Mall of the Swamps Part 4

4

Swamptown Vapes

Honestly, management was not quite sure what "vapes" were, but with over a third of their storefronts closed, they felt more like beggars than choosers.  Besides, what they could find out assured them they weren't illegal.  Some kind of electrical cigarettes, and they were supposed to be safer than regular cigarettes.  Well, the jury may still be out on that, but their achingly empty mall footage argued that it was worth a chance.

Bobby Ray was there today, a special guest at the Grand Opening.  It's true that his football injury may have cost Dixon High their hoped-for state championship, but he was healed now, both his leg and his heart (the heavy hits he took from his breakup with Racine Steel).

He stood at the entrance, shaking hands and high fiving.  Bobby Ray didn't smoke vapes, but he knew the store owner, Hilton Smith, and felt like it was the courteous thing to do.  Besides, Hilton was paying him $250.

Hilton was an alum from Dixon County football, circa 1995, the last time Dixon County won the State championship.  Bobby Ray played football with Hilton's son, Radisson (called Raddy) Smith, and had spent time at their pool.  Racine was over one time, and it was they way a bikinied Race came out of the pool after a spectacular dive, that was one of the first moments that he knew that he had fallen big time for her.

It was great to be out, let people know that he was recovered form the injury.  He indeed made enough of impression on Georgia Southern that they took him on scholarship.  They were a Division I-A FBS school, true, not the big leagues.  But they were one of the very best of that group, having won six national championships.  It was not impossible for an accomplished quarterback from that school to catch the attention of the NFL.

Besides, unless he had things horribly wrong, that was the school Racine was going to.  Maybe they weren't together now.  Maybe they never would be.  But it couldn't hurt to be where she couldn't help but she him and hear about him.

He was shocked to hear that Racine had miscarried.  He didn't believe for a minute those New Life fools who were calling it an abortion.  It made him sad that he had offered her help, and she had turned him down. 

Did he want to be tied down with a kid?  Not really, no.  But underneath his cocky exterior, he really did care for Racine, and was determined to do the right thing.

His buddy, Skipper Reese, had come there to keep him company.  He also was a potential customer for Swamptown Vapes.  Skipper didn't really know if he wanted to trade out completely - he was kind of attached to smoking, and how cool he thought it made him look.  But this might let him smoke in places where they don't allow cigarettes.  The restrictions were not as extensive yet, and the thought was that it was less harmful to you and to others.  Fine.  He just cared if he could get way with it.  At least that's the vibe Skipper gave off.

Also there was Susi Kapok.  Bobby Ray had made the mistake of letting her in, especially with Racine now out of reach.  She was nearby, occasionally grabbing his arm, even though he made no moves to encourage or discourage her.  She wore tight bluejean capris, flipflops, and a red blouse, buttoned so that her major feature was exposed almost to the nipple.  At first he thought that manner of dress was kinda sexy, but now he was tired of it.  What he wouldn't give to be staring at Racine.  Even dressed from head to toe in baggy clothing, she was sexier than Susi Kapok could ever be.

And smarter too.  He never thought that he would find smart girls sexy, but he missed it now.  It wasn't the help she offered in homework, either.  She got him to think about things, in ways he'd never thought of them before.  The deepest conversations Susi Kapok had was as to whether to change toenail polish, the virtues of wine versus beer, or rank the relative sexiness of different beards on Duck Dynasty.

Hang in there, Bobby Ray!  Thant's what echoed through his head.  The future was bright, and Racine was the light.

People may think ol' Bobby Ray was empty and shallow, but they were wrong.  You couldn't succeed as a quarterback if you were.  There was so much practice, so much drill.  And if this season didn't work out right?

There was always next season!

Ruby Tuesday

The pressure to play basketball was tremendous.  After all, he was 6’8”, by far the tallest one in his high school class.  But he didn’t really like basketball.  He liked sports, but didn’t like all the physical knocking about.  But tennis?  Ah, now there was a great, graceful game that he really loved.  And Houston Graves, Jr., was quite good at it.  Not pro good, but good enough to help his college win a regional championship.

Houston loved tennis, and he loved his place in Crowley society.  He was third generation Crowley, his grandfather (known affectionately as PeePop), having come here from Illinois, arriving in the 1930s as one of the area’s first insurance agents.  The Graves agency made a killing, particularly in life insurance.  Maybe the name offered a start reminder to people that, without good life insurance, you couldn’t be assured of your family’s protection and position once you were in the grave.

Houston’s father, Houston, Sr., did not quite follow in his PeePop’s footsteps.  He left the insurance to his older brother, Dallas, Jr., and became an accountant.  Houston, Sr. worked hard and earned his CPA license, and helped start up Crowley’s go-to CPA firm.  Houston, Jr., more interested in tennis than a career, kind of floated into his father’s small firm, Graves & Robinson. 

