Duxford Airfield (the band) Pt. 09

"Little shit" I mumbled to myself.

"I heard that, husband!" Andrea called out from the other room.

"You took both the large towels, woman," I said disdainfully as I attempted to dry myself.

"...Oh, did I do that? - SO sorry! I must have used one last night and then taken yours, - quite by mistake, just now. Well, too late to worry about it now." she laughed merrily.

"You need a Nymphomaniacs Unanimous meeting, wife," I said in return.

"Don't start that shit all over again. You need to come up with some new material now, husband. Your quips are getting stale" she replied in a bored tone.

"If you'll crawl back into bed with me, I'll give you some new material to think about" I responded, impressed with my own quick come-back.

"You couldn't handle it" Andrea scoffed.

"Want to find out?" I challenged.

"Get in here and have a cup of coffee first, I want to check on Miss Lunsford now.

I walked back into the bedroom, naked, in time to see Andrea, wrapped in one of the large white towels, and picking up her phone. A steaming cup of coffee sat on the counter for me, along with the other fluffy white towel. I wrapped the towel around myself and sat down to drink my coffee as I listened to Andrea's one-sided conversation with Helen.

"- Hey, good morning, what are your plans for the day?" Andrea said into the phone as she sat on the edge of the bed and sipped her own coffee.

"Oh, OK, well do you think you'll need any help?"

"Well just don't seduce either of them, I remember what happened last time, Helen Lunsford..."

(laughter)

"...Someone, that I know, already thinks you and I should attend Nymphomaniacs Anonymous meetings."

"...Well, maybe we should go, maybe you'd get lucky and not be down in the dumps, all the damn time..."

(laughter)

"...No, we just got up."

"Ok, we'll meet you at the restaurant, then"

"Half an hour, or so?"

"Sure, that's fine, just let us know, honey"

"-K, we love you too, talk soon, muuuah!" Andrea clicked off.

"Andrea, what's, muuuah!?" I asked.

"A kiss, dumbass!" Andrea retorted.

I silently shook my head and rolled my eyes at Andrea's reply...

"What'd she say?" I asked.

"She's waiting on the courier service right now, so she can ship the boxes of memoirs that belonged to the Countess and Mary Wickersham" Andrea replied, sipping her own coffee.

"Oh, I see" I answered, nodding my head. She's shipping them to the ranch?" I asked.

"Yes, she's already talked with Brenda this morning. Ricky and Brenda will be waiting for the container to arrive directly at the ranch, probably Tuesday" Andrea answered.

"I would imagine that Helen will ship them in an igloo" I speculated, sipping more of my coffee.

"What do you mean by an igloo?" Andrea asked.

"It's a small shipping container, roughly about the size and shape of a Volkswagen beetle" I explained.

"...Oh, yeah, I remember seeing those things now. They're called an igloo, really, Tim,?" Andrea asked.

"Yes, an igloo. They're designed so that freight can be quickly transferred from truck; to train, ship or aircraft, quickly. They're pretty slick" I nodded.

"I'll bet they would be" Andrea nodded.

"Did Helen insure that load?" I asked curiously.

"A million dollars worth, Tim" Andrea replied.

"A million dollars worth of insurance, really? What's it going to cost her to ship all that stuff, in total?" I asked incredulously.

"Probably around forty-five-hundred, or so. You have to remember, Tim, those memoirs are part of Helen's stock and trade, and to her, they're more valuable than gold" Andrea said.

"...I guess that makes sense, really, when I think about it," I said as I stood up and slowly began getting dressed.

"Did you sleep alright, last night, honey?" Andrea asked.

"Yes, thanks to you" I replied, reaching for my pants.

"Good, baby, I'm so glad. Want to go over to the truckstop now and have brunch? Helen said she'd meet us there" Andrea said, as she too, began getting dressed.

"Wonderful idea, I was just going to suggest that. I also want to put a few more miles on that bicycle today too, since we'll be selling it back to the Epps in the next day or so" I replied.

"I'll do the same, Tim, this is a great area for riding" my wife nodded.

"Yes, it is, honey" I replied, putting on my boots.

...At a quarter past one PM, Andrea and I strolled across the road toward the massive truckstop. There was no sign of Helen Lunsford, obviously, she'd had a very busy morning, shipping the boxes of memoirs of the Countess and Mary Wickersham, with the courier service. Andrea had indicated several times throughout the last few weeks, that whenever Helen got going on a book project, Helen preferred her solitude.

I could understand this...

