by Lazuli

Part 8 ~ Road Trip

The kitchen table became the centre of operations for the planned trip. There were maps, and lists, and more lists, and notes displayed, tucked, or clipped to other lists and maps and notes. Ray was enjoying feeling motivated, and his buoyant mood transferred to Ben as they discussed what problems they would face, and how they would stubbornly overcome them.

It began with the basics: what if Ben urgently needed to relieve himself during their journey, as he couldn’t exactly nip behind a bush for a pee on the interstate? Solution: they would pack a bag for the car that would contain a capped travel urinal, toilet paper and disposable wipes, and a blanket to cover Ben’s modesty while he used their makeshift facilities.

They also agreed to take the freestanding frame with toilet/shower seat from the bungalow, which would not only allow Ben to wash but, as it had sturdy handles, would also help him transfer from the chair to a toilet or bed if needed.

It progressed to the ultra-organised list of hotels and restaurants Ray was compiling to ensure any stopover venues would be accommodating to Ben’s needs. This alone took several hours and uncountable phone calls, starting with local operator services and creeping along the districts to Florida, taking suggested businesses and their numbers and asking the same questions dozens of time until he was satisfied he’d found good matches for what they needed.

His investigative background had rarely been more useful.

As Ray concentrated on his task, Ben glided by in search of the grabber tool, smiling as he passed and appearing as relaxed as Ray had witnessed since arriving. The hope that it wasn’t too good to be true was quickly dismissed. ‘Positive thoughts’, he nagged himself. ‘Positive thoughts’.

Drawn to noises from where he’d left the boxes from Ben’s apartment, Ray wandered in, offering assistance just in time to stop everything being turned out on the floor.

“Let me help.”

“You’re busy.”

“I’ll be busier if I have to pick all this up later. What are we looking for?”

Ben had been sent away from the IRF with several sets of comfortable, easy to manage sweat suits, and up until now had apparently been content to settle for their bland convenience.

“There’s a couple of items I want. Shirts and t-shirts.”

“Let me hold the box and you pick through it.”

Ray brought a chair from the kitchen to prop the boxes up on, as Ben went through his belongings.

“I accept that sweat pants are the easiest to manage when dressing, so I’ll stick with them, but should I see myself in any reflective surfaces we pass, I want to see the person I remember. At least from the waist up.” He impatiently ran his fingers through his unkempt hair. “And the neck down.”

“I get it. Don’t forget the leather jacket.”

Ben smiled at that, and dove further into the current box.

“Leather jacket,” he announced as he liberated the coat in question.

“You want me to go find you some sweat pants that look less…IRF?”

“Were you planning on going out today anyway?”

“To pick up some supplies, yep.”

“Then I’d appreciate that.”

“Not a problem.”

Now Ben hesitated.

“You will…”

“I’ll leave the gun.”

“Thank you kindly.”

At lunchtime they discussed their itinerary over soup and sandwiches; Ben was getting weary, Ray saw, which usually led to a plummet in his spirits, so he wasn’t surprised when the question Ben led up to was filled with anxiety.

“What if he follows us?”

“I’ll notice if we’re being followed. Have you forgotten I’m a cop? I know how to deal with…”

“You don’t know what he’s like.”

“And why would that be?” Ray asked pointedly, but he left it at that, knowing further questions would lead to nothing other than Ben’s blood pressure rocketing.

“Perhaps it would be better if I stayed here.”

“Because the whole idea is too daunting?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then…nope.”

“If he does something to you…”

“If he tries he’ll learn the error of his ways very, very quickly.”

“But…”

“Benny, there’s no way I’m leaving you here alone, okay? And let’s be logical. There’s been no sight or sound of this guy since we’ve been at the bungalow, agreed?”

“I don’t know.”

“Forget what you think you may have heard, stick to the facts, Constable.”

Ben considered his response, and Ray could see it was a struggle, but his Benny was in there somewhere, and Benny liked things to make sense.

“If I discount what I suspect might be him, rather than what I can prove is him…then you’re right, of course you are.”

“Even if he is around, he’s not going to expect us to suddenly take off for Florida, agreed?”

“I agree.”

“So, if it makes you feel better, we’ll carry on as if we’re being observed: we play things very casually up until the moment we leave. We don’t just suddenly rush everything out to the car, and if there’s any chance he’s in hearing range, we talk about going to the store, or visiting the Consulate. He’ll be completely blindsided, and if he isn’t sitting in his car with the motor already running, we’ll have a head start.”

“And when we do leave, there are tactics we can use to check if he’s following.”

