A Trashy Affair

by Shurr, Lynn

  “I could use that rum and Diet Coke now, and a trip to the ladies room,” she said.

  “Fine. I’ll get that sissy drink for you. Don’t take too long. The band will start another set soon. I kinda forgot how much I like to dance with a pretty lady in my arms.”

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  Jane wove through the tightly packed tables to the restroom while Merlin hunkered up to the very busy bar. Hunkered, hunky, hunk, she could not stop herself from thinking. There was a line. There always is outside a ladies room, but she finally got in and out after repairing her lipstick and combing her hair. Passing back through the packed dance hall, she heard a shout.

  “Over here, Jane! Come sit a minute.”

  May Robin occupied a table with her sister-in-law, the one who made the cute lunch bags and bore the unfortunate name of Spring Robin. Even though the Cajuns pronounced her last name Ro-ban, they still teased her. Unlike red-haired May, Spring had “gone silver” with pride, actually more smoky blue, the color of her tightly-permed curls. With them sat Spring’s son, the cold-handed Waldo. Even though Jane knew what was coming, she could hardly ignore them. She took the sole empty chair for a hopefully short visit.

  “Miss May, Miss Spring, having a good time?”

  “We only just got here. Jethro is getting our drinks,” May answered, referring to her elderly brother. “The place is packed. I guess our waitress will get here eventually.”

  “Oh, I’m taking Mr. Jethro’s seat! I should go back to my own.”

  The band announced another song. Too late for her to flee.

  “Why don’t you and Waldo get out there and dance. He’s light on his feet, believe you me,” May touted for her nephew.

  Those cold hands moved across the table and captured hers. Waldo had a long face that looked as if it never smiled. Handy for an undertaker, Jane supposed. He possessed wings of silver at the sides of his shoe polish black hair, and she wondered how he managed that unless he’d gone completely gray and dyed the rest, a good bet. Morose brown eyes rested on gray bags of flesh. Did she detect the faintest whiff of formaldehyde under the scent of his overwhelming cologne?

  Waldo forced a thin-lipped smile more appropriate for the funeral parlor than a dance hall. “My aunt has told me so many good things about you, Jane. May I have the pleasure of this dance?”

  “Um, thank you, Waldo, but I’m here with someone.” Jane spied Merlin heading back to their booth with her sissy drink and a bottle of beer for himself. She waved frantically, and he nodded.

  May Robin’s mouth fell open revealing a little too much of her dentures. “You’re here with Blackie Tauzin? Don’t you know he’s—”

  “A war hero.” Spring finished her sentence. “He can put his dancing shoes under my bed any day.” Her light blue eyes twinkled behind a pair of wire-framed granny glasses. She ogled Merlin over the rims.

  “Please, Mother, he’s a psycho. All those veterans are. Before he went into the service, he was just another juvenile delinquent. Don’t you recall he stole my hearse the day after I bought out Armand Duchamp when the old man wanted to retire?” For Jane’s sake, he added, “I do own the business free and clear, but kept the Duchamp name. Somehow, Robin’s funeral home sounded too cheery and lacking in dignity.”

  “Oh, Waldo. Blackie only went for a joy ride. No one takes a hearse to a chop shop.” Spring fanned her hand in front of her face. “I always did like a man who rode a Harley. Maybe it’s the black leather jackets, not like the one he has on tonight, but those tight-fitting ones.”

  Without releasing Jane’s hands, Spring’s son continued with his tale, “I wanted to press charges, but someone with pull got him off.”

  “He did no harm to that hearse and paid you back for the gas,” his mother said.

  “I believe he might have had sexual intercourse in the back. I found stains!”

  “Could have been from leaky coffins,” Spring suggested.

  “My caskets do not leak! They are top quality.”

  Jane freed her hands after a brief struggle. “I should get back.”

  “You didn’t tell me you and Blackie were a couple. There are things you should know,” May said with a tad of hurt in her voice.

  “Not a couple. So not a couple. Remember, I told you a friend helped clean my yard. He’s the friend. I’m taking him to dinner as a thanks. That’s all.”

