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I tapped Elmore lightly between the shoulderblades and pointed over at the door.
Deb: Look who's here... Beth and Sam were squeezing into the Corner, around a group of denim clad yuppies who hung out whenever our ads announced the Bail Jumpers. Beth: Hey, Elmore! Elmore: Beth! Beth hopped up on the bar, with minor assistance from Sam, to give Elmore a peck on the cheek and a hug round the neck. I suspected Sam's boost was less because Beth needed it and more because Sam wanted Elmore to remember he had every right to give it. Beth dropped back to the floor and leaned against the bar. Elmore: Hey, Sammy - thought you mighta had a cold from sittin' in that hot-tub all day Sunday. Sam: No, Elmore, no cold. Thanks for askin', though. Got a beer? Beth blushed prettily at the mention of Sunday and the hot-tub. We had all been chased off for the day, Bill grumbling, me giggling and Elmore...rather quietly. I nudged him gently. Deb: Nice one, Elmore. I leaned over, whispered two words in Elmore's ear. Sam was scanning the barroom, paying us no mind, an automatic behavior for him. Elmore slammed a Lone Star into Sam's big hand. Sam: I said beer. Beth giggled, covering her face and poking Sam in the side with a sharp elbow. Sam: You're just loads of help here. Beth: Always glad to be of service, Deputy. Whenever you need me, I'll be there. Beth slapped her hand over her mouth, fruity snorts emerging. A cheap Jackson 5 shot always went over well. Sam went to the pass through, came behind the bar, found a Budweiser, and opened it for himself. Deb: Shit...you're just in time for the house band. As Bill and the Bail Jumpers took the stage, I started pounding my head against the bar. Bill: ...and these are the fabulous Bail Jumpers...! Beth set up an impressive howling, no doubt learned from Hewey. Deb: EAT A BOWL OF SUCK!!!!!! Sam: What? Deb: Sounds rude. I sent the opened Lone Star up to Bill, who drenched the first row of rioters...er...patrons with it rather than drink it. Beth: Are these guys out on work release or something? From the federal pen? Deb: Time off for good behavior. Or bad behavior. You know the feds. Sam set his beer down hard. Beth: Deb...Deb...psst! Sssh! Ixnay on the edsfay. Deb: Is he IRS? Then the hell with 'im. Beth reached up and pinched Sam's cheek, mussed his hair, spoke in the voice of a fond female relative. Beth: Ooooh, but he's so cute when he's angry! Deb: AAAAAHHH! The 'c' word! The 'c' word! Run for your lives! Sam drained his beer, shot us both a look. Meantime, the Bail Jumpers launched into an interesting version of 'Roadhouse Blues'. Beth: Damn! Sounds great! Like Jim Morrison's actually singing with them and not Bill. Pretty sad when you don't even sound as good as a dead guy. Deb: Morrison's dead and Bill's O-L-D. Not much difference, is there? Sam had been looking put upon, like we were about to get the cranky schtick. After Beth and I dissected Bill, his shoulders were heaving and he had to put down the fresh beer Elmore had given him. Beth was tired of picking on Bill - he was no fun without a reaction - so she turned to Elmore. Beth: Elmore? You need any help? Elmore had been watching her, quietly contented to have her there. She took him by surprise when she spoke to him. Elmore: Wha...yeah, sure! Wouldja? Beth: Sure! Mixing or delivering? Elmore: Well...gets pretty rowdy out there when the Bail Jumpers play. You stay here, honey, I'll work the floor. Beth hopped nimbly over the bar, before Sam could make another production out of helping her. Beth: Okay...who's got what? Sam: You wanna set me up again, baby? Beth hesitated for a bare minute, then popped the top on Sam's third Budweiser and gave it to him. Beth: That was easy. Slow down, Sam, that's not bottled water. Sam: Three-two shit, might as well be. Beth bustled around, loading Elmore's tray with orders. I nudged her in the side, pointed into a corner. Deb: Clay Shaw's in town again. Elmore's gonna have a hell of a time getting away. Beth shuddered as she wiped down the bar, loaded glasses into the sink. Beth: Yuk. Why doesn't he