RSL -- Day Eleven

October 22 -- Day Eleven, Tuesday

I like dreamin' cause dreamin' can make you mine.
I like dreamin', closing my eyes and feeling fine.
         -- Kenny Nolan


Skeet-ball, Lines And The Garage
The rain finally quit and the sun finally rose. Ray struggled to get himself back on his feet. He picked up the soggy bag of cash and climbed his way out of the tree pile.

After brushing the loose leaves off his body. He took off the sodden sweat jersey (he had a CitiFinancial tee shirt on underneath it) and wiped his hands and face off with it. He then used it, as best he could, to wipe the mud stains off his pants and shoes. He opened the bag thinking to himself, 'this better of been worth it,' and counted the money -- $439.53.

He shoved the money in his pocket disappointedly thinking 'Not even close to being worth it. You risked going to jail or even killing yourself over $439.53. You are an idiot Ray Reider; a fucking idiot!!!'

He found a gully not too far away that allowed him easy access to the top of the cliff. Once on top he made it to the tree line and followed it up until it lead him to the road.
As luck would have it, he noticed a few people standing down the road and across the street next to a bus sign. Ray crossed the street and stood along with them. They gave him strange looks but said nothing to him. The bus came a few moments later and Ray was the last to board. He put two dollars in the fair box and the bus driver said to him, “Looks like you've been wrestling with a bear my friend.”

Ray forced a smile and said, “Yeah something like that; don't worry, I won't sit in any of your seats, I'll be happy to just stand in the back.”

This was a lie. Ray really did want to take a seat but he was afraid if he sat down he'd pass out and never get back up.

It only took the bus thirty-five minutes to get to the Fifth and Forbes neighborhood but to Ray it seemed like an eternity

In a zombie like trance he inched his way up the hill towards Center Avenue then down the street to the Terrace Hall. He opened the main door to the hotel and hobbled past Mr. Edwards who was sweeping the hall, “What in all dat is holy happened do you?”

Ray didn't say a word.

With all the strength he had left he crawled up the three flights of steps and finally made it to his room. Once inside he peeled off his cloths leaving them on the floor and quickly inspected his body in the bathroom mirror. He wasn't in as bad of shape as he thought he would be. His face had a couple of scratches and the bruise on his cheek was only slightly noticeable. His cloths protected him from much of the brunt he went through last night - just a couple of minor bruises on his shins and arms – but his trunk on the right side was swollen and blue.

He pushed once more on his ribs, checking for anything that might seem to be cracked or otherwise abnormal. It hurt to do so but once again nothing felt as if he would need medical attention. What he needed most was rest. He sponged himself off with a washcloth and went to bed.

His dreams took him to many places. At first he was playing skeet-ball with Helena at Dave and Busters only the lane was long like the bowling alley in Circleville. He tossed the ball down the alley and it jumped into the middle ring scoring him a hundred points. The tickets came out of the machine in forms of dollar bills that he tore off and handed to Helena. But when he handed them to her, her face wasn't Helena's face. It was the face of the bus driver who said, “You rolled that ball like you was wrestling with a bear.”

He rolled the ball down again and once again the ball bounced into the middle ring. Again he tore off the dollar bill tickets and handed them to the body of Helena only this time she was wearing a FuBu jacket and sporting dreadlocks. She smiled at him and said “Chit, lookit dis; we made pay dirt brudda.”

In his dream he continued to roll the ball down the alley and each time he would score a hundred. He'd tear the dollars off after they'd spit out of the machine and hand his winnings over to the body of Helena. But each time her face would take on a different form – once it was Hawk the jumpmaster, next it was the frightened face of the redheaded clerk from the convenience store, and then it was the Porsche salesman who said, “that one went zero to sixty in 5.9 seconds.”

Then magically he found himself on one of the corners of Center Avenue. He was participating in a secret meeting with a bunch of people. Ted, the gay man from the bar was there and so was Robin's ex-girlfriend Laura. They were all talking about where they should be slotted on Kinsey's scale of sexuality. They were being lined up in the order in which they would be placed. High end of the scale, the most gay, went to the right. The people on the lower end of the scale, the hetero's, were moved to the left side of the line. Mr. Edwards, the Terrace Hall Hotel keeper, was the furthest to the left. The huge black man wearing Ray's Rolex was organizing all of this and he insisted on placing Ray in the middle.

