Duxford Airfield (the band)

"Its beautiful" I said from the back seat.

"I remember this car, when did he sell it to you?" Andrea asked.

"Couple years ago - he knew I always liked this car so he bought me dinner and just gave it to me on my birthday" Helen answered.

"Danny Wickersham" Andrea nodded knowingly.

"Danny, for sure" Helen affirmed.

The three of us drove for the next few minutes in silence before reaching the hotel parking lot where Helen gently nosed the car into a well lit space. We then locked the doors and proceeded to go into the lobby. Within fifteen minutes Andrea and I were checked-out of the hotel and pulling our wheeled luggage as we followed Helen back toward the car. It had been decided earlier that we would stay with Helen in her guest room.

"We have to make one more stop, Wendy has something for us from Danny. Then we can find a place to eat." Helen explained as she started the engine and we took off again.

...I stared out the passenger's rear window at the city lights as we made our way further down-town. The ladies were chatting amicably now about some of their wild adventures with Danny Wickersham and Helen's mood seemed to have improved tremendously from a few hours ago. All the houses and buildings going past my window were now becoming increasingly up scale the further we traveled I noticed. Apparently we were headed in the direction of "The high rent district."

After a thirty minute drive we pulled into the parking lot of a massive and extremely up-scale hotel. Helen pulled under the "Grand Pavilion" and put the car in park.

A valet in a red blazer suddenly appeared "Good evening Ms. Dalloway, any luggage tonight ma'am?" The young man greeted Helen.

"Oh, good evening Bob, how are the wife and kids? - No, no luggage tonight honey" Helen replied affably.

"Everyone is very well at home, thank you for asking" the man said smiling as he climbed behind the wheel of the Buick.

"We should be back shortly, Bob" Helen said as she made a brief wave toward the man.

The Buick slowly drove away as the three of us walked between two very large doormen that were also dressed in bright red uniforms. "Good evening Ms. Dalloway" they both said in unison.

Helen warmly returned the greeting of the two men as Andrea and I followed her through the open doors into the posh hotel and to the main lobby.

"Good evening Ms. Dalloway, go right on up, she's waiting for you." the desk clerk said with a friendly wave.

"Good evening, thank you Francis" Helen replied to the man.

The place was a five star hotel I suddenly realized as we neared the elevator banks, I'd never been in such a place and I marveled at the grandiosity of the high ceilings, polished brass and large mirrors which were seemingly everywhere. The building boasted marble pillars and exquisite paintings of sailing ships upon an emerald sea and surrounded by white sand beaches with palm trees. The interior of the hotel also had ornate water fountains and fresh flowers everywhere which gave the interior of the building a wonderful aroma.

Stepping into the elevator car the ladies and I proceeded to travel all the way to the top floor where upon exiting the elevator, I realized that we were now within the Penthouse suites. Helen led Andrea and I for several seconds until we came across a large gentleman who was standing with his back to the wall and arms crossed as he stood in front of one of the individual suites.

In his mid-forties, I assumed, the man had large red lightning bolts boldly tattooed from his forehead and reaching all the way over his bald scalp to the back of his neck. The black tank-top shirt reviled a huge muscled chest and arms which were covered with faded tattoos and knife scars.

"Hello, Blitz, how are you doing? Haven't seen you for a while" Helen said as she and Andrea both opened their purses for inspection while simultaneously handing the man their cans of mace.

"Fine, thank you, Ms. Dalloway" he replied quietly.

Looking at me now, the man lifted his chin slightly. Taking the cue, I raised my arms and formed the letter "T" and was quickly and expertly padded down. With a final tap on the shoulder I then turned my back to the man while keeping my arms at shoulder height. After a few more seconds of searching my person, I then received another tap on the shoulder and the man nodded his head toward the room. Helen then knocked on the door and we were greeted with a "Come in, its open."

The room was an absolute shambles, one of the large mirrors facing the bed was shattered and a plate of up turned food lay on the carpet. The room reeked of marijuana and the skinny kid whom I had seen earlier at the funeral now lay passed out on the bed, still attired in the white coat and tails, his top-hat no where to be seen. There was a multitude of differently colored pills spilled out on the dresser by the bed and some kind of sex show was playing on the television. Half empty bottles of hard liquor seemed to fill much of the counter spaces next to open suitcases and expensive women's clothes were strewn about everywhere.