  Jethro Robin made his way painfully back to the table with his long, bony fingers wrapped around four longnecks. Once as tall and thin as Waldo, he now bent over with a permanent crick in his back. A tiny pot belly rested just above his belt buckle. His hair had gone entirely white, but he still shared dark eyes, gray pouches, and a gloomy attitude with his son. Not much of Spring showed in Waldo. She was as plump and spritely as a, well—a spring robin.

  “Thought they’d never serve me, making an old man with a bad back wait and wait.” He slammed the bottles on the table so hard foam erupted from the tops and puddled down on the checkered oilcloth.

  Ignoring her brother’s ill humor, May cautioned, “That’s very nice of him, Jane, but if you need any other help, ask me and I’ll find someone.”

  “I considered asking him to haul my recyclables to the center in Lafayette, at least the aluminum cans since I can’t seem to convince the council to move forward in restoring the program. He has a truck, and I don’t think it will fit in my car.”

  “Don’t do that. Waldo can put it all in his hearse,” May suggested.

  “Aunt May! I can’t. What would people say if I place trash where their loved ones might someday rest? Think of the reputation of Duchamp’s Funeral Home.”

  “If you can’t see I’m trying to help you out…”

  “Yes, of course. Jane, I would love to help you, but—”

  “Oh, bring it all over to our place. We live in the city limits of Chapelle and still have our program. Just use our bin anytime,” Spring offered.

  “That would be wonderful! Thank you.”

  “All settled happily then. If you and Blackie aren’t dating, then I can see no reason why we shouldn’t dance together.” Waldo took Jane in his icy clutches and led her to the dance floor.

  He held her at arm’s length doing a very proper waltz step, one, two, three, and one, two, three. Not quite able to follow his lead, she still stumbled along after two turns around the small space. On the third turn, Waldo stopped in his tracks as a big hand tapped him none too gently on the shoulder.

  “You’re dancing with my lady. You should have asked permission.”

  Waldo moved out of the stream of dancers but kept Jane’s hand. Easily as tall as Merlin but much slimmer, Jane imagined her non-date could have picked Waldo up and spun him over his head like a majorette’s baton.

  “How very old-fashioned of you, Blackie. I am sure Jane can decide with whom she wants to dance,” the funeral director sneered.

  “Yes, I can,” Jane asserted, wondering why she took Waldo’s side when she wanted to be rid of him. Oh yes, because she was a modern professional woman, not a Victorian lady, that’s why.

  “Do you want to dance with this man, Jane?” Blackie said carefully, dangerously.

  “Certainly she does. We were having a very pleasant time before you interrupted.”

  No, she wanted to escape Waldo’s cold, cold grip, but on the other hand, she really did not want to encourage Merlin to think of her as his lady. That would be bad, very bad—maybe. “I, uh…”

  Suddenly, Spring Robin popped up in their midst. “Why Blackie Tauzin, how is Olive doing in assisted living? I keep meaning to visit her.”

  “She likes it there, Miss Spring, and would love for you to visit her.” Just like that, the threatening Merlin vanished and the one kind to old ladies appeared.

  “I don’t suppose a handsome young man like you would take an old lady for a spin around the dance floor? Jethro really can’t manage too well anymore with his bad back. Oh, I do remember what a wonderful dancer your grandpa was. We
stepped out a few times when we were young. I bet you have the same smooth moves.”

  “Mother, please!” Waldo begged.

  “Yes, ma’am. I learned from him and my granny. Grandpa’s dancing shoes used to be nailed to that very rafter before the last hurricane took the roof off this place. Granny donated them after he died. Don’t know where they are now.”

  “What a sad loss, both your grandpa and his shoes. Well?” Spring Robin held up her plump, saggy arms.

  Gallantly, Merlin swung the old woman into the dance. They glided by one turn before Waldo repossessed Jane and dragged her after the other couple. She noticed her just-a-friend held Mrs. Robin much more loosely, but they did make a cute couple with that curly, blue hair coming up only to the middle of his broad chest. Jane heard a few aaahs from the watchers. If Merlin wasn’t careful, he’d have a queue of old women lining up to dance with him.

