Dupree's Rebirth, Page 2

  The monies were anything but that. It wasn’t illegal per se, more like things that fall into dark gray areas. The transactions were never recognized by either party. The receipts for the deposits were immediately destroyed by the client. The services Dupree rendered were arranging payoffs or indiscretions the client would rather just go away.

  “I’ll need my manager’s approval on such a large cash withdrawal.” The teller was polite but wasn’t about to hand out five grand without someone knowing about it. “Just a second.” She smiled reassuringly and hopped off her stool and walked toward an older woman sitting at a small desk just behind the row of clerks.

  The woman scowled at Dupree and stood. The teller said something the woman frowned at. Without responding, she made her way to where Dupree stood.

  “Good Morning sir. May I see some ID?” The woman looked at Dupree like she was about to catch him in a lie.

  Dupree complied with a smile.

  “You’ve had this account with us a very long time.” The woman cleared her throat. “Funny we’ve never met.” She smiled insincerely.

  “I’ve been a busy guy.”

  “May I have your mother’s maiden name, please?”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “No, no just making sure we are protecting your account.”

  “Do I look like a crook?” Dupree was finding his irritation beginning to grow. He hated dealing with this kind of self-important minor functionary. It was the reason since the first day he got his own secretary, he never went to a bank or paid a bill himself.

  “Far from it.” The woman said. “Her name?”

  “Lugano. L-u-g-a-n-o.”

  “There is a lot of money in this account. We appreciate your trust in us. How is it that you chose our little bank?” The woman warmed to Dupree, seeing he was legitimate.

  “A Swiss account was too inconvenient,” Dupree responded without the slightest bit of irony. “Should I need to make further withdrawals, and not be able to make it in, what is the best way you can handle that for me?” He emphasized the word you.

  “My name is Claudia Miller, here’s my card. Call me directly and I can have funds wired to you.” She slipped her card across the counter. She came prepared.

  “And no fee of course.”

  “Normally there is a fifteen-dollar wire transfer fee. But, I think we can waive that for a good customer such as yourself.”

  “I knew you could.”

  “Alex will take care of you from here. Thanks for your understanding.” Claudia Miller returned to her desk with a great deal of confidence in her ability to fulfill her duties as head clerk.

  “Sorry about that,” Alex offered.

  “How old are you, Alex?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  “You like it here?”

  “It’s OK. Not what I figured I would be doing when I graduated from college, though.”

  “What’s your degree in?”

  “Economics. Minor in International Trade.”

  “How did you end up here?”

  “My mom is disabled and when my dad died, I was it.”

  Dupree reached in his pocket and took out his alligator card folder. He took the pen from in front of Alex and wrote on the back of one of his cards. He slipped the card folder back in his pocket.

  “How are you with research?”

  “I love it, why?” Alex gave Dupree a beautiful smile; she had a feeling she liked the direction this was all heading.

  “One more question, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.”

  “How much do you make here?”

  “Fifteen dollars an hour.”

  “I figured as much. I want you to go tell that old crow you’re leaving. Then go straight away and give this to Paula Fiengale at my office. We need a new person to oversee research. Someone who understands modern methods and can find their way around the internet. Is that you?”

  “Yes, sir. I am really good at digging up facts.” Alex blinked several times as if to try to wake from a daydream.

  “That’s what I thought. You get a complete benefits package and insurance so your mom will be covered too. It is important you do it right now, do you understand?” Dupree handed the card to Alex. “I think you are just what we need.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Her beautiful dark eyes welled with tears.

  “Well, after you give me my money, a thousand in twenties and the rest large bills please, I think it is traditional to say, ‘Have a nice day.’” Dupree smiled broadly. He was deeply touched by the loveliness of Alex’s reaction. He thought for the briefest moment, if I were twenty years younger, I think I could fall in love with her. He smiled and almost felt like he was flushing at the thought, then immediately dismissed it as silly.