“That’s right. He’s dealing with a couple of smart cops, not—”

What he didn’t know once again stopped Ray in his tracks. Whoever this guy was, and whatever the situation, he’d been dealing with Constable Benton Fraser before the accident, one of the savviest people Ray knew, and still they’d ended up at this point. It was almost as if Ben knew what he was thinking, his head dropping in shame.

“Okay, I don’t know what happened,” Ray conceded, “but it had to be freakishly bad for him to get one over on you, and to leave you with so many problems. One day you’ll be able to tell me, and we’ll put an end to this, but for now, we’re going with plan A. Florida, to clear my apartment, see my boss, and maybe have a fun road trip while we’re at it.”

“Thank you, Ray.”

“No need. I’ll tell you something else: this guy appears and you give me the nod, I’ll blow his fucking head off and worry about the consequences later. I hate to be all Armando here but, capiche?”

Ben looked up, ready to meet Ray’s eyes and, to Ray’s relief, showing signs of defiance rather than submission.

“Capiche,” Ben replied. “If it comes to blowing his head off…don’t allow me to talk you out of it in a moment of weakness.”

“Understood,” Ray confirmed, stealing Ben’s line and putting a smile on his face.

…

It was getting to him, Ray conceded. Ben’s concerns had gradually taken hold of him and when he went out to go shopping he found himself acutely observant and over-analysing everything and everybody. If he was feeling this jumpy, he couldn’t imagine what it felt like for Ben to be alone and possibly vulnerable in the bungalow. They both knew the alarm system was up and running, but it was almost as if they wouldn’t fully trust it until it had been found to be necessary, which is something neither of them wanted.

Before he even had the key in the car’s ignition, Ray was on the phone to Max Hemmell.

“Do me a favour and phone Benny for advice,” was all Ray had to say, and Max was hanging up and moving on.

If Ray really concentrated he could hear the landline ring and, having thought to put Max’s number in the phone’s directory, Ben would have had no hesitation in answering. Happy that Ben was no longer technically alone, Ray got on with his errands.

When he returned a couple of hours later, he tidied his purchases away while Ben brought him up to date with Max’s case, never once letting Ben know he was way ahead of some of this information, seeing as it had been his case a month ago. It was a joy to see the enthusiasm with which Ben picked through the minutia, as puzzled and intrigued as Ray had found himself. That gave Ray further plans for Florida: Ben would need keeping company while Ray spoke to the boss, and Max was the man for the job. Then it would be a nice thank you gesture to take Max out for dinner, and the three of them could tear the case to pieces and maybe, just maybe, make a little progress on it.

Extending the trip by a day or so was nothing, and if Benny felt safer that far from Chicago, it was a win win. The only thing they needed to be back for was Ben’s next session with Doctor Lee, and postponing that was just a phone call.

Florida alone had, in latter days, been something to be endured. Florida with Benny was starting to feel like a trip to the promised land.

…

Mid afternoon was not the time of day most people would set off on a long journey. That made it less suspicious to Ben’s troubled mind, and as Ray began taking what they needed for their trip out to the car, they talked of visiting friends, and the Consulate, and even dropping some old files off to the 27^th, anything to keep a dialogue going that Ben might think diversionary should anyone be listening in. Ray happily played along, sure that this was unnecessary, but not as sure as he used to be. Ben’s phantom stalker was becoming a solid presence, and although Ray sometimes felt like he wanted to shake the facts out of his friend, how could he while he kept placating Ben with deliberately casual denial and reassurance?

As they finally drove away, Ben dropped down the visor on his side of the car, positioning it so he could keep an eye on the vanity mirror.

“Let me know if you spot anything suspicious,” Ray instructed, and Ben nodded.

“If we’re both vigilant, it’s highly unlikely anybody will be able to follow us unnoticed.”

Ray let Ben get on with it, feeling confident that they had nothing to worry about, but when they hit a stretch of open road, he waited until the lane behind them was empty, then pulled into a superstore’s parking lot, losing their car within a handful of similar models. They had a good line of sight to the road, and waited to see if any of the following cars sped up or behaved erratically.

“Not seeing a problem,” Ray said after a few minutes, when all the cars that had been behind them for the past few miles had passed by in an unremarkable manner.

“I agree.”

“You even have a clue about this guy’s vehicle?”

“No. I would have told you by now.”

“We moving on?”

“Yes.”

“Want to try this again further up the road?”

“If you don’t mind. Meanwhile I’ll keep an eye out for any cars that have now passed us slowing down or pulling over.”

“Okay.”

It was easier to go along with what Ben wanted than to argue for putting his foot down and getting away from Chicago. Ray drove, and Ben observed. Another parking lot, another opportunity to hide away and scrutinise the traffic’s behaviour.

“Happy?” Ray asked when nothing raised any concerns.