  Waldo bent his stiff neck enough say over the music, “You should be careful, Jane. That man is a nut case.”

  “Maybe,” a deep voice said. Moving faster than Waldo and Jane, Merlin and Spring came up beside them. “I just might shoot you dead for that remark. That’s what us nut cases do. I want Jane back.”

  Stunned by Merlin’s words, Waldo dropped his arms and, already a pale man due to his indoor trade, turned even whiter. A moment later, he found himself dancing with his own mother.

  Back in Merlin’s arms, Jane moved a hand under his black leather jacket, across the small of his back and over his hips. “You aren’t packing.”

  “Nope. Since I got back from Afghanistan I can’t hardly stand to hunt anymore, but if you keep that up, you’ll have to ask me the Mae West question.”

  “What?”

  “Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

  “Oh, that quote.”

  “I am happy to see you.” He pressed her a little closer. Yes, obviously her nearness delighted him.

  Changing the subject quickly as she could and pulling away a little, Jane asked, “Did you really steal Waldo’s hearse?” She had no intention of asking him about the stains in the back of the vehicle.

  “Yep. Just a joke. He was a prick then. He’s still a prick. Wanted to have me put in juvie for a prank even after Granny went and pleaded with him not to press charges. I guess the judge had a sense of humor. He let me off with community service. I helped put in those flowerbeds around the church downtown. They still look pretty good. Anyhow, when Grandpa died, we took our business elsewhere.”

  “Good for you. Speaking of flowerbeds, would you like to bring your grandmother over to see ours, I mean mine, tomorrow? If you don’t fill up at the retirement home brunch, we can have dessert together, the three of us.”

  “She’d like that. Thanks. I ordered us some bread pudding and coffee before I came over to rescue you from that shit, Waldo.”

  “I didn’t need rescuing.”

  “Sure looked like you did, but even if you didn’t, I got my jollies from seeing him almost shit himself when I threatened to kill him. Anyhow, dessert is waiting for us.”

  “Maybe I didn’t want any dessert.”

  “That’s okay. I can eat both servings.” Merlin steered her back to their booth with a firm hand on the small of her back.

  The warm bread pudding, hot coffee, a flat beer, and her greatly diluted rum and Coke adorned their table. Jane ate her portion. Why she continued to struggle with Merlin’s high-handedness, she had no idea. He didn’t appear to be the kind of man who could morph from Neanderthal to metrosexual very easily.

  A fellow lingering at the bar came over with his date and asked if they’d like to exchange partners for a while. Jane knew where that idea came from. The other woman had scarlet lips, long blonde hair hanging halfway down her back, jeans so tight Jane could see her crack, and a tramp stamp on the small of her back revealed by her low riders that said, “Wanna See More?” Another tattoo riding across the top of her bulging breasts identified her as a “Honky-Tonk Woman”. Unlike Jane, this gal apparently could dance in four-inch heels.

  “Jane?” Merlin asked.

  “Sure. I don’t own you.” There, she’d made her point.

  “I’m Wanda, and that’s good to know. Come on, tall, dark and handsome.”

  That left Jane with average-sized, red-haired, and so-so looking Blaine who turned out to be a decent dancer because he didn’t try any fancy moves beyond his level of skill. He seemed a nice enough guy, too. They talked a little. He worked fourteen days on, fourteen days off in the oil patch. When he got a paycheck, Wanda had no objections to going out with him. He knew enough to give his date some space.

  “Yes,” Jane said. “We all need space, but Wanda doesn’t appear to be giving much of that to Merlin.”

  The honky-tonk woman had her arms locked around his shoulders and the rest of her body applied like wet paint to his body. As for Merlin, he rested his manly chin on the top of her head and just kept on dancing in his slick shoes. They stayed with their impromptu partners for the whole set.

  When the band took a break, Wanda kept Merlin’s hand. “Why don’t we buy these nice folks a round of drinks, Blaine?”

  “No, thanks,” Jane said simultaneously with Merlin.

  “I think we’d better be getting home. If you want to leave, Jane?”

