by Amy Metz
The clerk was an older woman, looked to be in her mid-to-late-seventies, with big hair and bright makeup. She greeted her with a “Hidee,” and looked down at Tess’s purchases. “Did you know the author is a res'dent of this town?”
Tess played it cool. “I think I did hear something about that.”
“Oooohh, I hafta say, that Jackson is a dream.” She patted her brassy-red teased and sprayed-stiff helmet-hair. “Wish we had more like ‘im. I'z born ‘n raised here, matter fact, my kin have always lived here, goin' back to my great great-granddaddy. Yes ma’am, I'z born here, and I’ll die here. And I make it my bidness ta know everbody in town. Most everbody’s a right neighborly sort, but we get all kinds ya know; and some are about as welcome as a skunk at a lawn party.”
“Is he a native of Goose Pimple Junction?” Tess broke in.
“Who?” The woman looked puzzled. She glanced down at the books she was holding and slapped her head.
“Well lands sakes, you mean Jackson Wright, don’t you? Nemmine me, I shouldenoughta get off on tangents. Nope, I reckon he’s been here for . . . law . . . ‘bout five years now. Jack lives in one a the big ole Victorian houses on Maple Street all by his lonesome, right next door to me actually.” Tess nodded politely, trying to keep up with the accent.
“A course the house where I'z raised is over on Walnut. It was up for sale not too far back. I thought a buyin’ it, but that house holds too many mem’ries for me. I haven’t met the new buyer yet—I hear she’s a divorcee from up north—but I ‘spect I’ll stop by sometime soon to say howdy-do and welcome her to town. Just as soon as I get some of this dad-gum work outta the way. I swan, I’ve been busier ‘n a stump full of ants. Are you new in town or just passin’ through, honey?” The woman behind the counter finally took a breath.
What a talker. “I only moved in a few weeks ago. Actually, the house I bought is on Walnut. I live at 117 Walnut—that wouldn’t be your old house would it?”
“For law’s sake child, it sure is.” She clapped her hands together. “Well I’m just pleased as punch to find out that it has such a nice new owner. Frankly,” she lowered her voice and leaned in toward Tess, “I don’t think the people you bought it from had a lick a sense. They were about half a bubble off plumb, if ya know what I mean. And Lordy, they up and sold the house and moved outta town faster ‘n green grass through a goose. Great day in the mornin’. Where are my manners? I’m Louetta Stafford, but folks call me Lou.” She reached out to shake Tess’s hand. “So tell me—how you likin’ the house, honey?”
“Oh, I love it. I really do. I want to do some redecorating, but the house has great bones.”
“Oooh law sugar, tell me about it. It broke my heart to see what those people did to that house. They just did it up on a lick and a promise . . . “ she stopped talking when she saw Tess’s quizzical expression. “ . . . they didn’t take their time, is what I mean. They only had the house for ‘bout six years—jest long enough to make a mess of it.”
“Well don’t you worry, I intend to bring it back to its full glory. I love the little house. I’m looking forward to working on it all on my own.”
“Sounds like a lot of work for one girl.”
“Well, now that I don’t have to meet someone else’s needs all the time, I’m going to concentrate on my own for a change. I’m going to fix up the house and write a book.”
“Book. Oh, my. I forgot all about ringing the books up for ya.” She picked them up from the counter. “Here I am flappin’ my gums, and I should be checkin’ you out. Say . . . did you get a gander at his picture on the sign here? Look. Ain’t he the best eye candy around?” She pointed to a sign next to the counter.
“Mmm hmm,” Tess mumbled, nodding her head and thinking, absolutely. The sign was an advertisement for Jack’s book reading on Saturday. Yep, something has to be wrong with that man. He’s too perfect.
“He’ll be here on Satudee night, ya know.” Lou had the thickest southern accent Tess had ever heard.
“No, I hadn’t heard. But that sounds interesting.” She tried to sound nonchalant.
Lou seemed more than willing to gossip, and wanting to pump the woman for dirt on Jack, Tess took a stab at bluffing. “So, um . . . I heard a rumor. Someone said he’s gay. Do you think it’s true?”
