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What was it about Beth, I wondered, that made men want to protect her? So much so, in fact, that they were willing to fight for the privelege. Who to ask...Beth? Not if I didn't want her bursting into uncontrollable hysterics. I knew I had no idea, it just wasn't something I could ever remember happening to me personally. As I watched out the back door, Elmore was strutting...well, parading, anyway...back and forth in a tight gray pullover and snug black jeans. Either this was for Beth's benefit or I was stone blind. And Sam sat beside her, the Marshal's sprawl going full tilt and his eyes looking entirely unnatural in the center of an expression of studied calm on his face. He had a casual hand on Beth's shoulder, but he was watching Elmore like a hawk. Or a dawg.
Deb: Bill...c'mere a minute, woudja? Bill: Whatcha want? I had learned that this man had no time for the vapors. He had tolerated enough of them from me...and I wasn't about to give him the impression that I was headed back into that disgusting emotional territory. But...I had to ask somebody and he knew both Elmore and Beth. Deb: What's going on out there? Bill: We're havin' a barbecue, whaddaya mean, what's goin' on, it was your idea. I nudged him hard. Deb: I know that...I mean Elmore. What's goin' on with Elmore? Bill: He's waitin' t'eat. And it might get ugly out there if you don't get those damn coals goin'. Deb: I did that. Look at him, Bill...he's...he's putting on a show. Bill dropped back, resting all his weight on one heel in that hipshot way he had. He folded his arms across his big chest and stared out the patio door at the events unfolding there. Elmore was throwing a mangled tennis ball and Augustus was eagerly running to fetch it. Woodrow lay at Sam's feet, in Bill's absence, watching his brother with an expression of immense boredom. Bill: I'll be damned if he ain't. And he's got half an audience, anyway. Beth seemed very interested in the game of fetch going on. Deb: And the other half is far from amused. A huge grin spread across Bill's features. Bill: Dawg looks like he's chokin' on a bone. Deb: He looked like that a lot before he decided you were no threat to him. Bill looked down at me, eyebrow skyward. Bill: I'm not? Deb: Not the way I mean. I gave him another shot to the ribs. Deb: And I want everyone to relax and enjoy themselves... Bill: So I gotta play host? Deb: I know it's a stretch. Chin in hand, Bill continued to study the little drama continuing to play itself out in his backyard. Bill: Meant t'ask ya...how much ya know about barbecue? Deb: Open Pit? Bill: Aaahh! My ass you will... He yanked open the patio door. Bill: Shrimp, you wanna get in here and show this fool how y'make barbecue sauce before she puts goddamn Open Pit all over my meat! I dissolved in horrified laughter. Bill: Oh, shut the goddamn hell up! He was grinning when he said it, thankfully, but there was something behind the grin that told me he would be reopening the subject later. Deb: Ketchup, anyone? Bill lightly swatted the back of my head and disappeared out the back door. I noticed that Elmore's mild exercise calmed considerably the minute he noticed that Beth was gone. Beth wandered into the kitchen and over to where I stood, by some bottles of Open Pit barbecue sauce. Beth: Oooohhhhh, Deb. You don't want to profane the meat, now do you. Deb: He's lucky I agreed to cook it. What's wrong with Open Pit?? I sounded more than a little defensive. Beth: What's right with it? Beth opened the bottles and dumped them into a big bowl. Beth: It will make a decent base, though. What else d'ya have? I gave her a look of complete confusion. It was nothing in comparison to the way I felt. Deb: Have? Elmore strolled through the kitchen, on the way to his room. Beth drew a deep breath. Beth: For the...the sauce, yeah, that's it. What else can we put in the sauce? I bumped her lightly. Deb: Courage. Beth: Hah. Come on, we better doctor this stuff up or you're gonna be in major difficulties. I threw open the pantry and the fridge. Deb: Go for it. When you have an effective time period of three months available for barbecuing, you either pursue it aggressively or you live with Open Pit. Beth: Three months! I know it snows up there but the grill's not a bear, it doesn't hibernate! Bill came through from somewhere in the house, carrying two bottles of Pig's Eye. He dumped them into the sauce and gave it a stir. Bill: Shit ain't fit to drink... Beth and I stifled a giggle. Bill poked us both with the empty bottles and charged back outside. Elmore