Twelve Men in the Huddle, page 29
“It has a twenty minute layover at Skinner’s Eddy, before heading into Benton.”
“I don’t know where Skinner’s Eddy is,” replied Pete in an urgent fashion. “Just tell me, can you get me in front of that bus? Yes or no?”
“Yea,” said the driver. “But I’m going to miss out on a lot of fares.” He pointed a thumb in the direction of the stadium. “I make my hay when that game lets out.”
Pete sensed the driver’s hesitancy to leave the locale. He noticed an inordinate amount of Tulsa Valley Football trinkets littering the inner cab. The driver’s attention returned to the broadcast.
“Oh baby…” cried the announcer. “We’ve got a good one cooking here in the Bayou.”
“You a Tarp fan?” asked Pete.
“Yea. Born and raised a Tarp. I hate State.”
“How about we make a little deal?” said Pete as he grabbed the lanyard from around his neck. “See this? It’s a sideline pass for the game. You get me in front of that bus, and it’s all yours.”
“Are you for real man?” said the driver, his eyes fixated on the ticket. “I mean heck, that looks like an official pass.”
“Oh I’m for real,” said Pete as he slid into the car. “And it’s official. But you’ve got to get me in front of that bus, or the deal is off.”
“Close the door,” said the cab driver as he quickly threw the vehicle into drive. “I’ve got a bus to catch!”
As the car peeled away from the hospital, the force drove Pete’s body backwards into his seat. He struggled to latch the seatbelt against the acceleration. The vehicle sideswiped a few garbage cans and jumped a curb, before rocketing down an empty thoroughfare. Within a minute it swerved onto a dirt road and roared out of town. Suddenly they were on the outskirts of Tulsa, passing by a ramshackle shack called the Honey Hole. A poorly lit sign outside the establishment read – “We Love Connor Kelly.” Soon they were in the boondocks and it was pitch black.
Pete Wagner had never felt so alive in his entire life.
Chapter Thirty
A LOVE FEST
“That’s right, I shot him,” said a woman in her thirties, sitting with her back to a window and both legs on the seat. She was smoking a cigarette five rows behind the driver. Her name was Winona.
Besides Winona, there were only two other passengers on the bus, including Heather. At the wheel was a middle aged female with a red bandana on, occasionally hollering at the radio. She had on the Tulsa Valley game, which was barely audible over the static, tied midway through the second quarter. The bus itself was an antiquated yellow and green transit, originally added to the fleet nearly fifty years ago. With each engine shift, a mechanical grind was heard just prior to an abrupt lurch, the combination accentuated by a tar and chip roadway. Half of the bus windows were down, allowing in a warm breeze. Next to the driver’s overhead visor were two pictures – one of the pope, and the other Connor Kelly. The bus was thirty minutes outside of Benton, on a desolate rural route.
“You shot him?” said Heather, seated across the aisle in a window seat. “Why would you do that?”
“Because he was cheating on me, just like your boy,” said the woman. “He’s walking with a limp now.”
“Oh my god,” said Heather.
“They’re all lying scum. You can’t trust any of them. They’re like dogs in heat, especially the young ones. Always trying to hump your leg.” Winona took a drag on her cigarette, the fumes quickly venting into the night.
Heather just stared across the aisle, having just told the woman her story, including the involvement of a diamond ring. She was caught off guard by the response.
“I disagree,” interrupted an elderly woman sitting behind Heather. She was in an aisle seat and clutching onto a bag of groceries. Up until that point she had remained silent. “I believe in second chances. Everyone deserves a second chance.”
“I agree!” yelled the driver while looking into a rear view mirror. “But I don’t understand ma’am. You never had, like sexual relationships, with the man you’re talking about?”
“That’s right,” said Heather in a sad tone. “I just had some deep feelings for him. It was purely platonic.”
“Deep feelings? Honey look at yourself,” said Winona. “You got a tight package. Shake that booty in front of your boy! Show him what you got!”
