2 Heroes & Hooligans in Goose Pimple Junction

by Amy Metz

  “I’d second that.” Junebug’s face showed no sign of buying his charm.

  “But I am going to rectify the situation,” Lenny drawled, flashing his best phony smile. Junebug’s glare didn’t soften.

  “See that you do, son. Martha Maye is one of our own, and I’ll jerk a knot in your head if you mess with her.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I do not want no knot on this here head.” He tapped the top of his head with his index finger.

  Junebug harrumphed and left the table, tousling Butterbean’s hair as they passed each other.

  “Can Daddy stay with us, Mama?” Butterbean slid back into the booth next to her daddy.

  “No, Bean, he cannot stay with us.”

  “Aw, why not?” she whined. “I want it to be like it used to be—all of us living together. Please, please, please, Mama?”

  “Eat your fries while they’re hot.” Martha Maye pushed a bottle of ketchup toward her daughter.

  “So you’re not living with your mama anymore?” Lenny asked.

  Martha Maye narrowed her eyes. “How’d you know we were living with Mama?”

  “I told him,” Butterbean piped up. She saw her mother’s disapproving look and lowered her head. “Sorry. I forgot I wasn’t supposed to.”

  “Aw, Marty, it pains me to hear you felt you had to tell our daughter to keep your whereabouts from me. But I’m here to show you I’m a changed man. We can be a family again, just like Carrie wants. You won’t have to work no more.”

  Martha Maye glared at him, and he quickly changed his tune, holding his palms up to quiet her down. “Unless you want to, of course. It’s entirely up to you.”

  “Nice of you to allow me to choose how I want to live my life.” She rooted in her purse and then abruptly got up and walked to the jukebox. She slid two quarters in and punched the button for “I’d Rather Pass a Kidney Stone Than Another Night with You.”

  Lenny’s mouth was a thin line. “I deserved that,” he said, nodding, when she sat back down at the table. “I was wrong to act the way I did before, but you’ll see, I’ll literally devote the rest of my life making it up to you and Carrie.”

  “I’m not moving back, Len. Butterbean and I have a new life here in Goose Pimple Junction.”

  “I ain’t asking you to move back.”

  “Then how’re you gonna make it up to us?”

  “I’m moving here, baby. I quit my job and already got a new one here in town.”

  “A job? In Goose Pimple Junction?” Martha Maye shrieked so loudly the other customers looked over at their table. She lowered her voice to a hiss and leaned across the table. “What do you mean?”

  “Just what I said. I am gainfully employed.” He grinned like a possum, raising his chin proudly and puffing out his chest.

  “Where, Daddy, where?” Butterbean asked, unable to keep her bottom still in the seat. She tugged at his shirtsleeve.

  “Over at Car Country Auto Sales. You’re looking at their newest salesman.”

  “Just because your cat had her kittens in the oven doesn’t make them muffins.” Martha Maye stared at her glass of water as she ran her finger down it, wiping the condensation off. She couldn’t look at Lenny.

  “What’s that mean, Mama?”

  “Means your mama don’t think I can hold down a job as a car salesman. But I’ll show her. You’ll both be proud of me.”

  “Where you staying?”

  “Got me a room at the Stay A Spell Hotel. Of course if you want me to move in with y’all …”

  “I didn’t say that. I thought we’d already covered that subject.”

  “You’re looking awful good, sugar plum,” Lenny whispered later, patting her backside as they left the diner. “How about I come over after Carrie goes to sleep tonight? I’ll show you just how much I’ve missed you.”

  Martha Maye wavered. He did seem intent on trying to be a good husband. Why was she being so cold to him? Maybe it took the shock of her walking out to make him want to change. He’d come all the way to Goose Pimple Junction to find them, he’d gotten a job, and he was so complimentary of her new figure. Not to mention Bean wanting to be with her daddy. She felt his finger caress her cheek, and she saw the pleading look in his dark brown eyes. She let out a deep sigh.

  “All right. You can come over.” She cocked her eyebrows at him. “But just to talk.”

