Her Wild Oats (25 page)

They ate and the grown-ups had more cups of coffee while Eddie and Oats amused themselves with some brand-new story problems. Finally, it was time to go and they walked over to the gift shop, where Arizona stood ready to ring up breakfast. Bobby Lee handed her the check.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “This one’s on me.”

“Naw,” Bobby Lee said, “I can’t let you do that.”

“Sure you can,” she answered. “It’s my pleasure. Think of it as a thank-you for the great show last night.” She smiled at Oats and he thought his head was going to melt.

“Well, that’s so sweet of you,” Sarah Jean said.

“I guess this is goodbye, Oats,” Arizona said. “I’ve already gotten your home address and phone number from your mom, but here’s mine.” She pressed a little folded-up piece of paper into his hand. “Let’s keep in touch, OK?”

“OK,” he mumbled.

“I’ll miss you,” she said.

“We’ll all miss you,” Bobby Lee added.

“Oh, wait—I almost forgot.” Arizona reached into the pocket of her green apron and pulled out some folded-up papers. “I took the liberty of mapping out a route for you to the next gig, courtesy of Gertrude.”

Bobby Lee unfolded the papers and gasped. There was a perfectly constructed itinerary for the band’s next three appearances, with clear driving directions in large, bold-faced font, the names of all the festival stage managers, even room assignments for the motels the band would be staying in.

“I did a little advance work for you,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind. It seemed like Gary was getting fried doing double duty.”

“This is amazing, thank you.” Bobby Lee looked stunned.

“I got you through Fresno. After that you’re on your own,” Arizona said. “It really was nothing.”

“OK, well, goodbye then,” Oats said. Suddenly tired of hearing about adventures the band would be having without him, he wanted to be out of there.

The entourage moved away as a group. As Eddie pushed the door open, Sarah Jean cried, “Wait a minute.” They all stopped.

“What?” asked Billy.

“I’ve got it!” Sarah Jean shouted.

“What?” Oats whined. His mother was getting more annoying by the second.

“You!” She looked at Arizona. “You don’t love this job, right?”

“It’s OK,” Arizona answered.

“What if…what if…Bobby Lee, you need a tour manager who doesn’t mind looking out for Oats, right?”

“You know that, Sarah Jean. That’s the whole reason we’re all standing here.” Oats could see he was getting a little annoyed too, or maybe just weary.

“Oats did such a great job last night, and I’ve been racking my brain to think of a way he could be safe without Pete, and Arizona is a natural. I was thinking, Ari honey, if it was OK with the guys…you could be the tour manager, Oats could stay in the band, and I could leave knowing he was in good hands.”

Bobby Lee, Billy, and Gary’s faces all lit up.

“Yes!” Bobby Lee nearly jumped up and down with excitement. “What do you think, Miss Arizona? Could you handle a bunch of rowdy dickhead musicians? You’d have to share a room with Oats, is the thing.”

Arizona looked from one to the other, and was quiet for a minute. Then her whole face broke out in that wonderful smile. “I think I could handle that,” she said. “Just let me tell Mr. K. and I’m all yours.”

And bam! Just like that, Oats was not only back on the Hell Bent and Whiskey Bound tour, he was going to be rooming with the woman of his dreams. As the others burst into a flurry of new activity, he stood there in the middle of the Murphy’s gift shop, grinning from ear to ear.

WWAD?

19

It was decided that the band would stay at the motel one more night. This would give Sarah Jean a chance to make arrangements to bring Pete home, and would allow Bobby Lee to see if he could figure out what had happened to Dickie. Sarah Jean left the boys watching Cartoon Network in their room while she drove back to the hospital to talk to Pete’s doctors and figure out a plan.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Her husband, Greg’s, cheerful voice answered her cell phone call on the first ring. “How’s it going in band land?”

“Fine, baby,” she answered sweetly. “I saw Oats play last night; he was absolutely amazing. Plus we found a sub for Pete so he can stay on the tour. Hank Wilson ate too much crap at the fair while I wasn’t looking and has been bouncing off the walls all morning, but basically all is well. What’s up at the club?”

“Your Aunt Perle decided we should try making vegan barbeque for the Texas blues show and overestimated its popularity. Let’s just say we have a lot of extra compost now—one way or another. Otherwise, same old same old. When are you coming back?”

