Chapter 40

I’ll admit that my faith in Squiggy was not at its highest point when he suggested that we should go see his “boys”. I would rather hear Kenny Rogers sing “Lady” a hundred times back-to-back instead of having to rely upon him for help.

We stood out in front of the Bank of Langford looking out over our dying downtown as Squiggy tried to convince me to follow his recommendation.

It was a little sad to see downtown like this. Back when I was a kid, it was so alive. This was where everybody went. Now, there were less than ten cars and trucks parked in front of the buildings. Most of these were parked at the Mexican stores. Without them, there would be less than five businesses downtown in these crumbling old buildings.

The only time there seemed to be any life downtown is at the annual Lion’s Club Carnival in October. The block in front of the bank is filled with people, a crowd that seems to grow every year.

“What’re ya lookin at?” Squiggy asks.

“Just remembering how it used to be,” I answered.

“That’s good, let’s go see my boys. Youse wastin time.”

Squiggy’s lack of sentiment was a little disappointing, but he was right, I was wasting time. I had less than an hour to round up over four thousand dollars to keep the checks from being returned. If that happened, it would be the final nail in the coffin.

I was afraid that going to see his “boys” was a waste of time, but I had no choice.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“To that branch bank thingey over by the Sonic. Git in!”

I looked in his truck and saw Psycho leaning out the window, staring at me and drooling.

“I’ll just follow you,” I announced.

Squiggy nodded his head. He pulled a package out of his pocket, opened it up and pulled a huge wad of tobacco out and stuck it in his mouth.

“We’re going to the bank and you’re getting a chew?” I asked.

He had so much tobacco in his mouth that it was harder than normal to understand him.

“Is okay, they don’t care just as longs as I don’t spit on the floor again.”

“You’re going to carry in a spit cup?”

He shook his head. I was such a moron in these matters.

“Naw, I’ll just swallows it.”

Now that was pretty disgusting, but it seemed natural for Squiggy. He hocked up something from deep inside and spat out a huge loogie. It soared almost to the middle of the road.

“Yeah!” he hollered. “Top that un!”

“Do what?” I asked.

“See if ya can beat it.”

“I can’t, Squiggy.”

“Yer scared.”

I looked around and saw two older women staring at me. They had the look of mother’s friends on them.

“I’m not scared, Squiggy, I just don’t want to have a spitting contest in front of the bank.”

“Yer just scared what them old biddies would say,” he added, then turned to the women. “Ya got a nose problem?”

The two women looked at each other and shook their heads.

“I have some sinus problems, but not nose problems,” the woman on the left declared. “Especially when my allergies are bad.”

“All I have is gout,” the other woman added.

We stepped away from her.

“Y’all run along,” Squiggy said and waved his hand at them. “We’s busy.”

The woman looked a little disappointed, but walked into the bank.

“Give her a try,” Squiggy stated.

“I can’t,” I argued.

“Yer just chicken. Ya know ya cain’t top the Squigster.”

I shook my head and snorted. Nothing came up. I tried it one more time and could feel the spit stuff enter my mouth. I about threw up.

“There ya go!” Squiggy said. “Toss that baby!”

I looked around to make sure nobody was watching. The coast seemed pretty clear. I reared back and jumped forward, at the same time trying to shoot my miniscule spit loogie as far as possible. It barely made it into the road. I was defeated. The shame!

“That wadn’t worth a bucket of worm innerds,” Squiggy announced, then laughed. “Dat the best ya can do?”

I nodded. I could do better, but would need to drink a can of Coke.

“Let’s go,” I said. He nodded and I was relieved.

Squiggy was parked next to my truck. It paled in comparison. Psycho ran across the cab and leaned her massive head out the window. I thought she wanted petted so I stuck my hand out. She growled and tried to bite me.

“Squiggy, your dog tried to bite me,” I hollered.

“Don’t be stickin yer hand in the danged window wifout me,” he told me.

I edged around the truck, keeping an eye on the dog. We got in our trucks and took off. Squiggy squealed his tires, just because he could, I guess. He was behind me, so he couldn’t go that fast. Especially once we got behind an old man driving a scooter.

Heck, I didn’t even know scooters still existed. He was poking along at a good five miles an hour. The man wore a beat-up baseball hat, overalls, a light blue shirt and what looked like moccasins. He passed by one of the Mexican shops. There were several muchachos out in front and they laughed at him.

He shot them the bird and kept on driving. The man held his hand up to signal a turn. I followed him and wished he would get out of the way. Squiggy was not enjoying this at all. He started honking as we made the turn and kept it up all the way down the block. The older man didn’t like the honking, either. He was staring at me in his mirror, obviously convinced that I was the one honking.

The man turned in the same direction as I intended. Squiggy had enough and sped around me and pulled next to the old man. I slowed down to the pace of a turtle, hoping nobody thought I knew this idiot.

