Drink, Dance, Divorce

by Charles Alworth

  Why did the guy frame him? He hadn't done anything to anybody. He was an innocent dance instructor. He didn't want to die.

  He stopped at the wife's table - except he didn't quite stop in time. His knees acted on their own. His errant right knee bumped her table. Her glass overturned, sloshing beer onto the red and white cloth.

  He picked up her glass and held it up, out of the spill. With his other hand, he rolled up the cloth and dried the table with it. Then he toweled the bottom of the glass with the cloth and set the glass back down.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't realize how close I was to your table. My knees aren't working like they usually do. I think they'll be okay in a minute. Usually they work really well."

  He waved for the waitress. "I'll get you another beer."

  He sank onto a chair and into wet foaming coldness. He should've dried the chair. He stank of beer. He jumped up and swabbed the chair.

  The waitress came and wiped down the table. She popped a fresh tablecloth over it and it let it settle. "What'll you have?"

  "Lone Star." He turned to the wife. "What'll you have?"

  She ordered a Lone Star too. The waitress pointed to the tablecloth clutched in Waltz's hand. "If you'd like to take a souvenir tablecloth home, I'll get you a clean one."

  "No. That's okay. I don't use them. I have a TV tray. This would be much too big. It's pretty, though. You can be very proud of it. Thank you." He handed her the cloth. She took it and left.

  The wife smiled at him. "I saw you dancing. You're good."

  He ran his hand over the chair seat. It was dry, not that it mattered. He flopped down. His clammy pants clung to his butt. "Thanks. I do a lot of dancing."

  She nodded her head toward something behind him. "Won't your girlfriend be mad because you joined me?"

  What did she mean? Waltz turned his head. "Oh, she's not my girlfriend. She's my - she's my - friend. She likes for me to meet other people. She tries to encourage me."

  "That's nice of her, helping you get over your shyness. You'd think, the way you dance, that you'd be over it."

  "It's helped me a lot. I'm more confident than I used to be."

  "I like shy guys. Most guys are much too aggressive for me."

  The Twangers struck up a new song. "Old Tex is playing a pretty good song there. You want to dance?"

  She nodded. "Sure. "

  They two-stepped around the floor. He glanced at Hook 'Em, hoping she was getting some good shots. On the second pass, he danced close to the bandstand. He liked to get a good view of the band when he danced by. He marveled at the way Tex Hank's suit hung on him.

  Tex's suit fluttered in time to the music. So did Tex. He wavered, staggered their direction in an attempt to catch his balance, and fell face forward in front of them. He didn't get up.

  Waltz stopped. Dancing over yodelers was bad form. He bent and rolled Tex onto his back. The stench of beer and whiskey made Waltz gasp.

  The wife bent over Tex. "He's passed out drunk. The stupid son of a bitch. Somebody ought to take a horsewhip to him." She straightened and kicked him. She pulled back her foot to kick him again.

  Waltz grabbed her and pulled her away. "Take it easy. It's okay. I'm sure they'll refund your cover."

  The wife kicked back at Waltz. He held her shoulders until she stopped kicking. He turned her to face him.

  Her face reddened and her eyes narrowed. "Don't ever interfere again."

  The three Twangers pushed their way through the onlookers. One waved and laughed. "Don't worry, folks. He's okay. He's researching a new song."

  Without hesitation, two of them grabbed Tex's arms. The other one picked up Tex's feet. They carried him to the back, like they had done it before.

  Waltz turned and started toward Hook 'Em's table. She waved her arms no. He stopped. He turned.

  A recorded two-step came over the loudspeakers. The wife caught up to him and grabbed his arm. "What about our dance? It makes me mad if a guy asks me to dance and then deserts me." Her fingers bit into his arm.

  He glanced at Hook 'Em. She jabbed her finger repeatedly at the dance floor. He sighed. He assumed the dance position.

  The wife was a good dancer. Like Hook 'Em, another honkytonk angel. He wondered what her name was. He could ask. It was Sadie.

  After the dance, Waltz returned to Hook 'Em. "I hope you got that. I don't want to have to do it again."

  "I videoed the whole thing, you at the table chatting with her and you dancing with her. I got her kicking Tex Hank while he lay helpless on the floor and you dragging her away. That was good thinking, dragging her away like that. It made her look bad."