"I haven't decided what to wear yet, sorry" Wendy Weeds said as she stood naked by the open balcony door and proceeded to fire-up a large bong.

"You doing OK, Wendy?" Helen asked with genuine concern in her voice.

"I dunno yet, it all happened so fast, Helen. I saw Danny just last week and he seemed fine" Wendy said as she blew smoke toward the open balcony door and covered her eyes with grief.

"You remember Andrea, right?" Helen asked as she gestured toward Andrea.

...The kid on the bed now began to stir some as the ladies continued to talk. I suddenly had a very bad feeling in my gut and began to look around me as I studied my current surroundings. The kid slowly opened his eyes and when he did, the first thing he saw was me and the broken mirror behind me.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!!" he demanded, sitting up.

"We'll be gone in a few minutes, just relax" I said calmly.

Without so much as another word he stood in his socked feet and began flailing his arms as he walked toward me.

Awww fuck, I'm still in my best suit and tie, I moaned to myself.

"You really don't want to do this" I said calmly and taking a step back.

The kid kept coming at me so I raised my hands in a passive stance.

"Let's not do this, please" I said in earnest.

I blocked his fist blow with my left arm yet it did slightly connect just above my left eye brow with a sharp stinging sensation. With this event, blood now rushed into my mind and ears and I was suddenly extremely pissed off. Light on my feet, I quickly ducked under the flailing arms and then set my weight as time suddenly slowed to a crawl it seemed - during this split second in time I now had a choice to make, should I make a fist and use an upper cut to his lower jaw and knock out all his teeth or something more subtle? I seemed to mentally sigh with complete annoyance and then rammed the heel of my right palm into the kid's solar plexus - this was meant to be a warning tap, and one of two things was about to happen now. Either the kid was going to go full tilt ballistic or, if he was smart, he was going to reevaluate me and back off to rethink the situation.

In the end neither happened.

I had been sparring with my little brother since before the time we were in grade school and Ricky could take a hell of a lot of punishment. He was a better man in the ring than I would ever be and I would not want to be the man that was the subject of Ricky's wrath in the event that he ever did lose control of his emotions.

This kid was different however, obviously he was a regular drug user and in lousy shape. Instead of coming at me again or backing down, he instead fell against the night stand - knocking over the lamp with a huge crashing sound and landing on the floor himself. In my mind I seemed to hear Ricky say "He's finished now, he's a quitter, Tim."

"Yuh muhha fuuuh" was all the kid seemed able to get out now as he held his chest with both hands.

"I told you not to put your hands on me" I said evenly.

Still on guard, I was waiting for two other things to happen now, either Wendy Weeds was going to freak-out and start screaming bloody murder or the body guard was going to crash through the door and knock me out, maybe both would happen. I now had an eye on the front door of the suite and one on Wendy Weeds.

Wendy fired her bong again but didn't say anything or appear to have even noticed any of the commotion and the front door to the suite remained closed. Andrea however, looked at me briefly with a very annoyed look that said "Will you please stop that, Tim!"

"Why are you blaming me, Why is it MY fault?" my eyes asked Andrea.

Andrea rolled her eyes and shook her head at me and then turned back toward her conversation.

...Damn, why did you have to do that? I asked the kid, within my mind. My suit was torn at the sleeve now and probably smelled like pot.

We'd been here a whole lousy three minutes and I was already so disgusted that I wanted go directly to the airport and fly home tonight. I hated this damn town and I hated all the plastic superficial people living in it. I was about to demand of Andrea and Helen that we leave immediately but they were already walking toward me as Wendy Weeds went back out onto the balcony to finish off her dope, bare ass naked.

As I began following Andrea and Helen out the door of the suite and back into the hallway, there was suddenly a huge crashing sound followed by the sizzle of electricity as something solid obviously went through the screen of the television from inside the suite. I didn't even bother to look back.

"DAMN IT GOPI, I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO ANY MORE VALIUM YOU LITTLE FUCK!!!" Wendy screamed as we closed the door.