Ray would protest, “Hey, I'm not bi! Ask Mr. Edwards!”

The huge black man would smack him in the face and say, “Looks like we've got us a situation here and I'm going to be forced to take some action.”

Later in his dream he was in the dilapidated garage with Robin. They were cleaning it out because this was going to be their new home. Robin was kicking away the debris on the dirt floor saying, “We can put the bed over there and the TV can go over in that corner.”

Ray would nod approvingly.

Robin transformed into Helena while she was sweeping the dirt floor. She started scolding him for being so late the night before. “I don't know why you have to be out at all hours of the night! We were supposed to play cards with the Murphy's and were you anywhere to be founded? No! You're out gallivanting with those floosies of yours; or knocking over convenience stores.”

He heard a knock at the garage door, “Raymond, you in there?” It was Robin’s voice from the other side of the door.

Helena didn't seem to hear the knocking or Robin's voice as she continued sweeping and chiding him. Ray was too nervous to say anything not knowing how he was going to explain Robin to Helena or Helena to Robin.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Hey Raymond, it's me, Robin. You in there?”

Ray woke up in a fog and realized that Robin was indeed knocking on the door to his room.

“Oh yeah, Just a minute.”

Ray cringed as he gingerly got up out of bed. He was just as sore as he was before he fell asleep only now he was stiff too. He managed to put some sweatpants on and opened the door.

“I saw your van outside and… What the hell happened to you?”

“What time is it?”

“It's a quarter after three. Raymond, what happened? What did you do to your side?” She asked in a concerned voice walking through the door.

“It's a long story. Ha, have I got a story for you.” Ray's stomach growled as he walked back to the bed and sat down.

She sat next to him and gently prodded his side with her fingers causing Ray to jerk slightly to the side as he reacted to the pain.

“Doesn't feels like anything's broke. Did you go to the hospital?”

“No.”

“Yeah I don't blame you; they couldn't do anything for it anyway besides tape it up. So come on, tell me, what happened? Did you wreck the Porsche?”

“Hey Robin I'm starving. Tell you what; if you give me a little time to get myself together; take a shower, shave, get changed; I'd be glad to tell you the whole story over dinner; that is if you'll go out and be seen with me like this.”

Robin thought for a moment and said, “I've got a better idea. You look like you could use a good old fashioned home cooked meal. If you let me use the Caravan I'll do a little shopping and come back with something to cook.”

“Would you get me a cup of coffee from across the street before you go?” Ray asked handing her the keys and a twenty.

She agreed and returned moments later with a 16-ounce cup. She took a quick inventory of what was available to her in the kitchen before she took off for the grocery store.

Ray sat down on the bed enjoying the coffee and thinking to himself how nice it was to see Robin. He took a long hot shower after finishing the 16-ounce cup.


Cheesy Chicken In Gravy
Robin returned with a bag of groceries while Ray was shaving. Letting herself in she took everything out of the bag, one by one, and placed them on the small kitchen counter.

After preheating the oven to 350 she pounded the chicken, three large whole boneless skinless chicken breasts split and trimmed, between two sheets of plastic wrap until they were flattened to about a 1/4-inch in thickness with a skillet.

Ray came into the kitchen to see what all the pounding was for.

“This tenderizes them and turns regular chicken into comfort food,” was Robin's response.

She placed two cups of milk, four cups of flour, six large beaten eggs, and six cups of unseasoned dry breadcrumbs in separate shallow dishes. After seasoning the eggs with a pinch of salt. She dipped each breast in the following order; milk, flour (shaking off the excess), eggs, and breadcrumbs; making sure she pressed down firmly while coating with the breadcrumbs.

“Can I help with anything?”

“No Raymond, you just relax for a few; I'll be done here in a couple of minutes.”
In a the large skillet, she melted four teaspoons of unsalted butter and mixed in a half cup extra-virgin olive oil heating it over a medium-high heat until it sizzled. She next arranged the chicken breasts in the pan without crowding them and reduced the heat cooking the chicken until it was golden brown (3 to 5 minutes per side). She checked them by poking them with a fork making sure the juices ran clear. She patted off the excess oil after placing them in a baking sheet lined with paper towels.

