by Jody Pardo
“I usually don't have anyone in my truck,” he said apologetically as he threw tools and various parts into the bed of the pickup.
“I'm sorry, you don't have to go out of your way for me. First my groceries, and now you have to clean your truck.”
“It's my pleasure; I don't think I've ever had a female in my truck,” Max said as he rubbed the side of his head and closed the door.
“So you are a friend of Aubrey’s? Where you from?"
"Dallas."
"How long’s it been since you visited last?”
“It's been a couple years. Last time I came up it was Christmas to New Year’s, after Aubrey’s wedding.”
“Well, this must be a nice change. You actually get to see Centerville in the sunshine when there is still some green and not so cold.”
“So what is there to do around here?”
“Do you ride?”
“Ride what?”
“Horses, silly.”
“No, I’m afraid not. Do you?”
“Yes, of course. It’s not my favorite thing to do, but yeah, I ride.”
“Are you any good?”
“Sweetie, I knew how to ride a horse before I could ride a bike.”
“Somehow, you don’t seem the type,” I said, gazing out the window at the endless fields of green.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he said with a scowl.
“I’m sorry, no offense.”
“Funny how whenever people say no offense it usually preempts something fucked up,” he said plainly.
“Just you’re so different than anyone I have seen so far. I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I like it. Makes me feel a little better.”
“Better about what?”
“I don’t know. I feel like an alien right about now.”
“An alien? You got antennae I don’t know about? You aren’t going to probe me, are you?” he joked.
“No, never mind. Forget I said anything.”
“Forgotten. If it makes you feel any better, for the record, I have lived here all my life and feel like an alien.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, and I had a feeling I had offended Max even if he chose not to admit it. I needed to keep my stupid mouth shut. Bill said I didn’t know when to shut up. I supposed it was my mouth that got me in trouble.
“How about motorcycles?” Max’s deep bass voice broke the quiet.
“What?” I tried to focus on his question.
“Motorcycles? Do you ride them?”
“Only once, and it scared the life out of me.”
“What was so scary about it?”
I pondered his question. “I think it was more the driver than the motorcycle, but I haven’t gotten on one since.
“Well, maybe I could change your opinion, with a different driver.”
Before I could ask him what he meant by his statement, we pulled into the Centerville Diner in town.
“Come on, let’s grab some coffee, maybe then I won’t have to ask questions twice,” he said as he climbed out the truck.
“What?” I asked just as the door closed. He jogged around the truck to my side as I was opening the door. “What did you say?”
He laughed. “Exactly, sweetie. Come on, I think we both need some coffee.”
We sat down at a corner booth in the diner. Max waited until I was seated in the booth before sitting down opposite me. Despite his appearance, his manners were on point, so converse to the punk facade. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the punk to emerge and him to throw his feet on the table or something. When the waitress came by, he ordered a carafe of coffee.
“So how long you staying?” he asked.
“I’m not.”
“The groceries say differently.”
“I have to eat.”
“People that stay a weekend usually eat out, they don’t stock the fridge with hummus and vegetables.”
He had a point. “I don’t know how long I am staying just yet. I have four months’ vacation.”
“Four months? Wow, that’s a long time; even teachers only get two months. What exactly do you do?”
“Well, I don’t get four months every year. I just haven’t taken a vacation in a long time. So, it kind of built up.”
“So you are just going to hang out and do nothing for four months?”
“I don’t know yet. I might get a part-time job or something to occupy my time. I haven’t really thought about it yet. Everything is still pretty fresh.”
“I can see that.” I bowed my head and played with my hair in front of my face. I forgot about my face. The bruising was fading a little bit, but it was an ugly shade of green. My lip was still cracked but healing. The lip wouldn’t have been such a big deal, lips crack all the time from chapping, but there was no denying I had a black eye.
“People walk into doors and horses and stuff all the time. I’m a hell of a klutz too,” he said lightheartedly. I was glad he didn’t make an issue of it as the waitress returned to our table.
“Just coffee today or you guys going to eat something?” she asked, holding her order pad in her hand.
Max turned to me with a raised eyebrow waiting for a response. My stomach growled in response.
“Yes, Diane, can we get some menus?” The waitress went behind the counter and returned with menus placing them on the table.
“I will give you two a minute,” she said and walked away.
“Order anything you like,” Max said as he opened the menu and held it out to me. I held the menu, and the names of the dishes were a bit overwhelming. Everything had a name but not very good descriptions besides “eggs, any style” and “choice of toast or biscuit” underneath it. Shit on a Shingle, FNG plate, A Full Hand, Hoecakes and Dippers, Should Have Stayed Home. Should have stayed home?
“What’s good?” I questioned.
“Depends on what you like. What do you like?”
“What’s ‘Should Have Stayed Home’?”
“That’s for picky people. Basically, you order what you want. Do you like sausage?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, your stomach is calling in orders so The Full Hand is two biscuits, sausage gravy—and it’s really good—scrambled eggs, and a haystack of hash browns. The Hoecakes and Dippers is a short stack of pancakes with link sausage.”