Heather just stared out the front window. The rhythmic bump-bump, bump-bump of the road was soothing, along with the roadway’s passing centerline. Beyond the front headlights, there was absolute darkness.
“I never forgave my Randy, and I regret it to this very day,” said the elderly woman.
“Randy? Who’s Randy?” asked Winona.
“My high school sweetheart,” said the elderly woman, now gazing into the darkness outside the window. “We went to the senior prom together.”
“And he cheated on you? At a high school prom?”
“Cheat may be a harsh word,” said the woman. “I was going to the ladies room and saw him kiss another girl.”
“On the lips?” asked Winona.
“Yea.”
“That’s cheating honey!”
“What did you do?” asked Heather.
“I flipped out, and left the prom. He apologized a hundred times over, but I never forgave him.”
“So where’s Randy now?”
“He went to Vietnam shortly afterwards, and never came back,” said the woman. “They never found his body… I’ve regretted it ever since.”
No one responded.
“And the kick is good!” shouted the broadcaster. “A thirty yard field goal from back-up kicker Kenny Stone ties the game.
“Uh-oh, Stone is getting up a bit slow,” said the color commentator. “I’m surprised a roughing the kicker flag wasn’t thrown. Coach Hayes is going insane on the sidelines! It looks like he’s doing a rain dance!”
“I agree Johnny, he’s holding his left leg and Doc Harper is taking a look at it now. This could be big.”
“If he gets hurt the Tarps are in some serious trouble Johnny. He’s already their third string kicker…”
“Maybe I should have listened to him a bit longer,” said Heather slowly. “I really believed him. Deep down in side, I felt he was telling the truth.”
“Go back,” said the older woman. “Listen to your heart. It’s telling you to go back. If you don’t, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
“I vote to go back,” said the driver. “He sounds like a keeper to me. Maybe his old girlfriend was a crazy bitch?”
“Listen to you fools!” shouted Winona. “To me it sounds like this guy is a player who probably needs a distemper shot, maybe even some penicillin. Trust me, he’s got more than one filly in the stable.”
“I can’t go back,” mumbled Heather. “I just can’t. I had to leave.”
“That’s right honey,” said Winona. “You did the right thing girl. I know it hurts, but if that tomcat wanted you, he wouldn’t have let your weepy ass get on this bus.”
“What the hell!” screamed the driver as she slammed on the breaks.
“Errrrrrrr,” skidded the bus on the roadway. The noise was deafening as the sudden change in momentum tossed all the occupants forward.
“Holy …” cried out the driver as she struggled with the wheel, trying to maintain control. “Errrrrrrr.” The vehicle came to an abrupt stop, a cloud of dust rising up from the roadway. Suddenly it was very quiet.
“Are you crazy!” shouted Winona. “You almost killed us.” She was getting up from in between the seats. “I hurt my sacroiliac!”
“There’s somebody out there!” shouted the driver. “I saw someone! On the road – directly in front of me.”
“Maybe you ran them over!”
“No, no. I stopped in time.”
“Maybe it was a deer.”
“No, it was a person.”
Everyone stared out the window, as the dust began to dissipate.
“Ahhh!” screamed the driver. “There he is!”
Standing directly in front of the bus, about fifteen feet away, was Pete Wagner, with his arms held up high. The bus headlights projected an eerie shadow beyond his frame.
“There’s blood on his shirt!” shouted the driver. She quickly reached for a wooden nightstick behind her seat. “It’s a zombie!”
“I’ll lay him out!” yelled Winona while pulling out a pink, snub nosed revolver. She took a few steps forward. “Ain’t no man gonna violate Winona Jackson!”
“No, no! Wait!” shouted Heather as she squinted forward, her heart beating rapidly as she placed a hand on Winona’s forearm. “Wait, that’s him. The man I was talking about.”
“What? You know him?”
“Yea, yea,” said Heather. “He’s the person I’ve been talking about. The one with the fiancée and diamond ring.”
“Oh my God, he came back for you,” said the elderly woman. “It’s true love.”
