Done Rubbed Out

by Jeffery Craig

  Reightman was pleased to hear the crowd cheer and shout good naturedly at the float occupants, and jostle to catch the thrown condoms. Occasionally, one of the foil wrapped condoms hit the back of Dameron’s head as the parade moved down the street. She suspected, but wasn’t totally sure they were being thrown by Dameron’s liberal opponent, who was positioned in the front of the drag queen’s festive ride.

  A split second later, an altercation broke out a short distance away and Reightman and Jackson hurried to step into the fray. As they parted the crowd to make their way to the disturbance, Jackson asked in a loud voice “What are the odds of this, Reightman?”

  Sprawled out on the ground was the familiar and unwelcomed sight of former Officer Helliman, with his hands held up to a bleeding nose and a busted lip. Standing in front of him was a good looking, busty redhead, wearing a questionable example of cowgirl attire. Reightman recognized it as coming from the same shop as the prom dresses. Aligned by the redhead’s side were several other young women, dressed in similar fashion.

  “What seems to be the problem here?” Jackson asked. Reightman already had a good idea of what the problem was as she looked to Helliman sprawled on the ground.

  “That bitch hit me!” Helliman answered, shaking his head in disbelief that anyone would dare.

  “He started it by calling my brother a goddamned fucking cock-sucking fag,” the redhead said defiantly. “And then the tubby-assed, redneck dickwad said my brother should be strung up by his heels and beaten to death!”

  “Well, well, well, Helliman,” Reightman drawled, “I can see you are still spreading love and goodwill all around you.”

  “You’re a fuckin’ bitch, Reightman,” Helliman retorted as he struggled to rise to his feet. “Arrest her!” he demanded, pointing an angry finger at the redhead.

  “For what?”

  “For assaulting an officer!”

  Reightman searched the areas with her eyes and turned back toward him. “I don’t see an injured police officer, Helliman. I just see you.”

  Helliman’s eyes narrowed in rage and he launched himself toward her. As he neared, she braced herself for the impact and readied her fists. He suddenly stumbled and fell, tripped by a dainty, pointed-toed cowboy boot. Helliman gave an astonished gasp and then shrieked as he landed face down, adding additional damage to his bleeding nose.

  Two uniformed officer’s reached them through crowd. They took a look at the man on the ground, and one of them turned to Reightman. “Need any help, ma’am?”

  “I don’t think she does, Jarvis,” Jackson offered from her side. “Looks like the trouble’s over.” As the other officer helped Helliman to his feet, Jackson added, “I think it’d best for you to escort Helliman away from here. Make sure he leaves. We don’t want any more trouble.”

  “Yes sir,” Jarvis replied, as the other officer took hold of Helliman’s arm.

  Once he’d been led away, Reightman turned to the redhead. “I know he insulted your brother by calling him those names, miss, but you probably shouldn’t go around hitting people.”

  The young woman looked a little shame-faced as she turned to Reightman. “He didn’t make me mad with the names he called my brother. Gary is a fuckin’ cock-sucking fag and he’s damn proud of it! It was when the stupid ass-wipe said he needed to be beaten to death that I lost my temper and decked him.”

  “I’d say you were justified then, miss,” Jackson commented. “But please, don’t start another incident today. I’d hate to have to take you in for assaulting folks during a parade.”

  The rest of the morning passed uneventfully and around lunchtime, Reightman and Jackson stopped to grab something to eat from an enterprising street vendor. “Where are we supposed to be next, Sam?” she asked as she wiped mustard from her chin. She knew Jackson had already memorized their schedule for the day.

  “Founder’s Park – one o’clock,” he mumbled through his chili-dog.

  “If I tried to eat that, I’d be wearing about half the chili on my blouse.” Jackson didn’t have a single spot on his light blue shirt. She watched as he carefully wiped his hands on a napkin and tossed it into a bin. “Ready?” he asked.