  “Whatever you want, baby,” he said, patting her hip and leering at her.

  After cleaning up the dinner dishes, and while Butterbean did homework, Martha Maye slipped next door to talk to Honey. Armed with sweet tea, they headed to the front porch to sit and talk. The humidity and heat of summer were no more, and the temperature was mild in the early October evening air.

  “What’s up, sugar? You look like something’s on your mind.”

  Martha Maye plopped down hard on the wicker chair. “It’s my husband. He says he wants me back.”

  “Humph. Wanting and hoping don’t get you any toys on Christmas morning.” Honey tucked her legs up under her on the seat.

  “He says he’s moved to Goose Pimple and gotten a job over at Big Darryl D’s. He says he’s a changed man.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “I think that man knows how to be slick as snot on a doorknob, but he did truly come across as a changed man. I used to think there wasn’t a skirt he wouldn’t chase, but he swears he’s only got eyes for me now. And when I think about his temper, I don’t see any sign of it anymore, either.”

  “What do you mean, his temper?” Honey’s eyebrows rose nearly to her hairline.

  “Oh, my stars, he used to have a horrible temper. My preacher told me to keep my car keys by the back door in case I needed to make a fast getaway.”

  Honey slapped the arm of the chair. “You’re lying like a rug!”

  “I wish I were.” Martha Maye shook her head.

  “Did he ever hit you?”

  “No, but I always expected him to. One time we’d had a fight—over what I can’t remember.” She shook her head, looking down, picturing it in her mind. “I told him I was taking Bean and leaving. He walked to the dresser and swept his arm along the entire top, throwing everything onto the floor. He said I’d leave him over my dead body. I was terrified.”

  Honey looked confused. “You’d leave him over your dead body?”

  “Yeah, sometimes his brain waves fall a little short of the beach, but not this time. He wanted it to sound like a threat, so he said my dead body.”

  “Jimminy Christmas.” Honey stared at Martha Maye, shaking her head slowly. She pulled her legs up against her chest and wrapped her arms around them, her chin resting on her knees. “So what are you going to do? You don’t believe him now, do you?”

  “I don’t have any reason not to. He did get a job, and he did come here looking for us. Those are two steps in the right direction.”

  “Do you know for a fact he got a job?”

  “Well, no …”

  Honey moved closer to Martha Maye. “You be careful, Mart. I don’t know if you should trust him just yet.”

  “It’s not like I have to beat men off with a stick, and he says he wants to win me back. That’s the best offer I’ve had.” Wryly, she added, “Other than from a murderous kidnapper.”

  “Don’t you sell yourself short, Mart. There will be plenty men interested in you if you give them half a chance. You already got yourself a secret admirer. Don’t settle just to settle.”

  “But Honey, he’s Butterbean’s father. Maybe my leaving shook him up. He might have changed.”

  “Might? Mites don’t fly this time of year.”

  Martha Maye rolled her eyes and Honey continued, “Just do this for me, Mart, go slow and don’t make any rash decisions. ‘Kay?” Honey had been rubbing Martha Maye’s arm, and she gave it a little squeeze when Martha Maye agreed to go slow and to call her if she felt the least little bit threatened.

  As Martha Maye crossed the lawn back to her house, Johnny pulled
into her driveway.

  “Hey, stranger,” Johnny called, getting out of the car. I haven’t seen you in a while. Where you been keeping yourself?”

  “Just working, Chief.” Martha Maye stopped next to his car, putting her fingers in her back pockets, thumbs hanging out.

  They stood smiling and looking at each other for a long moment. Martha Maye felt like a lot, yet nothing, was said in the look that passed between them.

  Johnny broke the silence first, talking in a rush. “Lookit, Martha Maye, I know your divorce isn’t final yet, but I heard Dude’s Steakhouse has great steak and great fried chicken, too. I was wondering if we could go up there sometime.”

  Martha Maye didn’t reply right away. She looked down at her feet scuffing in the gravel, squealing to herself on the inside.

