by Amy Metz
“What? Jack, no, of course I don’t have any drugs in this house. How could you even think such a thing?”
“I don’t. I just had to ask it. Drugs, firearms, and high-end loot. That’s usually what people are after when they break into a place. Since your high-end loot is still here, and I don’t peg you for the gun-totin’ type,” his eyes wandered to the Louisville Slugger baseball bat in the corner of the kitchen, “drugs are all that’s left.”
Tess sat down at the table and put her head in her hands. “I think back to a little over a year ago, when I had a quiet, ordinary, mundane life. Then my world exploded. I thought moving here would let me get back on an even keel. Now I’m having to learn a new language, I have wallpaper stuck to the walls, and I have a stalker. So much for my good luck charm!”
“Hold it! Hold it just one minute! Number one, I think you’re slightly exaggeratin’ on the foreign language thing. Number two, I’d be happy to help you strip . . . the wallpaper.” She shot him a look. “Number three, I’m sure you don’t have a stalker, unless you want to count me. And number four, what good luck charm?”
For the next few minutes Tess filled Jack in on what she had found and told him about her talk with Lou.
“So it’s not a good luck charm.” Jack shrugged. “It’s just an interesting antiquity. Put it on your key ring and forget about it.”
“And what about the repeated break-ins?” Tess asked. “This is really freaking me out.”
“Well . . . I could stay over . . . “ Jack quickly changed course when she gave him yet another pointed look.
“In that case, are you workin' today?”
“Not until two o'clock, why?”
“What say you and I take your mind off everything by goin’ to lunch at Slick and Junebug’s?”
“Well . . . “ Tess hemmed, “I should get some things done around here before I go into work.”
“Come on, it’s only a quick bite to eat. We’ll be in public. And if you insist, I’ll even refrain from biting.”
The way he was looking at her made her nervous. I could so easily fall into his arms, where I’d feel safe again. He was sitting so close, she could smell his aftershave lotion, feel his body heat, and when she looked at him all she could think about was running her hands through his hair and kissing him silly. NO, I have to stand on my own two feet. I have to get a grip. And not a grip on Jack!
“Hell, no!”
“Pardon?” Jack asked, one eyebrow raised questioningly.
Did I say that out loud? Crap.
“I said, ‘HEL-lo.’ You know, like, HEL-lo, no biting.” Liar liar, pants on fire…
“Well, then, I'll be back to pick you up in an hour. How’s that?”
“That'll give me time to get those footprints off of my pretty hardwood floors,” Tess said, taking her mop out of the closet and trying to feel brave.
* * *
The minute Jack opened the door to the diner, Tess smelled the wonderful aroma of freshly baked bread. Tess stiffened slightly at Jack’s hand on her back directing her in, but seeing the two old men sitting at their regular perches at the counter made her smile. She realized it was the first time she’d smiled all day.
“Afternoon, Jackson,” Clive said.
“Afternoon, boys. How’re you two fine gentlemen doin’ today?”
“Hangin’ in 'ere like a hair in a biscuit,” Earl said.
“Yeah, but he’s about as useful as a pogo stick in quicksand,” Clive stage-whispered to Jack.
“Gentlemen, have you met Tess yet?”
“We’ve howdied . . . “ Clive started to say.
“But we ain’t shook yet.” Tess beat him to the punch.
“Clive Pierce, Earl Hicks, I’d like to present Ms. Tess Tremaine. Ms. Tess, this here’s Clive and this is Earl.” Jack motioned to each man as they were introduced. Tess noticed Earl didn’t have one tooth in his whole head.
“Well ain’t she a dandy!” Earl said with a toothless smile.
“Down boy.” Jack playfully pushed down on the man’s shoulder. “You’re too old for her.”
“Yeah, well . . . you wait—one day soon 'at gal is gonna drop you like a hot potato, and I’ll be righcheer waitin’,” Earl said, pointing his finger at Jack. Jack laughed and led Tess to a booth.