  “Yes, but great meeting you.”

  “You got a cell phone?” Wanda asked.

  “Nope,” Merlin replied. Jane knew he did, but he’d left it in the truck.

  “A pen?” Wanda inquired, not giving up.

  Jane opened her small purse. “I have one.”

  “Great!” Wanda used the borrowed pen to write her phone number on a paper napkin. “Maybe we can double date sometime. Personally, I think Blaine and Jane make the little ole cutest couple.” She didn’t elaborate on the kind of couple she and Merlin made, but Jane suspected “hot.” Wanda shoved the napkin into his hip pocket.

  Without comment, Merlin picked up the tab from the table and nodded good-bye. He preceded Jane to the cashier. She outdid herself dodging crowded tables to get there first and slap her credit card down on the counter. Merlin handed it back to her and replaced it with one of his own.

  “But I owe you for the yard work!”

  “Nope. What you owed me was the pleasure of your company for the evening. That’s all I asked for, Jane.”

  The pleasure of her company—why did that thrill her down to the peep toes of her sandals? Oh-oh, maybe he’d expect more pleasure when they got back to her house. She had him figured out and her pepper spray ready all the way back to Chapelle. He didn’t talk much, just turned on the radio, and kept his eyes on the road. She’d been watching his drinking in case she had to take his keys and drive the humongous truck, how she wasn’t sure. However, Merlin confined himself to that one whiskey before dinner and half a beer after. Mostly, they’d stuffed themselves with good food and danced. Tired and full, sure Merlin had total mastery of the road, Jane dozed. The pepper spray fell from her grip and rolled under the front seat.

  She woke when the big engine went silent. Groggy, she reached for the door handle, but Merlin stood there ready to help her down. He did that by putting his hands around her waist again and lifting. She should protest these peremptory moves, but somehow her will wasn’t functioning at the moment. He walked her to the front door where a couple of moths made love to her glowing carriage lamp.

  “I didn’t say how pretty you look tonight.” Drawing his fingers along her collarbone, he touched her necklace. “Great dress, but this I don’t get—broken chunks of glass?”

  His hand stayed right there. Her pulse picked up speed. “Recycled wine bottles.”

  “Oh. I know where you can find one made out of gum wrappers and pull tabs.”

  “Are you making fun of me, Merlin?”

  “Nope.” He lowered his head for the goodnight kiss, and he kissed the way he danced—with complete mastery. His hand slipped behind her head, holding her at j
ust the right angle. He started out firm and commanding, then added a few fun flourishes of his tongue.

  By the time he finished, Jane heard herself say, “Would you like to come in?” as if she’d pre-recorded the message.

  “Not our third date yet. I don’t want to rush you.”

  “Merlin, we haven’t had any dates.”

  “We had dinner together the other night and again tonight.”

  “If you count those, you might as well say sitting on your stoop the first night we met was a date.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  Pity. Shame on you, Jane. Get a grip. Mental chiding in full force, she answered, “Okay. Well, thanks for a nice evening. See you around.”

  “Tomorrow. I’m bringing Granny over to see the flowerbeds, remember?”

  No, she didn’t. That kiss had wiped out a memory circuit for sure. “Right. Tomorrow.”

  Chapter Seven

  The growl of Merlin’s truck announced Olive Tauzin’s arrival. Jane recalled her from the closing on the house as a sweet old lady with fluffy white hair drawn into a tight little knob on the top of her head and round, dark eyes that filled with tears as they signed the papers selling the family home. Thinking the loss made Mrs. Tauzin distraught, Jane promised to take good care of the property.

  “No, no, cher. You don’t understand. I’m crying because you saved the place and won’t tear it down like the other bidder.”

  Jane knew someone else had offered close to a hundred thousand for the corner property now near a stoplight. Her own bid of forty-five thousand seemed pitiful and unfair, but the house needed more than that amount in renovations according to a study she paid to have done before buying. She had to take out a second loan to get the job done. If the Tauzin home, built in 1875, had passed into those other hands, the convenience store and gas station would be sitting on this lot and not across the street on the other side of the light.