It felt good to be outside and have the sun on our faces again, the Texas sky was a deep blue with a few scattered clouds, but no hint of rain anywhere in sight.

"...Don't see anything the matter here, Ma. Ain't it grand the wind stopped blowin'?" I asked, playfully, looking up at the sky.

"The sun feels wonderful, and I'm so glad it stopped raining too; Pa," Andrea answered, returning my humor and taking my hand.

...Walking through the truckstop's parking lot, one truck stood out to me, from all the others. A classic 1980 extended hood Kenworth W900 with an Aerodyne sleeper. Walking closer to the truck, I noticed that each side of the truck was decorated with an elaborate mural of a guy riding a vintage 1950s Harley-Davidson along a deserted desert highway. The signs on the doors of the truck read "IRON HORSE Trucking: Odessa Texas." The truck was painted jet black with gleaming chrome and tall open stacks. There was no trailer attached to the truck.

Andrea and I began to meander toward the classic beauty.

"I knew you'd want to look at this one" Andrea said, squeezing my hand.

"Ricky will love seeing this," I said, pulling out my phone.

"I suppose you'll want me to model in front of it" Andrea sighed with feigned reluctance.

Without answering, I swung Andrea's hand toward the classic truck tractor and began rapidly taking photos of her. Now, right before my eyes, I watched my wife instantly transform into a professional model as she began her magic of seducing my lens. With fluid grace, she changed facial expressions and poses as fast as I could trigger the shutter. I slowly moved all around the truck, capturing both the elegance of the vintage Kenworth as well as the boldness and sophistication of Andrea.

...My wife was beginning to turn me on again now, as I continued shooting stills of her.

"That's enough!" she abruptly said, pulling up her sunglasses and rolling her eyes at me.

I now heard a round of applause, and glancing quickly behind me, I saw thirty guys standing around and clapping their hands.

...Andrea and I had been shooting photos for less than three minutes, and she'd already drawn an admiring crowd in the mere time that we'd been standing here...

"Guess we'd better get back to the office now, aye, Bonnie?" I asked loud enough for the others to hear.

"How right you ah, dahling mistah Elroy," Andrea cooed in a perfect silk-lined North Carolina drawl.

" - Come along now, peaches, Mister Barns doesn't like it when we're late, and we've got a publication to get out tonight," I said playfully, taking Andrea's arm.

"Ah love all you hansum meh-yen!" Andrea said as she tilted her head back and blew the crowd of men an overly animated kiss.

I heard good-natured laughter behind us, as well as a few adolescent howls from teenage boys, in admiration of my wife.

I really didn't blame them.

...Walking toward the entryway doors of the truckstop now, with my wife, I began laughing at Andrea's Hollywood antics with the crowd of guys, a moment earlier.

I was suddenly laughing so hard that I could hardly walk. Andrea had to stop and wait on me now as I held her hand and grabbed onto a signpost with my other hand, to support myself.

"Jesus, Tim, think you'll be alright?" she asked sarcastically.

"You really knocked'em dead, that time, A.J.," I said, pulling Andrea closer to me and stealing a kiss from her.

"Fuck, calm down, husband," Andrea said, rolling her eyes at me.

"I didn't know you could talk with an accent, Andrea. Talk like that again, the Southern girl" I begged, snickering.

"No, not right now, Tim" Andrea replied seriously.

"Aw, c'mon, why not?" I asked, egging her on.

"Tim, I love to have fun like that with you, but a little bit goes a very long way for me, OK, honey?" she replied a little tiredly.

"...I know, Andrea, thanks for being such a good sport, really," I said, kissing her again.

"Anything for you, love" she replied, rolling her eyes again.

...The truckstop was packed with early afternoon patrons, and as always, the fuel bays were lined with semi trucks from every corner of the country. Andrea and I had to wait in line for a booth, which gave us time to just mingle among people. Truckstops were always an interesting cross-section of people from many different places, with many different dialects.

After fifteen minutes, an energetic young waitress led us to a table and handed us each a menu.

"Be back in a minute folks, our special today is Navy bean soup" the girl said and was gone.

Andrea and I each began looking at our menus.

"What brings you down to this part of the country, Road Ranger?" A gruff voice to my left now asked casually.

'Road Ranger' was the name of my trucking business in Alaska.

I quickly turned my head toward the voice and tried to place the man who'd spoken to me. He was a big man with greying hair and a mustache. The faded tattoos on his huge arms looked vaguely familiar to me.

"...Big Bob Slater?" I asked after a moment.