“I think so.”

“Let’s go?”

“Let’s go.”

…

At nine in the evening they were at one of Ray’s pre-planned spots, a good hotel which had slightly more than the bare minimum of disability aids, and had offered a suite so there was more room to move. Once booked in, and waiting on a room service meal, they could finally relax and unwind after a drive that felt twice as long, due to Ben’s condition.

“It didn’t occur to me that the journey would be so exhausting,” he said apologetically to Ray as he manoeuvred his chair toward the bathroom.

Ray waved away the apology.

“Your body’s changed, and not in the obvious way.”

“The loss of muscle mass,” Ben accepted without allowing an emotional reaction to get in the way of straight facts. “Those exercises that I keep forgetting to do… I need some for core strength, and I need to actually do them.”

“Should we have brought the electric chair?”

“I made my decision, I’m not going to dwell on it.”

As Ben rolled away, Ray dithered over whether he should be offering help. Ben had been managing fine at the bungalow, but strange place, different set up? He hoped that Ben would feel able to ask if he needed assistance in the bathroom, and that pride wouldn’t get in the way of the basic essentials.

The food was good, but Ray watched with amusement as Ben kept threatening to nod off and faceplant into his meal.

“Want to save that for a midnight snack?” he asked.

Ben jerked himself up straight and blinked furiously.

“I’m enjoying it, I’ll finish it now.”

“Want to hit the sack?”

“Desperately,” Ben admitted without missing a beat.

“I’ll give you a hand.” Ben let Ray reverse the chair away from the table and guide him into the bedroom. “I’m happy to help you get changed, if you tell me what to do. Or I’ll wait outside.”

“Just get me into bed, I’ll worry about clothes in the morning.”

So that’s what Ray did. Once Ben had moved himself onto the bed, Ray brought his legs up and got him comfortable. He’d have sworn Ben was asleep before the covers were over him.

After finishing his meal, Ray debated watching a little TV or going to bed himself, concerned that Ben would wake up and panic, forgetting where he was, and if he was alone… Easy decision.

He was barely drifting off when the nightmare started, and was up and at Ben’s side in an instant, gently rocking him to wake him before the worst of the dream could take hold. Ben woke with a start, hands grabbing at Ray and clinging on as he took a few seconds to figure out his surroundings.

“You’re okay,” Ray reassured, attempting to sound as soothing as possible even though he found these moments equally as distressing in his own way.

Ray prised a hand away so he could switch on the bedside lamp, then went back to holding on until Ben finally calmed enough to think straight. Studying the room, Ben whispered to himself, repeating the same phrase several times before addressing it to Ray.

“I know where I am. I’m… Okay. Awake.”

“And I’m right here,” Ray promised.

Ben nodded before realising quite how tightly he was still holding on and gradually relaxing his grip.

“There goes another knuckle,” he attempted to joke.

“Upper body strength. Full marks,” Ray said as he exaggerated flexing his hand to restart the circulation.

“Did you manage to get any sleep?” Ben asked guiltily.

“No, I’m not ready yet. I thought I’d come in and keep you company, just in case you woke up and wanted me to bore you some more.”

Ben studied Ray hard, and was met with a worried frown.

“What?”

“It’s just… Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. What?”

“You were never the most patient of men. Now you appear to have an endless supply.”

“For you, sure.”

“It wasn’t all the bowling alley, was it?”

Ray shook his head as he took himself back to his own bed and sat on the edge.

“I always say it’s the bowling alley that changed me, but it goes back further than that.”

“I suspected as much, but I didn’t want to ask.”

“Not as nosy as me then?”

“Just as nosy. Not wanting to touch a nerve. Or maybe just respecting your privacy.”

“Like that’s worth a cent.”

“Las Vegas?”

Ray nodded.

“Las Vegas. Having to live that life taught me some hard lessons, and not always the obvious ones. I couldn’t be Ray Vecchio playing at being Armando Langoustini, I had to be Armando Langoustini.” Ray’s thoughts were drawn back to that time, and he gave an involuntary shudder. “He was a hateful man, and he treated people in the worst way. I was briefed and trained up, but what he was on paper and what he was in real life… Sometimes, all I wanted was to show people a little kindness or understanding, but it wasn’t possible, not if I wanted to stay in character.”

Ray shifted until he was lying down on his side, facing Ben.

“I may not have been the best person in the past, but I didn’t realise how decent I was until I had to treat people like they were disposable, or act like women were just pieces of meat. There were times when I thought I couldn’t hate myself more. Then came the next time, and the next.

