Here is a link to the earlier chapters
Chapter 25
Jack Moonlight has struck gold, in the form of Delano's wife, or widow, depending on whom you believe. Marisa relates to Jack and Nancy how Delano's coke habit tore them apart. And a death reveals the answer to a central mystery, although it is an answer no one is likely to learn.
"Delano mentioned Tobias several times. What a wonderful thing, to meet
someone who knows the man. I am so sorry to hear that he has lost his
vision." Marisa Outlaw said to Nancy, who was sitting next to her on
the couch. Jack sat across from the two in an easy chair with
antimacassars on the arms.
The two women were getting along well, sipping tea and chatting. Jack
was happy to let Nancy take the lead while he leafed through the album of
photographs that the old lady's niece had handed him before retreating
to the kitchen to fix dinner.
"So when did you learn Delano's real name, Marisa?" Nancy asked. "Before
or after you two married?"
"Oh, before. He was straight up about his name, as soon as we realized
we had something real. He said that legally, either of us could wiggle
out of the marriage, but that we were governed by a higher power than
the state's paper. He said he would never leave me, and he never did.
Even after I kicked him out, took up with another man, who died in
Korea. Delano was always there when I needed him. He still is, and I'd
move him in today if he walked through that door."
Jack was on a page of wedding photos as Marisa affirmed her belief in
Delano's status among the living. He saw that Delano had also provided
the music for the event, as there were several shots of him on a stage,
guitar in hand, members of King Charles' band behind him, but the fat
man was nowhere in sight. In a couple of pictures, Delano/DeLeon was
dancing with Marisa as the rest of the band played. The bass player was
leaning into the microphone, and looked to be in a state of grace as he
sang. Jack guessed that King Charles kept his band on tight leashes,
these candid shots showed a band that was busting loose, stretching out.
But maybe he was reading too much into a picture.
"Two weeks after the wedding, Delano had stolen King Charles' band out
from under him." Marisa related, as if she was either looking at the
photos as Jack saw them, or reading his mind. "King had a new band 'fore
the week was out, but he bore a grudge against my man until he died."
Jack was looking at a crude sign set up in front of the bass drum as
Marisa spoke again. "The boys did not even mind the name-change, didn't
mind being called the Dog-men. They would laugh when DeLeon, which is
how they knew him, introduced himself as Spoondog. Silly weed-heads. I
wish weed had been Delano's problem, not that damned powder."
Jack turned to the next page as Nancy asked Marisa if she knew about
Delano's cocaine problem before they married. A photo of Marisa on a
stage, wearing feathers and fur, showing a lot of leg caught his
attention.
"I was no angel back then, Nancy. I sang, did some stripping. Delano and
I used the same dealer, which is how we met. I had seen him play with
King Charles, but didn't pay him much mind. Then he invited me to a
recording studio he worked at."
"Forever Sounds Studio?" Jack asked. He was looking at a picture of a
young Marisa and Delano standing in a doorway with a sign above them.
"Yes, young man, that's the one. Delano played me a song he had
recorded, and then we listened to a song he was working on. It was a
revelation, I tell you. He was in his element in that studio, Had me do
an overdub behind his voice on a song. Then we did a duet, with him
playing guitar. He took me to breakfast, gave me a kiss on the cheek
after he walked me home, and I didn't see him for two weeks."
Marisa sipped her tea. Jack looked at the picture book, wondering which
one would figure in her next statement. The house with the garden? It
looked like the house they were sitting in, the giant magnolia shading
the front window only a head-high bush in black-and-white.
But it was the yellowed clipping in a plastic sleeve that corresponded
to Marisa's narrative. "Tonight and Every Night", a slow blues by DeLeon
and Marisa, had been selected as record of the month on WGST in Atlanta.
"Deleon came by with a check and a copy of the record. He put on the
record, and there was our voices. He said it was in heavy rotation in
Atlanta and Raleigh. He played the record a second time, and we danced
to it, laughed when we heard our own voices declaring undying love. Then
we were on the couch making love. I'm not sure who initiated that first
time, it just seemed right." Marisa chuckled. "Real right. Oh, what you
must think of me. Well, I'm a Christian now, but I don't regret much.
Everything I done in my life was a step toward Christ. So here I am,
salty language and all."
