by Dixie Cash
Debbie Sue’s eyes popped wide and she grabbed for Edwina.
“Debbie Sue, wait—”
“Stranger danger! Stranger danger!” the little girl screamed. She began jumping up and down, shaking her hands anxiously. The mother looked on, confused and flustered.
Debbie Sue had met hundreds of fans at rodeos, many of them children. She had introduced hundreds of kids to Rocket Man. She had never been accused of child stealing. She felt Edwina’s hand on her arm and allowed herself to be taken by the elbow. Avery appeared to be unfazed, walking along beside them scribbling notes.
“What the hell happened back there?” Debbie Sue said, shaken. “Stranger danger? I’m no stranger.”
“Now you know why some animals kill their young,” Edwina replied, continuing to guide her.
“They learn that in school,” Avery said. “It’s part of child safety. That’s what they’re supposed to yell if they’re approached by a stranger.”
“But I’m not a stranger,” Debbie Sue said again. “Her mother was standing there. And I didn’t approach them. They approached me.”
Avery shrugged. “What can I say? They’re kids. That’s what they’re taught.”
“If you ask me,” Edwina said, “somebody ought to teach them some manners, too.”
“I wonder where Cal Jensen is,” Debbie Sue said, her attention returning to the traffic snarl. “Someone should be directing this traffic. The parade will never get started at this rate.”
“Did someone say something about directing traffic?”
Debbie Sue and Edwina turned toward the masculine voice.
“I wasn’t expecting a parade,” Sam Something said, “but it just so happens that in college I helped campus police direct traffic following football games.” His face broke into a white-toothed grin. “Watch this, ladies.”
“Show-off,” Edwina said.
“Yeah,” Debbie Sue added.
“What?” Avery asked, looking up from her note taking.
Stiff-arming and holding up his palm to stop the next car’s progress, Sam strode to the center of the street. With agility and grace, accompanied by a better-than-average impersonation of Mick Jagger’s strut and Elvis’s karate moves, he danced and sashayed. The drivers soon understood his purpose and followed his lead with cheers, honking horns and applause.
“Now that guy’s cute as they come,” Edwina said, joining in the laughing and clapping. She swung a look at Avery. “If I were a single woman living in the same area he does, I’d be putting him in my speed dial.”
“No, thanks,” Avery said. “Besides, can’t you see he’s gay?”
“Gay?” Debbie Sue said, stunned. “He’s just having a good time, acting the fool for the crowd.”
“I’m not talking about what he’s doing right now,” Avery said, adjusting her glasses and focusing her gaze on him. “In the café, I thought he looked familiar. And I’ve just now realized why.”
Edwina leaned forward, her head cocked at Avery, her eyes squinted. “You’ve seen him somewhere being gay?”
“Yes, I have.” The lady reporter set her chin as if her intelligence had been challenged. “He was leading a gay pride event in Dallas.”
“Unh-unh,” Edwina said, flopping her wrist at Avery. “No way.”
“Are you sure?” Debbie Sue asked, unable to mask her skepticism.
“Every year,” Avery went on, “in the Oak Lawn District of Dallas, they have a big Halloween parade to celebrate gay pride. I covered it for the paper and he was the leader. His face was covered with some kind of paint, but I’m sure it was him. I recognize those moves.”
“You recognize his moves?” Debbie Sue asked, awed.
“All I know is that I’ve seen him somewhere and that has to be it. I’ve run everything else through my mind and nothing else fits. That has to be it.”
Edwina’s long arms crossed over her flat chest. “Then I suppose you’d be surprised to know that gay dude hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since he spotted you.”
“You’d better listen,” Debbie Sue said. “When it comes to men, Ed’s an expert. She sees things no one else sees. She’s never wrong.”
Avery readjusted her purse. “I’m sorry to tarnish her record, but this time she’s wrong.”
“That’s just crazy.” Debbie Sue shoved her hand into her tight pocket and dug out a wad of bills. “Tell you what, Avery. Let’s put some money on it. I bet you five bucks he’s not gay. Ed can hold the money.”