“This one time, a couple of my henchmen brought a woman in to me, trying to win favour because they thought she was my type. She had a cut eye and a split lip because she’d dared to say no. I got the impression Armando wouldn’t have given a damn about her being hurt, or coerced, but my stomach was rolling. Her eyes were dead, Benny. Jesus wept, I could have cried.”

“What did you do? If you had to stay in character?”

“In character… Well, they got the same treatment back. There was always someone around happy to deal out a beating for the boss. I told them I don’t want damaged goods, its disrespectful on their part. I took money from them, gave it to the woman, topped it up and told her to get away. I wanted to do more but Armando wouldn’t have, and in the moment it was the best I could do.

“Next up Armando decides we’re all going on a health kick. This was believable because he was vain as shit and spent so much time in the gym before I ever got to be him. But everyone in my orbit had to join in, and they hated it, and hated me, and for a while there it was glorious. No booze, no fatty food, no women, 5k runs every morning.”

Ray sighed and shifted, uncomfortable with the memories but appreciating the chance to get them out into the open.

“Then there were people I couldn’t help at all. Some of these idiots inevitably got themselves in trouble with the law, and if they’d handed themselves in they’d’ve served a year or two, but no, they threw themselves on Armando’s non-existent mercy. Dispensable drones bringing attention to an operation that prided itself on slipping beneath the radar? I never pulled the trigger, but I may as well have. No blood on my hands, but I walked away feeling so bloody I could have been rolling in broken glass. Walked away but I never forgot what I learnt about myself. I was pretty sure I’d never feel clean again, but that damn bowling alley…

“I never told you what it was called, did I? Straybowls. Just like buying the place, the name started as a bad joke, but it stuck. Began as Stella-Ray Bowls, but one slip of the tongue and a shit brand was born, complete with this little cartoon logo of an androgynous being holding up a bowling cup, while stray pins and bowls flew in all directions around it. Me and Stella thought the whole thing was ridiculous, but the team loved it and wanted to keep it. Can’t believe we didn’t tank the business just because of the name, I mean, it made us laugh every single time we needed to take it seriously and that’s a hard sell. Straybowls. Colour palette? Sinoper.” It made Ray laugh, even now. “Not red, but Sinoper,” he mocked, shaking his head. “The Straybowls therapy programme: backbreaking work that made me sweat Armando Langoustini out of my pores.”

“Do you still have the t-shirt?”

That made Ray laugh some more.

“I have a dozen polos. I’ll give you one that you’ll then feel obliged to wear. The logo’s very obvious. Give it ten minutes and everyone will be calling you Mr Straybowls.”

“Did that happen to you?”

“Oh, yeah. Mr and Mrs Straybowls. The new owner very sensibly changed the name to Star Bowling. Want to see the place when we get to Florida?”

“I don’t think so.”

That surprised Ray a little, but he accepted it.

“You’re still getting the polo shirt.”

Ben accepted that with a brief nod, but was obviously deep in thought.

“Did I break something?” Ray asked, “telling you all that?”

“No, Ray. Under the circumstances you acted far more honourably than many in your situation would have.”

“Then…?”

Ray waited until Ben had figured out what he wanted to say, and what he wanted to say was completely unexpected.

“You struggle with Ray Kowalski being you. I struggle with your life outside of my life.”

“Really?” Ray asked. “I thought— Well it doesn’t matter what I thought.”

“I imagine it does matter, quite a lot.”

“Then I doubt it’s a conversation for the middle of the night, when we’re both exhausted and would be fast asleep if we had any sense. Long drive tomorrow.”

“Ray…?”

“Okay, I— Look, I didn’t want a life outside of your life. I hate the way things worked out and like I said before, if I could go back and change things I would. I got it wrong, and I am so sorry I’ve not been here for you. But I am now. Does that count for anything?”

Ray hated to hear the desperation in his voice, and knew he had to shut up now whatever Ben said, because he knew recriminations were due, and if he had to defend himself… He did not want to go there.

“It’s everything,” Ben replied quietly.

It was the most Ray could hope for: no recriminations, no dragging up certain, sensitive areas the past, not right now.

“I’m… I think I’ll get myself a drink. Shout if you need me.”

Ben was looking at him with that look, the one that said he was reading his mind, and Ray didn’t want to be read. Not waiting for an answer he left the bedroom and hit the minibar, careful to stick to a single shot, mindful of the morning’s drive.

He thought of Benny struggling with Ray Vecchio’s life outside of him. It was almost laughable, because Ray knew with absolute certainty that the person who struggled most with a life outside of Benny was in the middle of driving him to Florida and… No wonder Benny didn’t want to see the bowling alley. If he was honest, neither did Ray. Florida was about putting an end to an existence that should never have been.

The Lesser Distance 9       The Lesser Distance Index       Notes

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