meandered through just behind him. He had changed to a red muscle shirt. Beth spoke only once he was outside again, and her voice was reverent. Beth: Jesus! Deb: Easy, girl. Beth: I know, I know. Sam's livid. Bill came back through from the house, though we hadn't seen him come in. He carried a container of honey, which he poured into the sauce. Bill: Hafta do everything myself. We jumped guiltily, but were unable to shove him completely out of the way. Beth: Honey's good, Bill. Bill: Yeah...hey, Punk, think we're goin' back to the whipped cream for a while. Gotta get rid of this stuff. I felt myself turning deep red. I dropped my head to a spot just below the base of his neck for a split second. Beth: Woo-hoo! Deb, you gotta quit playin' with your meat. Deb: Too tough to play with... Beth could see this one coming up Broadway... Beth: Stop right there. Bill: Good advice, punk. Deb: You know what they say about advice, William. Bill: Uh-oh...I'm in trouble now...she's callin' me William. Beth: Like you care. Deb: Fools go where angels fear to tread. Bill lunged after me with the little honeydripper and I thought it prudent to run outside and check the readiness of the coals. When I crept back to the kitchen, Bill had disappeared again and Beth was chopping an onion. Beth: Get on in here, we can do something with this green pepper. Hopefully, I suggested... Deb: Throw it away? Beth: Don't be such a wussy. Elmore sauntered in, body lightly oiled with perspiration. He found his way to the refrigerator in search of an Evian. He opened the fridge, bent and reached and stretched. He opened the bottle and raised it to his lips, drinking deeply, his body one long smoothly muscled line. Beth was stunned, fascinated and speechless. Somewhere in the middle of this display, Bill wandered back in. He was talking to Sam. Bill: ...yeah, yeah, keep y'damn collar on...I'll send 'er out, Dawg. Bill leaned over and murmured in my ear, deciding to slide his arms around my waist from the back as he did so. Bill: Showtime, baby. Deb: Tell me about it. Somebody give 'im the hook. Bill: Shrimp...hey...Shrimp...! Bill prodded her hard with a booted foot. She jumped guiltily. Beth: Quit kickin' me, you boner! Dontcha know you're not supposed to kick women! Bill: They don't come when I call, you bet your ass I'm gonna kick 'em. Dawg wants ya. Elmore came up for air, dragged a heavily muscled forearm across his mouth and turned a slow smile on Beth. She fled the scene, doubtless in search of the relative serenity of Sam's side. Deb: I don't envy her. Bill: Once y'did. Deb: That was when I was young and ignorant. Bill: So what are ya now? Deb: None of your business. Bill: If I don't make it my business it's gonna end up bein' my business anyway. Deb: Out of my kitchen, you freak. Bill: Whose kitchen? Deb: Okay, the kitchen, but I have a lease on it. Out, damned spot! I got the kind of hug hard enough to sunder ribs and the kind of kiss that made me forget the pain of the hug. As I tried to decide whether to faint from the agony or the ecstacy, Bill snagged Elmore and hauled him outside. I followed a few minutes later lugging a plate loaded down with chops and ribs. Elmore and Bill were tossing the football back and forth. Bill was only slightly more responsive than Augustus. I would have called what they were doing 'burning it in', but neither of them seemed to be the least bit affected by the way the football was smashing into their midsections. Sam was lounging in one of the cushioned Adirondack chairs, a hand running slowly up and down Beth's spine. My first act, upon reaching the Altar of Meat, was to poke the coals. Bill: Dammit, fool woman, what'n hell you tryna do there? Put the damn fire out? Deb: The coals are ready, buttromper. Play your kiddiegames and leave the grownups cook. Bill slammed the football into the ground and charged over to me. I was laying out the center-cut chops, trying to arrange them so I could fit the ribs on as well. Bill sent me flying into the grass with an impatient whallop and started rearranging the food. The ribs went directly over the coals and the chops were placed around them. Deb: 'Scuse me. I guess the Pampered Chef has his own ideas. Bill: Shut up. Where the hell are those potatoes? Deb: In the oven. I knew if I fussed with your meat you'd... Beth turned a droll look to me and I went belly up again. Bill: Ain't that I don't want ya fussin' with my meat, it's... He stopped in mid-statement, narrowed his eyes and tried to stare me into silence. It was hopeless. I was sitting on the edge of the hot-tub, just yelling. Bill: You got