After cleaning the baking sheet off, Robin arranged the chicken in the bottom of it and added two cans of prepared chicken gravy to the pan until all the chicken was covered. Finally she added a half-pound of thinly sliced fresh Muenster cheese and placed the pan in the oven along with a container of Bob Evens frozen mashed potatoes. Lastly she opened up a can of string beans and heated them over a low flame on the stove in a small pot.

“That'll be done in 15 to 20 minutes,” she said as she took a seat next to Ray on the bed, “Now are you going to tell me what happed?”

Ray told her about how he got knocked down by the two guys in dreadlocks and got robbed. He went on to tell her about the large black man who bruised his face and took his watch.

“I picked her up when I first got into town; before I met you,” trying to explain the position he was in with the orange wigged black girl. “I wanted to pay her but I didn't know how to do it without exposing all of my cash – I was afraid she'd rob me. And the last thing I expected was for her to send her pimp after me.”

He explained that he was in desperate need of some cash and the only thing he could think to do was rob a convenience store.

Robin, still in shock over the story so far, didn't say a word.

Ray continued to detail the robbery, the chase and his night in the woods.

“And all I came up with was a lousy $439.53.”

“You know Raymond; I think you're addicted. My dad was addicted to booze, I'm addicted to crack and you, well, you're addicted to fricken pandemonium! So that explains the bruises and why you were in bed at 3:00 in the afternoon.”

Checking her watch, Robin got up and went into the kitchen. She took the chicken and potatoes out of the oven, turned the heat off of the beans and made them both a plate.

“I leave you to your own devices for just two days and look what happens!” She said as she returned with the plates. “You're the statistical genius, why didn't you just take one of those rolls of quarters down to the races and test your numerical formula there before becoming a fugitive?”

Ray never thought about this. “You're right,” he said in a surprised tone. “That's what we're going to do tonight with the little bit of cash that I got. I'll set my limit to a hundred bucks and if I win enough cash to make up some of what I lost, I'll put $440 in an envelope and mail it to Krauszers. And if we really do well, I'll send a couple of grand to the Porsche dealer to repair the damages I must have done to that car. It's the least I can do.”

Ray took a bite of his chicken meal, “Um, you're right, this is comfort food.”

“Raymond, you ought to just count your blessings that you're not in jail.”

“No, I'd really like to make up for everything. I really feel terrible about what I've done. I never wanted to hurt anyone.”

“You're a saint Mr. Reider, a living, breathing, bona fide saint!”

Ray took another bite of his chicken, “No, you're the godsend; this chicken is fantastic! It's just what I needed right now.”

After they finished eating, they loaded themselves into the Caravan and headed for Ladbrokes. Along the way Robin told Ray about her visit with her mother up in Bedford.


Suits From The Management Office
“I told mom all about this cute man I met and how wonderful he's been to me.”

This made Ray feel good. Just her presence and the sound of her voice made him forget about how miserable he was the day before.

At Ladbrokes Ray put his game face on. He purchased a program guide, a 'Meadows Racing Guide', and guided Robin towards the bar.

“This is the same place I sat last time.”

He was never superstitious and didn't believe in lucky charms but since the stool was open he felt comfortable about sitting there. He ordered them both a Pepsi.

Noticing that the third race had just ended Ray went to work on race five. With pencil in hand he once again started to combine the stats together on separate bar napkins. He started to explain what he was doing to Robin but after about two minutes she was lost. She was bright in so many different areas but numbers were just never her thing.

“Hey Ray, you're loosing me. You do your thing; I'm fine with just sitting here taking in the sites.”

Ray continued by drawing up his rough graphs and the patterns started coming back to him. It didn't take him long to recall the formula. “Alright, I think we're ready.”

Again he gathered the stats from the program guide, the stats for race five, and plugged them into the formula. Working through the calculations and double checking his results took a few minutes but when he was through he turned to Robin and said, “We'll box horse one, two, and six and place a twenty down on it.”

“You're not picking Rolling Thunder? I like that one.”

“Why Rolling Thunder?”

