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  "I was the chief songwriter again, but Tracie did half the vocals. We spent a bare three weeks recording the record, which was a self titled record under the band name ‘Cole’. I still wasn’t used to the concept and decided to launch a tour before we released the record. This was probably one of the shows you saw, Amy."

  "Probably," she agreed, "I was 19 at the time and it was in the early part of '99."

  "We did about three months of light touring and became a really good band," he continued, "I released the record in July of '99. It worked in ways that the previous record just couldn’t. The first single, one of Tracie’s tracks entitled Singer, shot to number one really quick. The album held the charts all through July and August. We toured relentlessly until the beginning of September, when it was time for Allen and Julie to go back to school.

  "We stayed in LA during the school year this time, as Allen had started developing behavioral problems. We would leave for a couple days at a time to promote the record, and did a lot of local shows. We played Leno a few times as well. The thing was that Allen didn’t really get any better during this period.

  "I think the big problem was the rejection of his father. By that point all contact between our household and the kid’s father had ceased. Their dad stopped visiting or even sending things. It was like he didn’t even exist for them anymore. Allen was hurt a lot more from this than Julie was. They stayed with Tracie’s mom when we were out of town or off working. Tracie’s mom didn’t catch the problems either, but they were there."

  Mike stopped for a minute to compose himself and drain half of a beer. He tossed his cigarette into the fire and lit another one. He looked at me and then at Amy before he considered continuing. He didn’t see animosity in either of us, so he went on.

  "I think the mess earlier in 1999 at Columbine really struck a chord with Allen. It’s the only real explanation for what he did. His father had pushed him beyond the breaking point. He didn’t consider me as anyone except the man that his mother had married. I didn’t know until a year after it happened just where the weapon came from."

  "It wasn’t yours?" I asked.

  "Nope," he said, "I had two pistols. A .45 that I learned to shoot so I didn’t look like an idiot when I was shooting an action film, and a .38 that I bought when I did a cop film. Both of them were in a gun safe kept in the attic and I was the only one who knew the combination."

  "Tracie didn’t know?" Amy asked incredulously.

  "She didn’t want to," Mike informed us, "She hated guns and didn’t even like having them in the house. I only kept them at that point for the occasional target shooting session. I turned out to be rather good at it and liked to keep my skills up. I’m not even sure the kids knew they were in the house at all.

  "Allen managed to get an AK 47 from an acquaintance of his at school. He must have gotten the .44 pistol from the same people, but no charges were ever drawn up on that one. He hid them in a part of the basement that none of us ever used. I think I’d only been down to the basement in that house twice in the year that we lived there.

  "The final straw for Allen came on October 27th. His father had finally agreed to go to a father son picnic. I had offered to go, but he understandably wanted his own father. Well, the son of a bitch decided that boffing his blonde secretary was more important than spending the day with his son.

  Tracie was out of the house that morning, doing an interview for the morning show. We actually got a call from the bastard. His lies weren’t convincing, I could hear the bimbo giggling in the background. He told me that a big deal had come up and he couldn’t make it.

  "Allen flew into a rage. He ran down to the basement, where he’d been spending quite a bit of time. I was pondering whether I should go down and talk to him, but didn’t have much of a chance to do so.

  "He came flying up the stairs with the infamous duffel bag under his arm. He started heading out of the house and I went to stop him. It was then that I realized what the bag had in it, for I could see the outline of the weapon in the bag. I ran over to stop him and take the bag when he pulled out the .44 pistol. He didn’t even think about it, really. He aimed the weapon at me and pulled the trigger."

  "My god," Amy said, "I didn’t know you were shot at!"

  "Not just shot at," Mike continued, "Son of a bitch managed to hit me. Took out one of my kidneys and put me out of the fight. He took my car keys and raced out of there in my Taurus. By this point people had heard the shot and were coming out trying to figure out what was going on. Police and an ambulance were called. I tried to tell them where he was going, but by the time they got there I’d lost a lot of blood. I remember being brought onto the ambulance, but I don’t particularly remember anything else until I woke up in a hospital room about three days later."

  "What did Allen do?" Amy asked.

  "I found this out from the police later," Mike said, "But Allen made his way to his father’s office. Both his father and his secretary were riddled with the AK. He took down six others on the way out, killing one or two of them. He then carjacked some idiot with a mustang and beat it out of there before the police could show up. The person he carjacked jumped out and was hit by a bus.

  "He proceeded to go to the private school Tracie and I had been sending him to since we had come back to LA. It was one of those ritzy ones that caters to children of celebrities. Allen hated everyone there it seems. He shot four of them as he entered and took a classroom hostage. The SWAT team was called and a standoff ensued. The police had collected Tracie earlier and had her there trying to talk him down. She was on edge anyway when she was talking to him. During the third conversation he was threatening to kill someone if she didn’t get off the phone. She didn’t and he proved he wasn’t bluffing.

  "Tracie just lost it then. They ended up taking her to the hospital. Allen had murdered a young teacher’s aide while on the phone with his mother. The standoff went on for another two hours until the police decided to end it. A sniper was placed across the street, and when the first opportunity came about Allen was taken down by a well placed shot to the skull."

