The Legend of Joel Riggins part 13: Holy Cocaine Remorse, Batman
by Daniel Beadle - Thursday, October 11, 2007
Ten o’clock on a Saturday morning is the domain of the innocent. Married men accompany their wives to Home Depot and Wal-Mart. Children go to soccer practice. Old couples take a stroll in the morning air. But on this Saturday morning, a new kind of person has thrust himself into contention. It’s Joel Riggins. And he’s been up all night drinking booze, doing coke, and having clumsy sex.Joel careens through the side streets of Milford, pushing the limits of his rented Honda Accord. “Crazy Bitch,” by Buckcherry blasts on his stereo speakers. “Jimmy!” he shouts out his window, to an elderly couple walking by. His mind is in a frenzy, and the last ounce of energy left in his exhausted body is exploding out of him like volatile diarrhea. Who would enjoy my antics right now? he thinks. Who would appreciate my cheery attitude, and my rapid-fire punch lines?
* * *
Dan sits in the basement of his house, hunched over his drawing board. He’s putting the finishing touches on a picture of a drug-addled Brian Rix that was requested a few days prior. His cell phone rings, and he flips it open.
“What’s up, guy?”
“Danny Boy! Get your shit together. I’m picking you up.”
“When?”
“Fifteen minutes, buddy. Getcha head outta ya culo.”
A half hour later, Joel’s car is idling in Dan’s driveway. Dan sits himself down in the passenger seat as Joel greets him. “Top o’ the morning to ya. How’s the hammer hangin’?”
“Slow and steady.”
“Cheah, tell me about it. Mine’s so slow and steady that I’m usually taking it instead of giving it.” Dan laughs. “Did I just say that out loud?”
“So where are we headed?”
“I gotta drop off a baby shower gift with my sister-in-law. It’s in Upton, the next town over.” And with that bit of exposition, the boys take off.
“Look at this clown,” says Joel, pointing at a shirtless man mowing his front lawn. “…Mowing his lawn on a Saturday morning like a jerk. I specifically don’t get into that shit. Not this cowboy.” He leans out the window and waves. “JIMMAYY!” he shouts. The man waves back.
“Y’see, Danny Boy. That’s something I just learned this morning. You can shout any name, and people will wave back and think you’re talking to them.”
“So what’d you guys do last night?”
“Don’t worry about me, Danny Boy. I was just up all night doing coke. We had a couple of young sweethearts over, though, with some real nice hammers. Good stuff, too. I got to put the ol’ hammer between the hammers.”
“Y’see, I knew you’d make things confusing by calling every body part a ‘hammer’.”
“Ah, well, what can you do?” The car slows into a stop sign, as a young female jogger comes by. “Ooo, look at this.” Joel leans out the window. “She’s a real cutie, huh? A nice young buck. What a sweetheart.”
The girl turns. “Do I know you? You look familiar.”
“Yeah, unless you do hard drugs and drink like it’s your job, you have no idea who I am, sweetheart.” He speeds off.
Minutes later, the boys arrive at Joel’s sister-in-law’s house. Joel drops off the gift, along with a few playful one-liners and punch lines.
“So what are you thinking?” he asks as he gets back into the car. “A little breakfast? A little bacon and eggs?”
“How about an omelet?” says Dan.
“I like where your head’s at.”
* * *
Soon, Joel and Dan are meandering down the aisles of Shaw’s supermarket, snatching up one ingredient after another. Dan strikes off on a quest to find apple cider, as Joel runs into a familiar face.
“Hey! Mrs. Waxman! How ya doin’?”
“Hello, Joel. You’re looking sharp,” says the forty-five year old mother of three. “I haven’t seen you since you were this tall.” She holds her hand at around five feet from the ground. “What’ve you been up to?”
“Ah, ya know, this and that. I’m a good kid these days.”
“Good to hear.”
“It’s funny running into you, though. I saw your daughter Rebecca just yesterday.” He nods his head. “She’s looking REAL fine.”
Mrs. Waxman stares at him, unsure of what to say. “Well, nice seeing you Joel.” She walks off.
“See you around, Mrs. W!”
* * *
Joel and Dan are at the checkout counter, having picked out the cutest female clerk ahead of time. Joel rummages through his pockets looking for cash. “Look at this, Danny Boy. All I have is a pocket full of one-dollar bills, and they’re either rolled up or folded length-wise. You see what happens when you spend your nights blowing lines or going to strip clubs?”
“Well, I havta say… I can only identify with you on that second part.”
“And what the hell happened to my Shaw’s card?”
* * *
Shortly, the duo is back at Joel’s house on East Street, cracking open eggs into a frying pan. Joel looks at Dan, and asks, “Do you know how to make an omelet?”
“No, I thought you did. I’m strictly a scrambled or fried eggs kinda chef.”
Suddenly, a small woman in her thirties comes through the side door of the house, grocery bags in hand. “Hello hello!” she says.