stay in N'Awlins? Deb: Bidness. What else? Beth glanced at the back of Sam's head. Beth: Hope it's no bidness he might be interested in. Deb: I think the bidness is Elmore. Poor guy. The Bail Jumpers roared into John Hiatt's Tennessee Plates. Sam pushed his empty bottle at Beth, who inadvertently replaced it with one filled with Lone Star. Sam: What is this shit? Beth: What is what shit, dear heart? Sam never took his eyes off the barroom, but waved the bottle at Beth. She seemed rather surprised to see it in his hand. Beth: Sorry. Had you confused with someone else. Sam leaped effortlessly over the bar. I sat in the other bar sink, which had nothing in it, enthralled. Sam gave Beth a rough squeeze around the waist, found himself another Bud and opened it. Beth: Gonna have to 86 you pretty quick, here. Bud. Sam smirked at her and hopped back over the bar. I climbed out of the sink. Beth: He's such an athlete. The Bail Jumpers blasted on into Sweet Home Chicago. Deb: The Blues Brothers they're not. Beth: Bill kinda dances like Elwood, though. Sam threw back his head and laughed, long and hard, reached over and brushed his hand across the top of Beth's head. He rose casually then turned and sauntered across the bar. Beth watched, curls disarranged, nearly comatose. Beth: What that man does for a pair of Levis. Deb: Criminal. Bill: ...be back in a few...after the break.... Beth: Thank God! Deb: Let's not an' say you did!!! Bill pointed...long arm, long index finger extended. Beth and I waved. Shaw: Excuse me...have either of you two seen that simply... Beth: Simply? Simply nobody in particular. Shaw made a witchy noise. Shaw: The barman! I'd like another julep and I simply cannot find the barman! Beth: Well, hell, if that's all you want, here! Beth mixed up the drink, sloppily, and shoved it across at him. Shaw came up with a five, which he laid beside the glass. He stared at the dripping tumbler until Beth wiped it down. Shaw: I do not underdstand the help in this establishment. Shaw wandered away and we stared after him with ill disguised distaste. Deb: That man is so damn gross. Beth: Wonder where the Texas tornado got off to. Bill finally found his way to the bar, effectively answering Beth's question. Bill: What the hell you two snickerin' about? Gimme a beer, pipsqueak. Beth: When you put it that way, how can I refuse? Bill was paying me no mind, as usual. I had ducked down below the level of the bar, as though to tie my shoe. Actually, what I was doing was twisting the cap off of a bottle of something I'd had sent down specially by the liquor wholesaler we bought our beer from. It was a brand that somehow managed to be worse than Lone Star, something specially sent down from Minneapolis, something called Pig's Eye. I handed the bottle to Beth and she waited until Bill's attention was diverted before she handed it to him. Beth: Here ya go, Spudnut. One beer. Bill didn't bother to check the label before taking a long drag off the bottle. His shoulders heaved, and the beer flew across the bar in a warm golden spray. I stood up, brushing droplets out of my hair. Deb: You give towels with those showers? Beth: Wow! Good distance, there! Bill: What in hell is...? Beth was always much better at playing jokes out than I was. She could stand forever with an angelic look on her face...I invariably threw the stunt over by turning red and starting to laugh like hell. Bill saw this, narrowed his eyes at first the bottle, then me, then the bottle again. After he was satisfied that he'd been had, he slammed the bottle down on the bar and nailed Beth to the backbar with a look. Bill: You! Get me a beer! Not this goddamn North Country shit of hers! Bill leaned over the bar at me. Bill: And you, c'mere. Deb: What for? Bill made a beckoning motion at me with his index finger. I repeated it back at him, seeming very proud of my ability to mimic him. Deb: I can do that, too. Bill: Just gonna make it worse for yourself if I have to come after ya. Beth set a beer in front of Bill. Real beer. Beth: Here, Twinkletoes. I had taken off down to the other end of the bar to wait on an impatient