  “Time for a change, old man,” Dupree said, unlocking his car door.

  The next stop required a bit of thought. Thomas J. Spalding, Clothiers outfitted Dupree from the skin out for more than twenty years. Diane bought all of the children’s clothing. She had open accounts in all her favorite shops. Dupree realized he was clueless as to where they bought anything.

  Spalding’s would never do for what he needed. He picked up his phone from the seat next to him. He Googled until he found just what he was looking for. Five minutes later he parked in front of Buy Well Thrift Store.

  Buy Well was located in an old supermarket building. Dupree was gleefully curious as he approached the front door. Like Alice stepping through the mirror, Dupree came through the doors to a world of wonder and surprise. Never in his life was he confronted with a store as he found in front of him. The place swarmed with people pushing shopping carts. Men and women wandered the aisles with clothes draped across their arms.

  To Dupree’s surprise, the place was clean, well-lit and very organized. The clerks all wore royal blue vests with name tags. Dupree must have looked completely out of place, and totally lost.

  “Hi, need some help?” asked a bone-thin woman of indeterminable age with a name tag that said, Ginger.

  “This place is great!” Dupree exclaimed.

  “We like to think so. Whatcha lookin’ for?”

  “Everything. I mean, a change of clothes. Can you help me?”

  “Sure! That’s why they pay me the big bucks!” Ginger gave Dupree a big smile. “Where do you want to start?” The woman was more than a little amused by this expensively dressed man.

  “Well, jeans, a couple of shirts, tee-shirts maybe, shoes, socks.” Dupree paused, uncomfortable with the next question. “Underwear?”

  “Boxers or briefs?” Ginger asked, unfazed.

  “Uh, briefs.”

  “ ’Bout a thirty-six? We just got in a bunch. Still sealed. Feel better?” Ginger laughed and briskly took off up the center aisle.

  Within minutes, Dupree changed into a pair of Levi’s. Faded, soft and oddly feeling like he had owned them for years. He picked out a tee-shirt that read, “Fire Fighters Do It With Hoses,” and a slightly faded Harley Davidson tee from Tallahassee, Florida. True to his word, he took two packages of brand new briefs, three pairs of thick crew socks, and two button-up shirts, one dark blue, long sleeve flannel, one short sleeve, green plaid. He decided to wear the short sleeve.

  Ginger showed Dupree the section of shoes that would fit him. To his delight, there was a pair of tan desert boots with crepe soles, just like he wore in college. Ginger checked the size and sure enough, his size!

  “Well, what else ya need?” Ginger asked, surveying the fruits of her labor.

  “Two things. A backpack or something to put this stuff in.”

  “Check.”

  “And do you take donations?” Dupree held out his Brooks Brothers suit and tassel loafers.

  “Are you serious? Those are very expensive.”

  “Maybe somebody can get some use out of them.”

  Ginger cleared her throat and looked down at the floor. “My husband is going to preach at our church for the first
time on Sunday. He feels the calling. Can I buy them from you? I mean, if you don’t want too much.”

  “I believe I said ‘donate,’ that would indicate free. So how about I make them a gift to the new Reverend?” Dupree grinned at Ginger.

  “Oh, God bless you real good, mister.”

  “I believe he has. I believe he has.” Dupree said softly. “So, where do I pay for all this?”

  “Backpack first.”

  The selection of backpacks was, to say the least, limited. My Little Pony and Frozen were out of the question. The zipper was not working well on a green canvas bag and another was scrawled with punk rock band names and anarchy symbols. At the bottom of the pile was a road-weary tan canvas pack with leather straps and a Yosemite National Park patch.

  Dupree picked it up, shook it, and turned it over a couple of times. “Perfect!”

  Ginger walked Dupree to one of the counters. “Lupe, take care of my friend here, would you please?” Ginger reached behind the counter and took out a large blue plastic bag. “This nice man gave me a suit for my Rich to wear on Sunday! Shoes too.”