  “Might as well be,” she shrugged as she quickly finished her own hot-dog. “What’s happening at Founder’s Park?”

  He shot her a sideways glace before answering “Dameron’s giving a speech.”

  “Great.”

  “I thought that’d make your day.” Jackson chuckled as they made their way on foot to the park a few blocks over.

  “Did you see him getting hit in the back of the head with the flying condoms?” Reightman asked, savoring the memory of the foil-wrapped projectiles finding their target. “I was surprised so many of them actually hit.”

  “Not me. The guy on the float was aiming at the Councilman’s bald spot.”

  Reightman snorted loudly. “I wonder how much horse crap the Councilman will unload today.”

  Jackson seldom commented on city politics or the major players. To her surprise, he laughed. “Probably a whole stable full,” he answered, in a thoroughly disgusted tone.

  “Jackson, I’m surprised at you. You never comment on the bigwigs in town or any of the city’s brass.”

  “In this case, I’ll make an exception,” he said as they turned the block. “When it stinks – it really stinks!”

  They found places on the outer edge of the crowd that had gathered to listen to the speech. A small platform was erected near the center of the park and the set-up included a podium with microphone. A few portable speakers where mounted on stands near each side of raised area. Along with Dameron’s usual supporters, Reightman saw a few people huddled together a few feet from her and Sam. She noticed several holding protest signs. Her favorite was the one that played off of Dameron’s campaign slogan: “Vote for Dameron and HE will lead the way – right back to the dark ages”.

  “You think this’ll get ugly, Jackson?” Reightman pointed out the protestors standing to the right of them. “Looks like some unexpected citizens have turned out for the Councilman’s speech.”

  “I don’t think that group’s going to give anyone any problems, although Dameron might not be exactly thrilled to see them. However,” he tilted his head toward the far side of the crowd, “I am worried about the group just now making their way over to join the fun.”

  Reightman looked the direction her partner indicated and saw a frothy swirl of pink netting approach the crowd, along with the briefly attired body builders. The oiled men had sensibly added some footwear to their ensemble. “Those black leather lace-up work boots look very sturdy.” Several of the near-naked men picked up one gowned, be-wigged, and jeweled member of the party and carried her to the front of the crowd. The hunks positioned their delighted burden right in front of the podium and its attached campaign poster.

  “Oh…my…God.” She calculated the chances for mayhem and grabbed Jackson’s arm. “Come on, Sam! We need to get closer to the front. This may get real ugly.”

  They moved through the closely packed people, apologizing and occasionally discreetly flashing their badges. Two or three minutes later they were near the front of the crowd and about six feet from the potential trouble spot.

  They didn’t have to wait long before a commotion at the back of the crowd signaled Dameron’s arrival. Reightman and Jackson observed the Councilman’s progress through the crowd, ready to intervene if needed. Dameron was followed by the Reverend Ephraim Shaw, who looked as if he had just stepped away from a funeral in his expensively tailored black suit. Dameron hesitated when he spotted the front row spectators, but lifted his chin and stepped up to the podium. Reverend Sawyer took a position slightly to his right, his thin, pale face stoic in the afternoon sun. To Reightman’s surprise, Chief Kelly also joined the two men on the platform, although he stood slightly back from them. Jackson eyes widened, and then narrowed in speculation when he also recognized Kelly.

  Dameron took a moment to gaz
e out into the crowd. She knew the exact moment he spotted the protest signs – now held aloft in the back. He glanced quickly at the Reverend, and then cleared his throat.

  “He’s kind of cute,” the drag queen in front commented. “I just love, love, love, all that dark red hair!” Then sotto voice, she added, “It’s a shame how thin it’s getting on top. By Easter he’ll look like an egg wearing red fringe!” A few folks in the crowd laughed at the sharply pointed comments. Reightman saw Dameron flush and noticed he had to make a visible effort not to lift his hand to his head. He cleared his throat again.