customer. Bill vaulted casually over the bar. Beth: Boy, Bill...you've just got it. Bill: Shut up. She's gonna get it. Bill hit me like a freight train, grabbing me up off the floor by the waist. I yelped, but that only pleased him. Bill: 'Scuse us, pardner...that one behind me'll take care of ya. I found myself being borne off to the back room. Deb: Something you need? Bill: Somethin' you're gonna get. Beth wandered to the other end of the bar...to find that the patron I had been headed for was none other than Augustus McCrae. She tried to raise her voice above the shrieks coming from the back room. Beth: What can I...damn...What can I get for you, sir? Deb: ...owwwwww!!.....Bill!.......stopitstopitstopit...Biiiiilllll!!!! Gus: Why, Beth, darlin'...heard you were up north! Just a beer. Y'got Lone Star? Beth: Hey, Gus! Where's your other half? Gus: Off huntin' down Sam. Got a real thing for Sam, that man does. Beth popped the top off a Lone Star and handed it across to Gus, who smiled disarmingly. Beth: Couple of cops...and serious ones at that. They have a lot in common. The Captain, Woodrow Call, dropped onto the bar stool beside Gus and removed his hat instantly at the sight of Beth. Gus: Again, please, darlin'. And one for Woodrow. Beth reached for two Lone Stars. Beth: DEB, YOU REALLY NEED TO COME OUT HERE!!! She grinned at the Captain. Sam materialized behind the bar and reached for a beer of his own. He dropped his free hand to her waist and squeezed it gently, briefly as he waited for her to pop the top on the bottle. I lunged out of the office, out of breath and trying to put myself back into some sort of order. Deb: ...and I mean it! I didn't get the feeling anyone was fooled. Bill was snickering as he followed me out of the office, headed for the stage. He bumped me into the bar, directly in front of the Captain, as he passed me. I was acutely aware of the Captain's glowering presence, and I ignored Bill's attempt to clothesline me. Gus: Well, look who's here! Deb: Where else would I be? And I'm not telling you again, either! I flung this at Bill's retreating back. He reached around and briefly scratched his backside as a response as he found his way to the stage. I gave the Captain a shy glance. Deb: I think he made me rupture something...Captain Call...nice to see you again. The Captain favored me with a mere glance and continued working his beer. Sam: What brings you boys in tonight? Visitin'? Gus: In town for a day or two...bizness, y'know how 'tis, Sam. Beth: When did Lubbock get to be such a popular place for everyone to do ...business, d'you suppose? Sam: Sure these two are legitimate, baby. Three more? Beth looked the three of them over, raised an eyebrow. Beth: Where are you boys puttin' them? Beth headed for the cooler in the back, to bring out more Budweiser. I busied myself washing glasses at the sink directly in front of the Captain's stool. I looked strictly at my hands, trying to imitate Elmore's moves, the quick twist, swipe and rinse that he made look so easy. Gus: Don't take it personal, Debra darlin'. Woodrow's feelin' contentious tonight, anyway. Deb: Doesn't seem that way to me, Gus. Beth was lugging a case of Budweiser bottles out and, as she passed behind me I distinctly heard her humming 'Evergreen'. I started laughing, and to cover it up began running fresh water into the sink. Deb: You're a stinker. Sam tried to look stern, but he was grinning too hard. He tapped the back of Beth's hand, then left his fingers lie on her skin. It was the kind of contact she and Sam made so naturally that they never noticed it, and neither did anyone else that knew them. Sam: Beth, shame! Beth widened her eyes and dropped her jaw - classic eighth grade class play look of innocence challenged. Beth: Whaaaaaaat? We heard a slamming sound and looked to see Elmore, standing by the pass through and forcing down outrage. He looked down in our direction, must have seen Sam's fingers so possessively on Beth's hand. Another sort of spasm briefly contorted his features. Beth hurried down to him, knowing she would be the only one able to gentle him. I caught Sam's