Brokenhearted in Bakersfield

 

70 - MY FIRST DAY ON THE JOB

I can’t say I was real pleased to be starting my first full day on the job, and already I got tenant issues.  “I’ll look into it,” I tossed the paper to the ground.

“I can understand you wanting to manage all the hoochie-coochie women at The Stardust instead of dealing with the bugs menacing our homes,” Joe gave me a sly wink and a nod.

Then, as if by some supernatural conjuring, he produced a steaming cup of hot black coffee for me (the first cup of fresh brewed java I tasted in a week that wasn’t accentuated by the vague flavor of Owen’s cats).  The coffee helped to clear out the lingering cobwebs in my head while I listened to ol’ Joe Plato talk.

“I’m pretty much a new renter here myself,” he rubbed a Lakers jersey over the area of a small paunch.  (I figured Joe was a skinny guy most of his life, since he didn’t have no flat-out beer gut.)  “I moved in a while back from L.A.  In fact, I moved out here after I saw an advertisement for Black folks.  Broken Heart Park had a court injunction to racially divest, so I took a bus ride out, sitting in a front seat, to personally inspect the premises, you see.  I know it ain’t no Beverly Hills zip code, but they got one African-American cheap.”

Joe stopped massaging his stomach.  “’Course rents were already discounted since most folks here had pulled up stakes and moved on up to Stardust Acres.”

Joe folded his arms and silently looked around the trailer court.

“Anyhow, like I was saying, I come on out after working over 30 years as a guard for Second Shield Security.  Yes sir, Second Shield,” he repeated the name.  “At Second Shield our secret motto was, Ready to take a bullet fo’ yo’ shiz.  Now that’s a company to inspire.  Proudest years of my life.  But Second Shield had other ideas.  They turned me out due to some kind of downsizing or rightsizing or whatever the hell kind of sizing it was.  So after they re-sized me and I was out of a job, I figured I’d move out here to Bakersfield.”  He smiled real wide.  “Just to be with you all.”

My new neighbor looked off toward the interstate.  “Now I’m getting by on my pension and Social Security.  The pension t’ain’t much, but life ain’t over yet, as I see it.”  He looked at me again, “You know what I’m saying?”

I had no idea what Joe was talking about.

A look of concern fell like a shadow across Joe’s bright face.  “Man, how you feeling?”

I looked up and there was a "WELCOME MR. MANAGER" banner strung across the way.  Deflated balloons decoratively sagged on either end.  “Was I over-served at my honorary introduction?”

Joe stared at the ground like he was searching for an adequate answer.  Scratching the top of his salt and pepper head he said, “Guess you had a little too much before the introduction got started.”

Then he looked at me with more than a trace of disappointment.  “We were all waiting around for you when a taxi drove up and dumped you out.  You weaved around and waved at everybody, and shouted something about ‘My People.’  You made a mess all over your shoes, then you crawled under your trailer, and then the next thing we knew, you were snoring like a chainsaw massacre.”  Joe added, “Well, I’m just sayin’, since you wanted to know and all.”

“I’m confused,” I scratched my head.  “You mean to tell me ya’ll threw me a party?”

Joe sniffed the air.  “The first opportunity for everyone to suck up to the new Park Manager, and you’re sleeping it off.  Sad.”

Without saying anything further, we both started walking in the direction of #1 Broken Heart Park.  I figured it was time I located Ferris and Rosa for a face-to-face conference.  As we walked, I noticed there’d been some changes, including a few new faces, like Joe Plato.  I noticed the wreckage from the train incident, where Edna crossed the veil, was now a small flowerbed struggling to survive.  Memories of happier times came flooding back.

“Guess you knew the lady that died here?”

“Yeah, she meant something to me.”

Joe pointed toward lot #9.  “Of course you already know Miss Dorothy, the lady who moved into this coach?  The way she tells it, you two already made your acquaintance a couple of times already.”  Joe turned his laugh into a cough, then he examined me like he knew a secret I wasn’t telling.

Joe continued, “Miss Dorothy moved in with that orphan boy everyone calls Little Billy.”  Joe gave a raspy laugh.  “Boy sure is a motor mouth.  Why, he talks about you all the time.”

Joe eyed me up and down like I had a secret.

“Miss Dorothy says the boy took a shining to her down at St. Ides, so she took him under her wing and decided to move back here with him, about the same time I moved in.

“Miss Dorothy sure is nice, always cooking up treats for everyone and tending to the flowers you see in the dirt here.”  He kicked at the ground, “Yeah, kind of like a living memorial for the boy’s dead kin.”

Joe eyeballed me some more.  “They say it takes a village to raise a child, but it takes a real man to step up to the plate and accept his responsibilities without being forced to take paternity tests, as I see it.”

I nodded in agreement although I didn’t have a clue what he was carrying on about.  “This ain’t no village,” I corrected, “this here’s a trailer park community.”

Joe just looked away.

“Man, it ain’t all that easy for Miss Dorothy to keep her flowers growing here,” he complained.  “Seems like every few days we come out and find the whole damn garden has been tore up.  That’s right, just ripped all the hell apart.”

(Great, more tenant complaints....)

“Me being a trained security professional, and since I don’t sleep too well at night ever since the unfortunate incident during that elementary school riot, I started patrolling the perimeters regularly.  Just keeping an eye on things, you see.  Three or four times when I was on patrol I ran across these two white boys digging up the grounds.  Some big fancy-assed dude and a fluffy little whatnot flinging flowers and shit all over the place.  They were looking damn hard for something.”