  Lupe looked at Dupree and smiled. “Nice.”

  Lupe rang up Dupree’s selections, and Ginger handed her the tags for what he was wearing out of the store. “Thirty-eight forty.”

  He paid in cash and waited for his change. “Let’s put everything in here,” Dupree said, indicating the pack.

  Ginger stood hugging the blue bag with the suit and shoes as she watched Dupree.

  Unnoticed by Ginger, Dupree took a hundred-dollar bill off his money clip while he was looking at the shirts. He slipped it into Ginger’s vest pocket.

  “For the offering plate.” He said.

  Ginger looked at him with a look of amazement, then stepped up and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “God’s got something good for you. I just feel it.”

  “I hope so,” Dupree said brightly. “I hope so.”

  Ginger turned and scurried up the main aisle to the back room. Lupe thanked Dupree as he left the store. His clothes and shoes were so comfortable he felt like kicking up his heels. But he didn’t.

  Dupree tossed the pack into the front seat beside him. He lifted the console and removed the envelope with the five thousand dollars from its hiding place and slipped it into the side pocket of the pack and buckled the leather straps over it.

  It only took a few minutes for Dupree to get to the highway. He quickly looked from sign to sign. North ramp? South ramp? He found himself in a complete panic. Right or Left? Right or Left? At the last possible moment, he squealed into the left lane and on to the southbound ramp.

  “Oh, man!” Dupree shouted.

  His heart rate decreased as the car accelerated. Traffic was light as Dupree pulled onto the interstate. He used the control on the steering wheel to turn up the radio. Mile after mile he looked out the window, deep in thought and planning what he would do next. He put San Diego into the GPS.

  Forty miles and thirty-four minutes later, he pulled off the freeway and into a rest stop. The huge trees and parklike setting were a surprise to Dupree. As far as he could remember he hadn’t ever been to one. There were at least a dozen big rigs parked on the far side of the rest area. Dupree passed five randomly parked cars before he pulled into a spot on the far end of the lot.

  This was just what he was looking for. He took the canvas pack from the passenger seat, tossed his keys onto the driver seat and manually locked the doors. As he crossed the sidewalk onto the grassy space on his way to the restroom, he was overcome with the urge to lay down on the grass. He argued in his self-talk for several seconds before throwing down his pack and laying on the grass and using his pack as a pillow.

  The grass was freshly mown, cool, and a bit damp. Dupree spread his arms, palms down, and moved them slowly up and down. The cool sharp grass was a sensation he missed. As a child and even into his university years he loved to lay on the spring and summer lawn and read, or at night gaze at the stars. When had he stopped laying on the grass? he wondered.

  He closed his eyes and let the cool breeze blow over him. He thought of his day. Dupree had given away a twelve-hundred-dollar suit. He smiled. He was wearing a time capsule version of his daily uniform from high school into his early twenties. He felt good. The biggest smile came though when he realized he had locked his keys in his car intentionally.

  Somewhere in his thoughts of the beautiful Alex, the delicious hamburger and shake, Mindy’s delightful smile, and Ginger’s kiss, Dupree drifted to sleep. It was a slumber free of dreams, worry, or fitful, stressful, tossing and turning. He woke without any feeling of time passing. He looked around at the trees above, and the lazy clouds drifting overhead. I could get very used to this, he thought.

  After a few more minutes of relaxing on the grass, Dupree got up and headed for the restrooms. After doing his business, he washed his face and hands in the cold water from the single faucet. The reflection staring back at him from the scratchy metal mirrors was smiling. The reflection was one he hadn’t seen in a long, long while. He bent and splashed his face again.

  Outside, Dupree studied a group of five men standing near a huge white truck. As he approached the group he realized there was concern they wouldn’t be willing to meet the request he was frantically trying to formulate the words for.

  “Gentlemen,” Dupree greeted the group.

  “Is he talking to us?” one man quipped.