eye, held it. Beth: Whoa! Easy, big fella, take a deep breath! What's wrong? Elmore: I been pinched again! Deb: Sparky. Sam: Who? Deb: Forget it. Elmore: I'm gonna lay that boy out yet! Deb: Elmore. We love you. But we're not gonna kill you. Beth: Just steer clear of him, Elmore. If he wants a drink, come get me and I'll take care of it. Beth shuddered as she said it. I figured I could save her the agony. Deb: No, no, Elmore. I'll do it...I'm feeling evil tonight. Gus: Might sell tickets fer that'un. Bill stepped up to the microphone. Bill: ...next one we call Rap Mama Goose... Beth: Just shoot me. Sam: You knew it was comin'. Deb: PLEASE! KILL ME! If you love me, kill me. Even if you DON'T love me, kill me! AAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Beth let her head drop to the bar with an audible thud. Sam raised an eyebrow comically. Sam: Wanna go to the office? Beth twisted her neck, gave him one eyeball and half a grin. Sam jumped over the bar again, which caused me to collapse backwards, and I almost didn't catch myself before I went into the sink. Sam led Beth toward the office door, guiding her with big hands around her waist. I yelled after them as they walked. Deb: Wilson, you're getting luckier than you know because it's sound- proofed back there and you won't need to hear this shit! Elmore: Damn! That song really sucks! Deb: Wanna throw some empties, Elmore? Somehow it just doesn't seem like Rap Mama Goose if we don't throw some empties. Sometimes I just wish he'd swallow that harmonica. The Captain was roused from his lethargy. Call: Don't they never play normal music? Deb: Um...normal? What would you consider normal? Gus: Aw, darlin', Woodrow don't like nothin' 'cept two kinds o' music. Deb: Don't tell me...let me guess. Country... Elmore: ...and Western. Deb: Dry up, Elmore. Suddenly, I had a thought. Deb: Captain, I'd be happy to make a request for you. What would you like hear? I grabbed an order pad and one of Elmore's pencils to write with. Deb: Shoot, Captain. Call: Well...I'd ask 'em to play 'My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys' but they'd prob'ly butcher it. Gus slapped Call on the back. Gus: Woodrow, there ain't no way to butcher a Willie Nelson song! Deb: Hang on a minute....ah-haaaaa! I wove my way through the seated crowd, and then through the dancers just below the stage. I stood under Bill's microphone, in front of the chickenwire. I could feel the horrible, shit-eating grin on my face. Bill was really wailing away so he ignored me, trying to keep the momentum. But finally the hideous expression got to him, and he stalked over to me. Bill: What?! Deb: I have a request. Here. I bolted. As I found my way back to the bar, the damn song finally ended and Bill consulted briefly with the Bail Jumpers. Deb: Mission accomplished, boys. Let's see what happens. Bill: Folks, we got a special request, here. And you know we live to serve. Crank it up, boys! The Bail Jumpers launched into...Rap Mama Goose. Beth came staggering out of the office. Beth: Judas H. Priest, how long is this thing? Deb: I just requested 'My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys' for the Captain and that's what we got. Beth: Let this be a learning experience. Never, ever request anything from the Bail Jumpers. Deb: That gives me an idea... Sam was coming out of the office, brushing his hair into place. Sam: Uh-oh, Li'l Sis is thinkin'. I was writing an impassioned plea for a Rap Mama Goose marathon...a little reverse psychology. I headed back for the stage, same stupid look on my face as before. Bill: WHAT?!! Deb: I have another request. Here. I ran like hell back to the bar, where Beth seemed to be lost in thought. Beth: Gus and Woodrow...Woodrow and Gus. Those names seem awfully familiar. I cleared my throat, opened beers for the peace officers among us. Deb: Not here. I eyed the Captain nervously. Gus: We done met y'all a couple months back. Course they sound familiar. Beth: No, no...it's something else. It'll come to me. Beth moved to fill more drink orders for Elmore, snickering. Deb: Ssshhhhh... Sam: Hon, aren't those the names