Tishomingo Blues (2002)

  Dennis smiled at her saying, "You ever call dives?"

  Diane said, "Like announce what you're doing?"

  Quick and perky, a cute blonde not more than thirty in her khaki shorts and white blouse, slim legs, tan feet in sandals.

  "All there is to it," Dennis said. "You want to? I think Charlie has the script." Dennis turned to him. "Charlie, please tell me you brought it."

  Charlie pulled the script, folded the long way, from his waist in back. "I can help her, show her what to say." He handed the script to Diane. "You read the parts that're checked. Like you tell everybody to stand back from the tank, so they don't get splashed? He's got his dives, what he'll do, numbered, one, two, three. .."

  Diane was looking at the script now. "Where will I be?"

  "About where you are," Dennis said.

  "I won't be on camera, will l?"

  "You can have the camera go to you if you want."

  She looked up from the script. "You're the show, Dennis, not me. I have a camera on me every day."

  He liked her anchor-lady voice, calm and just a touch nasal. She had a cute nose and some freckles, a country girl. "You from around here, Diane?"

  "Memphis. I was a deejay with a hard rock station. I hated all that chatter, so I quit."

  "I trained as a blackjack dealer once," Dennis said, "but only worked a few days. I didn't like the outfit they made you wear." Letting Diane know he was as independent as she was.

  "You'd rather show off your body," Diane said. "Why not? I know the girls think you're hot." She glanced at the script again. "Okay, I'll do it-if I can have a few minutes alone with you first."

  "For an interview," Dennis said.

  She gave him a flirty look, having fun with him. "What else would I have in mind? I'll ask how you got into high diving. What it's like to go off from up there . . . "

  He said, "You know what the tank looks like?"

  "I'd imagine about the size of a teacup," Diane said, "but save it till we're on."

  Another teacup. It made him think of Billy Darwin and wonder if she had talked to him. But now she was walking over to the side of the tank, looking at the scaffolding that supported the threemeter board. She turned to him saying, "Is that where the guy was shot? Under there?"

  Dennis hesitated. "It's what I was told."

  She said, "Oh? I thought you were up on the ladder, you saw the whole thing."

  "No, uh-unh. Where'd you hear that?"

  She seemed to think about it before saying, "Someone heard it in a bar and told someone else. You know, passed it along. I'm trying to remember who told me. It might've been someone in the sheriff's office. I talk to the staff there a lot." Diane the TV lady kept staring at him. "If it was true-boy, wouldn't that be a story."

  Robert had opened the bottle from the ice bucket and poured two glasses, Pouilly-Fuisse, Anne's drink. The red was Jerry's. They were on the balcony now, the show already going on.

  Across the way in the lights, Dennis, in black Speedos, stood on the three-meter board. Over the speakers a woman's voice was telling the crowd, "Next, a three and a half forward somersault ... And there he goes."

  Robert said, "How's he have time to do all that in the air?"

  "Perfect execution," the woman's voice said. "Wait until he's out of the pool ... Okay, and now let's hear it for our world champion Dennis Lenahan, the pride of the Big Easy, New Orleans, Louisiana, where Dennis prepped at Loyola before turning professional. Dennis is going up to the forty-foot level now. I'll warn you, anyone within ten feet of the tank may be splashed. That will be our splash zone here at TishomingoLodge and Casino's inaugural high dive show. Dennis is ready now. And there he goes."

  "Beautiful," Robert said.

  Anne sipped her wine. "How would you know?"

  The woman's voice said, "A beautiful dive, perfectly executed."

  Robert said, "See?"

  "Our champion," the woman's voice said, "is getting ready now for what's called a spotter three and a half."

  Dennis was on the three-meter board again, flexing his hands hanging at his sides.

  "A spotter is a back somersault to land back on the diving board. And at night, under these lighting conditions, we hope Dennis will land squarely on his feet, for he'll immediately do a forward three and a half, a total of four and a half somersaults in two different directions in the same dive."

  Robert said, "Hey, shit."

  "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, the spotter three and a half requires absolute silence."

  "Watch," Robert said. And a moment later said, "Man, perfect. Did you see that?"