Jack turned another page in the album, and saw a picture of a black man
in full Marine dress uniform, next to a picture, taken in the field, of
the same man carrying a rifle in one hand and an oriental-looking sword
in the other. On cue, Marisa brought up Horace, whom Jack assumed was
the marine.
"Delano was none too happy to find another man in his house, sitting on
his couch, drinking his tea....."
---------------------------------
April 9, 1950
The marine stood up and offered Delano his hand. "The name's Horace
Dawley..."
Delano slapped the hand away. "I didn't ask your name yet, I asked,
'where is my wife!'.
Marisa's voice came from the kitchen doorway. "Well, look who dropped
by." She was carrying a tray with two glasses on it. "Horace, take your tea,
the one on the right. I know you like extra lemon and sugar."
Horace took the glass with a mumbled "Thank you, Mrs. Outlaw." He sat
back down without making eye contact with Delano.
"None of that, Horace. Call me Marisa." Giving Delano a look that could
kill smaller rodents, Marisa added. "Besides, we don't stand on ceremony
in this house. Why, practically anything goes. DeLeon, come in the
kitchen for a minute, I'll get you some tea."
The instant Delano shut the door, he turned to Marisa as her hand
connected with his cheek. The slap could have been heard outside, much
less by Horace. Delano grabbed her hand as it came up for a second time.
He relaxed his grip, let her wrist go. "Go ahead, baby, I guess I
deserve it."
"Twelve god-damned days you've been gone. And you in town the whole
time. You couldn't be bothered with calling me, at least?"
Before Delano could speak, the door opened and Horace stood in the
doorway. "Is there a problem in here, Marisa?"
"No, Horace. We just talking, then Delano's leaving."
"We okay, Horace. I don't hit women." Horace shrugged and shut the door
once more. Delano did not hear him walk back to the couch.
"You hurt me, Delano, without laying a hand on me. Speaking of, we ain't
done no hand-laying, or any kind of layin' in months now. No, I ain't
steppin' out, I haven't slept with Horace, or nobody else, for that
matter. At least not yet!"
"Baby, I've been workin'. Honest, I been true, hon."
"On your great record? That's gonna make you famous and us rich?" Tears
welled in the corners of Marisa's eyes. "Your lady, Delano, is one I
cain't fight. That lady you keep in your vial, that's who is more
important to you."
Delano started to say something, but Marisa wasn't done.
"What you gonna say, that you gonna quit doing that shit?" I've heard
that. That you got a handle on it? You ain't, Dee. You gonna say I got
the problem with you using, that it ain't no big thang? It was a bitch
quitting while you carried on, but I did it, and I don't think you can."
Her voice dropped. "I'm tired, husband. I'm the one been tryin' to hold
us together. I cannot do it any more. Your trunk is packed. It's beside
the bed."
Delano stepped back, as if his field of vision could not encompass his
wife and her emotions up close. "Please, baby. Give me a chance. this
record, the band, bills. I told you about my past. It's all workin' on
me..."
"And you deal with it all by yourself. You got a wall up that I can't
climb. Go. Come back when you are clean, and you aim to stay clean."
Delano stepped through the door, brushed past Horace on his way to the
bedroom. He looked at the marine, who was watching him with what seemed
to be concern.
"You got somethin' to say too, soldier?"
"I thought your name was Deleon."
I need this now, Delano thought. Too many damned names. He went into the
bedroom with out answering. Once there, he took the time to snort a line
that he laid out on the dresser given them by Marisa's aunt Nita and
Uncle Shug. When he straightened up from the sharp inhalation, he saw
Marisa watching him in the mirror.
"Well, I didn't scratch the finish, anyway." He said as he turned to face
her. But she wasn't there. Must have gone to the bathroom to wait out
his leaving. No problem there, he thought as he picked up the heavy
trunk.
Horace held the door for him. Delano stopped in the threshold. "Did
Marisa say anything to you just now?" he inquired of Horace.
"She hasn't come out of the kitchen. Hear her cryin' in there?"
"You sure?" But he heard the faint sobbing now as well. He needed some
sleep, that was all.
"Look, Horace, is it? Horace, I don't know exactly how you figure in
this, but don't be making y'all's relationship with my wife the subject
of talk, or I will seek you out."
Horace, smiled faintly. "One, I've heard you fight real good. Me too,
sport. Two, I leave in three months for Korea. Shouldn't be long over
there, just gotta make the Chi-coms see reason. Marisa is worth waiting
for, and I will see what is going on when I return. You two got things
patched up, I will be happy for you. You don't, and the lady gives me
encouragement, I hope you will be of an understanding mind."
