Still at Rimbaud Ranch, Keith waited in the hallway. He was looking at the artwork. It was his artwork. Keith didn’t know what led up to his artwork for Hildebrand's novel Rotwang being hung in the hallway of Rimbaud Ranch, but Keith imagined that Buck really liked the canon.
He was hoping Lolly would come back. The Chevy Cameo was still parked out front. It was a wonderful vision in the moonlight. What wasn’t so wonderful was the sight of Pablo and Juan and Trevor loading the Water Demon’s body into the bed of the Ford Super Duty. They all got into the cab. Juan was driving and it appeared, to Keith, that the truck was headed up to the reservoir.
Gator and Tirzah pushed past Keith. Keith sighed. He understood that he wasn’t getting a lift back to Longmont in the Chevy Cameo. Persephone dictated that he was going back with the Moses Mobil. He climbed into the back seat.
“Gator,” Tirzah said, “every insult to a sensitive being is an insult to THE-HER. You didn’t let The Great Laverne finish her predictions about the Lost Sacraments.”
“What does The Great Laverne understand of these things?” Gator asked. “Is her truth above our truth?”
“We are the truth, Gator. And our combined heartbreak is the heartbreak of THE-HER.”
“The Great Laverne is divine?”
“We must honor her vision.” Laverne had taken the course “Visions from Nowhere” at Instant Kabbalah & Co on Pearl Street in Boulder. She had even taken it twice, just to eliminate any potential confusion.
“What about Moses?” Gator glanced back to see that Moses had closed his eyes and was deep in meditation. Gator flipped his seat back abruptly. Moses’ eyes flew open.
“Christ!” Moses exclaimed wearily.
“Stop here,” Gator said.
Tirzah braked. “Why?” she asked.
“This is where Moses gets out.”
The lights were out at 1046 Grant Street. Keith opened the back door and stepped out.
As the door opened of its own accord, Tirzah gasped.
Gator smiled his slow smile.
Gertrude Stein was turning off the lights, getting ready to go upstairs. Their party was a success. To start with, F. Scott Fitzgerald had shown up only slightly, and perfectly, inebriated and right before dessert was served, having tagged a ride with Ernest. What had they been doing? It was obvious that up to their appearance at the New Year’s Eve party Ernest hadn’t been drinking enough to keep up with Fitzgerald. And this was new.
To excuse his tardiness, Ernest mentioned a “misser” and Scott nodded in agreement.
“Do you mean to say a set of collectibles escaped destiny?” Gertrude asked.
Alice held up the serving spoon, waiting to hear the answer.
El-Don cleared his throat. “I’m going to start my own business,” he said. "Quit this rat race."
Teary was dying for a real cup of coffee. The more she snuck a coffee here and there, the more she craved coffee. But she couldn’t let El-Don know. She had to keep up appearances. Teary brought her cup of hot chicory juice up to her lips.
El-Don was also dying to go get a cup of joe. And a donut. One of those Make American Great Donuts being handed out down at the center that morning. But first he had to tell his wife about his great idea. He had been dreaming about so many things these past months, things he’d never dreamt about before. Aside from the aliens, he kept dreaming about starting an Intergalatical Telepathic Interface System. It seemed to be a wonderful concept and bound to beat out his bosses at Siesta & No-Dish Inc.
Teary stared at the Power Point in front of her. She was appalled by the title. “Oh, El-Don,” she said with a fake smile, “I’ll have a look at this after lunch.”
“I’m gonna meet Lolly at the center,” El-Don said, reaching for his car keys.
Teary nodded. She couldn’t wait for him to leave. She needed a nap.
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