  "He did a back flip," Anne said, "and the same dive he did before."

  "You don't appreciate it," Robert said, "keep it to yourself, all right? Dennis is my man."

  "I don't get it-like you're a big fan. On the phone, `Wait till you see this guy.' "

  "How many people you know can do what he does?"

  "He ever saw what you get into he'd die of fright."

  "Listen."

  The woman's voice telling the crowd world champion Dennis Lenahan was now going off the very top of the ladder, eighty feet to the surface of the water. "Ordinarily Dennis closes the show with this dive. But because it's opening night you're in for a special treat. Dennis will do his death-defying dive twice. Now, and again at the close of the show."

  Anne said, "Is he a reenactor?"

  "He is, but don't know it yet."

  "Wait till you see what I'm wearing. Jerry comes in while I'm packing? `Where's the hoop for the hoopskirt?' I said, `Tell me how to get a fucking hoop in the bag and I'll bring it.' I've never had any intention of wearing a hoopskirt. I haven't told him yet, but I'm going to be a quadroon camp follower."

  "Cool. You'll be the show."

  "Hang a red lantern on the tent."

  "How much you charge?"

  "I don't know. What do you think, back then?"

  "High-class whore? Maybe two bucks. Camp follower? About four bits." He said, "Listen what she's saying."

  The woman's voice telling the crowd, "Chickasaw Charlie Hoke, Tishomingo's popular celebrity host, would like to say a few words to you as our champion climbs all the way to the top of that eighty-foot ladder. Charlie?"

  Now Charlie's voice came over the speakers.

  "Thanks, Diane. Folks, let's give a big hand to DianeCorrigan-Cochrane, the Voice of the North Delta."

  "Good crowd," Robert said. "Hundred and a half easy."

  "For eighteen years," Charlie's voice told them, "Dennis has been performing as a champion, the same length of time I spent in organized baseball. Like Dennis, ready to bear down wherever and whatever famous sluggers I was facing. While Dennis was showing his stuff all over the world, I was with the Orioles organization, the Texas Rangers, the Pittsburgh Pirates, the De-troit Tigers, Baltimore again, got traded back to De-troit and finished my career with the Tigers in the '84 World Series. When Dennis started out he knew he would never give up till he was a champion in his field. Just as I bore down in the minors striking out some of the biggest hitters in baseball. AlOliver, GormanThomas, JimRice. Let's see, DarrellEvans, MikeSchmidt when I was with Altoona, back then throwing ninety-ninemile-an-hour fastballs. BillMadlock, WillieMcGee, Don Mattingly. And I fanned WadeBoggs twice in the longest game on record. Went eight hours and seven minutes. In other words I know and can appreciate what Dennis Lenahan has gone through to get where he's at today."

  Robert said, "That man is all scam. I can't believe he's never done time."

  "You haven't," Anne said. "Or have you?"

  "Jail, no prison. Charlie says he's gonna reenact. Wants to be a Yankee this time."

  "What about the diver?"

  "Gonna be a Yankee."

  "But he doesn't know it yet?"

  "He don't know shit, but he's learning."

  "How'd you do with the house-trailer guy?"

  "Manufactured homes they're called. Got him lined up."

  "You've been a busy boy
." Giving him the look again.

  They heard the key in the lock as Dennis went off in a flying reverse pike, Robert's eyes glued to him. Two seconds it took? Maybe two seconds falling sixty miles an hour. Robert turned, raising his arm.

  "Hey, Jerry, you just missed the eighty-foot dive, man." It seemed strange, seeing him with a beard.

  Jerry took a cashier's check from his pocket, laid it on the table and began opening a bottle of red saying, "How do you know it's eighty feet?"

  "I either went up there with a ruler," Robert said, "or I counted the rungs. Take your pick. You win?"

  "Course I won. You think I'd play if I lose?" He said to Anne, "How you doing, sweetheart? You show Robert your outfits?"

  "I took a nap while Robert looked at the view."

  "The show," Robert said, "it's still on." It didn't make sense to him, Anne saying she took a nap, daring Jerry to check the bed for tracks. But that's the kind she was, liked to fool with being caught. So sure of herself she didn't see it: if Jerry ever did walk in on them she'd be the one would have to go.