“Jack, do those men think we’re seeing one another?”
“Prob’ly.” Jack grinned.
“But we’re not!”
Jack started patting himself all over, from his head, down his torso, saying, “I am visible, aren’t I? I mean, you can see me, right? And I can see you . . . “ Tess rolled her eyes, shook her head, and directed her attention to the chalkboard menu at the front of the diner.
Junebug arrived at the table, and with her hands on her hips she looked down at Jack. “Well lookie at what the cat dun drug in.”
“Hey Junie! That’s no way to talk to our newest resident,” Jack teased.
“I was referrin’ ta yew,” Junebug said, smiling. “Hidy, Tess, hireyew?” She moved her smile over to Tess.
Tess looked at Jack questioningly and he mouthed, “How are you.”
“Oh!” Tess laughed, “I’m fine, June . . . bug . . . how are you?”
“Right as rain and twice as nice,” she joked. “And you, Jack?”
“So hungry I could eat a stink bug off a dead skunk.”
“Sorry, we’re fresh outta that t’day. What else can I gitcha?”
“I think I’ll just have a salad with ranch dressing and sweet tea, please,” Tess said.
“And I’ll have a hamburger with lettuce, ‘mater and onion, and a Dr. Pepper, please, pretty lady.” Jack had suddenly started speaking in his exaggerated southern drawl.
“Watch him,” Junebug said to Tess, pushing her pencil into her hair behind her ear and pointing at Jack. “When he puts on that southern accent, he’s up ta no good!”
She headed off toward the kitchen hollering, “Burn one, take it through the garden and pin a rose on it! Cow feed! I need an MD and a tea with high octane.”
“You’ll get used to it.” Jack smiled at her.
“I think it’s great. I may not always understand it, but I think it’s great.” She tried to act natural, but she was wound tighter than a dime store clock. She felt like every nerve in her body was buzzing.
Jack noticed. “Hey, are you okay?”
They locked eyes for a moment, and she looked away first, taking in a deep breath. “I’ve never had a break-in and now I’ve had two in one week. Someone’s been in my house, Jack. And once while I was in it. I’m terrified.”
Junebug came back to the table with their drinks. She saw the worried look on Tess’s face. “You all right, sugar plum?”
Tess nodded and took a sip of her tea, and Junebug left to take an order at another table.
“And the really weird thing is, nothing is ever taken. Why would someone break in just to look around? What are they after?”
“I don’t know, Tess. It’s a strange occurrence in this town. Maybe they just wanted to gaze at your lovely face while you slept.”
“Jack, do you take anything seriously?”
“Honey, if it involves you, I am taking it seriously.”
He's So Ugly His Cooties Have To Close Their Eyes
bidness: noun bid-nis business
Mind your own bidness.
[ 1935 ]
Goose Pimple Junction was a typical small town, where the hub of activity centered on the town square. On the south side of the square was the courthouse, which took up one entire block. The town filling station was on the southwest side, and next door sat The Majestic movie theatre, followed on the northwest side by Burke’s bakery, whose owner, Burke Henderson made the best doughnuts in seven counties. A combination candy shop and newspaper store sat in between the bakery and The First National Bank on the northeast block. Daffodil’s Home Goods Store, which sold everything from clothing to furniture, was diagonal to the bank on the east side. Compl
eting that block was Ernestine & Hazel’s, a small five-and-dime store, and next to that was a diner. In the middle of the square was a wide green expanse, scattered with trees and benches, and a raised gazebo in the center.
A typical Saturday afternoon in the heart of downtown Goose Pimple Junction would find all of the businesses humming with activity, but none more so than the Pure Oil filling station, which was always busy washing cars, checking oil, fixing tires, and pumping gas. Often, the police were parked up at the gas station, but you could count on them definitely being there on Saturdays. There was room on the side for them to park, and so many things happened in the heart of downtown, you saw it if you were at the station.
