Mountain Madness. Jimmy Dale Taylor
the hills with little effort. And why shouldn’t it? He’d had the foresight to visit the used car lot for a test drive before returning the following night to help himself. Some of these hick salesmen never seemed to learn that a smart man could have duplicate keys made.
Other than a few items left behind at his folks’ home on the coast of Oregon, all he owned was in this car. His gold-plated watch swung on the turn signal handle. A hand-carved billfold containing several stolen credit cards, fashioned by his brother who was a guest in Utah’s State Pen, lay in the glove compartment.
Still, there were times when a man needed cash. This might be the time to hit a store and then move on. Head up north. Where the chicks weren’t guarded night and day by some hippie punk.
In the car’s trunk were two .38 revolvers from a recent burglary. Wired to the underframe of the car was a rifle. A little insurance. Yeah, he had all he needed. All but a chick. Soon he would lay one and then he would be on his way.
As the car approached a deserted looking street, Glenn was surprised to see an acquaintance, Marty, standing on the corner waiting for the light to change. He pulled to the curb and called through the open window, “Hop in, buddy.”
The bar was swept out and the shelves were stocked. Jimmy would fill in while Eric took a break. First he stepped outdoors to escape the sounds and odors from within.
He leaned against the building, smoking a cigarette and looking at the girls passing by when he spotted Marty, an acquaintance, coming out of a nearby liquor store. A brown paper bag was under his arm and a man Jimmy didn’t know was by his side. Well, he had work to do. He flipped his cigarette into the street, waved, and had turned to go back inside when Marty called out, “Hey, buddy, wait up!”
Jimmy watched them approach. The stranger was big, not only tall, but heavy, with sharp features and thinning hair. He wondered what in the hell the old fossil was after. Probably panting after the young chicks.
Marty swaggered up to Jimmy and said, “Hey, my man, this is . . .”
“Jay,” Glenn True Clark said as he lifted his hand for a shake. The less any stranger knew about him the better. “Call me Jay.”
Jimmy’s slender fingers gripped Glenn’s thick ones. The man was strong.
Marty shot Glenn a quizzical look and said, “Okay, Jay. Since you’re Jay, this is John.”
Jimmy decided if they were going to play games, “John” would suit him as well as any other name.
Marty jerked his head towards the alley. “You want to go in there and have a swig of the good stuff?”
“Naw, I gotta go to work.”
“Then take my buddy, old Jay here, and buy him one or two, will you? He’s running a little short on cash today, and I got a hot one waiting. You know what I mean?”
Jimmy knew exactly what he meant. Marty would grab the first chick with hot pants and a cold conscience and they would hope to find a place that wasn’t too public.
Jimmy wasn’t happy with the prospect. Before he could decide whether or not to stake this guy to a beer, Marty left on his mission.
Turning to the man he knew only as Jay, Jimmy said, “We might just as well go in.”
Glenn studied his new acquaintance and grinned. He preferred to travel alone but there were times when another good man was needed. He had big plans and young John just might fit in. And hell, the dude wasn’t big enough to be a threat.
“Sure, John. Why the hell not?”
While Glenn headed for a table, Jimmy drew a beer and handed the money to Eric.
“Who’s your buddy?” Eric asked.
“Damned if I know. He got dumped on me.”
“You want some advice?”
“Not especially.”
“He looks like trouble.”
“He’s just an old guy out for a good time. Give me a minute or two and I’ll take over.”
As Jimmy approached the table, Glenn said, “Women and money. That’s all there is, ain’t it? What I’m looking for is an eighteen-year-old nympho with a fat bank account.”
Jimmy grimaced. “They aren’t too plentiful. Drink this while I tend bar.”
“I’ll buy the second round. That’s ‘bout all I’m good for at the time, but I’ll have plenty of money later.”
For twenty minutes Jimmy served as the lone barkeep. As he was turning the duties back to Eric, Glenn swaggered over and bought two beers. Jimmy followed him to the table.
Glenn fingered circles in the condensation on his glass and said, “So, John. What’s coming down? You been over in Vietnam?”
“Close enough. Too damned close.”
Jimmy shivered. Too damned close, all right. He had been off the coast aboard a tanker, a refueling ship. A target the enemy had tried its best to destroy.
Jimmy’s ship had sat in the middle of the fleet. You have to protect your fuel. Everywhere Jimmy looked he could see a ship. Until then he had never seen ships’ guns firing at sea. It had scared him.
“I was in the last one,” Glenn said. “Not just close, but in the son of a bitch. Came out of it disabled. There’s some work I still can’t do. What I can do though is find ways to make a living. Old G1-, Jay, might be a little short on cash, but that’s temporary. I’ll have money soon. Money and a chick. How about you? Got a lady to call your own or do you play the field?”
“Neither.” Jimmy shook his head.
“That’s one way to do it. But you need to have one you can fall back on at any time. As for me, I don’t want to be saddled day and night with no whining woman. I’ll just take ‘em as I need ‘em. Ain’t no trouble for old Jay to get laid.”
Jimmy listened without comment as Jay raved on and on about his conquests over women and his ability to make money without working. He was wishing Marty would come and take this old guy off his hands when he heard the word that captured his undivided attention: Seattle!
“What did you say about Seattle?” Jimmy asked.
“I’m thinking about heading up there. You want to go?”
“Seattle sounds good to me,” Jimmy said. Did it ever!
“Let’s get out of this town then,” Glenn said. “How you fixed on cash?”
“I got a little.”
“We’ll hit the road after dark. You ready to leave this place? Got something I want you to see.”
“Suits me.” Jimmy hurried to the bar and said to Eric, “Need any more help?”
“Naw, I can handle it.”
“I’m cuttin’ out then.”
“Better watch that guy.”
“You’re not my parents, man. Give me two six-packs to go.”
They stepped out into the afternoon sunlight. Glenn stopped to get his bearings, then said, “This way.” He led Jimmy to a white two-door Oldsmobile. “How you like this?” he asked.
Without really considering, Jimmy said, “It’s okay.”
“Okay, hell! It’s a beauty, man. I can get me a car anytime. We get tired of this one, I’ll get another.”
To Jimmy, this sounded like just plain bull from a man without money, but he didn’t comment.
Glenn keyed the door, climbed in on the driver’s side and unlocked the passenger door. “You still wantin’ to go to Seattle?” “Yeah, I want to go! I just need to pick up a few things.”