a bad mind, punk. Right in the damn gutter. Deb: Right alongside yours, bumhug. Get lost there, sir. I think I can take it from here and Elmore's lookin' for somebody to knock over. Bill stabbed a big forefinger into my face and looked as though he might be ready to try and subdue me again, but I grabbed the finger and kissed it. When I spoke, I pitched my voice low. Deb: Go on...look after your pipsqueak. She's gonna need her best friend's help, dontcha think? Bill scanned the backyard, taking in everything and everyone there. Bill: Don't move nothin'. Deb: You have my word, Julio Child. Go on, feel the power. Bill: You're gonna feel the damn power yet. He grinned hugely, poked me in the nose, then turned back to the yard. Bill: C'mon, Elmore...Hail Mary pass...it'll be a hail of a joke if I catch it... Bill trotted back into the middle of the yard and was laid out by Woodrow. If the Alpha Dog was going to play, then there was some worth to the activity. Beth laughed appreciatively and Sam wore a positively wolfish grin. Elmore hauled Bill to his feet and Bill showed his gratitude by tripping Elmore, which allowed Augustus to overwhelm the younger man. It was quite a show. Elmore: C'mon, Beth darlin'! Y'wanna play some football? Instinctively Beth turned to Sam. She laid a small hand on his big thigh and leaned into him. Beth: Sam? Come on...it'll be fun. Sam shook his head and smiled briefly. He touched her cheek lightly. Sam: Naw, baby, think I'll sit this one out. You go ahead...get Deb to play, even out the side. Deb: Not me. My ribs have taken enough for one day. Besides, Bill's meat needs special handling. Beth snickered, then headed into the middle of the yard. Three was an odd number for a touch football game, so before long it took on the aspects of full-contact keepaway. Whoever had the ball was mangled, usually to the point of fumbling. Whoever recovered the fumble became the new target. Deb: Geez, Elmore...you're tryna tackle her, not stuff her inside your skin! Whoops...wrong choice of language. Sam straightened up, both feet on the ground, watching closely. Bill, who had been laid out by a combination of an Elmore in the ribs and Gus behind his knees, shot me a furious look. I mouthed words at him...sorrysorrysorry...dammit...shit!!!! Sam peeled off his light jacket and sweatshirt and turned up the Marshal's Stride, into the middle of the yard to join in the activity. And the carnage was great. Bill started to bear a great resemblance to the silver ball in a pinball machine, racing around as he was trying in his way to keep Elmore and Sam from tugging Beth in half. After he hit the ground running for about the fifteenth time, having never laid hands on the ball, I pulled the cover off the hot-tub and turned on the whirlpool. Billy was going to need it. Beth: Deb! Gatorade! Water! Bill: Blood! Somethin'! Sam hauled Bill to his feet and clapped him roughly on the back. Elmore slammed the ball into his midsection, effectively making him the target, which was the last thing the battered Bad Boy needed. Augustus leaped from one side, Woodrow from the other amd Beth cut him off at the knees before he thought to move. Elmore landed on Beth, rather gratuitously, and Sam made a great production of tripping over Bill in such a way that he managed shove Elmore aside and land on Beth himself. Bill was helpless on the bottom of this stack of humanity, and his look was eloquent. I marched into the kitchen to prepare the salad, remove the potatoes from the oven, and finish the vegetables. Whether a certain gentleman was going to have the strength to eat or not was another question, but the food would be there for him to try and consume. Deb: C'mon...halftime, somethin'... Elmore had worked up a healthy appetite and Beth's face was a becoming pink. Elmore grabbed her hand and they charged up to the table. Sam followed more slowly, and Bill, noticeably limping, brought up the rear. He had taken a tremendous pounding from George Cole and come up with a maniac's grin on his face...what was different about a backyard game between friends. Unless it was that he had wanted to administer the beating, while this football game had turned into a matter of survival. I trotted out to his side, unobtrusively offering my shoulder for support if he wanted it. Deb: You okay, there, pally? Bill: You got that hot-tub on? Deb: On and turned up to simmer. You can hop in right now if you want. Bill: First I'm gonna eat. Then I'm gonna soak. Then I'm gonna remind Elmore who's boss. Deb: Age and treachery will overcome youth and skill. Bill: I c'n overcome that puppy