Dive bartender flowers i.., p.44
Dive Bartender: Flowers in the Desert, page 44
118
Feeling like he’s slept forever but it still wasn’t enough, Frank gazes out his apartment window at the empty swimming pool, wondering what the hell he’s gonna do now.
“It lives,” Bill, says from the couch. He’s sitting in his underwear watching One Life To Live, a shoebox lid filled with pot on the table in front of him.
“Just barely,” Frank says, turning away from the window.
“Looks like you’re a partner in the music business crime of the century, Franko,” Bill says, waving a section of newspaper at him.
“What do you mean? What’s it say?”
“Says here that Evelyn Raines has entered a drug and alcohol rehab facility on the coast of California, forcing the cancellation of a nationwide tour for Evie and the Desert Flowers, and putting Evie’s future in the music business on hold.”
“Sounds about right,” Frank says. “She was pretty disappointed in the industry. But she also said she had some great tunes she just wrote and wanted to record, so let’s not sound the death knell quite yet.”
“Fuckin’ Javier called every fuckin’ day you were gone. Got more pissed off every day.”
“Fuck him. Evie will be out next month. He can wait. The music biz can wait. Her fans can buy her albums and wait.”
“Good things come to those who wait, they say,” Bill says.
“Fuckin’ right.”
And wait they did.
119
Three weeks later:
Frank puts the cash on his dresser and reads the card for a second time, realizing for the first time that this is what he’s been waiting for. This is the reason he hasn’t left Arizona yet.
Evie had remained true to her promise to write to him. Almost every day for the first week of her stint at the Lifeforce Center, and then a couple times a week after that.
And now, a week before she’s due to complete the treatment, this final missive, along with ten one hundred dollar bills placed inside a greeting card.
He’d hoped for another chance to see her, secretly wishing she’d invite him out to take her home.
And his wish has just come true.
He can feel renewal and the return of positive energy in her writing. He feels her growing capacity for joy in the way she describes her telephone call to Azure Records:
Just like I told you he would, Frank, Sam loved the new song. I called him at the studio and sang “In a Cage” a cappella over the phone, and he loved it.
He wants me in the studio as soon as I’ve completed my treatment. Plans to release “In a Cage” as a single and is flying the band out to LA to work on a new album, for which I’ve already got six new songs. Nothing much else to do around here at night so I got shit done.
It would really mean a lot to me if you came out and we could drive to LA together. I’ve missed you so much, as I’ve told you in every letter I sent. Azure can have a car waiting for you at the Hertz desk at LA International, should you decide to come. All you need to do is get there and show ID.
My counselors here have warned me that such a quick return to the business might be more difficult and dangerous than I imagine, but I feel that with you as my security blanket, I will be fine. I’m really looking forward to singing and working with the band again.
The money is for your plane ticket and any expenses you might incur. Please don’t take offense that I sent you money. And if you can’t—or won’t come out—just keep it, I think Clayton would want you to have it. (Here she drew a smiley face)
I’m so excited to see you that I can barely stand it. Just call the center when you get to LA and they will get a message to me. Or you can just call me direct at night to fill in the details.
Hope to see you very soon.
All my love,
Evelyn
Well, Frank thinks, hard to say no to that.
Not that he’d want to.
Been dreaming about the Pacific Coast Highway for weeks now.
He’s got enough money saved—Bill sold all the weed they got from Javier—and Frank can probably afford to buy a halfway decent car in LA, provided the prices aren’t sky high like everything else out there.
He plans to be Evie’s “security blanket” until she gets her feet back under her. After that head back up the Coast Highway and look for work.
Slinging drinks at some ocean-side establishment sounds like a dream job to him these days.
He hasn’t informed Evie of his plans.
Nine months later:
Frank stretches and yawns as he looks over the day’s mail: four envelopes spread across the breakfast bar of his small apartment above a boathouse in Jennings Bay, California, a picturesque fishing village about halfway between Santa Barbara and Monterey.
The ocean is placid and the air coming in his windows is exquisite, as usual. It was another long night behind the bar. Ralph’s Seaside Lounge, where Frank works, and the restaurant next to it, Georgio’s, are nearly always full.
He still looks at it as his dream job, but allows that he may need to dream a little better. Or with more optimism.
At least differently.