Drunks constantly got into fights in the town square. In fact, it was a regular Saturday afternoon occurrence for the filling station owner, Psalmist David, P.D. to most people, to have to get out the water hose and wash the blood off the driveway after the police tried to arrest some drunkard who didn’t want to be hauled off to the drunk tank.
Since the police were almost always at the station, they began to give its phone number out as one of their own. It got so that P.D. was calling to relay messages so often, they decided to install a whistle with an air compressor on it—a loud one, like the kind used at a factory. If one of the police cars wasn’t parked there when a call came in or a fight broke out, P.D. would blow the whistle, and the police would come see what was needed.
Once, a drunk named ‘Hard Times,’ who was built like a tank, was all fired up and itching for a fight. The police chief, Bug Preston, and his deputy had followed him from a bar around the corner. It wasn’t long before he was shouting insults at the chief on the sidewalk in front of Ernestine’s and Hazel’s Sundries. The deputy disappeared, leaving Bug to face off with the drunk.
“Hey y’all! Come o’re hare and take a lookit this cracker jack po-leece man. He's so damn ugly his cooties have to close their eyes,” Hard Times yelled. He swayed a little, and got a grip on a light post to steady himself. Then he began to loudly sing insults. “He’s soooo uglyyyy his mama took him everywhere she went so she didn't have to kiss him goodbyyyyyyye.”
The chief shot back, “You ain't worth the powder and shot it'd take to blow you to kingdom come, Hard Times.”
Swaying and having trouble getting his words out, Hard Times said, “I am . . . I am gonna skin . . . your . . . your neck and . . . rrun your . . . your lleg through it!”
“Oh yeah? Well you better give your heart to Jesus, 'cause your butt is mine,” the chief said.
Everyone knew Bug Preston was trigger-happy, but the drunk apparently forgot. The chief pulled out his gun and fired between the man’s legs. It didn’t faze Hard Times, but it distracted him enough that a deputy was able to sneak up behind him and hit him over the head with a tire iron, knocking him out cold.
Another time, John Hobb and the other tellers watched through the bank windows as two police officers got into a disagreement that got out of hand. They both pulled their weapons, one taking shelter in the inset door of Daffodil’s, and the other across the street behind the corner wall of the diner. In typical Old West fashion, they both stepped out at the same time, aimed and fired, killing each other simultaneously.
Those were occurrences that, while tragic or dramatic, weren’t unusual in Goose Pimple Junction. But one Tuesday morning, something happened that was unique. P.D. was in one of the bays, working on a car, when the family of a man recently arrested, and doing time in the jail, showed up. The three brothers confronted P.D., pulled a gun on him, and said, “We know you have a whistle to call the police. So call ‘em. Now.”
P.D. was a God-fearing, decent, honest man. He knew the men wanted an ambush. He said, “That’s not the way to handle your problem, boys.”
One of the brothers snarled, “Mind your own bidness.”
Another man pointed the gun in his face and repeated, “Now,” motioning for P.D. to go into the office, “or I will walk a mud hole in you and stomp it dry,” he said through gritted teeth.
But old P.D, wasn’t stupid. Instead of blowing one long blast, like he normally would, he blew two short ones. The police chief heard the whistle and figured something was wrong. He and two of his men snuck around the back of the station and into one of the bays. They had a police car drive slowly down the street to get the men’s attention.
P.D. had seen Bug beside the office door, and to distract the men, he pointed down the street to the police cruiser. “Well, here they come. You boys mind if I slip out back?”
The three men, cocking their weapons and taking positions in the station’s office, were intent on the police car out front, giving Bug and two of his men a chance to sneak in and surprise them. While Bug went for the man who looked to be the leader, the other officers pushed guns into the backs of the other two men.
“Drop yer guns and say yer prayers, son,” Bug drawled. The men were apprehended without incident.