"One and the same. You truckin' down here now, son?" he asked.

"No, sold everything but still have my tractor, in Alaska, planning to retire soon" I replied.

...Big Bob and I had worked on many construction jobs together, back in Alaska, and he'd even been my truck foreman a few times. I liked Bob, to a certain degree, but the man and I had never really been close friends. He'd moved away from Alaska, around fifteen years ago, and I'd lost track of him.

"Can't say as I blame you, it's all gone to hell and there's no money in it anymore" he answered as a waitress set a plate of food in front of Bob and refilled his coffee cup.

"Looks like you've done alright for yourself, Bob, that is your large-car with the murals on the sides, isn't it?" I asked, nodding my head toward the window.

"You saw that, huh?" Bob asked smirking, as he bit into a hamburger.

"Took photos of it, pretty truck" I nodded.

"I've got a pretty sweet deal, hauling specialized medical equipment. The paperwork is a nightmare but I've got health coverage now and I'm way overpaid" Bob answered.

"I'm glad someone's making money, 'cause it sure as hell hasn't been me, the last few years" I answered.

"I saw your photo on the cover of that publication, did you know Denny?" Bob suddenly asked, abruptly changing subjects and catching me completely off guard.

"I did" Andrea answered, realizing that Bob was referring to Danny Wickersham.

"Bob, this is my wife, Andrea," I said.

Bob nodded at Andrea and then said "I wondered when you'd finally give Susan the boot, Tim."

"How's Leslie?" I asked, ignoring Bob's rude reply.

"Don't know and don't care, got rid of her ten years ago. Married to a banker gal now - I finally got smart and married one with money" Bob said chuckling.

"I take it that you knew Danny Wickersham," Andrea said, interjecting herself into the conversation and ignoring Bob's humor, herself.

...It was quite evident to me that Andrea didn't like Bob.

"We both grew up in this town, known him since the fifties" Bob answered, chewing his food.

I suddenly felt a hand on my back now as Helen Lunsford silently came around behind me and sat in the chair next to Andrea.

"Bob, this is my fiancé' Helen, - Helen this is Bob," I said, introducing the two with a straight face, and wondering what kind of a reaction I'd get from Bob and the ladies.

"Hello, Bob," Helen said, with just as straight a face as mine, as she picked up Andrea's menu and began studying it. Andrea remained stone-faced as she looked across at Bob, apparently ignoring my humor.

Bob was now frozen and holding his hamburger halfway to his face and staring at the three of us, wondering if I really was going to be married to two women in the near future.

"Honey, Bob grew up with Danny," Andrea said to Helen.

"Did you know the Countess, as well?" Helen asked, casually, peering around her menu.

"I knew Mum, yes" Bob replied as he began eating again, without elaborating further.

...I could tell that Bob was still trying to decide if I'd been serious about marrying Helen or not.

"We just recently saw the online dictionary accounting of her life, - quite by accident. You have such a rich and unique history here in Odessa! Neither Andrea nor I knew the Countess, of course, but we both knew Danny for many years and we've got a million funny stories that we could tell you!" Helen said brightly; as if it were no more than a casual interest for her and the subject for good conversation.

...It was my belief that Helen was now trying to coax Bob into opening up about Danny and the Countess, Helen was fisching for information without being obvious about it. Inwardly, I believed that Helen's heart was racing with a thousand and one questions. Now, right before her, sat a living individual that had many answers to the mysteries surrounding the Countess and Danny Wickersham's early life, and Helen wanted those answers for her book.

Helen Lunsford would make one hell of a poker player, I inwardly conceded to myself...

"Don't believe everything you read in print" Bob replied with sudden disinterest. It was obvious that Bob was becoming bored with our company now and he wasn't going to provide Helen with any answers, at all.

Helen silently nodded her head and ducked back behind the large menu again, her whole body seemed to slump somewhat with disappointment.

...Our waitress arrived and the ladies and I ordered lunch. After she took our menus and left the three of us, Andrea and Helen began making small talk while Bob and I talked about trucks.

"What you running for power in the ol' KW?" I asked, staring out the window.

"B- model Cat, it's had some work done and she's good and strong" Bob answered, sipping his coffee. Bob had obviously been hungry, his food was already gone now.

"I would imagine it is. How long you been driving now, Bob? You must have several million miles under your belt by now" I answered.

