested back stage. She sat down and attempted to make Zib look more like a proper feline while he let a cigarette burn in his mouth.
"Yeah, great kid. That one's going places, I've got a sense for these sorts of things."
"Yes, I seem to recall you said the same thing about me once." Mitzi said, rolling her eyes at Zib's nonsense.
"And look at you now! Dating Wick Sable, the baron of St. Louis' quarry and rock industry." Zib gestured to Wick.
"I'm not sure whether to take that as an insult or a compliment." Wick said, removing his hat.
"Whichever makes you more uncomfortable, Wick." Zib said with a smile before sitting up and patting Wick on the arm. "But seriously, I'm glad to see you two together. You're a good man, Wick, better than most."
"So you are capable of a compliment." Wick said with a smirk. "And for that I shall repay the sentiment. Marigold is lucky to have such a talented band here in house."
"I just don't know how much longer this is going to last though. You think this was a great crowd? You should have seen it in December. They were throwing money at us. Too bad we had to give most of it to the Marigolds."
"You think you'll be moving on?" Mitzi asked, puzzled.
"Ain't nothing personal, Miss M. But we can't stick around town forever." Sy said as he polished his trumpet and took over trying to make Zib more presentable. Zib lit up a cigarette and handed it to Sy who puffed on it while his hands were busy cleaning his friend up.
"Problem is, we don't know where to go." Zib added. "We've burned most of our bridges. Pretty sure we're still banned in a couple of states. And now I've got that damn warrant out for me again."
"You missed your court date… again? Well, I guess that's par for the course." Mitzi shook her head. "You are staying for Ethan and Isabella's wedding, right?"
"Oh yeah, that gig is going to net us a good payday, can't pass that up. Besides, it'll be nice to see how the others are getting along. I'll admit to missing Rocky's antics—" Zib became aware of how crazy that sounded to everyone else. "On occasion… What? I like the kid, alright?!"
Mitzi smiled. "I like him too, hon. And I know Rocky will be overjoyed to see you again. Well, we're going to enjoy the rest of the evening. I just wanted you to know that Ethan expects to see you tomorrow afternoon. He should be coming around with the farm truck."
Mitzi then stood up and joined Wick as the two of them strolled out. Zib immediately reached for a booze bottle and took swigs in between puffs of his cigarette. Sy slumped down next to Zib, resting his head in his bandleader's lap. Another day gone; another dollar earned.
Placht & Sons
Zib awoke the next day to a nudge in the ribs by Sy's foot. Rubbing his eyes, Zib sat up. "What day is it?"
"Good morning, sunshine. We got some errands to take care of." Sy said, gesturing to the other band members who were passing around and adding to a list.
"Oh. What do we need to do?"
"We need strings, a new brush for our brass instruments, you're running low on reeds, and we could use some blank music paper. That's on top of cigarettes and some food for the pantry."
"Yeah, yeah. Easy stuff. Ugh, why is it so hard to get up in the morning?"
"Because you insist on sleeping in ridiculous poses all night." Sy commented. "Coffee?"
"Please." Zib said while holding a cup in hand. Despite being so hot, he threw the coffee down his gullet and instantly felt more awake. A cigarette got him the rest of the way to full consciousness. "So that's the morning. When is Ethan coming around again?"
Ben checked his watch. "He should be here around one."
"And what time is it now?"
"Eleven."
"Ah damn. Well, best get a move on. Mind helping me up, Sy?" Zib reached out his hand. Sy reached down and helped get his friend back under his feet.
"Was that everything then? It would be nice to get a nap in before we have to play tonight."
"Shouldn't take too long, Zib. Let's get going and find lunch on the way back."
Zib and Sy walked down the sidewalk, taking in the spring air. It was warm out now after a wet and particularly cold winter. Leaves were on every tree now and flowers were coming in. Despite wanting to go back to bed, Zib did enjoy being outside on days like today. It reminded him of summer days back home.
"Too bad I never got the chance to have kids." Sy mentioned, recalling their encounter the previous night. "I loved watching that boy dance around."