Delano relaxed his fists and shoulders. "You straight up, soldier. I
like that." He put his hand out, and Horace shook it. "Be careful over
there."
"I'll be okay. Saw action in Hsin-ho, China, a couple of years back."
Just then they heard Marisa call Horace's name. Delano stepped out so
Horace could shut the door, HIS door, on him. He picked up the trunk and
started walking back towards town and the studio. He already had a cot
set up in a storage room.
He heard Horace come out of the house behind him. Marisa was wanting to
be alone, and didn't need any more gossip than had already started.
Horace pulled out of the driveway behind him, and shortly passed Delano
with a curt wave and a nod. He did not slow down, nor offer him a
pitying look. Delano liked him all the more for knowing better than to
offer his romantic rival a ride.
He walked on down the road until a man in a truck slowed down, stopped,
and a thumb appeared which pointed toward the back of the Ford long-bed.
Delano climbed in after his bag, told the driver where he was headed,
and sat back, wishing it wasn't too windy to chop a line. Instead, his
thoughts turned to the latest letter from Frank, the first in 8 months,
and the ramifications of the news it contained.
-----------------------------------
March 5, 1950
It was the first day of the year that had been warm enough and dry
enough for Doc Hatton to put the top down on his '49 Lincoln. The late
winter sun was still low enough to be in his eyes, and he would have
stopped to put the top back up, except that would be admitting to his
wife that she was right. He pressed his hat down on his head, but the
brim still blew up in the wind, and offered his eyes no shady retreat.
The sun was giving him a headache, and Minerva's prattle about their
daughter was getting on his nerves. Half of whatever she was saying was
lost in the wind noise anyway.
"A great visit, wouldn't you say, Francis?.... roommate a little,
trashy....nice young man she's seeing...." Christ, his head hurt, if she
would shut up for just a minute. They were halfway home, between
Bogalusa and Poplarville. Now he wished he had taught Minnie to drive,
he needed to close his eyes, they were having trouble focusing. He
started looking for a place to pull over.
"...two children in graduate school, that is something to be proud of,
isn't it Francis. What? I can't understand you...Francis, what is wrong
with your face?"
He was having a stroke, Doc realized. He tried to stop the car, but he
couldn't find the brake, and the car went off the road as they rounded a
curve at too fast a speed. The car overturned as it tumbled downhill.
Doc heard his wife's scream abruptly cut off when shen she went halfway
through the windshield. Then she was thrown from the car as it struck a
pine tree.
Two more rolls, and the car came to a stop right-side up, but Doc
couldn't seem to control his body well enough to open the door. He tried
to yell for help, for Minnie, but it all sounded like grunts. He felt
pain in his side, saw blood pooling in his lap, then everything went
dark.
"Doc! Doc! Wake up, friend!"
Doc looked up at the figure standing by the car. The face was
silhouetted by the sun, but the voice sounded familiar. He had not heard
it in a long time.
"Come on Doc, there you go." Doc's helper leaned down and brushed some
dust off of his white slacks.
"My wife, she's back there somewhere."
"Let's take care of you, Doc, she's gonna be fine. We all going to the
same place." And the man, a tall negro, faced Doc with a large smile.
"Geddie? Is that you? How can that be?" Doc couldn't understand, anymore
than he could understand why he felt no pain, why he could talk again.
"It just be's, Doc. I'm here."
"You look good, Geddie. They fixed your nose."
"They fix everything, Doc, where we're headed."
"Geddie, I was so wrong. Daddy made me stop being your friend, said it
was time to grow up. He made me hit you, whip you, when you wouldn't
stop coming around. I missed you, Geddie. My best friend, and I did to
you, to us, what I have tried to do to my own son. Frank is a better man I
ever was."
"None of that matters anymore, old friend. Follow me now." And he turned and
strode into the rising mist. Doc scurried after Geddie, following the
fading shadow.
"Geddie, wait. Remember the bream hole? Stealing old man Franklin's
prize watermelon? How it tasted like sewer water, because that's how he
got them to grow so big?
And up ahead he saw Geddie, waiting for him at the top of the hill.
Light was gathering around him like a swarm of butterflies.
the next chapter starts here
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