“Or revenge,” said Winona. “I’ll aim for his leg.”
“No, no, Winona, please,” said Heather. She held her hands up to her face, hiding her astonishment. “He’s harmless. I can’t believe it. He came for me.”
“Heather Jackson!” cried out Pete. “I’m looking for a Miss Heather Jackson. Is she on this bus?”
“That’s your man?” asked the driver. “Mmm, mmm, he is a fine looking specimen.” Slowly she lowered the club.
“Yes,” said Heather, her voice cracking. “That’s Pete, or should I say Dr. Wagner.”
“A doctor?” asked Winona. “Like a medical doctor?”
“Yea,” said Heather. “He’s an orthopedic surgeon.”
“A bone doctor? Your man is a bone doctor.”
“Yes, a bone doctor.”
“Oh, they’re like high on the doctor totem pole, right? I mean, like they make a lot of money?”
“Yes. Well maybe, I actually don’t know how much they make Winona.” Heather stared up at her pistol-packing friend. “What does it matter? And put that gun away!”
“Please, can you tell me if Heather Jackson is on this bus? It’s an emergency. I have to speak to her.”
“Should I let him in?” asked the driver.
“Yes,” said the elderly woman with the grocery bag. “Please, let him in.”
As Pete stared at the bus, a moment of angst entered his heart. The cab driver drove off way too soon, actually as soon as Pete closed the door. He stood out in the pitch dark for fifteen minutes wondering if he had been scammed, until the lights of the bus in the distance appeared. Now, if only it was the right bus. He saw the driver reach to her right and rotate a lever. The metallic sound of the old doors opening echoed in the night.
“C’mon in honey!” yelled the driver.
“No, no,” shouted Winona. “Don’t roll over. Make him beg.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea Winona,” said Heather. “He looks distressed already.” She went to stand up but Winona pushed her back down.
“Let me handle it,” said Winona as she tucked her pistol into the back of her jeans. “Just follow my cue. Make him work for it girl.”
Pete took a few tentative steps towards the door, a bit leery of the bus operator with the bandana. The sound of crickets surrounded the vehicle. After squaring off to the door he looked up at the driver.
“C’mon sugar, we don’t bite,” was her line. She waved her hand for him to enter. “Miss Jackson is on this bus.”
Pete took a tentative first step onto the bus, immediately recognizing the game on the radio. A slow second step allowed him a visual of the inside cab. He looked to the left, only to see a tall woman with jeans and a button down shirt on, staring him down. His third step brought him up onto the main deck. He nodded respectfully at the driver.
“Honey, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” said the driver. She scanned Pete from head to toe. “Oh my.” She saw the Tulsa Valley athletic logo on his shirt. “A Tarpon too! This dream keeps getting better.”
Pete just stared down the aisle, catching a glimpse of Heather, behind the stranger. The driver closed the door behind him, causing him to look back.
“You’ve got some nerve,” said Winona with a shake of her head. “Messing with my girl. Putting a ring on someone else’s finger!”
Pete just stared at the woman, wondering who she was.
“Heather?” he said. “I need to talk to you.” He took another step towards Winona.
“Let me tell you something mister,” said Winona. “You may be able to fix a broken bone, but you can’t fix a broken heart. And this young lady has a broken heart.”
Pete took another slow, tentative step forward, not knowing what to make of the obstructionist. He firmly stared down into Winona’s eyes, their breath on each other. He was breathing rapidly.
“Oh my,” said Winona while using her hands to fan her face. “This boy is the cream of the crop. He’s messing me up.” She gazed up in awe. “I’m getting all hot and bothered here. Somebody help me.”
“Heather, please.”
Heather felt a nudge on her shoulder, from the woman behind.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Winona while still fanning herself. She held out her right hand. “I’m Winona Jackson, my favorite color is fuchsia, I love long walks on the beach, and Tulsa Valley football.” Her fingers began to stroke Pete’s shirt logo.
“Excuse me,” said Pete. He leaned to the left of Winona to see Heather, their eyes finally meeting. “Do you two know each other?”