"Yeah, but our situation isn't exactly conducive to child-rearing now, is it? Besides that, it's not like a bunch of washed-up musicians could collectively find the time or money to do such a thing."
"Hey, speak for yourself! I'm still in my prime." Sy insisted. But Zib had a point.
"Say, which place are we going to? I don't recognize this route."
"Placht & Sons opened up a new location nearby. Thought we should stop there first before walking further. It should be just down the block."
The front door jingled a bell as the pair entered. It was a fully stocked store with a fine selection of instruments from around the country. Guitars, pianos, brass instruments, drums, and the parts to keep them all maintained. It had everything a budding or veteran musician could need.
While Zib assumed command of the list and asked the shop clerk for all the necessary items, Sy looked around and inspected instruments. Some were far better quality, but his prized trumpet was sentimental to him. He also lacked the funds to get anything better, but it was fun to window shop. As he browsed the racks, a flyer caught his eye on the cork board near the front entrance. Walking over, his eyes widened when he read it.
"Attention all bands! The Cadillac Club wants you! Competition between blues and jazz bands at the famous Cadillac Club in New Orleans on June 29th through July will be recorded all day for local and national radio. Winning band will receive $500 prize, an opportunity to open for Louis Armstrong this July, and possible record contract."
"Hey Zib, check this out!" Sy exclaimed as he took a small paper copy with him. There didn't seem to be too many interested individuals this far north judging by how many flyers were still left.
"What?" Zib asked, but the flyer was thrust into his hands. "You've been looking for an opportunity. Well, it seems one just fell into our laps."
Zib scanned it over, getting excited at the prospect of a record contract. "Holy Hell, there is a God! But it's all the way down in New Orleans."
"Just take Route 61." The clerk chimed in. "Way quicker than taking the gravel backroads or riverboat."
"We better let the boys know about this. Could be the ticket we need to get out of this town and find some greener pastures." Zib said, folding up the flyer and handing it back to his friend.
"What do you mean it's in New Orleans?" Walter asked, clearly not sounding enthused.
"Yeah, I'm all for hitting the road, but this is kind of on short notice. If we're supposed to make the audition window we're going to need to get going as soon as possible." Ben said, looking over the flyer.
"It's impossible." J.J. said, doing the mental math.
"I agree, this is a fool's errand." Mozzie added.
Zib was hardly impressed. "What happened to my brave band of gypsies? We used to wander all over the countryside looking for exactly this opportunity, and now one is finally handed down from powers beyond our comprehension and you guys want to do what, sit around and not even try?"
All he got in response was shrugging shoulders and a continuation of card games. Sy lowered his hat and stepped forward. "Hey, when has Zib led us astray? You can't possibly think that we'll find success just wandering from town to town. We've one that for what, a decade prior to Mitzi getting hitched to Mr. May? This might well be our last chance to finally make it big!"
Walter rolled his eyes. "We may as well pack it in, Sy. I don't want to speak for everyone, but I happen to be getting along fine in St. Louis. Now, if you guys wanted to tour the local area then I'm all in, but I'm not about to abandon my girlfriend to go chase some dream."
"Okay, Walter is out then. Fair enough, I'm not going to force anyone into this." Zib said. "But I don't care if I have to go down to New Orleans myself. We've always wanted this, and now we've got a chance."
Ben massaged his temple while leaning back in his chair. "I suppose we could make the deadline, but we need wheels. We also need money, but we have neither."
"Solvable problems." Sy said. "We know people, all we got to do is ask."
J.J. opened up a map and did some quick calculations. "If we're going to make it, we need to leave immediately after the wedding and get as far south as possible. We also can't afford to stay in hotels and we lack equipment to camp."
"That's never stopped us before." Zib added, lighting a cigarette.
Mozzie then had an idea. "We could play local venues on the way down. That way even if the audition amounts to nothing, we at least turned a profit for our troubles."
"Got any locations in mind?" Sy asked.
"One off the top of my head is my cousin, Martin. He owns a club down near the Arkansas border. We could make it in two days easily, maybe even one."
"See, and here I was thinking I'd have to give some big inspiring speech." Zib quipped, lighting himself a fresh cigarette. "What do you boys say?"