  "Good. Now you can get on my case."

  She leaned forward. "Go back over there and get her to go home with you. I need some pictures of that."

  He drew back. "I can't do that. I can't cheat on Lala. I don't even know this woman. You saw her face when I dragged her off Tex Hank. She scares me."

  "You don't have to go to bed with her. Just get her to go home with you. I'll get video of that, and then you kick her out. Think of kicking her out as practice, for when you get tired of Lala."

  "How am I going to get rid of her?"

  "Tell her you suddenly realized you're gay. No sweat."

  "Maybe you're used to that, guys changing their minds suddenly, telling you they're gay. Maybe she's not. It's cruel. It's unusual."

  "So is the pale-green room. The cold, clammy one. The one with the gurney. Think about it."

  "You said you were going to help me."

  "I am. As soon as you do this. This could save me days. Then we'll swarm all over your problem."

  Waltz shuffled to his feet. Things were never like he thought they'd be. He thought detectives were tough, with shoulder holsters holding a pint. And they might even have a gun too.

  Instead, they were gigolos with beer-soaked pants. With partners who had the ethics of dung beetles. He turned back to Hook 'Em.

  He leaned on the table. "I can't take her to my apartment. She'll know where I live. She'll want to be my girlfriend. She'll hang around. Lala will find out. Let me use your place."

  "You can't use my place. That's my office. I can't take pictures of her entering my office. Her lawyer would chop us to ribbons."

  "I can't take her to my place."

  "You really think you're some stud, don't you? She's not going to want to be your girlfriend. She won't want to hang out at your apartment. You won't even be able to pick her up."

  "I hope you're right."

  "You asshole. Show me. Do it. Take her to a motel."

  "She'll still know my name. She'll find me."

  "Give her your honkytonk alias."

  "What?"

  "You have one, don't you? A fake name. Give her a fake name. Let's get this show on the road. You're facing the death penalty."

  "She's weird. Didn't you see the way she kicked Tex?"

  Hook 'Em got up and shoved him. He stumbled toward Sadie's table.

  Okay. He would get her to dance. She liked to dance. He'd ask her while they were dancing. With any luck, she'd turn him down.

  They started two-stepping. He spoke in her ear so he didn't have to look in her eyes. "I really go for you. Let's go to a motel, where we can be alone."

  She leaned back and smiled at him. "I think you're getting a handle on your shyness there, cowboy. Okay, you're on."

  They walked back to the table. Her body jiggled, but he didn't like her. Her lips were thin. They didn't pout. She kicked your butt when you passed out.

  He wouldn't go to bed with her. He'd take her to a motel and let Hook 'Em get video. He hoped she'd be happy with pictures of them entering a motel. He'd get rid of Sadie then.

  He needed a better excuse than a sudden preference for men. Something logical. He knew. He would claim he suffered from Intermittent Erectile Dysfunction, caused by smoking from the age of six. He'd call it IED to begin with. She'd ask what that meant. He'd explain.

  The name itself, Interm
ittent Erectile Dysfunction, would impress her, and maybe even scare her away. He'd claim a sudden intermittent attack. It seemed plausible. It would be okay. It would be nobody's fault but the tobacco companies.

  But what if she wanted to wait until the intermittent attack subsided? He could go to Hook 'Em's idea. He could claim he was only intermittently heterosexual and that the feeling had passed. He wanted to go back to the Honkytonk and exchange her for Tex Hank.

  They returned to the table to finish their beers. Sadie lifted her glass. "Here's to us, cowboy." She glanced over his shoulder. "Uh oh. Here comes trouble."

  Waltz turned. Tex Hank was on his feet and bore down on them, mad about getting kicked. He'd probably blame Waltz. Waltz prepared to bolt for the door.

  Tex swaggered to the table, bent down, and put his arm around Sadie. His hat fell off. He ignored it. He glowered at Waltz, his eyes glittering and sharp. "Who's this guy?" The stench of beer and whiskey still emanated from him, stronger than the smell of beer from Waltz's pants.

  Tex was alert, radiating energy. How was it possible?

  Sadie regarded Tex like he was a bug. "What do you care? Sot." She slapped him.

  He grinned. "I only had a couple of little drinks. Who the hell is this guy?" He leaned over Waltz. "Who the hell are you?"