  The group chuckled, but no one else spoke as Dupree moved closer.

  “I was wondering if I might be able to catch a ride with one of you for a ways.”

  “Nope.” A gray-bearded man scowled and walked away.

  “Sorry.” Another shrugged.

  “Against company policy,” the youngest of the group offered.

  “Where you headed?” A man in his late forties, with a three-day growth of whiskers, and the very short remains of a cigarette asked.

  “North.”

  “Yeah, alright. Let’s go.” The man nodded at Dupree. “See you fellas down the road.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Dupree and the trucker walked in silence until they reached the back of a grimy white trailer with Kamikaze Trucking in the upper right corner of the back doors.

  “This is us.”

  To Dupree, the inside of the cab could have been a space ship. Apart from the steering wheel and gear shift, the gauges, dials, and assorted switches and knobs were completely foreign. Above the driver’s sun visor were a variety of pictures, several of kids, cars, a woman standing on a rock, a big ugly dog, and a big-breasted, naked redhead on an ace of hearts playing card.

  Between the seats was a homemade rack that contained a couple hundred CDs, none of which were in a case. A strange net covered in wooden beads the size of marbles covered the driver’s seat. Behind the seats was a small cabin with a bed. The walls were covered in dozens of pictures similar to the ones above the visor.

  “I’m Dupree. I really appreciate the ride.”

  “Larry,” the trucker put out is hand to Dupree. “I can only get you as far as Bakersfield.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Where you headed?” Larry asked as they pulled onto the freeway.

  “North. Not sure other than that.”

  “ ’Scuse me if it’s none of my business, but you don’t look like the usual hitchhiker. I don’t mind givin’ a fella a ride, but I’d prefer to know what I’m haulin’, ya know.”

  “What gave me away?” asked Dupree, genuinely interested.

  “The haircut. You look like a TV news anchor.”

  Dupree laughed. “Fair enough. I just parked my car in that rest stop. I am heading north, in hopes of finding some peace in this world. I’ll just keep going until something strikes my fancy.”

  “Then what?” Larry asked.

  “I don’t know. Find a job, get a place and just regroup?”

  “And what kind of work do you, did you, do?”

  “Attorney. Twenty-five years.” Dupree
looked out the side window, then said, “Are you going to kick me out?”

  “Oh, hell no! A lawyer that’s seen the error of his ways? You got a ride with me ’til I get back to the barn.”

  Both men laughed good-heartedly. They rode in silence for the better part of an hour. Dupree napped his head against the window. Larry played music, whistled, and drove along in harmony with the road.

  A series of bumps and the incline of The Grapevine woke Dupree. He rubbed his face with both hands and stretched his legs out in front of him.

  “There’s a lot of room in here. I would’ve never imagined,” Dupree said.

  “So, do Lawyers make as much money as they say?” Larry asked, not looking at Dupree.

  “It really depends on the kind of law you practice, the reputation of the firm you work for, and the client you represent.”

  “Answered like a lawyer,” Larry said sarcastically. “How about you?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I been wondering what kind of car you left back there.”

  “S550 Mercedes. It belongs to the firm, part of my salary,” Dupree replied.

  “What’s a rig like that run?”

  “The way it was set up about a hundred and five.”

  “Thousand?” Larry asked in disbelief.

  “Yeah,” Dupree said, almost embarrassed to admit it.

  “I’m going to ask you again.” Larry’s tone was hard and his voice sharp. “Did you kill somebody, steal your boss’s money, or something?”

  “No, of course not. Why?”

  “Well, who the hell would walk off from a car worth a hundred grand to hitch a ride in this turd hearse?”

  “Me.”

  “Why exactly would a smart fella like you do that?”

  “It was walk away or kill myself,” Dupree said without the slightest hint of irony.

  “I walked off from a bad marriage years ago. My wife got into meth.” Larry tapped on the steering wheel nervously. “I’m not proud of it, but if I’d have stayed I’d been dead by now.”