  In the momentary silence, they heard Dispatcher Teenie White over the air: “Officer Beanblossom, Mizz Odette over on Hidden Ridge Road is reporting a raccoon wandering around her backyard. She’s afraid it’s afflicted with rabies and is gonna get her dog Whitey. Can you run over there and take care of it?”

  Hank’s voice came over the speaker: “Sure thing, Teenie. I’m less than a minute away from Hidden Ridge.”

  Johnny added, “Together. You ‘n me.”

  Martha Maye thought about the talk she’d just had with Honey. She wished she could feel excitement for Lenny like she felt when she saw Johnny. She didn’t feel anything for Lenny except for indifference and maybe a little fear.

  As she tried to decide what to do, the silence stretched out, so Johnny said, “Doesn’t have to be dinner. Maybe lunch, or coffee, or ice cream —”

  “That sounds real nice, Johnny,” she blurted, looking up at him. “I’d love to go to Dude’s with you.”

  “Really?” Johnny’s voice came out a lot higher than intended. He cleared his throat, and in a tone too low he said, “Really?” Clearing his throat again, his normal voice came out of a mouth that held a shy smile. “If I’d known it was gonna be that easy, I’d have asked a long time before now.”

  She laughed, still absentmindedly kicking at the dirt on the driveway.

  “All you had to do was ask,” she said, smiling sweetly. Then her face clouded. “But Johnny, I need to tell you something.”

  “I knew that was too easy.” He slapped the top of his car.

  Butterbean ran out the front door and screeched to a stop next to her mother. “Hi, Chief Butterfield.”

  “Hi yourself. How’s school?”

  “Just fine.” She turned to her mother. “I finished my homework. Can I go over to Maddy Mack’s for a bit?”

  Martha Maye looked at her watch. “Just a short bit. It’s almost time for a bath.”

  “I took one of them yesterday.” Butterbean tried to maintain a serious face but her smile broke through.

  Martha Maye swatted her daughter’s bottom. “Yeah, unfortunately, dirt found its way onto your body again.”

  Butterbean headed for her friend’s house, saying over her shoulder, “Can I stay an hour?”

  “Half an hour and not a minute more,” Martha Maye called. She turned to Johnny and shook her head.

  “You’re doing something right with her, Mart.” Johnny leaned back against the side of his cruiser. “Now, you had something to tell me?”

  She nodded. “I do want to have dinner with you, but I just want you to know that some things have changed since I saw you last.” She saw Johnny swallow hard. “My husband—soon to be ex-husband—is in town.”

  “What for?” His eyebrows dipped to a V.

  “Wellll, he says he wants me back.”

  “What do you say?” Johnny asked softly.

  “I say he’s delusional. Lenny says he’s changed, but I don’t know if that’s possible. Since the divorce isn’t final, and he is in town, maybe you and I should just start off slow, like with coffee or something. I don’t want people to talk. Mama always said a reputation is the best thing a girl has.”

  He made an attempt to smile at Martha Maye. “Do you still love him?” The vulnerable look in Johnny’s eyes contrasted with his big, manly appearance.

  “I don’t know.” She sighed. “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Maybe I should let you figure that out before you break my heart,” Johnny said, as if it were already too late.

  “Johnny, that’s the sweetest thing anybody’s ever said to me.” Martha Maye put her hand over her heart.

  “Well, I’ve got more.” He smiled that shy smile, cocking his head to one side.

  “And I’d love to hear them,” she said coyly, her eyes daring him to continue.

  Teenie White came back over the air: “Officer Beanblossom, Rita Flares over on Hidden Ridge Road is reporting a possible peeping Tom. Says someone’s out there by her bedroom window. Since you’re in the area, will you check it out?”

  Johnny shook his head and looked up at the heavens.

  “What’s wrong, Johnny?”

  “Wait for it.” He chuckled.

  The next voice was Hank Beanblossom’s. “Uh, Teenie, that would be me. I’m out here looking for that raccoon. The Flareses and the Raineses are next-door neighbors. Remember?”

  “I do now. I’ll tell her the strange man in her yard is just you.”

  Johnny chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. Then he and Martha Maye both began to laugh, and the serious moment melted away.