“Oh, hey Aunt Beth,” says Joel. “I thought you were on your way to the baby shower this morning.”
Aunt Beth enters the kitchen. She’s a small woman with a big attitude. “Oh, I’ll get there soon enough. I just thought I’d stop in and drop off some groceries for your new house. You don’t eat nearly enough, Joel.”
Joel laughs. “Funny thing is, me and Danny Boy here just picked up some groceries from Shaw’s.”
“Oh, well, you can never have enough food.” She eyes the orange juice on the counter. “I brought some champagne as well,” she says while pulling out the bottle. “Whaddaya say? You want me to fix you a Mimosa?”
“Why not?”
“And you, Danny?”
“Might as well.”
Beth pours the drinks, and the minutes that follow are filled with familial humor between Joel and his aunt. Dan tries to keep pace, by laughing when they laugh. And as quickly as she arrived, Aunt Beth is gone.
“Yeah, she’s a character all right,” says Joel to Dan. “Did you know she’s my godmother?”
“No kiddin’.”
“Typical, though, for people in my family to be drinking this early in the day. But that’s how I know we’re all related. That and our sense of humor. Good thing, too.” Joel digs in his pocket and takes out his cell phone. “I sent out a few late-night text messages last night. I think I sent this one to Aunt Beth, along with half of the women in Milford.” Joel passes his phone to Dan. The screen reads: “I want to touch you uncomfortably.”
Rix shuffles into the kitchen, dragging his feet and rubbing his eyes. “Holy cocaine remorse, Batman,” he says.“Rix? You’re still here?”
“Yeah guy. I slept on the couch.”
“You want a Mimosa?” Joel points at his Aunt Beth’s abandoned glass.
“A Mimosa?” he says. “Did you order a Vegas whore?”
Joel laughs. “Nah, it was just my Aunt Beth.”
“And you’re sure she’s not a Vegas whore?”
“This kid,” says Joel.
Rix takes a seat at the kitchen counter. “Guy, I just realized that I did six grams of coke last night.”
“And you’re still alive? I gotta say, Rix. You must be more coke than man.”
“Is something burning?”
“Oh shit! The eggs!” Joel rushes back to the pan, and tries to salvage the blackened eggs. It’s no use. “Hey Rix, do you know how to make an omelet?”
“Step aside, daisy.”
* * *
Jack Lyons sits on the bench in front of his house, smoking a butt and recovering from the night before. The cocaine remorse has hit him hard, and his mind races with options on how to repair his seemingly fractured lifestyle. But these thoughts will have to wait. Because his cell phone is ringing. And it’s Joel Riggins.
Jack opens the phone without saying a word. “Hey Lyons, me and Danny Boy are gonna come over for a bit. See you in five.” Jack snaps the phone shut and takes another drag.
The phone rings again. This time, it’s Donnie: “Hey Lyons, is it alright if I come over to your house to shower up?”
Every fiber of Jack’s being screams the word “no.” Donnie is a dangerous character, and welcoming him into your home is a dangerous game. “…Okay…” he says, after a long pause.
Suddenly, Jack watches as Donnie’s black Toyota Camry comes swerving onto Jack’s street. Donnie immediately cuts off a minivan, which has to slam on its brakes to avoid hitting him. Donnie cuts the wheel, and skids into Jack’s driveway, slamming to a halt less than an inch away from Jack’s pickup truck. Jack’s cigarette tumbles out of his mouth as he witnesses the event in shock.
Donnie stumbles out of his car. His eyes are totally red as he saunters up to Jack. He slaps Jack on the back hard enough to throw off his balance. “Good to see you, Lyons.”
“I wish I could say it was mutual.” Jack points to the minivan that passes. “You realize you coulda killed that family?”
Donnie waves his hand dismissively. “You could get killed walking your doggie.” (Editor’s note: A line from Heat by Al Pacino.) He laughs at his own joke. “Alright,” he continues. “I’m gonna go take a shower.” Donnie stumbles up the front steps, and disappears into Jack’s home.
Jack shakes his head in a frustration bordering on indifference.
* * *
An hour passes, and Jack, Joel, and Dan are relaxing in Jack’s bedroom. The guys are drinking light beer and looking through the stack of vacation photos that Jack recently had developed.
“Yeah, it was a nice cruise. Very cheap, but very high quality.”
“I’m tellin’ ya, Lyons… We should all go on a cruise someday. Y’know, just us good ol’ boys diddlin’ up a couple of young sweethearts…”
All of a sudden, Donnie comes through the door with a towel around his waste. His skin is glowing red from his long, hot shower. He snatches up a bottle of rum from Jack’s private stash, takes a long swig, then sets it down on the desk where Jack’s photos are all laid out. The bottle spills, and the photos are ruined. Jack gives Donnie a look as cold as the icy grip of death.
Donnie catches his glance, and says, “You must hate me right now.”
NEXT: THE FINAL NIGHT BEGINS AT LOOKOUT ROCK