Joe smiled, “But they sho’ run like hell whenever I yells at ‘em.”

I turned away from Edna’s memorial flowerbed.  I had a job to do.  “Kind of tough, my first official duty being an eviction.”  I walked right up to the First Coach ready to confront the past with the future of trailer park management.

After climbing the iron stair fixture from Coach Depot, I soundly rapped on the front door.  No answer.  I rapped again.  No answer.  I rapped harder.

Behind me, Joe Plato cleared his throat.  “They ain’t nobody home.  Hell, I seen more of you coming and going ‘round here than I’ve ever seen of them.  Matter of fact, I’ve never even seen them.”

I frowned.  “What do you mean there’s nobody home?  This here is No. 1, the finest home in the whole damn community.  This is the Park Manager’s sanctioned residence.  I need to tell Ferris and Rosa the double-wide is all mine.”

“I’m telling you, there’s nobody in there now, and there ain’t been nobody in there for a long time.”  He ceremoniously bowed, “Open the damn door yourself if you don’t believe me.”

Trembling with anticipation, I reached out and grasped the fabled knob.  The door creaked open only to reveal an empty room.  As I cautiously stepped inside, my footsteps echoed.  What appeared to be flowing white curtains from the outside turned out to be dusty sheets tacked up to hide the emptiness inside.  With Joe Plato covering me from behind, I stood confused in the middle of the cavernous double-wide of my heart’s dreams.  Surrounded by the vacancy of the First Coach, I simply could not comprehend it.  “Where’s Ferris and Rosa?”

“How the hell should I know?” Joe replied.  “I tried to tell you they weren’t here.  I can’t say I really care either, they already took everything that wasn’t nailed down…” his voice trailed off.

I turned and walked past the counter that divided the gutted kitchen-dinette area from the spacious but carpet-less living room, down past the walnut vinyl-paneled hallway.

All the rooms laid off the hall to my left.  I passed a stripped down room that might have been the office once, I guess, since wires stuck out of the walls every which way.  I briefly stopped to look at what would have been the bathroom with just the simple replacement of a toilet, sink and tub.  I continued past what could have been a guest room or a library or a den, or it could have been a meat locker for all I know, but it was stripped.  Totally stripped.  I mean, everything was stripped bare.

The door to the master suite at the end of the hall was closed.  Joe stood behind me while I reached out and stuck my fingers through the hole where the knob should be.  With just the lightest push the door banged against the wall and a brilliant golden light flooded the room.

Joe jumped back like he'd just seen an apparition.

“Far out!” I shouted.  “A parachute room.  I ain’t seen nothing like this since I was just a little snot-nosed kid.”  From the center of the ceiling billowed a huge, bright, golden-colored parachute, all aglow with the golden light of a day in Bakersfield.  All I needed was a lava lamp a water pipe and some organic fibers.

Joe and I basked in the honeyed glow of the golden parachute when a motor vehicle pulled up and honked.  We went outside to see who it was.

In the back of a dusty red high-riding pickup was Matt, Marko and Lucas Kartone.  Juan was driving.  The Boss himself sat round and proud on the passenger side with his fat, hairy arm laying out the open window.  Slowly he pulled the stubby remains of a cigar from his lips and spit some brown foamy juices into the dust.  “Oy, you got da rents for me?”

“Rent?  I don’t think I’m supposed to pay no rent no more, Boss.  I’m your new Park Manager.”

Before Christos could say another word I ran up to the truck, “Did you see what Ferris and Rosa did?  There’s not a damn thing left in the coach except someone’s parachute.”

Matt, Marko and Lucas hopped out of the back of the truck and surrounded me in a flash.  Christos looked down and flicked his cigar butt near my feet.

“Hey, I didn’t drive all da way out to enjoy da NyQuil™ on your breath.  I’m here in my capacity as Da Boss to collect da rents dat you has collected from da residents.  Is dat okay wit you?  What dem who had dis job before you did is none of your business.  All you gotta know is dat dey lived up to da terms of da contrack, or else.  An’ da same goes wit you.  If dey was smart dey never stole nothin’ from Christos Kartone.  Capish?  Now, you!  You got some money for me, or what?”

Suddenly I was feeling the firm grip of hands on my arms.

“Well, Boss, I just started on the job this morning.  I thought I’d get settled in first, that’s all.  I’ll have what you want ready for you by tomorrow.  No problem.”  I tried to force a smile.

“I don’t make it a habit to haff to come out here to pick up from you what you should be bringin’ to me.  Got dat?  I don’t wanna hear no noise outta you except dat you collected my rents.  I don’t fukkin’ care how many shares of what you got.  You better perform, and perform real good.  Got dat?”

Christos looked past me and shouted at Joe Plato, “An’ you!  Don’t make me send da boys to crack your Brazil nuts, you got dat?  Dis is da second time in tree monts you been late wit da rent.  You wanna live healty?  Den get wit da program.”

Joe’s eyes smoldered, and I feared he was about to erupt in an ebonical tirade but he didn’t say nothin’.

Just then, Maggie’s car pulled up in a swirl of dust.  She skidded to a halt, rolled down her window and called out to me, “Honeypot, come on.  Let’s go for your first business lunch.”  She was looking really hot in that strapless dress.

Maggie turned to face The Boss.  “Mr. Kartone, have you come to check on my big guy on his first full day?  I sure hope you’re not working him too hard.  After all, a new father needs to keep up his strength.”

Christos could only manage a snort before I jumped into the passenger seat and Maggie floored it.  We sped outta Broken Heart Park leaving The Boss and the Kartone Boys coughin' in our dusty wake.