in my sleep. Aaah! Dammit all! I murmured my last remark. Deb: I'll be along later with the BenGay. Bill: Save the BenGay. Bring the ReddiWhip. Beth: Who's got a bad mind? Bill: Mind your manners, brat. Elmore: We playin' some more? He grinned warmly at Beth, as though flattening her little body was about the most fun you could have with your clothes on. Sam: We're done, Elmore...gonna hit the hot-tub after dinner...right, baby? Beth leaned against Sam, trusting. Beth: You know it, pretty boy. I'm about shot here. Elmore: That tub's great after a workout. Bill gave me a look. He had warned me about Elmore's regimen and he had been absolutely right. Elmore lived in the hot-tub, but that was what it was for. I got up to bring another round of drinks - any other time I might have made some sort of snide remark or another at Bill's dark head, but in this case I was the only one not a candidate for traction. I stopped for just a minute behind Bill and leaned against his shoulders...it looked like a purely affectionate move, but I was bearing down on the tight muscles. I felt him relax slightly, then he reached around and patted my hand so I knew he'd had enough. I went to bring out the beer and bottled water and my own wussy wine cooler. When I returned, they had finished eating. Beth had begun to stack dishes, but I chased her into the guest bathroom to change for the hot-tub. Sam followed her, Elmore went to his bathroom to hop into... Deb: Elmore! Compression shorts! You can't go into the hot-tub in just compression shorts! Elmore: Do it all th' time. And many was the time I had stared in mute appreciation at his amazing, wet, skin-tight packaged body as he climbed out of the tub in compression shorts. He had me there. Bill: She means y'can't wear th' damn things with Beth and Sam around. Bill had reappeared in his usual hot-tub attire for guests - a tired pair of running shorts from his Academy days. Elmore: Ma don't care... Bill: Ma ain't Beth an' you don't need me t'tell ya that. G'wan, boy... put somethin' on more'n an ace bandage 'th legholes. Git, now. Elmore: Yessir. Elmore bounced back into his room, returning to us in a pair of Speedo swimming trunks. I was loading the dishwasher, Bill and Sam and Beth were already outside in the hot-tub. All I had time to do was whang my head on the side of a cabinet before he had joined them. Out of the frying pan, into the fire. I could see Sam's expression through the patio door...set and sharp. He knew what was going on. Beth: You comin' in, Deb? Deb: Think I'll just hang around out here so you guys don't track water all over my floor. Bill damn near choked to death. Bill: Like ya give a good goddam about that floor...get the hell in here! He reached for me and dragged me in, clothes and all. Bill: Now y'know y'can't be in the tub in jeans, y'scratch up the inside. Go change. An' bring another round. Deb: You're evil. Sam: Go on and change, Li'l Sis...I'll get the beers. When I returned, Sam and Beth were seated in an entirely different corner, and Elmore was in the corner Sam and Beth had been in. This wasn't rocket science...Sam had climbed out to get the beers and Elmore had zipped into Sam's place, next to Sam's woman. Sam had returned, seen his place usurped, gone to another corner and pulled Beth over to him. This cycle repeated itself several times over the next couple of hours until Bill even got tired of the musical chairs routine and landed a couple of warning shots on Elmore. Elmore managed to calm down for a while, but when he asked Beth if she wanted a footrub, I called a halt to the evening. Deb: Elmore, we hafta get on over to the Corner for a while yet tonight. Come on, man...Bill can entertain these two. Sam looked grateful. Sam: Actually, no...I'm off to Fort Worth in the morning. We need to call this a night, really. Beth? Honey? Beth was half asleep beside him, but she roused at the sound of her name. She lifted her head from his shoulder and smiled up into his face. Beth: Right, Sam...thanks for everything, you guys...and I'll take a raincheck on that footrub, Elmore...when I'm awake enough to enjoy it. Beth and Sam were out of the hot-tub before either Elmore or I could move. They dressed and came out to say goodbye again before leaving. Elmore was in his room, changing to dry things and so Sam didn't have to deal with that. Little did he know Elmore was going to be spending most of the week at his house, reminiscing and working on the Corner's webpage and generally spending uninterrupted time with Beth. TO BE CONTINUED...
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