Chapter 24

The first few days Lillian was with us we were always looking over our shoulder, expecting to see Dwight come out of nowhere carrying a Tommy gun or something to clean out the bunch of us. But, as the weeks went by we mostly forgot about him, except to sometimes wonder out loud what had really happened with him.

Then, one night in Streator, Illinois she came up to me when I went out back of the box truck to take a leak before the main started. It was going to be one of those long features with no heats, and if I didn't tap myself pretty dry the vibration of the car could have my teeth floating before the race was over with. She was looking very worried and just about out of her head. "Dwight's here!" she cried. "Mel, what the fuck am I going to do now?"

"Did he see you?" I asked.

"I don't know," she whimpered. "I don't think so. I hope not. He's got a buddy of his with him. Izzy is even bigger than he is, and he's even meaner. They're over in the grandstands, looking us over. I tried to stay out of sight behind the trucks."

"Don't worry about it," I told her. "We'll take care of you." I wasn't exactly sure how, but I knew I had to think of something, fast.

The only one of us that didn't have something that had to be done right then was Carnie. I went and found him, and took him out in back of the box truck where Lillian was waiting for me. I quickly explained the problem and said, "I think we'd better get her out of here, and then deal with those pugs after the race."

"Does back to the motel sound safe?" he asked.

"Probably," I said. "Might be safer to put her in a different motel if you can find one."

"Yeah, good thinking," he said. "Lillian, you stay here, I'll go get my car and pull right up here to pick you up."

"OK, fine, but hurry!" she said. "I just know they want to kill me after what happened to Dwight."

"Don't worry about it, we'll take care of you," Carnie smiled, and went to get his car.

"Look, I've got to go get in the race car," I told Lillian. "You just stay here until Carnie comes. You'll be all right."

"Watch out for those two, Mel," she said. "They're big trouble."

"We'll take care of it," I told her, wondering just how we were going to do it. On my way back to the car, I stopped at the back end of the box truck and grabbed a big crescent wrench, which I figured had to be just about as good as a fist. I knew I could stick it by the seat in the car so it would be handy after the race.

I barely made it out to the track in time to jump into the 66 car, fasten my belt, start it up and join the others for the warm up laps. I don't remember where I started but I know it was toward the back of the field so I must have done pretty good the previous night – we never bothered with qualifying, but just inverted the finish from the night before. We made four or five warmup laps, then when we came out of the last turn after the one to go flag Spud flew the green flag, and we were off and running.

I don't remember how long the race was that night; it strikes me we were on a mile track, so it was probably around seventy-five laps, just about as far as we could manage to go and still be pretty sure of having gas when we finished. I managed to jump three or four spots on the first lap on the strength of my souped up engine, but eased back after that to make sure that the gas would go the distance, since hopping up the engine meant that I went through gas quicker than most. I was running about fourth when Dewey and Pepper tangled in front of me and spun. The cars weren't hurt at all, but Spud had to throw the yellow and the two had to go to the back of the field.

That left me second in back of Scotty Lombard on the restart, and I decided to just hang on him for a while and not give him a try just yet, unless somebody started pushing me. I didn't get to do that very long because the next thing I knew Dink was trying me on the high side, so I figured I'd better push a little myself. We had a three-way battle for the lead for several laps until I finally got around Scotty and was able to put a little distance on him.

I pretty well stayed out in front of Scotty the rest of the race, although not all that far out in front. I remember it because I remember thinking that it might be better to let Scotty by so I could warn the rest of the guys about Dwight and his buddy while we were loading the cars. I guess I really must have been a racer because it didn't strike me that warning the guys was as important as winning. Scotty got close as the white flag flew, but Dink wanted the extra five bucks and took a run on him in the last lap, which sort of diverted his attention from me.

So, I pulled into the winner's circle, where Spud handed me the trophy. "Warn the guys," I told him. "Lillian's old buddy Dwight is around somewhere with some buddy of his."

"Carnie already told us," he said. "We're going to try to avoid a clem if we can, but we'll be ready if we have to."

That was a relief; I should have realized that Carnie would have spread the word. I still didn't know what was going to happen as I went out and took my victory lap, but there were fifteen of us and only two of them, so the odds didn't seem real bad.

As always, when the race was over with they opened the pits to let the people from the grandstands come over and talk with us, and we had a bigger crowd than usual that evening. Maybe it just seemed bigger since we had so many drivers in the crowd, and I noticed that most of the drivers had a wrench in their hands or their pockets, and most of us were still wearing helmets.

I guess that Dwight and Izzy must have made pretty much the same observation, because they didn't try to beat the shit out of me as soon as they got up to me. It sounded like they'd thought about it a fair amount, because as soon as they got up to me Dwight asked, "Where the fuck is that bitch?" He'd been drinking pretty good; I could smell the booze all over him.

"What?" I asked. "Who are you talking about?"

"Lillian, that bitch that grabbed you down in Mattoon a couple months ago just before one of your smartass buddies cold cocked me."

"Black haired girl, about so tall?" I said, holding out my hand. "Down in Mattoon? Yeah, I think I remember her. Looked like she would have been a pretty good ride, but she took off. I don't have any idea where she is." Which was the truth, as long as I didn't get into the timing.

"Aw, bullshit," Dwight snarled. "You know where the fuck she is, now you better damn well tell me."