  Flight or fight? Waltz favored flight. He beckoned behind his back for Hook 'Em. "I'm Waltz. My girlfriend and I were visiting with Sadie. My girlfriend and Sadie are great friends. They knew each other in high school. Here comes my girlfriend."

  He got up, took Hook 'Em's hand, and pulled her to him. He put his arm around her. "This is my girlfriend, Hook 'Em." He kissed her. Her lips were soft and warm. He kissed her again. She twisted her face away, grimacing. He laughed. "She's always kidding around. Honey, this is Tex."

  Hook 'Em shook Tex's hand.

  Waltz pulled out his chair for Hook 'Em. "Have a seat, darling. Tex took your chair while you were gone. I'll get another."

  He grabbed a chair from the next table. He turned to Hook 'Em. "I was telling Tex how you and Sadie have been friends since high school and ran into each other tonight for the first time in months. That you were doing some reminiscing."

  Hook 'Em smiled. "I've wanted to meet you, Tex. Sadie's told me all about you, you naughty boy." She wagged her finger.

  She leaned back in her chair. "Yep, we had some great times didn't we, Sadie? Some of them we can't talk about in front of the boys, can we? Like that time on the beach?"

  Sadie laughed. "We'll have to talk about that one another time." She leaned toward Hook 'Em. She stage whispered. "Don't tell my husband about Tex."

  "Not unless he pays me handsomely."

  They both laughed.

  Their waitress came. Tex ordered beer. Sadie slapped him hard. He blinked and grinned. Sadie turned to the waitress. "Cancel his beer. Bring him a triple coffee."

  Tex grinned. "No, bring me a beer."

  Sadie slapped him again, forehand and backhand. "Bring him coffee."

  Tex laughed. "Thanks, I needed that."

  Hook 'Em turned to Waltz. "Honey Bunny, let's dance."

  When they were dancing, she hissed. "Cut the kissing."

  "It was cover. We're undercover remember?"

  "Stop fooling around."

  "What's the matter? Did you like kissing a womanizer?"

  "No."

  "It avoided a brawl, didn't it?"

  She didn't speak.

  "Can you believe Tex is Sadie's boyfriend?"

  "In my business, I can believe anything. What's hard to believe is that he's back on his feet. Did you notice his eyes? He's on something. Something very stimulating. Maybe speed."

  "With Tex hopped up and pissed off, I can't take her home now. Too bad. She agreed to go."

  "I bet she told you to stick it."

  "She did - sort of. Anyway, thanks for the help. He was really pissed off. What the hell is his problem?"

  "What the hell is his problem? You were trying to put the make on his girl."

  "For all he knew, I was just talking to her."

  "Yeah. Right. It was pretty obvious you were on the make."

  "I was praying she'd turn me down."

  "I guess Tex wasn't hearing your prayers. You guys piss me off. You try to put the make on every woman you come across, and then you act surprised that their boyfriend gets upset."

  "It wasn't my idea. You put me up to it. Remember? You wanted to get pictures."

  "I notice you got into it pretty well. Smiling. Chatting. You were after her, like every cheater I've ever known."

  Waltz led her into an underarm turn. He brought her back into his arms. "That's the most illogical argument I've ever heard."

  "Quiet. I don't want to hear any more about it. I've heard enough excuses from cheaters."

  "Let's get out of here."

  "Let me get a few more pictures. I can get some close ups, now. I've got her with two boyfriends in one night. We can claim she's a groupie, goes out and picks up celebrities."

  Waltz laughed. "Tex? A celebrity?"

  "Hey, the judge sees the suit, the hat, the sign, he'll buy it."

  They danced three dances. Hook 'Em was getting into the two-step. So was Waltz. He liked it a lot better than having Tex beat him up.

  When they got back to the table, Sadie invited Hook 'Em to the ladies room, leaving Waltz and Tex to sip their beers, watch the dancers, and ignore each other.

  As they returned to the table, Hook 'Em and Sadie talked and laughed like they really were old high school friends.

  Sadie turned to Waltz and Tex. "We've got a surprise for you. We're going to another place. Finish your coffee, Tex."

  Tex sucked sullenly on his coffee, his sunken cheeks becoming crevasses. "Oh yeah? Where are we going?"

  Sadie laughed. "We can't tell you that. Then it wouldn't be a surprise."