“Why yes,” said Winona. “Quite well. We’re actually not related, you know with the name ‘Jackson’ and all. That’s obvious, but enough about me. Let’s say you and I …”
“Heather,” said Pete as he tried to slide by the interference. “I’m sorry, but I just have to talk to you.”
Heather remained speechless as she stared up at Pete. She wanted to jump into his arms.
“It’s always been you,” said Pete. “Since the moment we first met on the plane. You have to believe me.”
“What about the diamond ring?” shouted the driver.
“Chloe’s crazy,” said Pete. “She’s been putting it on to mess with her mind. She never gave it back to me.” He was staring back at the driver. “We’re not engaged.”
“I knew it,” said the driver.
“What about your roll in the sack with this Chloe girl?” asked Winona. She emphasized the word ‘sack.’ “That’s public knowledge.”
“I’ve regretted it ever since,” said Pete. “She caught me at a weak moment. It never happened again.”
Heather stood up. She appeared dazed and steadied herself with one hand on a seat. She tried to move forward, but her legs wouldn’t respond.
“Easy now,” said Winona. “Pace yourself girl.”
Pete stepped by Winona and stood still, his eyes fixated on the woman before him.
“But, what about the game?” mumbled Heather. “The team needs you.”
“I doesn’t matter,” replied Pete. “My time at Tulsa is over.” He took a step closer.
“And what about Chloe?” asked Heather. “She’s at the game, looking so darn pretty.”
“I don’t love her anymore,” said Pete. “It’s over between us.” He took another slow step forward.
“And what about me, and my pathetic lonely life, and quitting the job I loved, and missing the big game, and riding a bus to nowhere…”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“… standing before a man with blood all over his shirt…”
“That’s a long story.”
“… who I can’t get out of my head, who makes me feel so special when he is around…”
“Keep talking,” said Pete with a smile and step closer.
“… who almost got killed stopping a bus to not let me get away…”
“That was scary.”
“…who dropped out of the sky six months ago and into my life… what about all that Peter Wagner?”
Pete just stared down at Heather, noticing a woman behind her starting to cry. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“I can’t explain it,” said Pete. “Nobody can. But that’s why I’m here Heather, because I feel the same way.” He placed his other hand on her. “I can’t get Heather Jackson out of my head. It’s that simple.”
“Oh Pete!” cried Heather as she burst into tears and dove her body into his, holding on tight. “I can’t believe you came to get me! You’re absolutely crazy! This is insane!”
The driver began to blow the horn and the cast of characters cheered wildly. Winona placed her hands around Pete and Heather while shouting “group hug.” Even the elderly woman stood up and gently hugged Heather, placing her face on her back.
“A love fest!” shouted Winona. “Count me in.” She now had her hands around Pete’s torso.
“What now?” asked Heather as she stared up at Pete. “I mean, I really wasn’t going anywhere, just had to get out of town.”
“But where were you going to stay tonight?” asked Pete.
“On the bus,” laughed Heather. “Until the driver told me to get off.”
“This ride ends in Benton,” said the driver as she threw the vehicle into gear. “There are no rooms there, on account of the game.”
‘’You’d have to go all the way down to Black Walnut to find a room,” said the elderly woman as she sat down. “If you’re lucky.”
“I’ve got an idea,” said the driver as the bus picked up momentum. “That is if you don’t mind staying at an old penal colony.” A smirk came upon her face as she shifted into high gear.
“A penal colony with a bone doctor,” said Winona. “I’m in heaven!”
As the occupants laughed the driver suddenly swerved onto a dirt road, tossing their bodies to the side. Pete looked out the front window at a dirt road riddled with potholes. Up ahead was a guard shack with a single light on, hanging from a telephone pole. The shack was empty and a single wooden gate stood out across the road. The vehicle picked up speed in approach.
“Heather,” said Pete as he stared ahead in disbelief. “She’s taking us to the Badlands.”