Lou looked at her as if she had just told her she’d seen Elvis in the non-fiction section. “Honey, I can spot a three-dollar bill a mile away, and if that man’s gay, then I’m Aunt Jemima.”
“Well, if he’s not . . . ahem, a three-dollar bill . . . and he’s not married, then something must be wrong with him—right?” She wondered if she was sounding cool and detached.
Lou pushed her big bosom over the counter towards Tess, and said in a hushed voice, “Well, if you want to know what I heard . . . .” She leaned in towards Tess. “I heard that he’d gotten a divorce right before he moved here because he was steppin’ out on his wife.”
She nodded her head once in punctuation to this statement, then straightened up and added, “But I’d let him eat crackers in my bed anytime, baby.” And then she broke out laughing.
Both women were giggling like a couple of schoolgirls and hadn’t noticed the ringing of the tiny bell over the door that signaled someone had entered or left the store. Tess took the bag of books, said thank you, and was putting the change in her purse as she turned and headed for the door.
Whump. Something hard stopped her in her tracks. That something grabbed both of her forearms to keep her steady. She looked up into none other than Mr. Jack Wright’s baby blue eyes.
“You’re like a one-woman wreckin' ball, Tess Tremaine. Where in tarnation are you goin' so fast, and what’s so funny?”
“Oh! Hi! Jack!” she sputtered. I do a lot of babbling around him. That and running into things.
Lou peered over the counter and slammed her hand down on it.
“Well I’ll be doggone—speak a the devil.”
Quiet, you silly woman, don’t say another word, Tess silently willed her. Don’t you dare tell him about the . . .
“Is that right?” He looked from woman to woman, amusement showing on his face.
“Yessirree, Ms. Tess here just bought five 'a your books, and I was tellin’ her ‘bout your book readin’ here on Satudee night.”
. . . books. Don’t say a word about the books. Oh, she said it. Crap and double crap. Tess’s face turned bright red.
“Oh reeeeeeeally,” he said, cocking his head and raising one eyebrow. There was a sparkle in his eye, and a dimple in his cheek. “Ya don’t say.”
“Oh, well, yes . . . I thought if I was going to have you help me at all with my book, then I should at least be familiar with your work . . . “ she trailed off, not even believing that line herself. “But I’m afraid I have a paint brush calling my name, so I have to run.” What she really had to do was get out of there fast, before she said or did anything else to humiliate herself even more.
Tess headed for the door, embarrassed to the core, not daring to look anyone in the eyes. She knew the jig was up; she just didn’t want to admit they knew, that she knew the jig was up. But she glanced at him as she closed the door, and the look on his face told her—the Jig. Was. Up.
She walked out onto the sidewalk and stopped to take a deep breath. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The door opened, and, afraid it was Jack, she started walking.
“'Scuse me, ma’am,” she heard a deep voice call behind her.
She turned to see if he was talking to her. The voice belonged to Mr. Cowboy Boots.
“Sorry to bother you, and I hope you’ll forgive me, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation in there. I wanted to offer you my services. I'm Willy Clayton.”
She looked at him, confused, not knowing what services he was talking about.
“I’m a house painter and handy man,” he explained. “And all-around good guy,” he flashed her a smile that she thought was probably an attempt at charm, but made h
im look creepy.
She couldn’t help but notice in his faded Levi’s and dirty cowboy boots he looked nothing like a handy man.
And the verdict was still out on all-around good guy.
A Message From The Marble Orchard
gwon: verb gwon go on
Gwon over there and search the room.
[ 1932 ]
Ten days after the bank robbery, Rod Pierce was found drunk and unconscious in a motel room four hours away from Goose Pimple Junction. A deputy filled the sheriff in after he brought Pierce to the city jail.
“Coots, whatta ya got?” the sheriff asked.
“A one ‘Rod Pierce,’ who’s been over to the No-tell Mo-tel for ‘bout six days. Man’ger said he ain’t paid fer his room in over three days, so he went in to check on him. Found him drunk as a skunk and called us. His I-dentification says he’s from Goose Pimple Junction. Considerin’ there was a hold up at the First National a week or two back, I thought you might want to know ’bout him.”