Edwina held out an open palm. “I sure can. I’m biased in favor of Debbie Sue, but I can take care of the money.”
Debbie slapped her wad of bills on Edwina’s palm. “Here’s my five.”
“Okay, it’s a bet,” Avery said, rummaging through her hobo bag. After seconds of digging, she came up with a crinkled five. “Here you go, Edwina. I can use an extra five dollars.”
“So can I,” Debbie said, grinning.
“And now I have to go to work. I need some crowd shots.” Holding her camera aloft, Avery began weaving her way through the crowd.
Edwina chuckled mischievously. “And I can use this as a way to get her and Sam Something together.”
Debbie Sue huffed. “Ed, you take the cake.”
“Well, hell. Have you ever seen a better match? They’re both tall and beautiful, they’re both in the news business, they live in the same area. It’s perfect. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I first saw he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.”
“You just can’t leave matters of the heart alone, can you?”
“When you get down to brass tacks and push comes to shove, girlfriend, matters of the heart are all that matters. The heart, my friend, is a lonely hunter.”
Before Debbie Sue could dash Edwina’s plans, something caught her eye. “Oh, my God, would you look at that?”
“Shit,” Edwina said. “I’d say our fine sheriff is in a lot of trouble.”
They both continued to stare down the street at Billy Don, who had been backed into a corner, holding a bouquet of candy bars in his fist and wearing an expression of stark terror.
A flock of kids had pressed close to him, pointing and yelling. “Stranger danger! Stranger danger!”
“Fuck,” Debbie Sue muttered. “Where’s a real cop when you need one?”
chapter eleven
Edwina stood beside Debbie Sue and watched Sam make inroads into the hopelessly gridlocked traffic on Main Street with two thoughts in her mind. Number one, she intended to help Debbie Sue prove Avery wrong about Sam Something and number two, she had to figure out a way to get him and Avery together. Her reputation as a matchmaker was at stake.
“Now that the traffic’s cleared so my rig can move,” Debbie Sue said, “I need to get up the street to the parade lineup.”
Parade time was still half an hour away, but the cacophony of drums and the reverberation of band instruments tuning floated through the air. “Break a leg, girlfriend,” Edwina said. She immediately wished she hadn’t said that. She was always dubious of anything that occurred on horseback. She’d had one brutal experience on the back of a four-legged beast while trying to help Debbie Sue and Paige McBride capture the horse thief Avery had mentioned earlier. “But don’t hurt yourself,” she added quickly.
Debbie Sue started walking across the street, but stopped, turned back and yelled, “Where will you be watching from? I’ll be sure to wave.”
“The best spot in town,” Edwina yelled back and pointed to her right. Vic had parked his truck tractor up the street, giving a premium view of the middle of the street. She would have the highest viewpoint along the parade route.
DPS trooper Cal Jensen showed up, thank God, and took over traffic control. Sam jogged back to Edwina’s side, his cheeks reddened from the morning’s chill. “That was fun,” he said, looking into the crowd across the road. “I haven’t done it in a long time.”
Edwina glanced over at his profile. He was just too cute. Heck, he was more than cute; he
was handsome. Frowning, she pressed a finger against her chin. “Hmm, I’ll bet a young, good-looking guy could pick up a lot of dates directing traffic like that. Girls could hand you their phone numbers when they drive past. Or stuff them into your pockets.”
His cheeks stained to an even darker blush than the one the cool temperature had caused. He gave a low chuckle, but didn’t look her way. “Well, let’s just say Saturday nights were never dull during football season.”
No telling what that meant, Edwina thought, but she suspected he wasn’t inexperienced when it came to women. “Hmm,” she said again.
“That tall blonde who was with you earlier,” Sam said, his eyes still trained on the parade watchers, “the one with the camera. Is she with the Presley Foundation?”
Aha! Edwina thought smugly. She was right. Sam was too embarrassed to look her in the face and admit he did have an interest in Avery. Edwina felt a little burst of excitement and hoped she succeeded in feigning a perfectly innocent act. “No. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason.”