  Robert said, "Listen, I'm gonna leave you all. I told Dennis I'd come by his house for a drink.

  Wants me to check out his landlady. Says she's fine." It was for Anne, but she wouldn't look at him.

  Jerry was shaking his head. "You're crazy, you know it? This whole business."

  "You're gonna have some fun," Robert said. "Be like olden times for you." He finished his wine and started for the door.

  Jerry stopped him. "Wait. I want to show you my uniform."

  They were in Charlie's ten-year-old Cadillac he'd bought used in Memphis, on their way home.

  "You did it again," Dennis said.

  "What I said out there? I was making the point of what you have to go through to be a winner."

  "I've been diving longer'n eighteen years."

  "They don't know that. I say eighteen years each, right away it's like I know what you been through."

  "Charlie, it was all about you."

  "Hey, didn't me and Diane keep referring to you as the world champ? What do you want? All that getting 'em to applaud? You know what I'll never understand? That business about you needing absolute quiet, like a pro golfer getting ready to take his shot, or one of those tennis players you see on TV Somebody in the stands gets up to go take a leak as the guy's serving-Jesus, he has a fit. You see that in baseball? Hell no. I'm three and oh on a batter in his home park, I'm trying to concentrate so I don't walk him and the stands are going crazy, banging the seats. How about a batter, full count on him, they're yelling their heads off and the ball's coming at him ninety miles an hour."

  "Anything you talk about," Dennis said, "you turn it around to baseball. You hear what Diane said? Somebody told her I was up on the ladder when Floyd was shot? I saw the whole thing?"

  "I missed that."

  "She said it started in some bar and now it's going around."

  "There you are, bar talk."

  "She couldn't remember who told her, but thinks it was someone in the sheriff's office. Like one of the clerks."

  Charlie didn't say anything.

  They got home and went in the house.

  Vernice said, "You think I'm terrible, letting you down like that."

  So then Dennis had to tell her no, not at all, no, don't worry about it-all that, even though he hadn't thought about her since finding out she wouldn't be there to call dives. No, what he'd thought about between dives, and waiting on the perch while Charlie gave his baseball talk, was Diane, what she'd heard. Charlie could call it bar talk because he didn't want to think about it, give it any importance; but he could tell it was on Charlie's mind. Charlie told Vernice about DianeCorriganCochrane filling in, Diane with her personality, her professional delivery, and all that did was make Vernice act more depressed. Maybe she really was. Dennis felt either way it wouldn't last.

  They went in the kitchen for drinks, Vernice hanging back, telling them from the doorway she was going to catch up on her reading. She said, "I won't disturb you. I'll let you talk about the show and DianeCorrigan-Cochrane," and closed the door between the kitchen and the dining L.

  Getting out the Early Times and the ice, Dennis said, "Did somebody see me up on the ladder about that time? Then learn about Floyd on TV and believe I must've been there?"

  "I told you," Charlie said, "what I thought, it's just talk, pure speculation. A clerk in the sheriff's office hears a couple of smart-ass deputies talking about it."

  "Or ArlenNovis told somebody," Dennis said, "one of his guys. Or Junebug was bragging about it. Charlie, I'm the one who ought to tell somebody, that CIB guy, JohnRau." He said, "I'm ready to," not happy with the way he felt, like he couldn't move because this redneck ex-convict had told him to sit.

  Charlie didn't care for that kind of talk. He said, "Let's don't rock the boat." He said, "Leave sleeping dogs lie." He said, "Don't duck if nobody's throwing at you." And said, "You know I was never afraid to come inside on a batter. They knew it and you'd see some of 'em at the plate with their butts stuck out, ready to bail."

  By the time they were seated at the table with their drinks, Charlie smoking, Charlie telling Dennis the clubs he was with when he struck out those famous hitters-"With Triple-A Toledo playing Columbus when I got Mattingly"-they didn't see the door open or look over until they heard Vernice.

  "Charlie, there's somebody to see you."

  Vernice sounding like she didn't want to move her mouth.