“I don’t believe…”
“Crash!” went the bus through the gate. The driver honked the horn.
“I don’t know where Skinner’s Eddy is,” replied Pete in an urgent fashion. “Just tell me, can you get me in front of that bus? Yes or no?”
“Yea,” said the driver. “But I’m going to miss out on a lot of fares.” He pointed a thumb in the direction of the stadium. “I make my hay when that game lets out.”
Pete sensed the driver’s hesitancy to leave the locale. He noticed an inordinate amount of Tulsa Valley Football trinkets littering the inner cab. The driver’s attention returned to the broadcast.
“Oh baby…” cried the announcer. “We’ve got a good one cooking here in the Bayou.”
“You a Tarp fan?” asked Pete.
“Yea. Born and raised a Tarp. I hate State.”
“How about we make a little deal?” said Pete as he grabbed the lanyard from around his neck. “See this? It’s a sideline pass for the game. You get me in front of that bus, and it’s all yours.”
“Are you for real man?” said the driver, his eyes fixated on the ticket. “I mean heck, that looks like an official pass.”
“Oh I’m for real,” said Pete as he slid into the car. “And it’s official. But you’ve got to get me in front of that bus, or the deal is off.”
“Close the door,” said the cab driver as he quickly threw the vehicle into drive. “I’ve got a bus to catch!”
As the car peeled away from the hospital, the force drove Pete’s body backwards into his seat. He struggled to latch the seatbelt against the acceleration. The vehicle sideswiped a few garbage cans and jumped a curb, before rocketing down an empty thoroughfare. Within a minute it swerved onto a dirt road and roared out of town. Suddenly they were on the outskirts of Tulsa, passing by a ramshackle shack called the Honey Hole. A poorly lit sign outside the establishment read – “We Love Connor Kelly.” Soon they were in the boondocks and it was pitch black.
Pete Wagner had never felt so alive in his entire life.
Chapter Thirty
A LOVE FEST
“That’s right, I shot him,” said a woman in her thirties, sitting with her back to a window and both legs on the seat. She was smoking a cigarette five rows behind the driver. Her name was Winona.
Besides Winona, there were only two other passengers on the bus, including Heather. At the wheel was a middle aged female with a red bandana on, occasionally hollering at the radio. She had on the Tulsa Valley game, which was barely audible over the static, tied midway through the second quarter. The bus itself was an antiquated yellow and green transit, originally added to the fleet nearly fifty years ago. With each engine shift, a mechanical grind was heard just prior to an abrupt lurch, the combination accentuated by a tar and chip roadway. Half of the bus windows were down, allowing in a warm breeze. Next to the driver’s overhead visor were two pictures – one of the pope, and the other Connor Kelly. The bus was thirty minutes outside of Benton, on a desolate rural route.
“You shot him?” said Heather, seated across the aisle in a window seat. “Why would you do that?”
“Because he was cheating on me, just like your boy,” said the woman. “He’s walking with a limp now.”
“Oh my god,” said Heather.
“They’re all lying scum. You can’t trust any of them. They’re like dogs in heat, especially the young ones. Always trying to hump your leg.” Winona took a drag on her cigarette, the fumes quickly venting into the night.
Heather just stared across the aisle, having just told the woman her story, including the involvement of a diamond ring. She was caught off guard by the response.
“I disagree,” interrupted an elderly woman sitting behind Heather. She was in an aisle seat and clutching onto a bag of groceries. Up until that point she had remained silent. “I believe in second chances. Everyone deserves a second chance.”
“I agree!” yelled the driver while looking into a rear view mirror. “But I don’t understand ma’am. You never had, like sexual relationships, with the man you’re talking about?”
“That’s right,” said Heather in a sad tone. “I just had some deep feelings for him. It was purely platonic.”
“Deep feelings? Honey look at yourself,” said Winona. “You got a tight package. Shake that booty in front of your boy! Show him what you got!”
Heather just stared out the front window. The rhythmic bump-bump, bump-bump of the road was soothing, along with the roadway’s passing centerline. Beyond the front headlights, there was absolute darkness.
