Dancing Up the Ladder

by Loy Holder

  “What transpired on March eleven, nineteen sixty-eight?”

  “I was desperate to see my kids, so I borrowed my roommate’s truck and picked them up. I figured camping would work. But once we got there, they wanted to go home. It felt like a knife was twisting in my gut.”

  “What happened then?”

  “The hate I saw in their eyes was suffocating. I needed air so I went for a walk on the beach.”

  “Mr. Harmon, the deputies testified yesterday that they found you passed out on the sand and that you were still drunk when you were booked at the jail. Can you explain that?”

  “I drank beer while I put up the tent, but I was fine until my kids begged to leave. That told me I’d lost them, so I blew it, and grabbed some high-octane booze. I’d been winning with the demons and cutting back on the booze until then.”

  “Explain ‘the demons,’ Mr. Harmon.”

  Ron’s chin dropped to his chest, and his shoulders hunched. His voice quivered as he answered, “I’ve fought them all my life. They whisper or scream at me, and I have to listen. Sometimes I do what they say.”

  Roscoe frowned. “What do they say?”

  He straightened and locked eyes with Roscoe. “That my wife is neglecting my kids and needs to be punished, and that I’m stupid and can’t learn.…It’s always bad. I could go on and on. I just wish they’d shut up.”

  “Why haven’t you asked for help?”

  “Man, you gotta be kidding.” Ron shook his head and frowned. “I hate shrinks.”

  “Mr. Harmon, what do you want the jury to know?”

  Ron faced the jurors. “Ladies and gentlemen, I didn’t kidnap my kids. I just wanted to see them, and I’m glad I took them. Now everyone knows their mother would rather dance half-naked in a bar than be with them.” Ron smirked, pleased with himself, and eyed Roscoe. “That’s all I got to say.”

  Roscoe nodded at Ron and then looked up at the judge. “I have no further questions, Your Honor. The defense rests.”

  Judge Cornelius turned to Peter. “Does the prosecution wish to cross-examine?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Peter stood, and Liz scooted to the edge of her seat, not wanting to miss a word. Peter approached the witness and cleared his throat. “Mr. Harmon, remember that you are under oath to tell the truth and perjury is a felony.”

  “I know,” Ron muttered.

  “Mr. Harmon, did you remove the screen from the bedroom window and enter the James house through that window?”

  “Yeah.” Ron stiffened. “How else was I gonna get in?”

  “Mr. Harmon, once you got into the bedroom with your children, how were they?”

  Ron frowned. “They were sleeping. I woke them up, and they were happy to see me.”

  “Were they clean and healthy?”

  “I’m no doctor.” Ron rubbed his palms together, and Liz could tell Peter was getting to him. She stifled a cheer for her attorney.

  Peter pressed on. “Mr. Harmon, when you took your children, did you know you violated a restraining order and the child visitation stipulation in your interlocutory decree?”

  “Yeah,” Ron snarled.

  Roscoe shouted, “Badgering the witness, Your Honor. Prosecution is obviously questioning my client in an antagonizing manner.”

  Judge Cornelius frowned. “No, Mr. Bettancourt. The prosecution has allowed your client to answer the questions, therefore it is not badgering. Prosecution, continue.”

  “Mr. Harmon, you testified that you took your kids because you wanted to see them.” Peter moved closer to Ron. “Isn’t it true that the real reason you took your children was to punish Liz Harmon for leaving you and dancing in a bar?”

  In one fluid movement, Ron leaped from his chair. “I’m done with your fucking questions.” Ron lunged at Peter and hit him in the jaw with his fist, knocking him to the floor. Ron stood over Peter and bellowed, “I’m not guilty,” before the bailiff and two deputies could cuff him and pull him away.

  Liz remained seated. She was worried about Peter, who was still lying on the floor, but she felt an odd sense of hope.

  * * *

  Chapter thirty-five

  Liz watched as Ron was escorted out of the courtroom. Then the judge said, “Mr. Sandhill, that was quite a blow you took, and it’s almost lunchtime. Will you be all right to continue after the lunch recess?”

  Peter was struggling to stand. “Yes, Your Honor. I’ll be able to continue then.”