Like his father, though, he had decided that he did not want to follow into his old man’s career.  Being a CPA gave him a flavor of what it was like to be a real entrepreneur, and he loved it, was intoxicated by it.  He wanted to be a part of men taking a chance, of creating something that would leave a legacy and a mark on the town.  That is why he was so excited about the Compton Park Development project.  He was helping manage something that was getting on the ground floor of creating a bridge between Crowley and other communities, a destination that could really put them on the map.  Something that would bring people in from miles around.

“Damn good salad bar they got here, House!  Almost don’t really need to order an actual meal, don’t cha know?”  House was the nickname some of his friends called him, and Eddie Moore, even though they were only recent business acquaintances, was very quick to pick it up.  Eddie was a lawyer from Atlanta that they had begun consulting with.  The Compton Park group had been using Cooper & Strickland, but that had gotten all messed up what with Rondy’s horrible murder, and Thomas Cooper not acting very cooperative.  It was even suspected that Thomas Cooper was secretly helping the number one murder suspect, Gariton Hollander, with legal advice.  Houston, Jr., knew Gariton from a good number of lunches from the Honey Dew, and found it hard to believe that Gariton did it, but he didn’t understand why Thomas Cooper would bend so far over as to actually assist the man the evidence was suggesting was the killer.

“I love the Parmesan Shrimp Pasta.  Hard to pass that up no matter how big the salad is,”  said Houston, Jr.,  who was only eating a modest amount of salad.  Eddie was a big man, but fit and muscular, like he lifted weights to define his shape.  He had a huge mound of salad, lettuce and tomatoes and mushrooms and croutons and bacon and dressing, all piled high.  He made dents in it here and there, and the way he carved it suggested he was like the character in Close Encounters, creating Devil’s Tower out of a mound of mashed potatoes.

“I’m a salad ‘n’ cheeseburger kinda guy,” said Eddie.  “So I hope this new pretzel burger is gonna be worth it.” 

“Sounds like it’s worth a try,” answered Houston, Jr.  “So how we doing, Eddie?  Have we cleared all the legal hurdles?”

Eddie wiped some dressing off that had dribbled down his chin.  His mouth was full, but that did not stop him from talking as he masticated.  “We come a long way, House.  The Sheriff hasn’t quite cleared that sight where they found that hippie teacher fella, but I think that’ll be cleared out in a week or so.  And all that stuff that was brought out about that damn blue plant has kinda fizzled out.”

Yes.  That looked like a real complication, with Christie Delco Hollander of all people, going to Sheriff Steel with all that crazy stuff bout a blue drupe that could cure cancer.  Fortunately, the University of Florida researcher that the drupe was taken to, said that the original conclusions were brought in by a staff assistant who was not very accurate, credible or well trained, and that no one had been able to duplicate what she did, nor was anyone able to locate whatever records she had.  It had all evaporated in smoke and mirrors.  Now how much of that was due to reality, and how much to pressures from the Compton people or Eddie’s law firm, Houston, Jr. refused to speculate.

“Yes, it looks all the environmental issues are a thing of the past.  Thank god for Republican controlled legislatures and judiciary!  I mean, we got the means, really, to grease our way to where we want to go, but it do make things a little more straightforward,” said Eddie, as he munched his way to salad victory.

Houston, Jr. was relieved.  He had worked hard to get them in place, and worked with a lot of contractors, ready to give them the green light.  Once that was given, he thought he could show his true value by keeping things moving quickly and efficiently, at a minimal cost.

It was a joy to do, but the last few weeks had been a real strain.  He felt like the Godfather sometimes, with the line, “Every time I try to get out, they pull me back in!”  First his father has a heart attack, and then Gariton gets arrested, it was like one thing after another pulling back to the accounting firm.  Davis Robinson, the co-founding partner with Houston, Sr. was partner in name only, only coming in once a week or so, and not really capable of doing more, as his Alzheimer’s set in more and more each year.  His Dad was determined to come back, but his doctor ordered to say away for at least six weeks, of which he was only halfway through.  Houston, Sr. was chomping at the bit to come back, but Houston, Jr., tried to meet him at home and keep him updated.

Even with Gariton being out on bail (surprise!) and the new girl, Janet  Roper, helping, things were still getting behind.  And it didn’t help that Daddy Delco and Reggie Crowley, two of the Compton Park big wheels, had ordered him to personally do the accounting and bookkeeping for Crowley’s Mill, and even for Archie’s brother, the slumlord.  So Houston, Jr. just buckled down and worked there most nights and weekends the last few weeks.  The lack of sleep was catching up to him, but meetings like this, where the Compton Park Development was making progress, fueled him with new adrenalin.

“Glad to hear that, Eddie,” Houston, Jr. replied.  “I feel better hearing it from you.  I’ll feel even really better when we start to break ground.”

Eddie looked up at him, Houston, Jr. even sitting tall in his booth setting.  “I’ll bet you right here and now, that you’ll be breaking ground by Easter, mark my words!”

Easter.  What a wonderful time for a resurrection!  A resurrection of the business vitality of this area, a resurrection of this area as a must see destination, and a resurrection of his career and dreams.

Game, set, and match!