Chapter 57

Sitting on the toilet because the urinals were in use, Davids felt like he was going to barf. He’d pissed for what seemed like an hour. Standing to flush, his head began to spin. Then it came, seemingly from his toes, two pounds of undigested burger, the fixings, and the beer, forcing their way up and out of his stomach. Some landed in the toilet but most landed on the floor, a stench most foul. Up again it came. The other guys in the bathroom hightailed it out of there.

Davids knew what he had done but seemed incapable of moving. The bartender came in, saw and smelled what had happened, and told Davids to clean himself up and that he was calling a driver to take him home.

Why the hell did I serve this guy so much to eat and drink? I’ll never get the smell out of the bathroom, even with the competing smells.

The lady customer who had left came back to use the bathroom. Hearing the commotion caused by Davids, and how he was incapable of driving in his condition, she told the barkeep she could take him.

“Good, I’ll be glad to get him out of here. I’ve never seen him before. Is he someone you know?”

“No but he looks harmless. Just trying to do him a favor.”

“Yeah, well be careful. Can’t tell what people are thinking by their looks.”

“For sure.”

She headed for the bathroom. Davids had finished cleaning himself up and went back to the bar.

“One of my customers is going to drive you home.”

“Don’t live hereabouts. Drove up to Canada today. Deciding where to settle. Anyway, I can drive.”

“There’s an inexpensive motel a few miles down the street. It’s clean. You can’t drive in your condition.”

“No, I’m good.”

“If you do, I’ll call the cops. I’m not getting sued if you get in an accident.”

I don’t want to see any more cops today.

“Yeah, all right.”

The bartender was going to introduce Davids to the lady customer but he didn’t know his name. She knew what it was from the news story.

“What’s your name, Mister?” the bartender asked.

“Willie Davids.”

“Mr. Davids, I’m going to need the keys to your car. You can pick them up tomorrow.”

“No, I’ll hold on to them.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he gets to the motel,” the lady said.

“Wait out in front while I get my car,” she told Davids.

She and Davids went outside.

“Stand there under the light. I’ll be there in a sec.”

“I don’t understand why I can’t walk to your car.”

“I have to clean out the front seat, and I need to see what I’m doing. Wait there,” she said as she pointed.

Davids did as he was told and stood under the solitary lamppost in the corner of the parking lot. No vehicles were parked near it. The lady got into her car, made the sign of the cross, and put the car in gear.

Davids was beginning to feel better. He thought that the lady wasn’t half-bad looking. Maybe she thought the same about him. Maybe that’s why she offered to drive him. He smiled.

Tears in her eyes, the lady thought about the beautiful young woman mentioned on TV, the one killed by the Mustang Davids was driving. She hit the gas pedal and never slowed down.

Davids’ body flew into the air one hundred feet and he landed awkwardly on his head. He was dead.

The lady slowed her car, turned back into the bar’s parking lot and waited for the police to come.