  As he started to speak, one of the muscled escorts broke in, right on queue. “Oh honey! Bald men are sexy! All that smooth skin gives me something to play with when they’re on their knees in front of me.” The laughter was louder this time, although to be fair, there were a few shocked gasps.

  The Reverend stepped forward and leaned into the microphone. “Let’s all welcome Councilman Sutton Dameron,” he instructed and brought his hands together to led a scattering of applause. When the clapping died down – after a shorter time than he’d hoped – Dameron lifted his arms and leaned into the microphone. “Fellow citizens, thank you for joining me on this, the first day of our glorious Labor Day celebrations. I won’t take too much of your time today as I know you are all anxious to attend the various entertainments the city has planned for the weekend. However, there are a few things I thought it was important for me to share with you today.”

  The crowd waited expectantly for him to continue. “As all of you are by now aware, the recent murder that occurred in this beautiful city has been solved, thanks to the efforts of Chief Ernest Kelly and his responsive team. Let’s show our appreciation to our City Police Chief.” Dameron turned and motioned Kelly to the front of the platform when he shook hands with the politician, while those gathered applauded politely.

  “Sister, I could eat that one up like good cake!” Reightman heard from the front of the crowd. “You know I do love me a man in uniform.” She couldn’t interpret the expression on the Chief’s face as he stepped back to his spot at the back of the small stage.

  “Although the horrific crime has been solved, and the murderer is now known to have been a degenerate and depraved homosexual,” Dameron shook his head sadly at this revelation, “I’m sad to report the business where this terrible event occurred is now planning to reopen, instead of quietly closing for good in respect for the soul slain on its premises. But I’ve come to realize that men and women who share the perverted lifestyle of the owner, and indeed, of the poor man butchered inside the very walls of that business, have no respect for the proper behavior. Soon those doors will be open again, and others of similar persuasion may enter the doors and disrobe for the pleasure of having strange hands linger on their flesh.”

  “What’s he talking about?” one of the oiled men asked.

  “Toby’s spa. You know – where Geri was killed,” answered a member of the entourage.

  Dameron was momentarily distracted by the question and answer session taking place right under his nose. With effort, he regained his focus, and increased the volume of his voice. “We must end this type of behavior!” He exclaimed as he brought his hands down sharply on to the podium. “We must remove all temptations of this kind for the sake of all the good people of our city! We must band together to make sure that these types of businesses and degenerate people cannot flourish among us! We must use every means at our disposal to –”

  “What’s it to you anyway?” shouted a protester from the back. “Who made you our morality police, Dameron?”

  Dameron smiled; delighted he’d been given the perfect opening for his next agenda item. “I serve the will of the people who put me in this office, and you, the people who will bring me back for another term to finish the work I’ve started! By popular vote, I was made a custodian of this city and by the vote I’ll return for another term and prove I can continue to make a difference. I Will Lead the Way!”

  “If you’re a custodian, why don’t you improve the city’s trash pick-up service and make sure all of the potholes on our roads are filled?” shouted a woman from the other side of the crowd.

  “I hear your concerns,” Dameron assured the woman. “And I pledge to work –”

  “Your pledges aren’t worth a damn, Sutton! I voted for you last time because you convinced me you were a fair and tolerant man and understood how difficult it was to make a living here as a business owner. You didn’t do a damn thing for me over the last few years! You just changed your position and your politics every time the wind blew!”

  Reightman couldn’t identify where the voice originated, but tensed as she felt the mood of the crowd start to change.

  Dameron tried valiantly to bring the assemblage back under control so he could continue his planned remarks. “I know many of you are frustrated by the city’s complicated and sometimes acrimonious governmental process. And all of us, as elected officials, must take responsibility for what doesn’t work. Those issues can and will be addressed. I know how important these things are to each of you. Yet many of my supporters have shared with me their serious concerns about the degradation of the moral standards within the city, and many more have expressed their disgust and outrage at the recently adopted city policy that forbids us to single out the deviants among us.”