Squiggy hollered at the old man to get on the sidewalks. The man gave Squiggy the bird and kept trucking along. I could tell Squiggy didn’t like being flipped off by an old man on the scooter, but then again, who does?

He flew around in front of the old man and threw on his brakes. The old man had to skid and jerk to the right to avoid the collision. I saw Psycho had her head out the window, her tongue hanging down almost to the door handle. She seemed to be smiling.

The old man lost one of his moccasins in the near wreck and had to pull off the road. I felt sorry for him. But he was slowing traffic.

I drove over the railroad tracks, making sure no trains were coming in either direction. There was always a crash between train and car every year. I had seen one, and couldn’t help but notice the train won, so I always looked before crossing.

We pulled up to our only four-way traffic light and had to stop. The cars and trucks going north and south were flying through the intersection, way too fast. I wondered where our local cops were, but figured they were off drinking coffee somewhere.

Finally, the lights changed and we headed off to the north. Squiggy weaved in and out of traffic like a madman. Several cars and trucks had to throw on their brakes to avoid a collision. I was afraid he would lose it when Squiggy pulled into the bank’s parking lot, he was going way too fast.

But he squeeled his brakes at just the right time and was able to coast into a parking spot. The parking lot was pretty full. I found an empty spot next to Squiggy and parked. He was parked in the nearest handicapped spot, which didn’t surprise me.

We got out of our vehicles and started walking toward the entrance.

“You’re parked in a handicapped spot,” I told Squiggy.

“Guess I better limp then,” he said and spit on a flower. Squiggy seemed almost too excited. “Yer gonna like them!”

I nodded. Liking somebody and doing business with them is not always the best recipe. We opened the first of the two doors. Squiggy had to stop for just a second at the entrance to see if there was anything interesting on the peg board. There were several notices and ads on the board. He pointed at a word.

“What’s that spell?” he asked. I looked closer and saw it was a person’s name.

“Dick Cannon?” I asked. Squiggy giggled. I didn’t want to know what was so funny.

There was a teller line to the back with a waiting area in the middle. Several people were sitting there, reading magazines and even The Langford Review. Yes! Offices were on both sides of the lobby. Squiggy walked in like he owned the place. There were two men in the offices to the right with two women on the left, all of them waiting on customers.

The phone was ringing like crazy.

In the first office to the right, Squiggy walked in, even though somebody was sitting at the loan officer’s desk. I waited outside.

“Y’all needs to hurry up,” Squiggy said. The customer looked at Squiggy like he was crazy. So did the loan officer, a younger man sitting behind the desk. But he seemed to be used to crazy customers.

“We’ll be through in a little bit,” the loan officer announced. Squiggy nodded and left the office. He tried to walk in the next office. There was another guy in there with a customer. This one was a little older with even less hair than I did.

“What’s up, Slick?” Squiggy practically hollered. Everybody turned away, not wanting anybody to know they knew this man.

There was a customer in this office, also, an older man who also didn’t like somebody barging in.

“Not much, Squiggy,” the bald banker said. “Go on out in the lobby and we’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

Squiggy walked around the branch, talking to anybody who didn’t run off when they saw him coming. There were two tellers in their little areas. The one on the right was waiting on a customer. The other one smiled at Squiggy, a smile that seemed to say that I’ll talk to you, but it’s only because it’s my job.

“How you doin, Lacey?” he asked, leaning against the counter.

“I’m fine,” she replied, looking around for backup.

“Still hitched?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Okay, but once ya git deevorced, you give old Squigster a call now, ya hear?”

She didn’t bother to respond. I didn’t blame her. I walked over and sat down in the waiting area. People were moving about and scurrying here and there. They were a lot busier than in the other bank, but still seemed a lot friendlier and more relaxed.

The customer left the office of the younger loan officer. There were some other people waiting in the lobby, but Squiggy marched right in. He stood at the office and waved at me.

“Were you wanting to see him?” I asked the other customers.

“Yeah, but go ahead,” one man said. “That’s the only way we’ll get rid of that idiot.”

I felt bad cutting in line, but did so anyway. I walked into the office. The loan officer stood and came around the desk to meet me.

“This is my buddy, Michael Hunt,” Squiggy announced, then turned to me. “This here’s my banker, Dirk Cutter, but I call im ‘Swifty’.”

We exchanged our greetings. He seemed like a nice person, especially for a banker. His computer kept making some ringing sound but Swifty didn’t seem too concerned. He was wearing a golf shirt and slacks. His hair was a little long in the back, not that it bothered me. Swifty was average size and seemed normal enough, always a plus in Langford.

“How come they call you Swifty?” I asked.

“It’s cause he don’t always move too fast,” Squiggy answered. Swifty smiled, but looked like he would have preferred answering the question.

“What can we do for you?” he asked.

Squiggy started to tell the story, but I interrupted and told Swifty everything

“So, you need a loan?” he asked.

“Yeah, I can’t get the money in from my bank in time,” I answered.