“Her name’s Avery.”
“Avery, huh? Unusual name. I’ve got the funniest feeling we know each other from somewhere.”
If Edwina had ever seen a man on a fishing trip, she was looking at one in Sam. “Avery Deaton. I suppose it’s possible you could know each other. She’s from Fort Worth. A reporter with the Star-Telegram.”
“No kidding? I knew they were sending someone. Hmm, maybe that’s why she seems familiar.”
Still fishing, Edwina determined. She hitched a hip to the side and began to slowly scratch the palm of her left hand, a habit she was unaware she had until Vic had pointed it out. When she tried to appear nonchalant, he had informed her, especially when lying or trying to pry information from somebody, she resorted to the palm scratch.
“That’s funny,” she said, “because she said the same thing about you. In fact, she thought she might have seen you leading a parade in Dallas. Said you had paint on your face, but she’s pretty sure it was you.”
His baby blues almost twinkled. “A parade? Ma’am, this is the first parade I’ve been to in years. In fact, the only parade I know about in Dallas is the one Neiman Marcus sponsors at Christmas.”
“It’s interesting that you feel you know her, don’t you think?” Edwina said. “Kind of like…psychic, you know?”
He grinned. He was even cuter when he grinned. “No, I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t believe in all that mumbo-jumbo.”
But I do, Edwina thought. She also thought how much she hated talking to a man’s profile. She needed to get his undivided attention. “Tell you what.” She flattened the air with her hand. “Let’s just bottom line this. I can see you’ve got an interest in Avery. Would that be as a fellow professional? You know, two reporters kicking back and trading war stories? Or would you have something more carnal in mind?”
He finally turned his head and looked at her across his shoulder. “Carnal?” He broke into a laugh. “Now that’s a word I don’t use very often. In fact, I can’t recall when I’ve ever used that word.”
Caution raised its ugly head. Now Edwina wasn’t quite sure which way this might be going, but at least he had a sense of humor. “Carnal is a perfectly good word. It covers a lot of ground in short order.”
His laughter quelled and he looked at her intently. “You say what you think, don’t you?”
Edwina lifted her shoulders in a shrug.
“Ma’am, I’m surrounded by reporters all day long. I’ve traded war stories until I’ve started making them up just to stay in the game, if that tells you anything.”
Edwina had been a hairdresser for more than twenty years. She had listened to more confessions than a priest. She had mended more broken hearts than a cardiologist. And she had matched more lonely souls than an Internet dating service. “So you’re saying your interest in Avery would be more on the carnal side?”
He angled a sly look at her. “I’m not saying anything at all.”
Doubt vanished. Edwina had him pegged. She was in control. And a way to get him and Avery together was coming to her. Pleased with herself, she slapped her thigh and whooped. “I knew it. I just knew it.”
“Wait a minute. What—?”
“Listen, besides being transparent, you seem like a fun-lovin’ kind of guy. Wanna help me play a little joke on my old friend Debbie Sue and my new friend Avery?”
Sam shrugged and continued to look at her cautiously. “Maybe. I like a good joke as much as anyone.”
“Okay, here’s the deal.” Edwina spent the next few minutes explaining the bet Debbie Sue and Avery had made.
At the end of her explanation, Sam huffed. He was no longer smiling. “I can’t believe it. That hot-looking blonde thinks I’m gay? That I marched in a gay parade?” He jutted his chin out and splayed his hands on his chest. “Ma’am, you’re breaking my heart. There’s not a gay bone in my body. I don’t even know any gay people. Well, maybe I do, but that wouldn’t make me gay. So what do you want me to do?”
“Don’t call me ‘ma’am.’ You call old women ‘ma’am.’ Just listen. Since Debbie Sue has made the bet, she’ll be doing her damnedest to find out which side of the base you bat from. In a sneaky way, of course. Just play along and make her think she’s losing the bet.”
“You want me to pretend to be gay.”
“Just when you’re around Debbie Sue.”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “It’s only a five-dollar bet. What’s the big deal? I don’t get it.”