“That was good thinkin’, Coots. Do some checkin’. See if he’s got a record.”
Coots started to walk away, and the chief called him back. “There were three of ‘em that did that job at the bank. Any idea if Pierce was alone at that motel?”
“I’ll check that out too.”
“And gwon over there and search the room. See if anything incriminatin’ turns up.”
“Sure thing, Sheriff.”
Coots returned to the sheriff’s office a short while later, with a grin a mile wide.
“Bull’s-eye, Sheriff. Pierce is a former convict. Served time for petty theft and a gasoline station robbery,” Coots proudly announced.
“Well if that don’t put pepper in the gumbo.” Sheriff Bone was pleased.
“I’ll bet the police chief of Goose Pimple Junction will want to talk to this Pierce fella.”
“Find anythin’ else out?”
“Naw, motel owner says he was alone, far as he knows. I didn’t find nothin’ in the room but a bunch of empty bottles and some false teeth.”
“Awright. I’ma give the chief over in Goose Pimple Junction a call. Ya never know. We may of nabbed one of their bandits.”
The sheriff dialed the phone with one hand, while he took a big gulp of coffee with the other. As he waited for someone to answer, he lit a cigarette.
“Goose Pimple Junction Police Department, how may I hep ye?”
“This is Sheriff Ezra Bone from the Helechawa Po-leece Department. I need to speak to the chief, please.”
“Hold one moment.” Seconds later, the chief got on the line.
“This is Bug Preston.”
“Chief Preston, this is Sheriff Ezra Bone, over in Helechawa. I got a man whose ID says he’s from down your way. Name’s Pierce. Rod Pierce. Ever heard of him?”
“Yep, I’ve heard of Rodney Pierce. Be glad to not hear from or about him ever again.”
“Zat right?”
“We’ve had him for a bunch of robberies. When he’s not stealin’ from somebody he’s drinkin’ the town dry. Which is hard to do, considerin’ we got a dry country already.” Chief Preston laughed at his own joke.
“Considerin’ your recent bank robbery, I thought you might be interested to talk to him. I got him locked up on intoxication. I can hold him here for ya if ya want.”
The chief sighed into the phone. “I got three witnesses to the bank job who I could bring up. See if they can finger him. Might take me a few days to round ‘em up and get over there.”
“No problem. He ain’t goin’ nowhere. We’ll dry him out and hold onto him.”
[ June 2010 ]
Tess changed clothes six times, finally settling on white slacks, a black top, and black sandals with a one-inch heel. She applied too much makeup, washed it off and applied it again, this time using a lighter hand to outline her green eyes with charcoal liner and to accentuate her heart-shaped face with 'Cedar Rose' blush. Scrutinizing her wavy, shoulder-length reddish-blond hair, she fixed and unfixed it until finally satisfied. Well, almost satisfied. After putting on dangly earrings and a charm bracelet, she sprayed perfume into the air and walked into it for just the right amount but not too much. Well old girl, that’s about as good as it’s gonna get. You might as well get your butt on out of here. Taking a deep breath, she started out.
She decided to walk. It was a nice night, and Stafford’s was only five blocks away. The store was already crowded when she arrived. It appeared that Mr. Jack Wright had a following, aged anywhere from fifteen to eighty. Trying to look blasé as she scanned the room for Jack’s dirty-blond head, she felt a hand on her back and turned to look directly into Jack’s blue eyes.
“I’m glad you came.” He smiled at her, flashing that sparkle in his eye, and dimple in his cheek.
“Oh! Yes—hi!” Nonchalantly, she straightened the books that she almost knocked off the shelf when she’d wheeled around, startled. She was thankful Jack pretended not to notice.
“You’re just in time. I’m getting ready to start.” Walking backward to the front of the room, he added, “Don’t disappear on me when it’s over—okay?”
Almost everyone had taken a seat, and the room quieted as he approached the front of the store. Tess nodded to him, feeling self-conscious that everyone was watching them with interest.
She sat down next to an older couple in the back who introduced themselves as Slick and Junebug Calloway and said they owned the diner down the street.
“Oh, yes, I’ve been there. I love your place.”