  Trying to understand some folks is like guessing at the direction of a rathole underground.

  ~Southern Proverb

  Lenny sat seething in his car down the street from Martha Maye’s small Arts & Crafts bungalow, as he watched the police chief flirt with his wife. He didn’t like their body language. The way she giggled and tilted her head up at him. The way he looked at her. Lenny could hardly believe what he was seeing.

  First: she left him. Second: she made him look like a fool. And now third: she was flirting with another man in broad daylight.

  The police chief? That GI Joe? Seriously? That sure shoots step four—or is it step five? No matter, there goes my plan to get into the good graces of the law. I ain’t playing nice with a man who’s making a fool out of me.

  He started the car and drove to Humdinger’s, a bar on the outskirts of town. He was nursing a bourbon and Coke when a tall, very tan, bleached-blond thirty-something woman in a miniskirt and tube top climbed onto the stool next to him.

  She leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Poof.” Then she straightened to order a whiskey sour and light a cigarette.

  “‘Scuse me?” Lenny leered at the woman.

  “Here I am. What are your other two wishes?”

  He looked at her for a long moment, taking in her purple tube top, which was insufficient for keeping her bust confined, and her red miniskirt, which was indeed mini. His eyes followed her legs down to her spiky, red four-inch heels, then reversed direction, going all the way to the tip of her brown roots, which led to brittle, bottle-blond big hair, coiffed and sprayed into place. He finally settled back on her bloodshot eyes, heavily lined in black eyeliner with goopy clusters of mascara coating the lashes.

  “Now, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” He flashed his lady-killer smile at her.

  “Looking for love in all the wrong places, sugar.” The woman gulped her drink and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Say, Genie, why’nt you and me go outside and see if we can discuss my other two wishes.”

  He hopped off his stool, and she led him by the hand to a blue minivan with a DO NOT DISTURB bumper sticker on its dented, slightly rusty back end.

  “Genie, I think this could be the start of a beautiful something or other.” He quickly scanned the parking lot before pulling the van door closed.

  Thirty minutes later, Lenny pulled into the parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly. He bought a bunch of carnations, a box of Russell Stover candy, and some breath spray, then drove back to Martha Maye’s house. He sprayed some breath freshen
er in his mouth, combed his hair straight back with his fingers, and headed for the front door, whistling “You Are My Sunshine.” Genie had put an extra spring in his step.

  Martha Maye opened the door with a wary smile. He looked her up and down, taking in her fitted jeans and red blouse before handing her the flowers and box of chocolates. “Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker. Offer me a drink, baby.”

  She held the door open for him, and he managed to brush up against her as he came in the house.

  “Lenny, thank you for the chocolates and flowers. That was awful nice of you. I’ll pass on the candy right now, though.”

  He stood looking from the box to Martha Maye.

  “Oh. Would you like some?” She unwrapped the cellophane from the box and held it out to him.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” He proceeded to pinch three of the chocolates until he found the flavor he wanted. He saw her watching him and felt flattered.

  “I noticed you ate the vanilla cream—my favorite.” She put the lid back on the box and set it on the hall table before walking to the kitchen.

  “Heck, it’s my favorite, too,” he said petulantly.

  “Would you like a beer?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “Does Dolly Parton sleep on her back?”

  Reaching the refrigerator, she turned briefly to roll her eyes at him, then reached inside, took the cap off a bottle of white ale, and handed it to him. “Don’t be crude. And here I thought maybe you’d changed.”

  “Oohwee, you done got all fancy on me, girl. Rolling Rock White Ale? You must be sitting in high cotton. Y’ain’t got no Colt 45? You know that’s my favorite.”

  “I wasn’t exactly expecting you to stop by when I went to the store a few days ago.” She led him to the den.

  “‘Zactly who were you ‘spectin when you bought it?”

  She sat in a chair opposite Lenny, who sat on the sofa, and ignored his question.

  “Whatchew doing all the way over there, sugar plum?” he complained. He put his feet up on the coffee table and patted the seat beside him, looking at her with puppy dog eyes.