  "Oh man," Amy said, "Tracie must have been devastated."

  "That’s putting it mildly," I said, "If my kids had done that I would have gone absolutely mad."

  "Tracie lost her sanity completely," Mike continued, "She spent the next three weeks in the rubber room over at Bellevue."

  "What about you?" Amy asked.

  "I spent the next three weeks in the hospital answering questions for the cops," Mike said, "I had lost my left kidney and my family was completely and utterly destroyed. They didn’t even let me see Tracie. Tracie hasn’t had a coherent moment since that final shot over the phone. Allen killed two people with that one shot. Tracie is still physically living, but she’s been effectively brain dead ever since."

  "So what did you do when you got out?" I asked him.

  "I wasn’t able to do much," Mike said with a groan, "The new band was toasted, just like the old one. I was already being sued by the relatives of every one of the twenty-two people either killed or wounded during Allen’s rampage. I went to see Tracie, but she didn’t have a clue who I was. She chanted, she sang, she jumped around, but she wasn’t the woman I married anymore."

  "I’m amazed you aren’t still settling lawsuits," I put in.

  "I settled high," Mike said, "I made the decision that I was going to leave. I gave my lawyers instructions to settle all claims and used 95% of my capital to do it. I then set up a four million dollar trust fund to take care of Tracie and Julie. Basically out of the interest it pays for Tracie’s lifetime hospitalization and the rest of the interest goes to Julie. If Tracie outlives Julie it goes to charity, if Julie outlives Tracie, the balance goes to her. If Julie is underage it goes into a trust to pay for school and lodging until she either turns 26 or gets a masters degree."

  "Sounds like you walked out with nothing," A
my said.

  "No," he replied with a smile, "I still had about four million left for myself, plus all the record residuals, which still add up to about four or five million a year. I spent the last months of 1999 recovering and finishing up the paperwork. As soon as I was reasonably sure that I had cleared up everything I was supposed to, I set up the trust system I live off now. The ledger I was going over is my way of making sure I’m not being cheated. I have two separate accounting firms going over it, sending me individual reports at random intervals. If one is inaccurate, I can catch it with the other.

  "I loaded up my stuff into a brand new ’99 Taurus wagon and left the state of California," Mike said with a broad smile, "And I avoid the damned state like the plague now. I haven’t been back but twice since I left."

  "When did you get this rig?" I asked him.

  "I drove alone for the first two years," he said, "I had gotten a trailer after about two months and set it up as a primitive mobile communications room. About three years ago, I stopped what was probably a trick gone bad. The prostitute was a young Japanese girl by the name of Suki. Suki and I got along fairly well, and I got her some medical attention, making sure she was clean before anything further happened between us."

  "Wise move," Amy said with a grin, "Just like you did with me."

  "Yep," he smiled, "It was right about that time I was told by my lawyers that there was a subpoena out for me and a warrant was about to be issued. They were trying two of the guys who had sold Allen some of the weapons. I reluctantly headed back to California with Suki in tow.

  "The first thing I did was visit Tracie at the sanitarium. It was there that the police picked me up and put me in jail as a material witness who had fled jurisdiction. I was livid, let me tell you. I spent three days behind bars until my lawyers talked the judge into bail. The fact that I refused to say a word to them while behind bars also made the judge release me. I was required to stay at a motel and check in every 24 hours for the duration of the pretrial and trial.

  "I took care of some problems I had had and made sure that all the arrangements I had made two years before were still working correctly. Tracie’s mom greeted me warmly and I saw Julie, who was growing up remarkably well despite what happened. I spent six miserable weeks in that state until the trial ended. Suki and I were on the road less than two hours after the guilty verdict came out and out of California by the end of the day."

  "What did they want you to testify to?" I asked Mike, "You didn’t even see much of it."

  "It was stupid," Mike said, "They just wanted to prove that Allen’s rampage began at the house and that it was, indeed my car. I was on the stand less than an hour for both sides. They also continued to hold me until the end of the friggen trial."

  "Did you have this built in LA?" I asked him, "While you were stuck?"

  "Nope," he said, "I bailed from LA as soon as possible, and I didn’t want it to be easily connect to Justin Cole. After we got out of California we made tracks over to Tennessee. I had this thing built and became a legal resident of the state under the name of J. Michael Coleman."

  "That explains the plates," I said, "Why there?"

  "No insurance, No inspection and lax residency requirements," I said, "Also, a family bible is proof of Identification."

  "So you lied?" Amy asked.

  "Nope," He said with a grin, "My birth name is Justin Michael Coleman. I cut it to Cole when I went into show business. I just asked that my first name not be put on the Drivers license. I have a credit card under the same name whose bill is paid for by my trust every month with a money order. By the time that this rig was completed, it was a home again and it drags the same 99 Taurus around in case we want to park the rig and go into a town."

  "What happened to Suki?" Amy asked, with a little bit of concern, "You built this up large enough for two people, but you were alone again when you found me last year."