“I have to figure at least one more day. I’m on my way to check in with Pete’s doctor and see when he can be released so we can take him home. He’ll be staying with us for a while.”

“That’s cool. Do what you need to do, Perle and I are holding down the fort just fine. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she murmured as she hung up the phone.

Driving down the hot, straight highway, Sarah Jean realized that for the first time in days she was alone with a few minutes to think about recent events. Seeing Oats act like such a pro had been a wonderful surprise, of course, but the biggest surprise had been her intense and confusing feelings about Bobby Lee Crenshaw.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” Sarah Jean smacked the steering wheel in frustration as she thought about Bobby Lee’s slow smile and twinkly eyes. She’d thought she was over him. It wasn’t fair. She smiled as she recalled his slow smile and cowboy charm. How dare he not have lost any teeth or grown a middle-aged paunch? She had worked so hard to ignore her feelings for him, to enjoy her boys and her sweet, sexy husband. It just wasn’t fair. The best course of action, she decided, was to make whatever arrangements needed to be made for Pete and get the hell out of Dodge. One more night like last night might be one night too many.

She drove the red minivan into the hospital parking lot and sat for a minute, breathing deeply and preparing to deal with doctors and hospital personnel. She found herself wishing that Arizona Rosenblatt, world-class problem-solver, was at her side.

“What would Arizona do?” she asked herself. “I’ll just pretend I’m Arizona and go in there and take care of business.”

*

Bobby Lee sang softly to himself as he packed his bag. No one could have predicted this turn of events; he was still confused about the ongoing soap opera with Sarah Jean—it had been good to see her, and he wished they’d had more time together. She was as beautiful and vibrant as ever. He was delighted to have Oats back for the rest of the tour and Arizona joining them. He tossed his shaving kit over his shoulder and heard it land with a satisfying thunk on top of the T-shirts in his suitcase. The kid’s still got it, he thought as he heard the knock. Expecting one of his bandmates, he threw the door open with a flourish and saw a stranger—a young, dark-haired man in jeans and a T-shirt—standing on the threshold.

“Uh, can I help you?”

“Are you Bobby Lee Crenshaw?”

“What can I do for you?”

“Are you Bobby Lee Crenshaw?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d be obliged if I could get your autograph.”

“Oh, no problem. Would you like me to sign a photo? I have some here somewhere. I just need to get my Sharpie…what’s your name, son?”

“That won’t be necessary. I have a piece of paper right here.” The man handed Bobby Lee a large, legal-sized envelope. Bobby Lee looked at the envelope, shocked. He had just been served with divorce papers.

*

Three boys sprawled across the two beds in their room watching
Aqua-Teen Hunger Force
and eating vending-machine Doritos, neither of which was something they were strictly allowed to do. While the crime-fighting tub of French Fries and his cohorts went through their crime-solving antics on the TV screen, they were passing the time until some grown-up told them where they were supposed to be and what they were supposed to do next.

During the commercials Eddie tried to get Hank Wilson to understand story problems, even though he was hopeless.

“OK, dude,” said Eddie patiently. “This should be pretty simple. Brenda, Sasha, and Jane are sisters. Jane is two years younger than Sasha and Brenda is twice as old as Jane. If their ages all add up to thirty-eight, how old is Jane?”

“Jane from my grade?” asked Hank Wilson. “She’s my age—six and a half. I went to her birthday. The cake was awesome. It had a little bear on the top that moved around in a circle when they lit the candles.”

Eddie held his head in his hands in mock frustration. “I give up,” he said.

“Look, he’s only six,” Oats said in his brother’s defense.

“Tell me when you were six you couldn’t do this one. Look me in the eye and tell me that.”

“Well, you’re right.” Six years old seemed so long ago—but Oats had to agree that even at Hank Wilson’s age he would have come up with the answer (nine) instantly. You either have a feel for these things or you don’t. He tried to think of a problem that was simple enough for Hank Wilson to get and feel successful, and then maybe try something a bit tougher. If the Reverend Walter Little hadn’t sat through a lot of sour notes when Oats was first learning blues harp he wouldn’t ever have become such a good player.

