I splashed some cold water into my face, and looked at my reflection in the mirror. I definitely looked like a man that had seen a long string of hard nights. And a man that had been consorting with all manner of deceased Beatnicks and bluesmen. I reached out for a paper towel, but whoever was responsible for the upkeep of the restroom in the Tower Exxon off I-55 had been sleeping on the job, and the bin was empty. I pulled out my shirt tail and wiped my face, thinking again about the King of the Delta Blues, who was outside filling the tank with premium unleaded."In the Realm of the Spirits," I said to my pale and dripping reflection.

" Madison? Blake, is that you?" The voice came from a pair of Florsheim wingtips in the stall behind me.

The john flushed, the door swung open, and out stepped Phil LeTourneau. " Madison, I swear to God, you are one living, breathing, technicolor adventure movie. I waited at that damned Honey Doo Bar for three and a half hours for you!" He pulled out a monogrammed handkerchief." here wipe the water out of your eyebrows. Christ, you look like Death eating a cracker." I had to laugh, and I gestured at the stall. "So.. you decided to wait for me in there? Or is that just a standard hang-out for you every Thursday? You leave this graffitti that says 'Lonely Six Foot 7 inch attorney looking for well-endowed effeminate dwarf'? He grinned," yeah. I was hoping you'd see it and give me a call. C'mon. Let's go to New Orleans." I blew my nose in his handkerchief and handed it back. He held it by one corner and let it fall into the over-flowing trash can." Can't," I said. " I'm going to Graceland with Robert Johnson."

I walked out into the sunshine and the roar of Interstate traffic, and I watched the big Chrysler vanishing up the entrance ramp. I caught a glimpse of the vanity license plate on the rear bumper just before he merged: LEGBA it read. " Over here," said LeTourneau, directing me toward a gold Lexus parked by the pumps. I opened the passenger door, and there she was, decked out in shorts, high-heel sandals, Vuarnet shades, and a black t-shirt that said Rick Fielding This One's the Dreamer Tour 99 . It was Serita. She smiled and said " climb in back and lay your head down on my lap. Let me massage your scalp wwhile you drift off. You can float to New Orleans." Her soft voice was a balm to my soul. "oh," she said, extending a peach-colored business card toward me, " the sharp-dresser in the Chrysler said I should give you this." The card said

Crossroads
Souls bought, sold, and saved
R Johnson

I settled into the backseat of the Lexus, as Serita began to stroke my temple. Phil turned the key in the ignition and said "so what's the Realm of Spirits?"

"Nothing. It's where I spent the night last night. Let's go to New Orleans." I was asleep before we hit the highway.