  "Yeah? Who is it?"

  "ArlenNovis."

  Standing right behind her in his hat. No, a different one. Arlen putting his hands on her hips now to move Vernice out of the way. He came in and she closed the door, staying out of it.

  Arlen sat down at the table with them, no one saying a word, sat back in his chair staring at Dennis-Dennis staring back, getting a close look at the hat, one soldiers wore, not cowboys, military from another time, soiled and misshapen, a gold braid turned green around it instead of a band. Arlen said, "I finally got to see you dive. You're pretty good."

  The man's eyes holding on him, not letting go.

  Dennis stood up, turned to get the Early Times from the counter and placed it on the table. Sitting down again he said, "How would you know if I'm good or not?"

  Arlen turned his head to Charlie. "You better introduce us."

  "I know who you are," Dennis said. "What I don't understand is why you're telling people I was on the ladder when you shot Floyd. You make it a funny story? I'm so scared I'm shaking the ladder?"

  Arlen seemed surprised. He did. But then gave Dennis his stare and was about to speak when he looked up.

  Vernice was in the doorway again.

  She said, "Dennis, it's somebody for you."

  Robert, leaving the highway, turning that shiny S-Type front end toward downtown 'Tunica-where small-town friendliness was still a way of life-had been thinking about Jerry and his uniform and all the shit that went with it: the boots, the sword, the pair of revolvers, big.36 caliber Navy Colts. He had watched Jerry put the uniform on--cut by his tailor-and pose, the guinea hard-on trying to look like General Grant. The likeness was close, but not all the way there till he put the hat on. Hey, now, with the beard, the beard making it, the motherfucker was U. S. Grant in person.

  It was the idea of getting dressed up that had drawn Jerry into the deal, the man having just enough a sense of humor the idea worked for him. Robert telling him, "Man, you get to wear a uniform, carry a sword." It might've been the sword closed the deal. Jerry saying, "You know, I never used a sword before." Then maybe thinking about the different weapons he had used, from baseball bats to car bombs. The man even knew things about the Civil War he saw on TV.

  School Street.

  Robert made the turn and saw he believed two cars in front of the house, coasted up the block and pulled in behind the second car, his headlights telling him it was the '96 Dodge Stratus back again. Worth five bills at a chop shop.

  Hmmmm.

/>   Robert got out of the jag. Then reached into the back for his attache case.

  Chapter 10

  CHARLIE BELIEVED HE LIKED THE WAY this game was opening up, seeing Robert as a new pitcher coming in who didn't have a bad arm. Threw one seventy miles an hour on his third try.

  "You know Dennis," Charlie said, "world champion diver. And that's ArlenNovis. Arlen was a sheriff's deputy till he went to prison." Charlie got Robert seated, facing Arlen across the length of the table, Arlen putting his stare on Robert the whole time. Neither one bothered to reach out to shake hands. Charlie motioned to the briefcase Robert held on his lap. "Can I put that out of the way?"

  Robert said no, he'd set it here on the floor.

  "Beer, whiskey, a soft drink?"

  Robert said the Early Times would do fine and Charlie put ice in a glass for him. They were all set and Charlie said, "Well now . . .

  And Robert said to ArlenNovis in his pleasant way, "I see you're wearing the authentic Confederate slouch hat. Looks good on you. Like it's been to war."

  Arlen took the hat by the curled part of the brim and adjusted it to his head, the way men did who wore hats, but didn't say thank you, didn't say anything, and Robert kept talking.

  "I saw you out by the diving tank yesterday evening? That was a cowboy hat you had on. Out there with that other fella. But you didn't get to see Dennis perform his dive, did you? I saw it. Did a beautiful flying reverse pike and I gave him a ten."

  Nothing like getting right into it. Charlie raised his glass and was taking a sip of whiskey as Dennis spoke up.

  Saying to Robert, "We were just talking about last night. I was asking Arlen here, how come he's telling people I was on the ladder when he shot Floyd?"

  Arlen was staring at Dennis with a look that drew lines in his face and made it appear rigid, like he was having a time holding back. It surprised CharlieArlen didn't speak up.