  “Good.” The judge smiled at Peter and faced the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will break early for lunch and reconvene at one thirty this afternoon.” He motioned to Roscoe and Peter, saying, “My chambers, now.”

  There was plenty of time for Liz to grab a quick sandwich, so she waited in the hall to talk to Peter. When he came through the door, he wore a crooked grin. “Hi. How’re you doing?”

  “Damn, Peter.” Liz frowned at his jaw. “The question is, how are you doing? Your jaw looks bad. Did that punch in your jaw get Ron a guilty verdict?”

  “I think it got us some points. You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Oh, I’m surviving.” Crap, just points? That’s not good. There goes my shred of hope. “You said the closing statements and verdict are later this afternoon. How long will they take? I can’t miss work.”

  Peter placed his hands on her shoulders. “Here’s what I want you to do. Get outta here, and keep the faith. I feel good about how things went this morning. No telling how long the closing statements will take or when we’ll get a verdict. I’ll call you at work later this evening, and Monday we should have a sentencing date. OK?”

  Reluctant to leave, Liz said, “All right, but call me right away. If Ron walks, my life will be hell. I’m dying, here.”

  “I’ll call you as soon as I know something.” Peter sounded sincere. “I promise. Now go.”

  Liz sped home from the courtroom, unsure of how she was going to get through the rest of the day. Josie had left her a note that she’d taken the children to the park, and Liz spent the entire afternoon alone, hoping Peter would call. She was a jittery mess as she drove to the Jet.

  When she pulled into the Jet parking lot, her usual spot was gone. She squeezed into the last space left. Looks like one of those busy nights. Good, less time to think. She walked into the Jet and had to ease her way through the crowd. Sam was slammed in the kitchen, and Liz jumped in to help. She was delivering a pizza when she tripped over a customer’s foot. The pizza slid off the tray and landed a few feet from where she was sprawled in tears on the floor.

  Sam heard the commotion and got there after the customer had helped Liz to her feet. Sam frowned. “Ouch! Looks like you skinned your knee.” She tugged on Liz’s arm. “Come on back to the kitchen.” Then Sam smiled at the customer. “Was that your pizza?”

  The guy laughed. “Yeah, but I’m in no hurry. Just bring me another one.”

  Liz followed Sam to the kitchen and doctored her own knee while Sam put another pizza in the oven. Sam turned and shook her head. “OK, you’re a mess. What’s up?”

  It was a fair question, and Sam deserved an explanation. “Remember, when I told you that Ron took my kids?”

  Eyes as wide as a pancakes, Sam said, “Yeah. Don’t tell me he’s got ’em again?”

  “No. He’s been in jail, and today his trial ended. I’m waiting for a phone call on the verdict. If Ron gets off, my life won’t be worth living.”

  “How could he possibly get off?”

  “Basically, if the jury sides with Ron. The defense said I’m an absentee parent and Ron was just checking on his children’s welfare.”

  Sam frowned. “Absentee parent? That’s just wrong!”

  “In a way, they’re right. Look how many hours I work.”

  “Well, you’re just trying to make life better for your children. Can I help?”

  Liz turned toward the bar. “Looks like we got new customers. Yeah, just take care of the clientele, answer the phone, and call me if it’s
Peter Sandhill. I’m gonna go dance off this bad energy.”

  Sam giggled. “You’re gonna dance with that big old bandage?”

  Liz couldn’t help but laugh at the funny face Sam made. “Yep. Watch me.”

  Her audience was rowdy, and she loved it. All she had to do was smile, lose herself in the music, and move her body to the beat. An hour on the stage soothed her jangled nerves, and she was ready for a break. As she stepped off the stage, she saw Charlie and went to her table. “Hey, Charlie,” she said with a chuckle. “I see you survived Roscoe. You want something to eat?”

  Charlie grinned. “Yeah, he’s an annoying little man. I’ll take a pepperoni and a Coke. Can you join me?”

  “Sure. I’ve got a story for you. I’ll be back in a flash.” She turned toward the kitchen and then glanced back at Charlie with a smile. “Oh, the pizza’s on me.” Charlie mouthed a “Thank you” as Liz disappeared into the kitchen.