“I never forgave my Randy, and I regret it to this very day,” said the elderly woman.
“Randy? Who’s Randy?” asked Winona.
“My high school sweetheart,” said the elderly woman, now gazing into the darkness outside the window. “We went to the senior prom together.”
“And he cheated on you? At a high school prom?”
“Cheat may be a harsh word,” said the woman. “I was going to the ladies room and saw him kiss another girl.”
“On the lips?” asked Winona.
“Yea.”
“That’s cheating honey!”
“What did you do?” asked Heather.
“I flipped out, and left the prom. He apologized a hundred times over, but I never forgave him.”
“So where’s Randy now?”
“He went to Vietnam shortly afterwards, and never came back,” said the woman. “They never found his body… I’ve regretted it ever since.”
No one responded.
“And the kick is good!” shouted the broadcaster. “A thirty yard field goal from back-up kicker Kenny Stone ties the game.
“Uh-oh, Stone is getting up a bit slow,” said the color commentator. “I’m surprised a roughing the kicker flag wasn’t thrown. Coach Hayes is going insane on the sidelines! It looks like he’s doing a rain dance!”
“I agree Johnny, he’s holding his left leg and Doc Harper is taking a look at it now. This could be big.”
“If he gets hurt the Tarps are in some serious trouble Johnny. He’s already their third string kicker…”
“Maybe I should have listened to him a bit longer,” said Heather slowly. “I really believed him. Deep down in side, I felt he was telling the truth.”
“Go back,” said the older woman. “Listen to your heart. It’s telling you to go back. If you don’t, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
“I vote to go back,” said the driver. “He sounds like a keeper to me. Maybe his old girlfriend was a crazy bitch?”
“Listen to you fools!” shouted Winona. “To me it sounds like this guy is a player who probably needs a distemper shot, maybe even some penicillin. Trust me, he’s got more than one filly in the stable.”
“I can’t go back,” mumbled Heather. “I just can’t. I had to leave.”
“That’s right honey,” said Winona. “You did the right thing girl. I know it hurts, but if that tomcat wanted you, he wouldn’t have let your weepy ass get on this bus.”
“What the hell!” screamed the driver as she slammed on the breaks.
“Errrrrrrr,” skidded the bus on the roadway. The noise was deafening as the sudden change in momentum tossed all the occupants forward.
“Holy …” cried out the driver as she struggled with the wheel, trying to maintain control. “Errrrrrrr.” The vehicle came to an abrupt stop, a cloud of dust rising up from the roadway. Suddenly it was very quiet.
“Are you crazy!” shouted Winona. “You almost killed us.” She was getting up from in between the seats. “I hurt my sacroiliac!”
“There’s somebody out there!” shouted the driver. “I saw someone! On the road – directly in front of me.”
“Maybe you ran them over!”
“No, no. I stopped in time.”
“Maybe it was a deer.”
“No, it was a person.”
Everyone stared out the window, as the dust began to dissipate.
“Ahhh!” screamed the driver. “There he is!”
Standing directly in front of the bus, about fifteen feet away, was Pete Wagner, with his arms held up high. The bus headlights projected an eerie shadow beyond his frame.
“There’s blood on his shirt!” shouted the driver. She quickly reached for a wooden nightstick behind her seat. “It’s a zombie!”
“I’ll lay him out!” yelled Winona while pulling out a pink, snub nosed revolver. She took a few steps forward. “Ain’t no man gonna violate Winona Jackson!”
“No, no! Wait!” shouted Heather as she squinted forward, her heart beating rapidly as she placed a hand on Winona’s forearm. “Wait, that’s him. The man I was talking about.”
“What? You know him?”
“Yea, yea,” said Heather. “He’s the person I’ve been talking about. The one with the fiancée and diamond ring.”
“Oh my God, he came back for you,” said the elderly woman. “It’s true love.”
“Or revenge,” said Winona. “I’ll aim for his leg.”