Lou stood at the front of the room resplendent in her hot pink dress, big hair, and bright makeup. She cleared her throat until everyone stopped talking. “I wanna thank y’all for comin’ out tonight. As I’m sure you’re aware,” she said with a huge smile, “we have a celebrity in our midst. Jackson Wright is an accomplished author who hails from our fine town. His books have consistently hit the New York Times Best-seller’s list, and his ninth and newest book, “Wyatt’s Revenge,” has just come out. We have the decidedly special honor of bein’ the first ones to get a peek at it, as well as to hear a bit of it read to us by Goose Pimple Junction’s favorite citizen, Mr. Jack Wright himself.”
Everyone clapped as Jack stepped forward, hugged Lou, and thanked everybody for coming.
Telling the audience he appreciated the turn out, he looked at Tess, locking eyes with her before sitting down in the big overstuffed chair and launching into reading. Firm, confident and funny, Tess liked his style of writing. His voice was strong and smooth—very masculine and powerful. With the intent to hook everyone and leave them desperate to find out the outcome of the book, he purposely ended with a suspenseful chapter.
Afterward, Tess browsed the new fiction section, while Jack signed books and charmed the socks off everyone who came to meet him.
“Well hidee, sugar. I'm so glad you came.” Tess looked up to see Louetta rushing up to her. “Whadja think a the new book? I think it’s gonna be the best one yay-et,” Lou said, turning a one-syllable word into two.
“You may be right. And this is a great turn-out tonight.”
“Idnit somethin’?” She looked around the store. “There must be fitty people here tonight. I sure am glad you made it out. I know Jackson will 'preshade it.”
Tess’s mind was working overtime to keep up with the Southern speak.
“Well, didja read the books? Which one didja like best?”
“The books? Oh, the books I bought—yes, I did like them. Well, it. I’ve only had a chance to read one of them so far. I’ve been working on the house a little, painting, scraping—”
Lou interrupted, “Oh honey, tell me ‘bout it. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. This place just about runs me ragged. ‘Course it’s gotten a lot worse since Betty Jane had to quit. She had to have surgery—female problems, don’t ya know.”
“So . . . you own the bookstore?” Tess asked.
“Sure. Didn’t I tell you that?”
Someth
ing clicked into place, and Tess impulsively decided to ask for a job. “Did you say you’re short of help here, Lou? Are you hiring? I would love to have a part-time job.”
“And I can vouch for her, Lou, she’s good people,” Jack drawled, coming up behind her.
“Well honey, you must be heaven sent. I’ve been prayin’ for someone reliable to come along. I knew it would be all right. Just gotta have a little faith and a lot of patience. But God is good, and I knew he’d send me somebody special and here you are.” She gave Tess a big hug, and then gave Jack one too. Beaming, she said to Tess, “I always take any chance I get to hug that man.” She giggled. “Now when can you start, Tess?”
“Well, I…I suppose any time,” she stammered, taken aback at how fast she had landed a job and at how forward Lou was with Jack.
“Now don’t go bein’ too pushy, Lou. You don’t wanna scare her off, do ya?”
“Pushy, smushy, Tessie here will get used to me.”
“Tess, you have to speak your mind around Lou. Don’t let her work you too hard,” Jack warned, putting an affectionate arm around Lou.
“Well, I’m not afraid of a little hard work, and I’m sure we can come up with a schedule that will suit us both.”
“That’s the spirit. Now come on back here, and we’ll get some paperwork done and iron out the details.” Lou headed for the back of the store, and Tess started to follow.
“Actually, Lou,” Jack called after her; she stopped and turned. “I was hopin’ to talk Tess into goin’ for a drink with me.” He looked questioningly at Tess.
“Well bless your heart, of course you were. Don’t let me stop you! Y’all run along and we’ll talk tomorrow, Tessie. Jest come on by in the mornin’ and we’ll get everythin’ smoothed out.”
Tess laughed nervously. She didn’t want to go anywhere alone with Jack, the Martian man. The cheating Martian man. She'd sworn off men. Especially lying, cheating men.
“Lou, why don’t you join us?” Tess asked, hopefully, silently saying, Pleasepleaseplease.