  When Liz came back with the pizza, Charlie chuckled and pointed at her knee. “Is that the story?”

  She laughed as she set the pizza and drinks on the table. After she settled in her chair, she reached for a slice of pepperoni and shook her head. “Nah, I tripped over a customer’s foot a few minutes ago, no big deal.”

  Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s a big bandage for a minor scratch. OK, so tell me your story,” Charlie said as she took a bite of pizza.

  Liz took another slice of pizza and then gave Charlie the details about Ron hitting her attorney in the courtroom. Charlie listened as though it were old news. When Liz was finished, Charlie shook her head and said, “The only thing that surprises me is that the defense attorney put Ron on the stand. My guess is that he just lost the case, and Ron’s going to prison.” Charlie looked down at her hands while she mutilated a napkin and then tossed it on the tray. “I hate to say it, but jail’s not the best place for my brother.”

  “You look upset. Can he get psychiatric care in prison?” Liz asked with a sympathetic look, as she watched Charlie struggle to smile.

  “I doubt it. Yeah, I’m upset a little. He needs a shrink and some meds.” Charlie threw up her hands. “Ah, hell, let’s change the subject. None of Ron’s problems are your fault. Did Roscoe cross-examine you?”

  Liz repeated the questions Roscoe had asked her on the witness stand, and Charlie shook her head. “What a bastard. I get why you’re working so many hours. That’s what it takes if you don’t want a handout. But I just got an idea.”

  “What?” Liz was curious.

  “Well, I’ve been selling real estate for quite a while, and I passed the broker’s exam a few months ago. I’ve opened my own real-estate office, and I need licensed sales people. How would you like to come work for me?”

  “You mean quit dancing?” Liz raised an eyebrow. “I’d have to get the license first, right?”

  Charlie nodded. “Yes.”

  Liz wrinkled her nose and nodded. “Well, I’m interested. I can’t dance forever. I’m almost too old now.”

  “You’re smart. You could use my book to study, take the exam, and come work for me. What do you think?”

  “Right now, I’m worried about the trial outcome, but your idea sounds intriguing. I’ll get back to you after the verdict, OK?”

  “Sure, take your time.” Charlie handed Liz a card. “Here. If you decide you want to do it, call my office. If I’m not there, just leave a message.” She looked at her watch. “Yikes, I’ve got to meet a client in half an hour.”

  Liz stood with Charlie and said, “Thanks for the offer. I’ll call you soon.” They hugged, said their good-byes, and Liz went back to work.

  Around eight, the phone rang again. Liz was on her way to the jukebox to punch in some more songs. Sam answered and held up the phone. “Liz, phone call.”

  Liz sprinted to the phone. “Hello?” She was breathless with anticipation.

  “Hi, Liz. It’s Peter. The verdict is in. Guilty on all counts. There’ll be a sentencing hearing sometime next week. What’d I tell you. Good news, right?”

  Relief overwhelmed Liz, and she put her hand on the bar to steady herself. Her knees threatened to buckle, and she had to catch her breath for a moment. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that. Thanks for all you’ve done.”

  “Well, it’s not quite over yet. There’s still the sentencing hearing. Do you want to be there for that?”

  “No. I’ve seen all of Ron I can stand. Can you just call me and let me know how it went?”

  “Sure. It’ll probably be Tuesday or Wednesday of next week. Are you going to be OK now?”

  “Yes. I’m much better already. Thanks again, Peter.”

  Liz went back to dancing with a clear head. She felt lighter, as if a one-hundred-pound backpack had been removed from her back. When the phone rang again, close to closing, her heart skipped a beat again, but for a positive reason. Maybe it was Bill. She answered, “The Jet, good evening.”

  “Hello, pretty lady. How are you?”

  “Fantastic, and hearing that sexy voice of yours makes me feel even better.”

  “I can almost see that beautiful smile in your voice. Did Ron get a guilty verdict?

  “Yep. I’ve been doing a happy dance. So what’s new with you?”

  “Joyce’s funeral is set for next Thursday, and I have a ton of things to do before then, so I won’t be in Las Vegas this Sunday. But I’ll call you soon. It’s getting close, sweetheart. We’ll be together soon. I just have to get through next week.”