He blinks a few times trying to clear the film from his eyes as he looks at the envelopes. Feels a jump in his gut when he sees the return address on one of them, along with an Arizona postmark.
Evie’s Diner and Motor Lodge, Flagstaff Arizona, it says in the upper left hand corner, and it brings warmth to his heart. Was almost a year ago now he left Evie in the LA studio. She was hard at work with the band and getting back in the swing of things quite nicely.
But Frank couldn’t hack LA—too much traffic and too much smog and too many people and generally too much uncomfortable bullshit—so after he felt Evie didn’t need a security blanket anymore, he left.
Was too cowardly to face her with his decision, so he just left. Packed up his shit in his newly purchased Honda Civic and headed north on the Pacific Coast Highway.
That, as you can imagine, probably didn’t go over well with Ms. Raines.
Probably why he hadn’t heard from her since then, he thinks.
Even though he’d sent a letter to her in care of Azure Records, informing her of his new address and situation and even apologizing for leaving without saying goodbye or explaining himself. Saying sorry was something he was never very good at. Which probably explains why his relationships never lasted.
So, for all the time between then and now, he’d believed that either she never got the letter or she wanted nothing more to do with him.
Gave him heartache.
But he’d thought he was over it.
Feeling a little bit of redemption, he tears open the envelope, careful to leave the return address intact.
Dearest Frank,
I’m so sorry it’s taken me this long to write you, but my life has just been a whirlwind since last year.
Also I thought you were probably sick of all the drama.
You probably haven’t noticed (he had) but “In a Cage” went to number three on the pop charts and five on the country charts. The new album we cut in L.A. (“Come Back to the Light”) is approaching number one and our other albums are also selling well.
So I’m finally making enough money to quit the music business.
That’s right, Frank, I’ve retired at age twenty-three.
Sam Watkins nearly had a stroke when I told him—and he tried hard to change my mind—but I knew my time on stage was over for at least the immediate future.
Billy and the band were cool with it, after I explained the way I felt about everything. They were disappointed but accepted my decision as something I needed to do.
Which brings us to the present.
Maybe you noticed by the return address that I’m now the proud owner of a diner and motel combination in Flagstaff. They even get snow up here, Frank. And I really enjoy getting up early and waiting on the breakfast crowd, as well as talking music and local politics with the customers. Also helping out the Mexican-American community any way I can.
And, Frank, honey, possession of this letter entitles you to a free meal at Evie’s Diner, as well as a free weekend stay at the motel.
I think I owed you.
So if you’re ever in the area, be sure to stop in, It would please me to no end.
Love,
Evelyn
Well, I’ll be, Frank thinks, fuckin’ Evie actually did it. Good for her.
And he just might take her up on her offer, he thinks, on his way to the shower.
He’s whistling the tune of “In a Cage” as he peels off his clothes.
Acknowledgments
Although the story, characters and incidents in Dive Bartender: Flowers in the Desert are made up, the names and ingredients in the Mexican Christmas dishes, and the majority of Spanish words and phrases came from Don Winslow's remarkable Power of the Dog trilogy, arguably the best work of crime fiction ever published.
The Father Peyote segment was influenced by a documentary series on the VICE (Viceland) network called "Hamilton's Pharmacopeia.”
Another VICE documentary series, "Hate Thy Neighbor," provided select details for the "Road to Arivaca" section of this story.
Details on the Bakersfield Sound came from Ken Burns' outstanding PBS documentary, "Country Music."
To all, my sincerest thanks.
About the Author
T.K. O’Neill has been writing since his college years, having been inspired by his creative writing professor, Harry “Doc” Davis. He grew up in Duluth, Minnesota, the son of school teachers, and attended Arizona State University and the University of Minnesota Duluth (UMD).
In his early professional writing years, T.K. was a sports reporter and founder and editor of a regional arts and entertainment monthly, which was seed for some of his early fictional characters. He is the author of several crime noir and hardboiled novels and short stories, including Fly in the Milk, Dead Low Winter, South Texas Tangle, Jackpine Savages, Dive Bartender: Sibling Rivalry, Northwoods Pulp Reloaded, and, most recently, Dive Bartender: Flowers in the Desert.
An ardent outdoorsman and angler, O’Neill and his family live in Minnesota.
T.K. O'Neill, Dive Bartender: Flowers in the Desert