But by the time he came up with a simple problem involving two trains and a bag of apples Hank Wilson was deeply engrossed in the TV show.

A short time later, there was a knock at the door. Arizona stood outside on the little deck.

“Can I come in?” she asked.

“Sure!”

She walked into the room. Instead of wearing her green Murphy’s uniform she had on jeans, boots, a T-shirt, and a sweatshirt tied around her waist. She was holding a very official-looking clipboard and a pen.

“Well, how do I look?”

“Um…”

“That bad, huh?”

“No! I meant…you look great. You always look great,” Oats managed to stammer.

“I mean the clipboard, silly. Don’t tour managers always have them? Although really my iPhone works better…but I guess the clipboard lets other people know I mean business.”

“Well, I think it looks great,” Oats said again, lamely.

“Hey, check this out. I was so fried when we got home last night that I left both Madison and Gertrude on the bus, can you believe it? Look what your wacky Gary G. did. He just gave this to me as a ‘welcome to the tour’ gift.”

Gary had created a little outfit for Madison, a hat and vest that, between them, contained the inner workings of Gertrude the GPS. A festive little sombrero held the display screen and the power cord emerged from the toy’s tail end, so the result—an old gray teddy bear with a fishing vest and a big hat—combined the best features of both entities. Gary had ingeniously figured out a way to make the whole thing work without disturbing the integrity of either Gertrude or Madison “in case you don’t like it,” but Arizona loved it!

“The only problem is I can’t figure out if it’s a girl or a boy now.”

All three boys agreed that would be tricky.

“So, I just gave notice to Mr. K. You’d think I was abandoning a sinking ship the way he carried on about how you’re supposed to give two weeks’ notice and all. I happen to know that Sally was dying for another shift, so it’s not even a problem, but I had to soothe some ruffled feathers. He told me he could see to it that I’d never work in this town again—which is probably true—and threatened me with a bad mark on my permanent record, as though I was in the eighth grade.”

“Hey,” Eddie piped up. “Some people in this room are in the eighth grade!”

“So,” she said, beaming her Arizona smile. “You know exactly what I mean. Anyway, here’s what I came to tell you. Your mom just called and she talked to the doctors. They figured out a way to get Pete home that is actually covered by his health insurance, so that part’s all good. Your mom is going to handle that, and you two”—she pointed at Eddie and Hank Wilson—“need to be packed and ready to leave here in two hours. It’s noon now, so that means two PM sharp, bags in the parking lot. I arranged a late checkout for these rooms so no one has to rush out now.”

“What about the band?” Oats asked.

“We’ll all congregate at two as well, to see your family off and say our goodbyes. Then we hit the road; Bobby Lee says we’ve missed too many dates and we have to get back on schedule.”

“Has anyone heard from Dickie?” How sweet would that be, Oats thought, if they continued the tour without him. He didn’t dare even hope.

Arizona shrugged. “Not that I know of…hey, maybe we’ll get lucky and roll out of here before he comes back from whatever dumb-ass thing he was doing.” Then she winked and opened the door. “Remember, two PM sharp,” she called out as the door slammed shut behind her.

It didn’t take very long to pack up; Oats only needed about ten minutes. It took longer than that for Hank Wilson to gather up all of his coloring books and action figures, especially because he kept getting distracted by the cartoons.

Sarah Jean was still out dealing with Pete, but her stuff was self-contained; just a little soft folding case with some toiletries and a canvas book bag with a couple of T-shirts in it. Oats remembered to stick her book and reading glasses, on the table at the side of the bed, inside the bag. Once they were packed, the boys decided to leave their bags in the room and get lunch. It was disconcerting to see the other girl—Sally—instead of Arizona, behind the counter softly cursing at Johnny Cashregister. But then Oats remembered the reason why, and felt his face starting to grin again. He just couldn’t help it.

Helen came over to take their order and they all asked for burgers, fries, and Cokes. After all these days it was weird to think that this would be their last meal at Murphy’s Corned Beef ’n’ Cabbage Emporium, too. It’s amazing how quickly a place can start feeling like home, especially when you’re so far away from your real home.

*

“So, what’s next for you guys?” Oats asked.

“I’m going to two weeks of drum camp!” Hank Wilson shouted, as he started drumming his fork and knife on the table.