“No, no, Winona, please,” said Heather. She held her hands up to her face, hiding her astonishment. “He’s harmless. I can’t believe it. He came for me.”
“Heather Jackson!” cried out Pete. “I’m looking for a Miss Heather Jackson. Is she on this bus?”
“That’s your man?” asked the driver. “Mmm, mmm, he is a fine looking specimen.” Slowly she lowered the club.
“Yes,” said Heather, her voice cracking. “That’s Pete, or should I say Dr. Wagner.”
“A doctor?” asked Winona. “Like a medical doctor?”
“Yea,” said Heather. “He’s an orthopedic surgeon.”
“A bone doctor? Your man is a bone doctor.”
“Yes, a bone doctor.”
“Oh, they’re like high on the doctor totem pole, right? I mean, like they make a lot of money?”
“Yes. Well maybe, I actually don’t know how much they make Winona.” Heather stared up at her pistol-packing friend. “What does it matter? And put that gun away!”
“Please, can you tell me if Heather Jackson is on this bus? It’s an emergency. I have to speak to her.”
“Should I let him in?” asked the driver.
“Yes,” said the elderly woman with the grocery bag. “Please, let him in.”
As Pete stared at the bus, a moment of angst entered his heart. The cab driver drove off way too soon, actually as soon as Pete closed the door. He stood out in the pitch dark for fifteen minutes wondering if he had been scammed, until the lights of the bus in the distance appeared. Now, if only it was the right bus. He saw the driver reach to her right and rotate a lever. The metallic sound of the old doors opening echoed in the night.
“C’mon in honey!” yelled the driver.
“No, no,” shouted Winona. “Don’t roll over. Make him beg.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea Winona,” said Heather. “He looks distressed already.” She went to stand up but Winona pushed her back down.
“Let me handle it,” said Winona as she tucked her pistol into the back of her jeans. “Just follow my cue. Make him work for it girl.”
Pete took a few tentative steps towards the door, a bit leery of the bus operator with the bandana. The sound of crickets surrounded the vehicle. After squaring off to the door he looked up at the driver.
“C’mon sugar, we don’t bite,” was her line. She waved her hand for him to enter. “Miss Jackson is on this bus.”
Pete took a tentative first step onto the bus, immediately recognizing the game on the radio. A slow second step allowed him a visual of the inside cab. He looked to the left, only to see a tall woman with jeans and a button down shirt on, staring him down. His third step brought him up onto the main deck. He nodded respectfully at the driver.
“Honey, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” said the driver. She scanned Pete from head to toe. “Oh my.” She saw the Tulsa Valley athletic logo on his shirt. “A Tarpon too! This dream keeps getting better.”
Pete just stared down the aisle, catching a glimpse of Heather, behind the stranger. The driver closed the door behind him, causing him to look back.
“You’ve got some nerve,” said Winona with a shake of her head. “Messing with my girl. Putting a ring on someone else’s finger!”
Pete just stared at the woman, wondering who she was.
“Heather?” he said. “I need to talk to you.” He took another step towards Winona.
“Let me tell you something mister,” said Winona. “You may be able to fix a broken bone, but you can’t fix a broken heart. And this young lady has a broken heart.”
Pete took another slow, tentative step forward, not knowing what to make of the obstructionist. He firmly stared down into Winona’s eyes, their breath on each other. He was breathing rapidly.
“Oh my,” said Winona while using her hands to fan her face. “This boy is the cream of the crop. He’s messing me up.” She gazed up in awe. “I’m getting all hot and bothered here. Somebody help me.”
“Heather, please.”
Heather felt a nudge on her shoulder, from the woman behind.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Winona while still fanning herself. She held out her right hand. “I’m Winona Jackson, my favorite color is fuchsia, I love long walks on the beach, and Tulsa Valley football.” Her fingers began to stroke Pete’s shirt logo.
“Excuse me,” said Pete. He leaned to the left of Winona to see Heather, their eyes finally meeting. “Do you two know each other?”