  "She decided she’d had enough traveling after about six months," Mike said in fond remembrance, "I set her up with about 200 grand in Orlando. Last I heard from her she’s running a little sushi shop in a mall and loving it out there."

  "You going to just travel forever, Mike?" I asked him.

  "Probably so," he admitted, "Until I keel over dead, I hope. I have no interest in going back to my old life. Too many memories and too much loss. Everybody I really knew is gone, so I might as well be too."

  "What about the music?" I asked him, "I bet a lot of fans are disappointed."

  "I’ve actually released two new albums since I left," he said with a smile, "Every once in a while I get the urge to record, so I go to a little nowhere area and park the trailer. I’ll drive into town and rent a studio and hire some session musicians. I did the first one about three years ago, and Amy and I stopped and did one towards the end of last year. The record company released both of them without me to do publicity, and considering that they did very well, the first one going gold and the second one is still in the charts on it’s way to platinum."

  "He’s also written a couple books," Amy said, "And we still get to travel everywhere."

  "What more could I want?" Mike asked honestly, "I spent 20 years in the musical rat race. I came out of it with my life and a damaged soul. I’m taking my retirement now, in time to end it with some repairs."

  "You have to live life your own way," I admitted, "I figure someday I’m either going to check out or I’m going to leave this place to Myrna and just go to Florida."

  "Do you like it here?" Mike asked me.

  "I love the place," I admitted, "Hell, sometimes I still love Myrna, though that feeling is getting more and more rare. It’s better now than when I sold insurance for a living though, that’s for damn sure. I did that mess for thirty years."

  "You’re doing what makes you happy," Mike said to me, "Just remember that and you will continue to be happy. Don’t let Myrna or anyone else take that away from you."

  "I guess so," I said and left it at that.

  We sat there for a few more minutes and finished our drinks. I didn’t want to go in, because I knew that they were going to take off for the next place now that the storytelling was done.

  Mike and Amy huddled close, and just said nothing as they looked out over the hills.

  Eventually, we all knew it was time to go in. I put out the fire, and Mike picked up the chairs. Amy tossed the garbage into one of the cans and then retired into the camper. Mike shook my hand and told me I’d see him at checkout the next day.

  I bid them goodnight and went back into the house. I went to bed and sighed, feeling sorry that this week was going to end and glad that things had turned out so well for him. Amy was a real find for him, I could tell. She might actually be able to let him overcome the demons of his past to find true happiness, a true happiness that I hoped lasted the rest of his life. I think I actually went to sleep with a smile on my face after that.

  Epilogue

  Mike and Amy came in to the store at about eleven in the morning to check out and to buy some provisions for the camper. We all avoided the tearful farewell, but I told them to check me out again sometime, they said they would when they were in the area next. I rang up their bill, not wanting to do it, but knowing he would be offended if I didn’t. I think the total came out to be about $340, including the groceries they bought that morning.

  Amy hugged me goodbye and Mike gave me a kindly handshake as we walked out to the lot for the final look over. Being old pros at this by now there was nothing wrong with the lot and they were ready to go on their way after about ten minutes. They were about to pull out when Mike signaled for me to come up to the window of the camper.

  "Remember what I told you last night," he said, "Be sure to do what you want with your life. If Myrna is that big a pain in the ass, leave and move on. Regardless of what you do, remember these words: ‘I know that something very strange is happening to my brain. I’m either feeling very good or else
I am insane.’"

  He grinned for a second as I looked at him.

  "Is that one of yours?" I asked him.

  "Nope," he said with a smile, "It was sung by Mike Nesmith in a Monkees song, over forty years ago. Still fits though. Have a good life, man."

  "You too," I said, not knowing what else to say.

  "Take this," Mike said, "But don’t open it until I’m out of the area."

  He handed me an envelope. I looked at it for a minute and continued to do so as his RV left the park and turned onto the road that hit I-37 north. When he was out of sight I walked back to the store and sat in my usual comfy chair on the porch.

  I didn’t open the envelope for an hour or so, but looked at it a few times. Finally I got the guts to open it. There was a note and what looked like a check. I pulled out the note first and opened it up. It had two words on it: Enjoy life. I pulled out the check and looked at it. Turns out it wasn’t a check but a Money Order. My eyes must have bugged out when I saw the amount of it. He had given me a quarter of a million dollars. I could not believe it, really. It took me ten minutes before I believed the figures.

  I was thinking about what to do with it when the phone rang. It was Myrna, calling to complain again. I told her that if she didn’t like coming back to me to stay where she was. She said that was what she planned. She had cleaned out the coffers of the store before she left, evidently and had decided to go live with her brother in Florida. She also told me to go to hell.

  I merely smiled as she prattled along. I picked up the bank book and took a good look at it, and saw that she was right, the place really was broke. I think it must have infuriated that bitch that I wasn’t responding to her tirades like she was used to. I told her to have a good time and that I’d make ends meet somehow. I told her that I’d have the divorce decree sent to Miami and she wouldn’t even have to see me again. Money was hers and the park was mine.