"My first job was roughnecking, right here in the oil fields of Odessa, until Vietnam came along. When I came back from there I worked for Denny as a roadie, right about the time Duxford Airfield took off big, with Johnnie's Girl. 'Nam changed Denny, and I didn't like the heavy company he started keeping so I left the band and started driving truck for old man Brady, he owned the local lumber company here, which was right down the street where the Natwomar is now. I've been driving truck ever since and got about four million miles behind me now" Bob, said, sipping more of his coffee.

"What happened between you and the band?" I asked with idle curiosity.

" (sigh) I never knew for sure, but I think Denny dropped dimes on people a few times, and I have more ethics than that" Bob stated flatly.

I silently nodded my head.

"...It was a long time ago, and Denny's dead now, Tim" Bob shrugged dismissively, as he stood up from the table and threw down some money.

"You headed out now, Bob, or just coming home?" I asked, as a parting gesture.

"I leave again on Wednesday. - Tim, ladies, it was a pleasure" Bob said nodding at the three of us as he turned to leave.

"Drive safe, Bob" I called after him.

"See you next time, Road Ranger" Bob said without looking back.

...Bob and I hadn't shaken hands but that was fine.

Our food arrived and the ladies and I began eating.

"Interesting individual," Andrea said sarcastically, once Bob had gone.

"Bob's alright, honey, he just marches to the beat of a different clarinet" I shrugged dismissively.

My wife rolled her eyes at my reply and ignored me.

"Helen, I'm so sorry that Bob didn't provide any answers for you, I was hoping he'd open up to you about Danny, just now. It probably feels like the big fish, just got away from you" I said gently.

"His body language told me, that with the mention of Danny and the Countess, Bob was suddenly very uncomfortable, Tim. That man would never open up to anyone in a million years, - I interviewed guys like that when I was a reporter and they'll stonewall you all the way. They're big, macho, blowhards that think they know everything, I've interviewed a million of them and they're all the same. I'm not overly surprised that he didn't open up to me about Danny and the Countess, but I can't help but be disappointed. Thank you for your genuine concern though, I love you for that" Helen said, with a heartfelt nod of her head.

"We love you too, honey," I said quietly.

"I know, Tim," Helen replied.

There was a long silence between the three of us for several minutes as we continued eating our food.

"...Helen, Bob just referred to Danny, as Denny, and the Countess, as 'Mum'. You mentioned yesterday that Mary Wickersham used those same two monikers for the Countess and Danny, within her own memoirs. An outsider wouldn't know about either of those two monikers, so I believed Bob when he said Danny grew up here, in Odessa" Andrea suddenly said.

"I caught it when Bob referred to the Countess as 'Mum', just now, and I was thinking the same thing, Andrea. An outsider wouldn't know any of that, - I'd never heard anyone call Danny, 'Denny' either, have you?" Helen asked.

"Never, in all the time I knew Danny. Why would Danny tell us, for all those years, that he was a native of Los Angeles California; when he actually grew up here in Odessa Texas?" my wife asked.

"Andrea, I had already assumed that Danny grew up here, and not L.A.; when we saw his photograph inside the bedroom of the Countess. There could be several reasons why Danny always said he was from Los Angeles and not Odessa.

It could be that he felt some type of shame or had some negative memories while growing up in Prominent House, which isn't hard to imagine. Maybe it could even have had something to do with Vietnam. Maybe Odessa reminded him too much of Vietnam for some reason" Helen replied.

"That makes sense" Andrea nodded.

"You know how Danny was, if he didn't want to talk about something, then it wasn't going to be discussed, or he'd make up a funny story to tell instead" Helen sighed.

"Avoidance with humor" my wife replied with a knowing nod.

"That was Danny" Helen affirmed.

"Did you get all your packages shipped, babe?" Andrea now asked Helen, on a brighter note.

"They left, ten minutes ago, headed for Arizona City. Since Tim's going to marry me too, he's buying lunch today, by the way," Helen said, tilting her head back and smiling.

"What the hell was that all about, Tim?" my wife asked looking at me, none too amused with my declaration of marriage to Helen, a few minutes earlier.

"Just pulling Bob's chain a little, he saw us on the cover of The International Monitor, so I figured I'd run with it," I said shrugging.

"Oh no, you mean I missed an opportunity to be a celebrity and sign an autograph?" Helen pouted.

"You didn't miss much, Helen" Andrea replied dryly.

"He seemed like such a nice man, dahling" Helen cooed.

"Tim, what was all that nonsense about Danny dropping dimes on people? Danny never rolled over on anyone, and the most serious offense he ever had was when he got busted with a suitcase full of pot, coming back from France, that one time, - big deal" Andrea snorted.