"Well, if we can at least make money on the way down there then I suppose it's worth a shot." Mozzie said. "I'll go."
"I'm in too. Not a lot of demand for a trombonist right now." J.J. added.
"Ugh, fine. You guys can't keep time without a bass." Ben said.
"And while I wish you gentlemen luck, St. Louis is my home now. New adventures just don't excite me." Walter said. "But I will help with the wedding. Easy paycheck."
Rust Bucket
"Okay, so first things first, make sure Zib and the band are all set with their instruments and the song list, then we got to take them in to get fitted for their attire." Rocky said as he penned the list while on the bumpy road. Freckle and Ivy were making plans of their own in the backseat while little Cal and Riley sat between them in our stolen sedan.
"Sounds about right." I said, hollering over the sound of the engine and the air rushing past the open window. Today was the first hot day of the summer. "Oh yeah, we need to add another stop on the list. Gotta see Isabella and make sure her end of things are coming along."
"Noted!" Rocky said as he added another bullet-point to the to-do list.
"Ethan, I also need another roll of film."
"Oh yeah, that's right. And the camera store while we're at it." I replied. "What kind of film, Riley?"
"Uh…"
"We'll just ask Mitzi when we get there." I said, waving the problem away for a moment. Soon enough we pulled into an old, rundown hotel near the Maribel. While I was confident we were perfectly safe, my revolver was still loaded and tucked neatly away behind my waistband. Climbing up to the second floor, Rocky dug out the handwritten address complete with a room number. Excited, he knocked on the door and stood back with the rest of us.
Sy and Zib opened the door shortly after, both still attempting to get their clothes in order.
"Zib!" Rocky exclaimed, hugging the musician around the chest. Zib smiled before gently shoving him back. "How are ya Rocky?"
"Can you believe it's already been six months?!"
"Yep, time sure flies. And how's the kid?"
"You can ask Cal himself." Rocky said as he motioned for the boy to step forward. "Hi Mister Zib!" Joseph said, sticking out his hand. Zib knelt down and shook the boy's hand before putting his hat on the kid's head. "Growing like a weed already. Glad to know your family is feeding you at least. He then stood up and acknowledged the rest of us. "Miss Pepper, Freckle. And I can't forget young Riley." He said, winking at the girl. "And, of course, the man of the hour. You excited, Ethan?"
"Nervous as hell to be honest." I said. "But everything is coming together. Here's the song list, by the way. You need sheet music?"
Zib lit a cigarette and read it over before handing it off the Sy. "Oh, we'll be fine. Nothing I haven't played before, and the boys are great at following leads. Right Sy?"
"You're my baby? The Wedding Glide? Hell, Ethan, these are classics to the rest of us."
"Most of them came recommended from Isabella. I guess her folks really got into American music when they showed up here."
"So, what you got in store for us today?" Zib asked.
"You're all getting fitted for dress shirts, slacks, and vests." Ivy said, pulling out her measuring tape. "We gotta head down to Isabella's parents' place. It's a big villa."
"Big villa?" Sy asked.
"Yeah, I guess the extended family is a bit on the large side. Almost all of them work in the tailoring business. Shouldn't take more than a couple of hours, we can have you back well before you're needed in the Marigold room."
Zib stretched before motioning to Sy. "Better get the others back at the club." Zib then opened the door all the way. "Welcome to our humble abode."
The old place was ratty and dirty… much like the back rooms were at the speakeasy. The band clearly was used to living on the road and in less-than-ideal conditions. All the same, they had talent and were cheap enough that we could keep the costs low for the venue. Once inside, Zib leaned against the kitchen table. Ivy and Freckle looked around, and she noticed that while there was more than one bed in the place, only one had been used recently.
Taking a cigarette out of his mouth. Zib pointed it at Rocky and I. "We had an opportunity fall into our laps yesterday."
"Of what nature?" Rocky asked.
"The chance we've all been dreaming of." Zib said with a smile. "There's going to be a band contest of some kind down in New Orleans at the end of the month. We intend to go."