  “What gives you the right to judge anyone, Dameron?” a man from the crowd asked in a loud but reasonable voice.

  “Why sir, the bible does. It says plainly in the Book of Leviticus such behavior is an abomination in the eyes of God,” Dameron declaimed. “The Bible is the word of God and as such, must govern our behaviors and actions.”

  “Dameron, I was with you up to now because I agreed with your conservative approach to taxes and city government,” a matronly lady said loudly from the second row back, “but the Book of Leviticus also says not to eat shrimp or wear blended fabrics – and I do love a good plate of shrimp. It’s all outdated and foolish. Besides, the New Testament trumps the old. You should keep in mind the good book also says, “Thou shalt not judge”, but that’s exactly what you and those up there on the stage with you are doing. I could believe that from Sawyer – he’s always had a stick up his butt! But I must say, seeing our Chief of Police standing up there just breaks my heart!”

  “You tell him, sister!” “Hear! Hear!” “This is not Nazi Germany!” Assorted people chimed in loudly after the lady finished, and they continued to speak their minds for a considerable time. Reightman noticed Kelly wasn’t looking so comfortable in his place on the platform now.

  Jackson comment quietly from her side, “Looks like some of the dyed-in-the-wool supporters are slipping away.”

  Reverend Sawyer moved to the mic to try to salvage the situation. Before he could speak, another voice near the front rang out, “You can save your breath, Sawyer. My daddy told me to never trust a man wearing a five hundred dollar suit and the one you have on today must have cost double that!” The Reverend surveyed the crowd for a moment with narrowed contemptuous eyes before pressing his thin lips together and speaking into Dameron’s ear. The Councilman listened intently and his own lip compressed in annoyance. He started to say something to Sawyer, but the Reverend abruptly turned his back and stepped off of the back of the platform. Reightman could see him talking furiously into his phone as he circled around the crowd and stalked away.

  Sutton Dameron looked out to the crowd, his face pinched with anger. He smoothed his tie down the front of his shirt as he tried to think of what he could say to salvage the situation.

  “Sutton, honey!” one of the drag queens shouted. “Somebody needs to do a better job of picking out your clothes. That yellow tie is so last year!”

  The crowd laughed again and began to disperse, leaving Kelly and Dameron standing alone on the platform. Sutton turned to Kelly, hoping to share his frustration with his new supporter. He approached Kelly, but the Chief held up his hand and shook his head, before walk
ing right past the shocked City Councilman without another look.

  “Well doesn’t that beat it all to hell?

  “What do you mean, Sam?” Reightman asked distractedly as she tried to figure out the meaning behind what she’d just witnessed.

  “I never thought I’d see the day when both Councilman Sutton Dameron and the almighty Reverend Ephraim Sawyer were run out of a park by a bunch of drag queens, almost nekkid men, and a handful of left-wing protestors.” He turned to her with his eyes wide with amazement.

  Reightman grinned. “It turned out to be a pretty good day, huh, Jackson.”

  “One of the best I can remember in a long while.”

  Reightman and Jackson walked past a small group of men beginning to take down the podium. As they headed toward their cars, Reightman stopped and picked up something from the grass.

  “What’s that, Melba?” Sam asked.

  She held up a small piece of pink prom dress netting for him to see. “It’s just a little memento of the day, Sam. I think I’ll keep it to remind myself the most unexpected things can turn the situation around, at least temporarily.” She folded the delicate wisp of fabric and put it carefully in her pocket, and then joined her partner to finish their walk back to their cars through the shady and now empty park.

  ♦♦♦

  On Sunday, Melba enjoyed her morning, and made herself a decadent breakfast of fried bacon and waffles – something she rarely indulged in. She changed into a pair of jeans and a loose cotton shirt and pulled her hair up under a hat.