  Las Vegas was empty without Bill on Sunday, but he sent two dozen red roses, and an X-rated love note. The roses and the erotic note helped to ease the pain of missing him.

  * * *

  Chapter thirty-six

  On Tuesday, Ron stood before the judge in shackles. His long hair hooded the contempt in his dark eyes. Roscoe was by Ron’s side as the judge spoke. “Mr. Harmon, I sentence you to eight years, six months in Folsom State Prison, and Mr. Harmon, the sentence is lenient. I added the six months for the assault and battery you committed on Mr. Peter Sandhill in my courtroom. Do you have anything to say?”

  “Yeah,” Ron snarled. He shook the hair from his eyes, and glared at Roscoe. “Fuck this useless attorney standing next to me.” Then he raised his middle finger to the judge and said, “And fuck this court. No justice here, just bullshit.”

  Judge Cornelius banged his gavel. “Get this man out of my sight, now!” The two sheriff deputies dragged Ron out of the courtroom before he could finish his rant. By early evening, Ron was processed into the Folsom Prison system escorted to his cell by a guard.

  The guard opened the cell door, and Ron stiffened. He swallowed hard when he spotted the brawny, six-foot-six man standing inside, leaning against the bars. The man had a tattoo on his right forearm, and a gold front tooth. When the man saw Ron, he grinned as though he’d been served filet mignon.

  The guard laughed and shoved Ron into the cell. “Harmon, meet your new boyfriend.”

  Around noon that day, Liz ran to answer her phone. Peter told her about Ron’s sentence and said, “I’d hoped he’d be put away for at least ten years, but eight and a half is good. At any rate, it’s all over now. What are your plans?”

  “Well, I have some ideas. I’ve been saving money so I could quit dancing and maybe get some formal training, but I’m not quite there yet.”

  “Good. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. At least now you don’t have to worry about Ron causing you trouble.”

  Liz thanked him again for everything, and after she hung up, she murmured, “Now what?” She thought about her sister-in-law’s offer, and smiled. Maybe I could sell houses. Rats. I promised to take the kids to the movies and then I’ll have to rush to work. But tomorrow I can check my finances, and if they’re in good shape, I’ll call Charlie.

  The next morning Liz woke and remembered what she was going to do. It was too early to bring the children home for breakfast, so she threw on a robe and sat down with a cup of coffe
e, her ledger, and bank statements.

  It didn’t take long to realize she would only need to dance through July. By then she’d have saved enough to pay for a few months of expenses and licensing and, hopefully, banked her first sales commission.

  She brought the children home from Josie’s and cooked breakfast. Afterward, the children went outside to play, and Liz called Charlie. A secretary answered, “Harmon Central City Land; Kathryn speaking.”

  Liz said, “Oh, hi. Is Charlene Harmon in?”

  “Yes. May I tell her whose calling?”

  “Liz Harmon.” When Charlie came to the phone, Liz said, “Hi there.”

  “Hi, yourself. What was the verdict?”

  “You were right,” Liz said, and she told Charlie about the verdict and the sentence.

  “Yeah, like I said, I’m not surprised. So did you think about my offer?”

  “Yes. I just went over my finances and it looks like I could quit dancing by the end of July. But will two months be enough time to study and pass the test? Someone told me it’s tough.”

  “Yes, but you’ll have to study every free minute. I have a book with mock quizzes similar to the state test. Plus, in July I want you to take a classroom course at Sacramento City College. I know the teacher. If you can pass his tests, you’ll pass the state exam.”

  “OK. I’ll study during the day while the kids are playing outside, and I’m sure my babysitter will watch the kids when I go to the class. On the weekends I can study on the plane and in my hotel room in Vegas.”

  “That’ll work. Sounds like you’re serious. Schedule your test for late July, and you’ll be working with me August first. What do you think?”

  “I’m excited—and scared. What if I don’t pass?”

  “You’ll pass! And while you’re studying, if you get stuck on something, just call me. You have my home number?”

  “Yes.” Liz sighed, wanting to believe Charlie was right.