“I don't know, I just like the name.”

“I'll tell you what, here's two bucks, you bet on the horses you want and I'll bet on the ones I want.”

“I'll take Rolling Thunder and Hypnotic Poison. Those are the two I like best.”

Ray went up and placed his bet first, then, as if it was an afterthought he added, “And I'll also take four and eight for a dollar quenilla.”

Returning back to his seat, he handed Robin her ticket and wished her luck.

Five minutes later; “And they're off…” Robin inched herself to the edge of the stool while Ray sat there watching his number one and number six horses take quick leads while his number two horse lag far behind. His number one horse broke stride thus disqualifying itself and Robin's Rolling Thunder and Hypnotic Poison horses took over in the final turn.

Robin let out a cheer and Ray just shook his head, ”Well can you imagine that? Lady Luck just won $89.00.”

“What do I do now,” Robin asked excitedly.

“You strut yourself on up to that payoff booth, hand the man your ticket and collect your winnings.”

She jumped off the stool and strutted proudly towards the booth.

Ray reviewed his formula while she was collecting. After plugging the numbers back in he realized that had he added instead of subtracted in one of the steps. Had he done his math correctly he would have chosen Robin's guesses.

When she came back he turned to her with a grin and said, “I guess you're the statistical genius after all.”

The number six race was a bust for both of them. Two long shots came in that were totally unpredictable and Robin didn't choose them because their names, Justin Case and For All The Stars, just didn't appeal to her.

Ray went back to work confident that his algorithm would pay off. He ran the stats through his formula, triple checked his calculations, and placed $40 down at the betting booth. This time the race paid off. All three horses came in and the prize was $180.00 netting Ray $7200.00.

Robin's horses didn't even come close to showing but she didn't seem to mind at all.

“Raymond, you hit for SEVENTY-TWO BIG ONES! That's UNBELIEVABLE!”

“No, WE just hit for seventy-two big ones,” Ray said trying to contain his excitement. “Didn't I tell you that we split what we win? Here, take this up to the window and collect our prize; I just love watching you as you strut your winning self up there.”

She took the ticket and Ray watched her as she sauntered towards the payoff booth.

While she collected their cash Ray went back to work with the stats.

The next three races went their way. First collecting $4825.00, then $2375.00 and the tenth race netted them $6880.00.

Robin went up to the payoff booth each time to collect. After the tenth race, her beaming face turned to a more concern look as she returned back to the barstool. There were three men in suits surrounding Ray. She feared that he was being arrested for his previous nights activities.

“Mister, we've been watching you scribble on those napkins and we were just wondering what kind of system you're working.”

“Is everything all right Raymond?” Robin asked.

“Yeah, these gentleman are from the management office and they're just a little jealous that we're luckier than most.”

“It's not that sir,” one of the suits snapped back. “This is a recreational facility, a place for people to test their luck. We don't permit slicksters to come in here working a system.”

“It's not working a system, I'm just looking at what you provide and taking the best educated odds concerning the past records.”

“We're not going to argue with you. We would just be very happy if you left now and didn't come back to another M.E.C. establishment. We have both of your pictures on camera and we will be posting them at all of our betting booths. Or employees will be instructed not to process your picks.”

Ray, judging that this wasn't going to go any further in his favor, turned to Robin and said, “Maybe it's best that we leave.”

They spit the winnings as soon as they got in the Caravan. All $21,300 worth they split in half, giving them each $10,650.

On the way back they talked about what they were going to do with their fortunes.

Robin spoke first, “I know what I'm going to do. I'm going Christmas shopping and get everyone gifts; Mom, my Grandmother, Emily. I haven't been able to do that in years.”

“The first thing I'm going to do is get a watch. I've felt naked ever since I had to give up my Rolex. Do you want to go shopping together tomorrow morning?”

“I've got some catching up to do since I was away the past couple of days. I'm going to be tied up in the morning and most of the afternoon but I'd love to get together with you some time later and maybe do something. I always have a good time when I'm with you.”

“How does 5:00 sound.”

“Works for me,” she said, then placing her hand in Ray's crotch, “but you know it's still early, would you like to come over to my place and see if I can make Mr. Pinocchio here tell a lie?”


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