On the day he was released, Earl was ready with a plan. His first call was to Jack Maloney at the bar. He explained the situation, then said he was stuck in the middle of nowhere and needed money to ransom his car from the impound lot.
“How much?” Maloney asked.
“A hundred and forty bucks.”
“Whew.” Maloney blew the word into a whistle. “That’s a chunk of change.”
“Yeah, but you gotta know I’m good for it.”
“How would I know that? You haven’t worked in months.”
“I got a few bucks saved but can’t get it until the bank opens Monday. I’ll pay you back then.”
“Fine, if you’ve actually got the money, but how do I know for sure you do?”
Earl was starting to sweat. He had to get the car. Without it, his plan was shot to hell.
“Okay then, how about this? When you bring me the cash, I give you a note saying if I don’t pay up, you take my house. That sound good?”
When Maloney hesitated, Earl started to panic.
“Don’t tell me you got a problem with that too,” he said. “You done seen the house, you know I got it.”
“Yeah, but…”
“That house’s worth at least three grand, maybe four.”
Maloney finally agreed to the loan, and Earl breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’ll be waiting in the coffee shop,” he said.
When Maloney got there, he slid into the opposite side of the booth and shoved a piece of paper across the table.
Earl eyed him suspiciously. “What’s this?”
“An agreement. Before I hand over the money, you gotta sign it.”
Earl read through the two typewritten paragraphs and frowned.
“It’s more than fair,” Maloney said. “I’m not charging you for driving way out here, and I gave you a full month to pay me back.”
“I don’t need no month. You’ll get your money Monday when the bank opens.”
“You’ve still gotta sign it. As soon as you pay what you owe, you’ll get this back and we can call it square.”
Earl begrudgingly signed the paper. Maloney pulled an envelope from his pocket and passed it across the table. “There’s one-fifty here. I gave you an extra ten to get you through the weekend.”
“Thanks,” Earl said and gave a nod.
That afternoon he paid the towing and storage fees, got his car, and headed home.
He picked up a road map on the way, and that evening he sat at the kitchen table figuring how far it was to Atlanta. Over 600 miles; more than he’d thought. With a better car, he could make it in a day, but the Ford was 14 years old and when he pushed it past 45MPH it overheated. He thought about the problem for a while, then pulled out the bottle of Seagram’s hidden beneath the sink and poured himself a drink. He’d planned to give up drinking, but it seemed foolish to let a perfectly good bottle of whiskey go to waste.
That drink led to a few more, and by the time he crawled into bed he’d decided to bring some traveling money. This road trip would be his last hurrah before he was forced into a life of abstention, so he needed to make the most of it. Once Suzanna was back, he’d be walking the straight and narrow.
On Monday morning, Earl was standing at the door of the bank when it opened. Once inside, he went straight to the teller’s window and told Jeanine MacDonald he’d like to withdraw the $426.37 he had in his savings account.
“If you keep a dollar in your account, we can leave it open,” she suggested.
Earl shook his head. “Nah, I might be needing it.”
He’d earmarked $150 of the money for Maloney but his bar didn’t open until noon, and waiting around was a waste of his time. He tucked the money in his pocket, figuring he’d hold onto it and pay Maloney when he got back. He had a month; he’d be back long before then.
He took the side roads across, picked up Route 75, and followed the northbound signs. Long about lunchtime, he stopped for a hot dog and two beers, then got back on the highway and kept going. He stopped twice more, once for another beer, then to buy gas and use the restroom. Once he was in Georgia, Valdosta seemed as good a place as any to spend the night.
A few miles outside of town, he found a road house that looked promising. The parking lot was jam packed with cars, and you could hear the music a block away. He pulled in, spied an empty spot on the far edge of the lot, and parked. Inside the patrons were standing three-deep at the bar.
He edged up alongside a full-figured blonde and asked, “How’s a fella supposed to get a drink around here?”
She turned and smiled. “It helps if you know the bartender.” She gave a wolf whistle and yelled, “Hey, Arnie, this guy needs a drink.”
Earl ordered a whiskey, then asked if he could buy her one.
“Sure.” She hollered for Arnie again and said, “Make that two.”
They stood there talking; she said her name was Iris and that she’d lived in Valdosta for most of her life. He said he was traveling through on his way to Atlanta but didn’t mention why. When the crowd thinned, they grabbed a spot at the bar and ordered another round. Iris had a nice face, but in the light Earl could see the crow’s feet framing her eyes and the lines etched across her forehead. From the back he’d guessed her to be Suzanna’s age, but up close he could tell she was closer to his own.
They danced a number of times. When she suggested they grab a booth and order dinner, Earl agreed. He didn’t expect much more than maybe a free feel and a few laughs, but when he slid into the booth she slid in alongside of him and pressed her thigh up against his.
“This is cozier than sitting across from one another, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” Earl said. “Definitely.”
He’d planned