[ June 2010 ]
Tess was exhausted. She’d spent the day scraping more walls. Having successfully completed her work in the master bedroom, she went to bed tired, but not sleepy. She tossed. She turned. She needed sleep. Why wouldn’t her mind cooperate?
She gave up on sleep once again and got out of bed for her laptop. She wanted to sit outside on her porch, but was afraid of what, or who, might be out there. She climbed back into bed, tucking her sheet and quilt around her, placing her computer on her lap.
Tess opened up the chapter she was currently working on, but couldn’t concentrate. She thought of e-mailing Jack, but it had been a week since their lunch at the diner. She hadn’t seen him since then and thought he’d probably lost interest in her. It’s just as well. Story of my life. She decided to stop thinking about him.
Her mind wandered to her son and whether she'd received an e-mail from him. Logging on to her account, she found two e-mails waiting, one from her son, and one from a friend back home. None from Jack. Nicholas was settling into his new home, job, and town nicely. He seemed happy.
The second e-mail was from her friend Sara, wondering how she was doing in her new house. Tess was getting ready to reply when a new e-mail came in. This one from Jack. She took a deep breath and opened it.
Subject: update
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Hey, Tess—I’ve missed seeing you. I haven’t had much chance to ask around town about what we talked about. I’ll try to do that tomorrow. Have you thought any more about talking to Lou? See ya soon.
J.
She drummed her fingers on the keyboard for a minute while she thought about what to write back. She hit “reply.”
I’ll think about talking to Lou. I’m not sure it’s the way to go, just yet. What are you doing up at one a.m.?
t.
She went back to replying to Sara’s e-mail but noticed a flashing tab about five minutes later. It was a chat invitation from Jack.
mysteryman: I’m reading my latest chapter to Esmerelda. It’s putting her to sleep. What are you doing up?
Btw—what does the m stand for in mtess?
“Who’s Esmerelda?” she said aloud. “Surely he doesn’t have a woman at his house while he’s instant messaging me. That cad! I’m not asking. I won’t give him the satisfaction.”
mtess: Couldn’t sleep. Writer’s block. Mary Tess.
mysteryman: Mary Tess. I like it. Writer’s block? You didn’t ask, but my first suggestion would be to put down the pen, so to speak. It's about as useless to you right now as using a snow shovel to scrape wallpaper, and all you're gonna do is frustrate yourself.
mtess: Pen and snow shovel have been put away for the evening. Thanks.
mysteryman: The next thing I'd do is find something to relax your mind awhile. Let's see, what'd do the trick? How about a nice quiet homemade dinner for two? It's too bad you don't know of someone who shares in your craft to invite over.
Oh, no he’s not, she thought. He wouldn’t be
inviting me to dinner at the same time he’s entertaining another woman. He wouldn’t do that. But Lou did say . . .
Another IM came in.
mysteryman: Yep, I think what you need is to have some fella put dinner together for you tomorrow night . . . well, I guess that would be tonight. If you don't mind me saying, I think I know just the right guy. I'll tell him to expect you for 8:00. I hope I'm not being too presumptuous. Bye Tess.
“Oh good grief!” she shrieked aloud, pounding the bed with her fists. “What am I supposed to do now? That man is unbelievable! Oh!” she banged her head against the headboard. If I call him to decline, he’ll just insist I come. I am not going. I refuse to be one of his conquests.
Since Jack had logged off of Yahoo, she decided to send him an e-mail.
Subject: Dinner
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Jack, thanks very much for the dinner invitation, but I’m afraid I have to decline. I already have plans.
She sat back and looked at her message. He couldn’t argue with that. She hit send.
* * *
The next morning, Tess went into the yard. She worked her way around the side of the house to the back, pulling weeds and deadheading blooms as she went. It was early morning, but it was starting to heat up. She sat down on the brick walk to rest, looking around her backyard. Her eyes swept around the perimeter of the yard, and she compiled a wish list in her head, mentally planning what she’d like to plant in the fall.