The man named Blitz simply handed Andrea and Helen back their mace and remained indifferent to our coming or going. Quite honestly the man simply looked bored and ready to go home. Here was a man who'd seen everything imaginable over the years I would guess and the stories that he could tell would most likely never be believed by anyone, if in fact he ever did decide to write a book.

"Goodnight, Blitz, say hello to Kim for me please" Helen said as a parting gesture.

"I will, goodnight Ms. Dalloway" Blitz responded quietly.

"I cant believe how they've trashed that hotel room. My God, just look at my suite now!" I said disgustedly as I removed my suit coat and inspected it.

"A thirty thousand dollar hotel bill is commonplace in this business, Tim" Helen replied matter of factly as she pushed the elevator button. Andrea nodded agreement.

"Who's going to pay for my suit? They're worse than animals" I said disgustedly.

Looking up at me, Andrea now ran her fingers over the bruise above my eye and smiled with mirth.

"Don't you say - anything" I warned Andrea as I rolled my eyes at her.

Andrea didn't have to say anything, her eyes told me what she was thinking and right now she was laughing her ass off at me in her mind.

"You're a little shit" I said as I pulled her close to me.

Andrea responded by leaning up for a kiss yet both ladies remained silent as we got on the elevator.

"What is that?" I asked while nodding at the large manila envelope which Andrea was holding as we rode the elevator back down.

"Something Danny left for Helen and me, I guess" Andrea replied tiredly.

I noticed that the envelope was still sealed.

"Helen, you need to eat something and so do we" Andrea now said as the elevator doors opened and we proceeded back into the hotel lobby.

"Goodnight Ms. Dalloway" the desk clerk called out.

"Goodnight Francis" Helen replied with a friendly wave.

The Buick magically appeared as we walked out the front doors and past the two large doormen.

"Goodnight gentlemen" Helen said to the two men.

"Goodnight Ms. Dalloway" the men each replied.

"This is for you, Bob" Helen said as she handed the valet a twenty dollar bill.

"Thank you Ms. Dalloway, have a good night" Bob replied as he held the door open for Helen.

"What are you in the mood for?" Helen asked once we got underway.

"Is there a good steakhouse anywhere near here?" I asked from the back seat before Andrea could answer.

"Several, Andrea is steak OK with you? My treat tonight" Helen replied.

"You're the driver, Ms. Dalloway, anyplace is fine with me" Andrea answered.

Sitting in the back seat, I inspected my suit coat more closely with utter disgust. I then mumbled an oath and just slung the coat onto the seat next to me as Helen took an on-ramp and we found ourselves pulling onto the freeway and into the seven PM evening traffic. Helen mashed the pedal now and the pipes under me responded with the deep and familiar rumble of a Buick V-8 as the car began to jump up and do what it had been designed to do - run. My God, how I loved Detroit Iron, I thought as I marveled at the sound of the engine.

Looking at the back of Helen's head made me think of the irony between a hundred and twenty pounds of woman piloting a four thousand pound monster....The little shit can sure drive, I'll give her that much I thought as I looked out the rear passenger's window again.

The traffic was beginning to thin out now as we thundered onward at an effortless seventy miles an hour toward a darkening sky that promised rain, the three of us perched upon thickly padded seats and safely cocooned within the sculpted shell of American made steel. My adrenaline from the confrontation inside the hotel suite was starting to subside now with the sound and motion of the classic car, the machine somehow making things right within the world once more it seemed.

There were those who professed that classic vehicles were now popular because they took people back in time to a simpler and happier era of their lives - it was a "feels good" thing. Perhaps this was true to some extent or maybe people just liked things that were aesthetically pleasing and built to last. Maybe human beings were just nostalgic by nature. Perhaps it was a primordial part of the brain that simply wanted some sense of security in an ever changing world.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

...Well, I guess this isn't so bad, after all, I now reflected. I'm riding in a classic muscle car with two stone cold foxes, this is certainly doable - even though my suit is now ruined, I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes as I shook my head again at the thought.

Within my mind I suddenly seemed to hear Ricky say - It's just a suit coat, let it go, brother.

...You're right Ricky, it's just a suit coat, I nodded to myself.