Swifty pulled out a few pieces of paper and we filled them out.

“Crapfire, Swifty!” Squiggy said. “I told you that he was good. Just give im the dang money!”

“It’s okay,” I said, trying to calm down Squiggy.

“Ya goin to check and make sure he’s got two nipples?”

Swifty and I frowned. We had no clue where that came from. I understood this was just something that had to be done. After getting rejected at the other bank, I expected it here also.

He had me sign a few things, then typed up something on his desk. Swifty returned a few seconds later with some papers.

“I’ll just need you to sign these papers then we’ll get you the money,” he said.

“I got the loan?” I asked.

“Yeah, you’ve got great credit. Why wouldn’t you get the loan?”

I looked over the loan papers. He was loaning me what I wanted and at a rate that didn’t make me feel like I was getting gouged. This was good, I decided, until noticing there was some insurance added.

“What’s this here?” I asked.

“It’s credit life to pay off the loan in case something happens to you,” Swifty said.

“Do I have to have it?” I asked. Credit life was too expensive and most financial experts declared it a ripoff

“No, it’s just something we offer that protects you and the bank.”

“Take er off,” Squiggy said. “If he croaks, I’ll pay it off.”

Swifty showed a little doubt over Squiggy’s promise. I didn’t blame him. Swifty went back to his computer and seemed to be ignoring the dings every few seconds. He got up, left the room and returned within a minute.

“Here you go, I took off the credit life.”

I signed the papers. Swifty left and came back with a check with my name on it.

“I’d like to open an account,” I told him. He took me back to the new accounts area. Both women were busy. The one on the left seemed to be about my age. She looked familiar but I couldn't place her name. We waited while Swifty went in to talk to the other woman. She came out and introduced herself.

Her name was Dena and seemed very professional. She was a little older and I remembered going to school with her brother. Dena invited us into her office and was able to ignore Squiggy's questions and advice. She told us about the different accounts and we decided on one. Dena opened the account and we were on our way. From this point, I planned on making all the deposits in this account, other than the money that would be needed to cover any hot checks at the other bank.

Squiggy and I got to talk to the guy he called "Slick" earlier. His real name was Alex Gordon and also seemed like a nice guy. He was the branch manager and didn't even flinch when I hit him up for the ad. Alex bought the largest one possible for my father’s memorial ad.

We walked outside and I was still in disbelief.

“Gosh, Squiggy, you actually knew what you were talking about,” I said.

Squiggy was smiling, but it slowly disappeared as he heard what I said.

“How come that’s surprising?” he asked.

I wanted to hug him, but then again, I didn’t. Instead, I thanked him again and headed back downtown. I made sure to put the check on Woodard’s desk with a snide little comment concerning the deposit.

When I got back to the office, Nancy and Teresa were actually working. They looked up to see that it was me, then returned to work. It made me feel a little better. We might actually get a newspaper out in two days.

I started working on the story for the football game. About halfway through, Teresa came over and sat down in a chair by the desk.

“You know I’ll be gone the rest of the week, right?” she asked, speaking real soft so Nancy couldn’t hear her.

“No, I didn’t,” I answered. This was not good. It was going to be tough to get the paper out with a full crew, with her gone, it would almost be impossible.

“I told your father two weeks ago and he said it was okay.”

I nodded, but didn’t feel good at all.

“What’re you doing?” I asked.

She looked around to make sure nobody was listening. Nancy was peeking over in our direction every few seconds and obviously wanted to hear, but was too far away.

“I have to go to the doctor,” she answered.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, and immediately regretted the question. I had learned a long time ago to never ask a middle-aged woman what was wrong if she had to go to the doctor. It was almost always medical problems with their private parts. They usually would tell what was wrong, leaving out nothing.

“I’m having a boob job.”

I almost laughed, but then caught myself.

“A breast job?”

She nodded.

“Only one? What about the other?”

She frowned, not understanding me.

“Are they gonna do both of them?”

Teresa nodded, looking at me like most people looked at Squiggy.

“Why do you want to do that?” I asked. Heck, she was married and had lived this long with them, why would she want to change?

“I’m tired of being flat chested,” she declared.

“I don’t know why,” I shot back. “It’s never bothered me.”

“Yeah, but you’re a guy.”

Good point, I guess.

“Can you choose the sizes, like medium, large or super size?”

“Yeah, I’m going with the large ones,” Teresa answered, like she was discussing shoe sizes. “I’ll bring in the before and after pics.”

I cringed. Seeing my cousin’s enhanced breasts was not something I wanted to experience.

The phone rang and Nancy answered it.

“It’s for you, Mister Hunt!” she said. Mister Hunt, please!

“Thank you,” I said, and grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

“Michael, this is your mother,” she said, like I couldn’t figure that out. “I just received some bad news.”

Just what I needed, more bad news! Surely it couldn’t be that bad. My mother told me and she was wrong. It was much worse than just bad.

Chapter 41