"That's a long way to go and not a lot of time to get there!" Rocky exclaimed. "How do you intend—I mean you lack—and what about—"
"Take it easy kid, don't try to think too hard about it. The short story in all this is we need wheels and supplies. I was wondering if, in lieu of some grand paycheck, you and the orange mechanical wonder over there could fix us up a ride?"
"Mechanical wonder?" Freckle said as he joined us. "I'm not exactly a mechanic."
"Viktor taught me a lot though." Ivy chimed in. "I just don't have the muscle."
"Well, we got the muscle covered." I said. "And I think we can help you out, Zib. Give us a day and we'll get something that drives. And I suppose we can see about Sable giving us a small loan on your behalf… considering your lack of credit or collateral."
That evening, Rocky, Ivy, Freckle, and I approached the barn on the hill behind the Arbogast home. Bobby led us by lantern to the sliding doors. "I'll admit, the old thing isn't exactly fast. Old man Davis barely got it over twenty."
"All the better, pretty sure the new owners won't be sober half the time." I said.
"Half? If Mitzi's stories are anything to go by, I doubt they were sober long enough to tie their own shoes." Ivy added.
"That's… concerning." Bobby said over his shoulder. Nonetheless, we don't exactly need the old rust bucket.
"Well, what are we talking about here, Mr. Bastion? Type V? Model A? Ooh, is it a Bearcat?" Rocky asked.
Bobby unlocked the chain then he and Freckle pulled back the barn doors. "No, it's a—"
"Model T." Freckle said. "And an old one at that."
"How is this thing still running?" I asked, kicking the tires.
"Viktor would have a fit with this thing." Ivy said, opening the door and cringing at the terrible squeaking noise it made."
"It was kept under an open shelter. I guess the old man preferred his garage as a woodworking shop instead of, well, a garage. He also didn't need to use it very often since his wife passed away a couple years ago. Just weekly grocery runs and bingo night on Fridays." Bobby said, pulling up the side panel for us to look at the engine. "The good news is that despite the rust, she runs fine. Carburetor could use cleaning though, and I imagine this old girl could use some grease in a few spots."
"Are you sure about this?" Freckle asked me as he inspected the dusty engine bay. Rocky was busy looking at the less important pieces like the seats and the window rollers.
"What do you mean, cousin? This thing is perfect!"
"Let's see if she gets back under her own power first." I said, digging around for the crank. "How much did you want for it, Bobby?"
"For the car? Oh, I don't think its worth a lot and we aren't exactly hurting for funds. But I know Abelard would welcome a donation to his church."
"I suppose we could be generous. Zib will have to pay us back… eventually. How does fifty sound?"
"Fifty? Surely the car is worth more than that!" Bobby said, crossing his arms. "Oh no, we've done you lot plenty of favors. One twenty-five."
"It's a piece of junk!" Ivy protested, taking over for me. "Viktor taught me a lot about cars."
"Last I checked, Miss Pepper, you still didn't have a license."
"Doesn't mean I can't fix them." Ivy shot back. "Eighty."
Bobby couldn't believe he was haggling with a woman half his age over something taking up space in his barn. "One ten."
Ivy scoffed. "Ninety. That's plenty considering what we'll need to do to it."
I rolled my eyes at the whole scene. "We'll give you one hundred, Bobby. Considering its going to the church, might as well make it worth your in-law's time."
"You're no good at haggling, Ethan." Ivy said, crossing her arms.
"I don't haggle over junk. Besides Ivy, Bobby is right. If it weren't for them Freckle wouldn't be here."
Ivy looked down, recalling that night. The idea of Freckle being dead still shook her. "Hey, it's okay. That's all in the past now."
"What's in the past?" Freckle said as he emerged from behind the car with the starting crank.
"Nothing!" Rocky said, ushering Freckle to the front of the car. "Why don't you get it started, cousin? I'll drive it back.
"I'll have Sable write you a check." I said, patting Bobby on the shoulder.
Wheeling the car into our own barn, Freckle was ready to get to work. "Alright, this shouldn't take too long. The manual is still in the glovebox."
"Yeah, and untouched." Rocky said, pulling the book from its leather sleeve.