“It’s like this, Sam. You don’t know Debbie Sue, but I do. It’s not the five dollars. It’s her pride. And believe you me, with Debbie Sue Overstreet, you can’t put a price on that.”
Debbie Sue parked her pickup and horse trailer behind the high-school gym, unloaded Rocket Man, set her fancy hat on her head and mounted up. The weather was perfect—sunny and cool, almost chilly, with no wind. Eventually the temperature would climb to the high sixties. Parade watchers had already lined the entire length of the only street in town that had a red light, and smiling faces were visible everywhere. The sea of onlookers began climbing onto the tops of cars or strategically placing folding chairs along the street. Fathers hoisted smaller children to their shoulders. This was a great day for Salt Lick.
She started toward her place in the rear of the parade. She had been in dozens of parades—most of her life, in fact. Because she was on horseback, her position was always toward the end of the column. But at least today she would be riding directly behind the flag bearers and leading rather than following the various mounted sheriffs’ posses that had come with their horses from half a dozen of the neighboring small towns.
She passed the Shriners, who were riding their miniature scooters in circles. She passed homemade floats brought by fan clubs from all around West Texas. Soon she came to the float entered by the Peaceful Oasis, the residence of Debbie Sue’s favorite octogenarian, Maudeen Wiley. Just this week, Debbie Sue had colored Maudeen’s hair a deep copper for this occasion.
She saw Maudeen and several of her friends attempting to climb onto a flatbed truck trailer decorated to look like a fifties soda shop.
They were all dressed in circular poodle skirts and sweaters and some even wore black-and-white oxfords. A banner across the top of the float expressed it all:
WE KNEW ELVIS BEFORE HE WAS THE KING!
Damn, I guess they did, Debbie Sue thought. Maudeen had told her that Texas had been a major touring spot for Elvis in his early years. He had played in hundreds of high-school auditoriums and community halls. Those who saw him never forgot it.
She reined Rocket Man to a stop and watched, imagining that for these particular parade members, the years had fallen away for a short time and they were young again, looking forward to some time with their sweethearts instead of visits from a home health nurse.
Elvis tunes blared from an old jukebox on one end of the trailer and a couple of the senior citizens were da
ncing. Vic, who would be driving the John Deere tractor that was hooked to the trailer, was helping the women climb aboard and arrange themselves.
“Hey, Debbie Sue,” he yelled, waving. He gave her a thumbs-up.
“Hey, yourself,” she yelled, waving back. She noticed Maudeen had a bright green scarf around her neck, a perfect contrast to her bright red hair. She guided Rocket Man over to where Maudeen stood beside the float. “You look great, Maudeen. Love the scarf. You must’ve bought it for the parade.”
“Why, thank you, darlin’. It’s just an old thing I’ve had for years.”
“Gotta go,” Debbie Sue said, grinning and touching her hat brim. “Don’t want them to start without me.”
She soon came to the fancy-dressed bands from the four Odessa and Midland high schools. Their cute baton twirlers were gathered in groups, tossing and twirling batons and limbering up. The four schools provided more than a thousand marchers. In this land of Friday nights dominated by high-school football, if you were a kid, you were either on the team or in the band.
Salt Lick High School might have only a six-man football team, but it had a band, sort of. All seventeen members, she noticed, were dressed in black. Each of them, boys and girls alike, had hair moussed into a pompadour style. On their faces, they wore gold wraparound sunglasses with attached muttonchop sideburns. They were practicing Elvis gyrations. Debbie Sue’s chest filled with pride. This was her hometown, doing its best.
As she and Rocket Man walked past, they called out to her and her horse. “Y’all look too cool,” she yelled back at them.
Soon she reached her place and the parade began.
Edwina had invited Sam to watch the parade with her from Vic’s truck tractor. They sat comfortably in the plush bucket seats with a bird’s-eye view of everything.
“Your husband’s a truck driver?” Sam said. “Someone told me he was a retired navy SEAL.”
“Yep, he’s that too. He knows three hundred ways to kill you quickly and quietly.”