No help

Nothing in Rock's writing career had confused him more than his attempt to title a book he had written about a man from Japan. He was sure he needed to title it in Japanese, but it was a language he was unfamiliar with. A woman he knew from the Lahman Library in North Little Rock tried to help, but all she did was add to his confusion.

Rukus

The powerfully built man was well over six feet tall. His thick mustache stood as the highlight of his unshaven, ruddy face, and he had drawn everyone's attention along the festive street. Unfortunately for Rock, he attempted to walk past this example of masculine totality without any way to know why it was there.
All he was trying to do was find his hotel room. Rock had been directed by a clerk in one of the many large luxury hotels to find a row of auxiliary rooms somewhere along the perimeter of this powerful and crowded pulse of tourism and enterprise, and though it was long before bedtime, Rock was already concerned about the volume of this self-sustained, perpetual, ritualistic ruckus.
He hadn't even noticed the actors at work, not until he tried to walk past their focal point. As he did, the large, strong man, dressed in weathered western wear, placed his hand on Rock's arm. "Please, help me out," the man whispered. "All you have to do is stand here for a second or two and act as if you're listening to me, just like you are right now."
Rock agreed with a nod. He didn't know what else to do.

The maneuver

Everything moved in slow motion, but Rock felt endangered despite his perception of speed. He drove west down an I-630 exit ramp near War Memorial Stadium in Little Rock and was about to reach the eastbound lanes of the urban interstate.
He hoped to slow enough to turn the car around once he reached the highway, but he couldn't get the breaks to work. Thus far he knew he had been lucky in terms of traffic, but ahead, toward University Avenue exits, he saw a line of cars approach from the horizon.
Somehow he managed to point the car in the right direction, but the maneuver made the matter worse. Now he was headed toward the traffic in reverse and had lost all control of his car.

The Leadbetters

There were two teenage boys and a girl out by the driveway of the house that belonged to the Leadbetters when Rock was in high school. They told him they thought he had come to mow the lawn, but Rock didn't know what they were talking about.
The Aikmans lived two houses east on Harrel Drive, so Rock called to tell his cousin Crutch that some kids at the Leadbetters' wanted to borrow his parent's lawnmower. In the next instant, Rock was in the Aikman's den, where he had spent a good deal of his youth. Crutch and several of his school friends were there. They all looked just as they had when Rock lived in Russellville forty years earlier.

Untrustworthy

Several of Rock's neighbors wanted him to chip in on the purchase of a mid-1960s Dodge Fury, which was an opportunity he did not quite understand.  He nevertheless road with them to look the car over, and it took no more than a glance for him to recognize the nearly perfect quality of its renovation.
It was a full-size sedan with an interior as large as an average recreational vehicle, complete with a kitchen, bathroom, and several bunks. Rock was impressed, but he did not like the vehicle's sky-blue paint job nor the idea of joint ownership with his untrustworthy neighbors.

Another cat

There was another cat in the guest bedroom. As Rock walked in he saw his cat Jo, which in itself surprised him, but a second later a second cat walked past that he thought at first was Samantha. After a careful look, he realized it was Pam and that she looked as fragile and emaciated as she had the day he thought she had died.
She ran under a bed, an evasive maneuver common to Pam throughout her long life. As he watched her, Rock wondered why he had brought his cats to his cousin Jill's house in the first place. It seemed odd that he had forgotten they were with him.

Unselfconciousness lost

This was all new to Rock. He had been asked to address a convention of comedians, and there were hundreds of them seated before him in a banquet hall. So far, he was on a roll. Laughter rang out after each of his lines and continued as he moved seamlessly from one topic to the next.
Rock would later reflect that he had performed in a perfect state of unselfconsciousness, the hallmark trait of all successful live performances. However, that quality was put to an end when his attention was suddenly drawn to a woman who approached the stage along the hall's middle aisle. Rock thought she looked confused, and he paused to offer what he could.
"How can I help you?" he asked.
She was clearly embarrassed, which was evident to Rock as she turned her head left and right toward the front rows of the people behind her.
"I think I'm lost," she said. "I was looking for the teachers' convention."

Wings

The list of food preferred by entrants in a 100-mile footrace Rock covered for the paper was seemingly infinite, and in this particular race, Rock interviewed a racer who ate nothing but fried chicken wings. That was new.

Golf

Rock's game had never been sharper. He was on a roll late in a round at a Little Rock tournament when he approached a tee box that was set on a wide sidewalk. There was no place near the markers to tee up a ball, so Rock examined his choices and recognized an opportunity a few feet back. He noticed that grass and a bit of soil appeared between sections of the walkway, and he easily placed a tee in the gap.
Before Rock could hit his drive, a longtime golf associate of his approached the tee box. Rock knew him from New Orleans, and the man asked whether Rock planned to play there again.
"You know what, I do," Rock said. "In fact, I want to see if I can qualify for the Zurich Classic next summer."
The man paused for a moment before he responded.
"Just so you'll know, the Zurich's in February," he said.
"Oh yeah, I don't know what I was thinking," Rock said. "February should work."

Waiting for Rock

Though it was never clear to Rock which of his relatives had died, he was pleased to see so many of his first cousins from the Crutchfield family gathered at Carol Crutchfield's house near Russellville. There were even a few members of the Aikman family there, aunts and uncles and cousins of Rock's cousins from the Crutchfield side, Crutch and Jill.
Rock stood next to Rob, an Aikman about Crutch's age, who pointed out a blonde who had just arrived. "I can't remember her name, but I think she's the head of state parks and tourism," Rob said.
Rock thought she looked exactly like a writer from Economist magazine he had seen on Charlie Rose the night before. She was tall and slim with small, simple features and a universal sort of loveliness that turned heads across the room.
Moments later, as she spoke to a nearby group, Rob tapped Rock's arm. "Hey man, take a look at that pad she's holding," he whispered.
There was a yellow legal pad tucked under her arm nearest them, and among the notes handwritten on it, one stood out: "Ask Rock out or wait for him to ask you out."
Rock was immediately confused. The message made no sense to him. "That's crazy," he said. "I've never seen her before."

The world's billionaires

Someone connected to the United States government had traveled to the mid-nineteenth century, apparently to reconstitute the financial system in such a way that no one could possess a billion or more dollars. There was no one around who could explain this to Rock, but he theorized it was an attempt to limit the power and influence of individuals rather than to redistribute wealth.
He imagined this news would shock the world. It seemed incredible, so much so that by the time he googled a list of the world's billionaires, he knew what he would find.