"Are you sure you three want to work on the car?" I asked. "It's already ten o'clock."
"For Zib I'll gladly work through the night!" Rocky insisted, but Ivy approached us from the house to deflate his bubble.
"You're good at many things, Rocky, but mechanics isn't one of them. Bella wanted to go over a few things with you, Ethan." Ivy then went up to Rocky and hugged his arm as he stood there holding the manual. "And Rocky, you're son wants his bed-time story."
His blue eyes lit up when he recalled the routine he and Joseph had been building up over the last few months. "Oh yeah, it is pretty late for the lad."
"Go, you both got more important things to do. Besides, it'll give Freckle and I some personal time." Ivy said, kissing Freckle on the cheek.
"I guess in that case we better head in for the night, come on Rocky." I said. "And as for you two lovebirds, I suggest the hayloft. An old friend of mine in Butte once got an infection after performing services on an old seat like that."
New Adventures
A half hour later Bella and I were wrapping up any last-minute plans. "Thanks for watching the kids tonight, Bella. It took all four of us just to get that old thing back here. I hope they weren't any trouble."
"They were fine, as usual." Isabella said. "You ready for the big day?"
"More than ready, dear." I said, suppressing my anxiety. "I hope your parents aren't going to drive you too crazy tomorrow."
"I'll be alright, Ethan. It'll only be for sixteen hours or so, then we'll be making trail to Superior."
"By the way, why are you wanting to head north to that big lake?" I asked, pulling out the map and checking over the miles one more time.
"I've never seen it before, and neither have you. Plus we can see St. Paul on the way back. Riley is okay staying here, right?"
"For ten days? Yeah, she'll be fine. I think. She'll be in good hands with Rocky and the lovebirds. If anyone is going to be anxious about our separation, it's me. I haven't been away from her that long since the war."
Isabella giggled then kissed me on the cheek. "You'll be a good father someday, Ethan Kelly. I don't think I've ever known a man quite so dedicated to his own family."
"If my family doesn't give me a heart attack first, that is." I said, smiling.
"The kitten is fast asleep, didn't even make it ten pages in." Rocky said quietly as he came down the stairway. Bella yawned before stretching. "I think I'm going to call it a night, boys."
"Goodnight, love. Just two more days." I said, kissing her goodnight. "I'll be right behind you."
Rocky and I sat on the couch looking out through the front window to the barn where we could see Freckle and Ivy working by lantern light. The house was quiet inside. Outside we had a light symphony of insects chirping and buzzing along with the occasional clank of metal from the barn. Six months since the closing Lackadaisy and our grand reward was peace. Just peace. Something too many folks take for granted, but for a soldier and a miner it was the grand prize of life. We all had peace; the only question was how long it could last.
"This is nice, Rocky." I said, sinking down into the couch.
"Yeah, but it would be even better with some music, or perhaps some fireworks, or—"
"Nope. No, no, no Rocky. This, right here, is just about heaven. No guns, no one trying to kill us, no explosions, just… life. Life unfolding before us."
"I guess you're right." Rocky said. "But I'm going to miss good old days."
"Rum running? We almost died… several times."
"No, not that! That stuff was a necessity to keep the other things going. I mean the camaraderie, the lights, the big wall of illicit booze and hooch, the band on stage, being up there and performing to a crowd. The Lackadaisy was the first-time people actually wanted me there. I'm going to miss the old adventures."
"You're going to miss Zib and the band, aren't you?"
"Yeah…" Rocky's ears sank behind his head as he looked down into his lap.
"Well Rocky, life moves on. You're dating that girl, Bella and I are getting married, the lovebirds out in the barn are going to be married in August. My sister and your kid are growing up. We couldn't stop time even if we wanted to."
"Doesn't make it any easier to let go, though."
"There is one thing I can guarantee, Rocky. You, me, everyone else in this crazy family, we've all got a lot of adventures to come. You're already on one now with parenthood."