“Why yes,” said Winona. “Quite well. We’re actually not related, you know with the name ‘Jackson’ and all. That’s obvious, but enough about me. Let’s say you and I …”
“Heather,” said Pete as he tried to slide by the interference. “I’m sorry, but I just have to talk to you.”
Heather remained speechless as she stared up at Pete. She wanted to jump into his arms.
“It’s always been you,” said Pete. “Since the moment we first met on the plane. You have to believe me.”
“What about the diamond ring?” shouted the driver.
“Chloe’s crazy,” said Pete. “She’s been putting it on to mess with her mind. She never gave it back to me.” He was staring back at the driver. “We’re not engaged.”
“I knew it,” said the driver.
“What about your roll in the sack with this Chloe girl?” asked Winona. She emphasized the word ‘sack.’ “That’s public knowledge.”
“I’ve regretted it ever since,” said Pete. “She caught me at a weak moment. It never happened again.”
Heather stood up. She appeared dazed and steadied herself with one hand on a seat. She tried to move forward, but her legs wouldn’t respond.
“Easy now,” said Winona. “Pace yourself girl.”
Pete stepped by Winona and stood still, his eyes fixated on the woman before him.
“But, what about the game?” mumbled Heather. “The team needs you.”
“I doesn’t matter,” replied Pete. “My time at Tulsa is over.” He took a step closer.
“And what about Chloe?” asked Heather. “She’s at the game, looking so darn pretty.”
“I don’t love her anymore,” said Pete. “It’s over between us.” He took another slow step forward.
“And what about me, and my pathetic lonely life, and quitting the job I loved, and missing the big game, and riding a bus to nowhere…”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“… standing before a man with blood all over his shirt…”
“That’s a long story.”
“… who I can’t get out of my head, who makes me feel so special when he is around…”
“Keep talking,” said Pete with a smile and step closer.
“… who almost got killed stopping a bus to not let me get away…”
“That was scary.”
“…who dropped out of the sky six months ago and into my life… what about all that Peter Wagner?”
Pete just stared down at Heather, noticing a woman behind her starting to cry. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“I can’t explain it,” said Pete. “Nobody can. But that’s why I’m here Heather, because I feel the same way.” He placed his other hand on her. “I can’t get Heather Jackson out of my head. It’s that simple.”
“Oh Pete!” cried Heather as she burst into tears and dove her body into his, holding on tight. “I can’t believe you came to get me! You’re absolutely crazy! This is insane!”
The driver began to blow the horn and the cast of characters cheered wildly. Winona placed her hands around Pete and Heather while shouting “group hug.” Even the elderly woman stood up and gently hugged Heather, placing her face on her back.
“A love fest!” shouted Winona. “Count me in.” She now had her hands around Pete’s torso.
“What now?” asked Heather as she stared up at Pete. “I mean, I really wasn’t going anywhere, just had to get out of town.”
“But where were you going to stay tonight?” asked Pete.
“On the bus,” laughed Heather. “Until the driver told me to get off.”
“This ride ends in Benton,” said the driver as she threw the vehicle into gear. “There are no rooms there, on account of the game.”
‘’You’d have to go all the way down to Black Walnut to find a room,” said the elderly woman as she sat down. “If you’re lucky.”
“I’ve got an idea,” said the driver as the bus picked up momentum. “That is if you don’t mind staying at an old penal colony.” A smirk came upon her face as she shifted into high gear.
“A penal colony with a bone doctor,” said Winona. “I’m in heaven!”
As the occupants laughed the driver suddenly swerved onto a dirt road, tossing their bodies to the side. Pete looked out the front window at a dirt road riddled with potholes. Up ahead was a guard shack with a single light on, hanging from a telephone pole. The shack was empty and a single wooden gate stood out across the road. The vehicle picked up speed in approach.
“Heather,” said Pete as he stared ahead in disbelief. “She’s taking us to the Badlands.”
“I don’t believe…”
“Crash!” went the bus through the gate. The driver honked the horn.