“That sounds good. What is this FNG?”
Max laughed. “You don’t want to order that. That’s the ‘fucking new guy’ plate. It’s for the soldiers. They throw whatever they have back there on a plate and pour syrup over it and serve it.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Not even a little bit. You probably won’t see one today, but come in here on a Saturday or Sunday morning when those guys are on leave and FNGs come flying out the kitchen. They don’t want to ask what all the menu items are, so they get the ‘special’.”
“That is hilarious. What are you getting?”
“I usually just grab a danish, but since I have company today, I will be getting a Full Hand with cheesy eggs.”
“I will follow your lead. No cheese for me, though.”
“Okay.” Max waved over to the waitress for her to return to the table.
“What can I get you guys?” she asked pulling her pen out of her apron.
“Can we get two Full Hands, one with cheesy eggs and one without.”
“You got it. What kind of juice? It comes with it.”
“Orange for me, please,” I said.
“Times two,” Max added.
“Coming right up.” She grabbed the menus and went to the kitchen window, placing our order ticket on the carousel for the cook.
“So, what do you do, Max? You mentioned cabinets.”
“I’m a general contractor. I build and fix stuff.”
“That’s cool. What else do you do besides build stuff and ride motorcycles?”
“There isn’t time to do much else. I keep pretty busy.”
The wai
tress came back fairly quickly with our loaded plates of food. It looked and smelled delicious and arrived before there was enough time for any awkward silence.
“Cheese for you,” she said, placing Max’s plate in front of him, “and no cheese for you. Enjoy!”
Max wasn’t kidding: the white gravy was creamy but loaded with little chunks of sausage in a puddle around two big fluffy biscuits with a mass of bright-yellow scrambled eggs.
“Well, dig in,” Max said before shoveling a forkful of cheesy eggs into his mouth.
Watching Max eat, I was mesmerized. Where he had great manners, he mixed all his food together without care and shoveled it into his mouth. I liked to taste my food separately, so I could appreciate it. His carefree spirit made me smile.
“What?” he mumbled.
“Huh?”
“What are you smiling about?” Max said as some gravy dipped down his chin.
“Thank you for breakfast.” I wiped the errant gravy from his chin with my thumb, and I felt a shock, like an electrical current passed from him to me. I must have built up static electricity. The compulsion to lick my thumb almost overcame me, but I caught myself and wiped it on my napkin.
I devoured my breakfast, and after Max paid the tab, we walked off our meals for a bit while he pointed out the shops in town. It was nice in town, and everything was on just a couple major roads. As I looked around at the small apartment complexes off Sheridan Road, living in town was doable even without a car.
I needed something to do to pass the quiet time at home, so we stopped in at the craft store next to the supermarket. I didn’t want anything bulky to carry around so I decided on a small cross stitch pattern. I picked up a small ring that fit neatly in my purse.
“What’s that?” Max asked.
“Cross stitch rings to hold the fabric tight.”
“You don’t look the type to do cross stitch”
“What is ‘the type’?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just picture old ladies doing that kind of stuff.”
“Well, an old lady taught me how. My grandmother used to do it while she watched TV. It’s relaxing.”
“It looks tedious.”
“I guess, but when I’m stressed, I have to focus on the stitches, and everything else just goes away for a little while.”
“I can understand that. That’s how it is riding my motorcycle. What are you going to make?”
“I thought I would make this horse pattern for Kelli,” I said as I showed him the pattern.
“I'm sure she will love it. I would like to see how it turns out.”
We made our way to the counter to check out. The short brunette clerk was flipping through the week’s celebrity gossip magazine at her register. Her apron was covered with crafty handmade flair, and her name was cross stitched directly onto the center panel. Mandy looked up from the week’s gossip magazine, and her face lit up as she picked up the horse pattern.
“Oh, this is a good one. I saw this one, but I am still working on a Batman one,” she said with zeal.
“I’m going to give it a whirl.”
“Well, if you don’t see what you want, we can order it. Not too many people stitch these days, but I think we have a pretty decent selection. That will be $6.58.”
I handed her the exact change as she placed my items in a small paper tote bag.
“Thanks, Mandy,” I said as she handed me my new project.
“See you soon!” she yelled from her register as Max and I walked out the store.
“I think you made her day,” Max said as he grabbed the bag from my hand and replaced it with his own.
“You think? I guess not much happens around here.”
“That’s about exciting as it gets on a Tuesday.” Max chuckled as he opened the door to his work truck. I climbed in and he closed the door behind me before coming around to the driver’s side, taking his place behind the wheel to drive me back to the ranch.
Suzie
Brewer’s Taps apparently was the place to be social. I figured I might get to know some of the people in town, besides Mike and Kelli, if I headed out there. Thursday was ladies’ night as far as I knew in bars across the nation. I doubted Centerville would be any different, but we would soon find out.