"Honestly, I just barely remember her," I said. "About all I remember is that she was a real looker."

"Well, fuck you," he said. "I don't appreciate you lying to me, and I don't appreciate some one of you fuckers bashing me in the back of the head and shipping my ass down to Mississippi. It ain't no Goddamn fun to spend thirty days on a fuckin' county chain gang."

"Chain gang?" I asked. "What the hell did you do to get on a chain gang?"

"Fuck if I know," he said. "All I know is that one second I'm talking to you and her, and the next thing I know there's this yard bull in Jackson, Mississippi yanking me off the train."

"What did you do, take a swing at him?" I asked, figuring that was what must have happened.

"Well, maybe a little," he said. "But what the fuck was I supposed to do? You fuckers were the ones that set me up, and I ain't gonna forget it."

Just about then, Carnie slipped in. "Look, mister," he said in a friendly way, "I don't know what you're talking about. What do you say that you give us a few minutes to load up, and we'll head up the road for a drink or two and talk this all out peaceably. I'll even buy a round."

"Well, all right, I guess," Dwight snarled again, figuring that he and Izzy were way outnumbered out there on the track and they stood a better chance of getting me alone in a bar somewhere.

"Good enough," Carnie said. "Mel and I will meet you at that bar up the road towards town in a few minutes."

"You better be there," Dwight snapped as he and Izzy turned to go.

I shook my head and turned to Carnie as they walked away. "Carnie, do you know what the fuck you're doing?" I said. "What are you going to do, have the cops there?"

"Have no fear, Carnie is here," he smiled. "Believe it or not, they're set up pretty good. Go get this car loaded and get out of your coveralls."

As I drove the 66 car up onto the trailer's loading ramp, I sure hoped that Carnie knew what he was doing. After I got the car tied down, I went over to the back of the box truck and started peeling out of my coveralls. As I was doing that, Carnie came up to me. "Lillian is all right. Nervous as hell, but all right. I put her in a room at a different motel, and gave her my .38 in case everything fails."

"Your .38?" I asked. "I didn't know you carried a gun."

"Most of the time I don't, but I keep one around since you never know when you're going to need one, especially some of the places I've been."

"I have to say that I kind of wish that you still had it."

"Naw, this is going to work out all right," he smiled. "It's never a good idea to use a gun unless you really have to. There's usually a better way to deal with things. The gang is all going to be there so things aren't going to get out of hand."

"That makes me feel a little better," I said. "I just don't think we want those two hanging around looking to get one of us alone."

"Shouldn't be a problem," Carnie said. "Mel, you worry too much. Maybe you'd better ride with me. I'll be right back, I just need to tell the guys to go in a group, not one at a time."

Let's face it, I was still nervous, and a little bit for Lillian as well as for myself. She could disappear at any time with no way of tracking her, but it wouldn't take a lot in the way of brains to be able to follow the MMSA, not that I had the impression that Dwight was overly equipped in that area anyway. I always figured that it was the dumb ones that you have to worry about; the smart ones usually know better.

The whole gang of us pulled into the bar in a group. It was one of those places that was pretty beat-up, and kind of struck me as a dive. We went in, to find Dwight and Izzy sitting at a table, with Dwight managing to look both sour and mean at the same time, while Izzy just looked sour. Figuring I was taking my life in my hands, I followed Carnie over to the table and sat down with them. "So, did you guys like the race tonight?" he asked.

"It was OK, I guess," Dwight said. "We was driving through town and saw the poster for the midget races, and we wondered if it was going to be you guys. I figured Lillian might be with you."

"Afraid not," I said. "Good looker, though. What was she, a girl friend or something?"

"She was my bitch. I had a hell of a time getting her out of that cathouse up in Chicago, almost got my ass shot in the process."

"Sounds like quite a story," Carnie said genially.

"Well, she said she wanted out of there, and I figured that if I got her out of there she ought to stay with me, you know? But the bitch just couldn't keep her hands off other men."

"There are women like that, I guess," Carnie shrugged as the waitress came over. "Double whiskeys all around," he said. "The normal rotgut will be just fine."

"So," Carnie said as the waitress turned to go, "Tell me about this chain gang business."

"Ain't really a hell of a lot to tell," the Dwight said. "I was sound asleep when that fucker down in Jackson jerked me awake, so of course I took a swing at him. They had me in front of a judge within an hour and I was swinging an Irish backhoe in another hour. Hotter than all get out, mosquitoes all over the fucking place and I just fucking sweated my ass off."

"I knew they had chain gangs down in Georgia," I said conversationally. "I didn't know they had them in Mississippi."

"One of the guys told me that some counties do, some don't," he said. "God damn, let me tell you, that chain gang was three quarters niggers and most of them dumber than rocks. That wasn't no fun, neither."

Just about then, the waitress came over and set the drinks down in front of us. Carnie handed her a five to cover them, while Dwight rattled on about the damn lazy niggers on the chain gang. All of a sudden, Carnie broke in. "Jesus, would you check out the tits on that babe back in the corner behind you," he said. "Christ, they're better than Rita Hayworth's."

Well, naturally, they swung around to check them out, and of course I did, too. The girl did have a pretty nice bazoom on her, I have to say that, but whether they would have given Rita Hayworth a run for the money was a good question. "Not bad," Dwight said as he swung back around after a moment. "I think Lillian's were better, but they ain't bad."