I opened my eyes again and found myself subconsciously tracing the chrome Buick emblem beside me on the car's interior with my finger. I personally, had owned a few Buicks before. I had owned a nineteen fifty two Buick "Super" and a nineteen fifty Buick "Roadmaster" - both cars had been equipped with straight eight engines, the Roadmaster having the larger of the two power plants. By the time in which I had owned either of the two cars though, they'd been utter junk. Yet even in their dilapidated condition, the quality and workmanship from the factory had been unmistakable. Danny Wickersham's nineteen sixty eight Buick Riviera GS, now Helen's, was of that same Buick lineage of quality and craftsmanship.

...Ricky and I had gotten both of those old Buicks to run and then later traded them off to someone else, I seemed to recall...

Looking out the passenger window now into the fading light, I watched as we passed a long roaring freight train, adjacent to the freeway. The diesels could be heard thumping faintly as Andrea cracked open her window and the smell of moist desert air wafted into the cabin of the car, I loved the smell of the desert. Helen suddenly turned on the headlights and windshield wipers as rain began to pelt the car, the three of us remaining silent as the Buick's pipes rumbled onward down the interstate. I currently had no idea where we actually were or where the hell we were even going.

At the moment I really didn't care.

...After a few more minutes passed my mind suddenly got quite as a new thought now dawned on me, concerning my distant past.

The more I thought about it, the more I seemed to begin recalling my first time that I'd ever leafed through the photo jacket of the "Angels" album by Duxford Airfield, after Mom had first brought the record album home.

Mom had loved vinyl records and she'd possessed hundreds of them at one time. Although she hadn't been a huge fan of Duxford Airfield, she had apparently spotted the album on a discount rack somewhere and simply purchased it and carried it home. I tried to remember, but I think she paid $6.00 for that album or maybe it had been $6.99 or something like that, around the year nineteen ninty five it seemed...

Duxford Airfield had once been described as having a unique sound that stood somewhere between Fleetwood Mac and the Grateful Dead. Most of Duxford Airfield's songs had been a folksy melancholy mix - beer drinking music as Ricky would probably say. Yet the band had put out a few real ass kicking tunes with a wide variety of of instruments including Irish bagpipes I seemed to recall. I know that a few of their songs had been quite dark and brooding but it had been decades since I had listened to any of them.

Sitting in the back seat now I began to recall vividly, seeing Andrea's photo for the first time on the last page of that album jacket and studying her for several seconds. I hadn't met Andrea yet of course, or my ex-wife Susan either for that matter, but if someone would have told me that I would someday marry the "Mystery Girl" on the inside jacket of the "Angels" album, I would have responded with "Not a chance in hell could that ever happen."

In the year two thousand and fifteen, when I had been fifty one years old, my mother had consoled me for many weeks during the dark time of my divorce from my first wife Susan. Mom had held me as I'd wept openly several times upon her Livingroom sofa and yet, not ten feet away, there had been the photograph of Andrea within the record album of Duxford Airfield's "Angels" album, standing neatly within the glass display case with Mom's hundreds of other vinyl records....In a strange way, Andrea had been there all along - tucked neatly away within Mom's record collection for years.

Somehow, I didn't believe that any of this would have surprised my mother. Mom had been a true romantic at heart and believed simply in the power and goodness of love. She would have stated that it was no coincidence that I married the girl within the record album, that it had been Devine Providence and simply meant to be. I wiped a tear from my eye, somehow the record album now seemed to connect Mom and Andrea together for me, - the two had never met. Yet in a strange and wonderful way they had met, when Mom brought the Angels album home with her.

Thinking back now, I seemed to also recall leafing through the Angels album once again, many years later, at a garage sale or second-hand store someplace. Again, I had caught myself day dreaming and transfixed with Andrea's photo upon the last page of the album's inner jacket.

Looking up at my angel now, I said "I love you Andrea Millhouse."

Andrea turned back to face me now, slightly confused with my sudden heartfelt declaration.

"I love you too, honey. How's the eye, you OK?" she asked.

"Take more than that little asshole, Mr. Go-Pee, to knock me down baby. God, what a stupid name - Gopi" I replied defiantly, shaking my head in disbelief.

"That's what I wanted to hear, lover" Andrea replied as she turned forward again.

"Gopi is Wendy's gigolo and I think he's about worn out his welcome" Helen interjected.

"He's a piece of shit, he ruined my suit" I answered roughly.