I didn't have much clothes, so I just put on my nicest V-neck T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and my sandals. It wasn't exactly going out attire, but it was the best I had. The nice part about Oklahoma was even in the summer it was cool in the evenings. I didn't mind the walk into town whereas back home I would've been sweaty and gross by the time I arrived at a bar of a similar distance walking.
The only thing that wasn't ideal? Long walks weren't meant for sandals. When I arrived at the Brewer’s Taps, I made a beeline for the bar. I ordered a draft beer and took my seat at an available stool in the middle of the bar. It was surprising there actually was a seat at the bar considering how busy it was in there. I sat facing outward with my back to the bar so I could see the happenings. The crowd was gathered by the pool tables. There must be some sort of competition, I thought to myself. Whoever wasn't gathered around watching, mingled on the small dance floor near the jukebox.
Loud hoots and hollers rang through the air, drowning out the jukebox as the victor dropped the eight-ball into the called pocket. The crowd quickly shifted from the tables to the bar as I found myself surrounded by bodies.
As I attempted to swivel back around to face the bar, I was met face-to-face with a tall, burly, blonde cowboy. He smelled like he bathed in manure, and his breath reeked of whiskey.
“Hey, pretty lady, I haven't seen you around here before,” he crooned, leaning over me too close in my personal space for comfort.
“It's my first time here,” I said in a raised voice over the music so I wouldn't have to be any closer than necessary.
“Well, in that case, let me buy you a drink. What's in the glass?”
“It's honey wheat ale.”
“If I'm buying, we’re drinking whiskey.” He whistled loudly to grab the barmaid’s attention and yelled his order of two shots.
“I'm not much of a whiskey drinker.”
“Well, tonight is a good day to start.”
This guy obviously wasn't getting the hint, so I would just have a drink and entertain him. When the waitress delivered our shots, he handed me mine and said, “To orgasms and broken headboards” and threw his shot back.
“Come on, sweet cheeks, drink up!” he said, grabbing my arm and lifting the glass to my face.
“Hands off my lady,” said the deep-throated voice from behind me.
“Says who?” the drunken cowboy replied.
“Says me, now back off. Let's go, Suzie.” Max took the shot out of my hand, placing it on the bar before he helped me hop down from my stool. He escorted me to a corner table at the end of the bar. I scooted in the chair against the wall he held out for me.
“Thank you for saving me from that guy.”
“What are you doing here? How did you get here?”
“I walked.”
“That's an awful long walk for a beer. You must have been really thirsty.”
“Actually, I was really bored. What all is there to do around here?”
“You found it. But you really need to be more careful.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Promise you won't smack me?”
With a raised eyebrow and piqued interest, I nodded.
“If you're not here serving beer, you're serving ass.”
I felt my jaw drop open in disbelief.
“If you don't believe me, go take a seat back at the bar and see how long it takes before you get your next drink.”
“I thought he was just being nice or drunk.”
“He was just pouring his way to your zipper.”
“So if that's all these guys want, what are you doing here?” He laughed at me and shook his head.
“You think I'm one of these guys? Look around, do I look like o
ne of them?”
“Not exactly, you don't have cowboy boots on, so what are you doing here?”
“My dad owns the place.”
“Oh.”
“So what are you drinking anyway?
“I had a honey wheat ale, it was pretty good, even though I only had like two sips.”
“I'll be right back.”
Max
I went behind the bar, grabbed my bottle, two shot glasses, and got Suzie another beer. The crowd was in full swing, and it was just a matter of time before things got messy. Thursday nights were always the same. By midnight, those who paid for that pussy were gone before their money went to waste and they slept through it all. Those that remained ended up in a fight scrapping for the leftovers in their beer-colored goggles. I wasn't working nor did I have any desire to the break up any fights so it was going to be an early night.
I got back to the table with our drinks and poured two shots.
“Will you have a drink with me?”
“Oh, boy. Like I told that jerk, I’m not a whiskey drinker.”
“Just one, then you can nurse your beer. You’re not driving.”
She let out a long sigh as she resigned that I was right.
“What’s the occasion?” she asked.
“Does there have to be a reason to have a drink with me?” She blushed and bowed her head a bit, biting her lip.
“No, I suppose not, but shouldn’t we toast to something then?”
“If it makes you feel better, sure.”
She raised her glass. “To new beginnings!” She tossed her shot back. I shot mine back behind her and let the amber liquid’s warmth soothe my throat. New beginnings. I wondered what that meant for her, and it also gave me hope. Suzie isn’t like these whores, I thought as I looked around the bar. I wasn’t sure what her story was, but she was living in my aunt’s guest house; that’s all I knew for sure.
“So, tell me about yourself, Suzie.”
“What do you want to know?”
“I dunno. Tell me something I don’t know.”
She weighed the question, rubbing her chin before answering, “My favorite color is green.”
“Really? That’s all you got. By the way, mine too, but seriously, that’s the best thing you could come up with?”