  "Are you flirting with me? Trying to put the make on me?" Tex drained his cup. "Come on. Let's go."

  Waltz shook his head at Hook 'Em. She pinched his arm and nodded yes.

  Go somewhere else with Sadie and Tex? No way. "Wait. Tex, don't you have to get back to singing?"

  Tex shook his head. "They fired me. They fired me because I fell on the floor again. Can I help it if I have a balance problem?"

  Sadie leaned across the table and slapped him. "And why do you have a balance problem?"

  Tex hung his head. "I drink a little."

  Sadie slapped him again. "What else?"

  "I snort a little."

  "A little?"

  She slapped him again.

  "A lot."

  "Are you surprised they fired you?"

  "Fuck 'em. I'm going to Nashville."

  They walked out to the parking lot. Hook 'Em mounted her bike.

  Waltz ran his hand over the longhorn handlebars. "Tex is high and I think he's still pissed off at me. Sadie is crazy. I helped you get plenty of pictures. I'm going home."

  She grabbed his arm. "Don't go. This is big. I'm going to nail Sadie good. Help me."

  He shook his head.

  "You won't be able to get a cab here. This won't take long. I'll give you a ride home. I'll give you an extra half day of detecting. Come on."

  ***

  A blond Amazon strode to the stage, high-heeled boots covering her calves, a black leather bikini failing to cover the rest of her body. Her huge breasts, straining the bikini top, thrust through an open leather vest.

  A chain hung from her left shoulder and draped over her right hip, swaying in time with the jiggle of her breasts, a black velvet thing trailing her. She whished it back over her shoulder and snapped it forward. It reached the end of its arc and its tentacles popped.

  A whip.

  What the hell? It was a whip.

  The patrons went silent.

  Tex stepped forward and removed his hat, head bent. "I've been bad. I cheated on my baby."

  The Amazon expanded, like a toad, with anger. "You dare to interrupt me? I
know you've been bad. Turn around and bend over."

  Tex turned and bent, his white suit hanging from his gaunt frame.

  She cocked her whip and lashed his butt with a loud pop. "Now step back and shut up. You'll get more, you slime - but not until I'm ready."

  Tex remained bent over. "I got drunk every day. I cheated on my baby. I deserve more - now."

  She lashed his back, his butt, and his back. "Now shut up and get back or that's the last you'll get."

  He stepped back. She switched him again.

  She popped her whip over the heads of the crowd. "I'm Candy Bitch. I have a treat for you tonight. A preview of our special aerobics class for fans of bondage and discipline."

  The crowd applauded. Tex shouted. "Beat us, Baby."

  The Amazon popped her whip again. "Give me masochists here." She pointed her whip at three rows of ottomans. "Bend over the ottomans. You there." She lashed Waltz. The whip grabbed his arm. She pulled him to an ottoman. "Here. We haven't even started and you're being a bad boy. Do I have to pop you?" She popped Waltz's left forearm.

  It stung. Waltz rubbed his arm. "Hey! That hurt! Watch it."

  She popped the whip over his head.

  He ducked. Would a velvet whip leave a scar on your face? She could certainly take an eye out with it.

  She pointed it at the ottoman. "Here, bad boy, here. You're being very, very bad. Don't make me pop you again. Or is that what you want?" She popped it over his head.

  He ducked and headed for the door.

  Hook 'Em grabbed his arm and whispered. "Remember the pale-green room." She pushed him toward the ottoman.

  The pop on his arm still stung. He put his head down and wrapped his arms around it. He had to protect his face and eyes. He watched the Amazon through the crevice between his forearms.

  She popped her whip again. "Sadists, prepare your masochists." She strode about the room, popping her whip, and adjusting the positions of the masochists into a head-down, butt-up stance, the accredited attitude for the well-posed masochist.

  Bitch popped a plastic trash can with her whip. "Sadists, retrieve your cat-o-nine-tails from the bin of bludgeons."

  He knew what was coming next. The sadists were going to beat the masochists with their whips. Okay, no problem. They were velvet.

  Yeah, but they hurt.

  He stood and grabbed for Hook 'Em's whip. "I get to be the sadist."

  Hook 'Em held the whip behind her back and moved back a step. "No. I'm the sadist."

  He tried to reach around her. She grabbed him and whispered in his ear. "I can't take pictures if I'm the masochist."