"It's not the same." Rocky said. "I love Joseph and of course I'll be there for him, but—"
"I'm going to stop you right there, Rocky. That brilliant, eccentric mind of yours is overthinking it. Raising that kid is every bit the adventure as what we were doing. The only difference is we aren't being shot at. If you want advice from an old soldier who's lost most of his family and friends, take it slow and enjoy the next few years. Little Cal will thank you for it later when he looks back and remembers all the times his Dad was there to cheer him on, lift him up, teach him something, or just cuddle him to sleep. And it's not like the rest of us are going anywhere. Farming is mundane work but it's good and honest. Now that crops are in the ground there are plenty of days for picnics, taking the kids exploring around the bottomlands, going into town to help Mitzi, whatever you want to do."
"You're right, Ethan." Rocky said, scooting close to me. "It's that wanderlust. It never quite goes away. I always want to know what's on the other side of the hill, you know?"
"One day we'll all find out what's on the other side of the hill. I'm just saying it isn't a bad thing to enjoy the views on this side first. Which reminds me, I've got a woman upstairs who I'm sure would appreciate it if her man joined her and kept her warm.
Before Rocky turned in for the night, he cracked open the upstairs bedroom door and stood in the door frame observing Joseph as the boy slept. "Yeah, I can live with this adventure. I love you, son."
The next day our two-vehicle convoy rolled into town. Bella had her bag packed for the night at her parents' villa. Riley was busy sketching scenes as quickly as she could from her seat by the window, while Ivy rested against Freckle's chest, taking in the morning light. The two of them were still greasy from working on the car… and possibly other activities.
Of course, we had to drive slowly because bringing up the rear was the tin can on wheels being driven by Rocky with Joseph up front. It could do twenty-five with a tail wind and might reach thirty on the downhill runs. But it was cheap, easy to fix, and functional. The old girl even had a name now!
"The Empress?" Zib said as he looked in horror at the car we found on short notice.
"You expect us to make it all the way to New Orleans in this thing?" Sy asked.
"Why is it named The Empress?" Zib asked again.
Big Ben folded his arms. "Yeah, the empress of what, exactly?"
"Why, my good man, the empress of Jazz!" Rocky exclaimed as he jumped up on the rusted running boards. "Sure, this old jalopy has seen better days, but she's your chariot upon which you will embark on this journey through the southlands on the newest and best road in the country, highway…? What was the route again?"
"Highway 61." Mozzie said, equally unimpressed.
"A sleek example of American ingenuity and modernity!" Rocky continued.
"It's a piece of junk." J.J. said as he inspected the interior.
"Hey, Calvin and I worked very hard into the early morning to get this car running like a top." Ivy scolded. "Now when Ethan decided to drop one hundred dollars of Wick's money on this, it was a piece of junk then."
"You paid one hundred dollars for this thing?" Sy said.
"It's for a good cause. That and it was taking up space in the Arbogast barn. Those one hundred dollars is going right into the church, so I don't know… Maybe if the carburetor isn't on your side God will be."
"That's it!" Rocky said. "You're on a mission from God!"
"A mission to do what? Crash and die when the wheels fall off?" Mozzie quipped.
"You're on a mission to bring the fabulous and extraordinary sound of the Dixie Drifters into the homes of every music-loving person in the country." Rocky said. "And Bessie will take you there."
"I thought the car was called The Empress?" Zib said.
"That's just the shortened name." Ivy added. "Her full name is The Empress, Bessie Smith. Rocky came up with it." She closed the front door and revealed the full extent of our quick signage job using a can of white paint we had lying around.
"I'm pretty sure Bessie Smith would throttle you for even thinking her name was appropriate to paint on the door of an old model T." Zib retorted.
"Yeah, well, it runs. It's cheap. And most importantly…" I folded down the worn-out roof. "It's got enough space to carry all your stuff from here to New Orleans..." I said. "Of course, if you don't like it, we'll be happy to bring it back to Defiance and—"
"Nope, beggars can't be choosers boys, we've done more with less." Zib said, completely changing his tune as I crawled into the driver's seat and handed the starting crank to Freckle.
I looked at him with a smirk. "You really want to win this thing, don't you?"
"More than you realize, Ethan."
"Then I wish you luck and this new adventure. Now, if we're done here, we've all got a wedding to prepare for."