of those two damn monsters... Deb: Shut up, you! Beth let out an unholy screech and dropped to the floor behind the bar, convulsing. Gus: Woodrow, you got any idea what lit on that woman? Beth used the beertaps to haul herself to her feet. She was exerting a mighty effort to get herself under control. Beth: So, Captain...you got a dog? Beth hit the floor again in a fit of hysterical laughter. The Captain looked horribly perplexed. Deb: Alright! Okay! They're dogs! Woodrow and Gus are my dogs! You happy now, you maniac?! Strannix, will you shut that shit up??!! Beth's voice was faintly audible from the floor. Beth: Please. Someone just bury me. Gus: Dawgs? Sam: You're doing fine by yourself. Deb: Yes, dogs, okay? Beth: BIG dogs. And they howl...when the opera's over. Gus: Big dawgs? Beth had finished losing it. Sam came behind the bar again, picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, where she hung loosely, and took her away to the office. Their voices faded away. Beth: I've been framed, I didn't do it...I didn't kill my wife... Sam: I don't care. Finally, after about a thousand years, Rap Mama Goose came to an end. Bill: Takin' another break. Gotta go kick some ass... I turned tail, headed for the kitchen and the back door at a fast trot. Deb: 'Scuse me, boys, need some air... Bill ramrodded his way to the bar and caught up with me before I could make the swinging doors to the kitchen. He grabbed the back of my shirt. Bill: Where you think you're goin'? Deb: Out of here, before you can tickle me again. Bill: Shoulda thought of that before. Bill slipped his arms roughly around my waist and backed me through the swinging doors. Deb: Thought of what? Bill, this Fred and Ginger thing is getting old, please don't tickle me again, I'll wet myself... As the doors swung shut behind us, Bill dropped me into a headlock and commenced noogies. Call: These cityfolk are mighty strange, Augustus. Gus: Dawgs? I managed a successful escape, somehow...well, not somehow. The Wedgie-Matic did play a big role in it. I barrelled out into the barroom, hurdled the bar, and stood behind the Captain. Bill plowed through the door right behind me, grinning evilly. Bill: Wussy. Deb: That's me. Captain... Beth came blasting out of the office, yelling. She skidded to a stop behind Bill. Beth: Fortheloveagodbill...SAAAAAAVE MEEEEEEEE!!! Deb: Yeah, Bill...save her. I was giggling helplessly. Sam was coming out of the office, the strut going, eating up ground with that deceptive grace of his. Sam: Give it up, girl. Bill was trying to find Beth even as she continued to dart around him, attempting to keep him between her and Sam. Bill: Shut up. What...where the hell are ya? Sam: Give 'er up, Bill. Then you can get back to what you were doing. Bill: I don't have her, Dawg...she's doin' the bob and weave over here. Deb: Thank you, Captain...I'm outa here. Call: Very strange people, Augustus... Sam reached around Bill and snagged Beth's wrist. Sam: Gotcha! With her free hand, Beth had a death grip on Bill's jacket, so as Sam yanked her close, all he got was a chest full of Bill. Bill: What the hell you people doin'? Sam: Get the hell outa the way and you wouldn't be askin'! C'mere, baby. I'm serious. I saw what was going on and I couldn't help myself...I let out a whoop. Bill: Will. You. Get. Off. Me! Bill was still sandwiched between Beth and Sam, looking around for me, but I was securely hidden. Finally he managed to shove Sam backwards and launch Beth into him. As Sam grabbed Beth's other wrist, Bill yanked his jacket down and shot his cuffs. Bill: Dammit, now I gotta go back on stage! Deb: Y'don't hafta! Hey, Strannix...you losers know any slowdance music?? As I went off into gales of laughter, safe in the corner with an annoyed Sparky, Bill pointed a threatening finger in my general direction. Beth turned into Sam's arms, her back against him. She patted his hand tiredly and he rested his chin on the top of her head. Beth: I missed these quiet evenings. Sam: Hell of a life, ain't it? Gus: Dawgs? Call: Shut up, Augustus. TO BE CONTINUED...
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