“Little problem.” He walked back over to them. “That there woman is crazier than the rest of ya put together. Never have liked her none.”
“Listen, Skeeter,” Charlene said, “Sylvia helped me when I had problems. I just can’t dump her now.”
“No? Well I sure as hell can. Her and her crazy schemes are gonna land the whole lot a you in Regional Jail. Be nobody to look after them poor little boys.” Skeeter looked hard at Charlene.
She was surprised at his concern. “This isn’t gonna be risky. We’re just gonna set Lloyd Watson’s new boat adrift. Then he’ll look like a fool in front of his new lady friend.”
“Yeah, the worst that can happen is that ol’ Lloyd’ll haveta hoof it back to the main road through the briars and poison ivy,” Dixie said. “Serves the sonnuvabitch right!”
“Lloyd Watson!” Skeeter snorted. “Why didn’t ya say so? Poison ivy ’n snake bite is too good for that smartass. He took my Cousin Jason’s case. Now he’s in prison for life. Some lawyer!”
* * * *
Lloyd Watson felt better than he had in weeks. After the business with the bogus lab report, Mother had finally simmered down. He’d explained that mistakes like that happened in this electronic age. If the wrong birth date or initials were fed into a computer, errors would result. Too bad she’d felt she had to quit the Garden Club.
Lloyd sat leaning against a tree, watching the clear waters of the Cacapon River flow by. He’d been through a rough patch and he sure as hell had a right to a little relaxation. His flashy new boat, tied to sapling on the riverbank, was bobbing gently in the shallows.
Things had gone well since he’d met Melissa. Lloyd watched her now as she set out the delicacies packed in the picnic basket. She was a thin, knife blade of a woman, all jutting elbows and sharp edges. Her features were finely chiseled, with a straight, pointed nose and narrow, dark eyes. Not usually his type, but he liked her confidence and her haughtiness. He was due for a change. Melissa might not be hot, but she knew the right people. Her tasteful, tailored sports clothes, short stylish hair and pearl earrings were just the opposite of the wild, flamboyant outfits and bangle jewelry that bitchy-crazy Sylvia had worn. He shuddered just to think of the woman. As a matter of fact, he realized, his bad luck had started with her.
* * * *
The current ran rapidly in this part of the river, but Skeeter swung his boat expertly into the shore. Charlene and Dixie, carrying a hunting knife, jumped out and waded toward the riverbank. They moved quietly toward Lloyd’s sleek boat, which was tied up near a patch of tall grass. Dixie was able to get close enough to hack through the mooring line until the craft was set free.
* * * *
Busy with his own thoughts, Lloyd had been nodding and smiling, but not listening to Melissa’s conversation until she grabbed his arm. “Lloyd, the boat is floating away! It’s heading downstream!”
Looking up, Lloyd gasped. “Oh, my God!” He ran to the riverbank in time to see his new boat, now caught in the current, round a bend in the river and disappear. He ran along the shore, only to watch the boat move quickly out of sight. Shocked, he turned back toward Melissa. Eyeing her trim shorts and flimsy sandals in a new light, he wondered how he’d ever get her over miles of rough, trackless wilderness to the road. He wondered how he’d make it himself. How could this have happened to him?
* * * *
Skeeter dragged the ‘Road Closed’ sign over to block the narrow back road that ran along the river. Never much traffic here anyway, he thought. How the hell did he keep getting himself mixed up with these crazy women? He leaned against the side of the pickup and pulled out a smoke. “Charlene don’t want me to smoke, neither,” he muttered to himself. Well, some things he would do, and some things he wouldn’t. For a man who’d never cared for responsibility, he was sure as hell headed down a rocky road. A woman and two young ’uns—he had to be crazy.
Further down the same deserted road, Sylvia sat cross-legged under a tree. The battered black Bronco was parked nearby. Sweating, she waved her large straw hat at the swarms of bugs. It was hot as hell, but sitting in the shade had to beat tramping through the woods. She grinned.
* * * *
“Lloyd, do you have any idea where you’re going?” Melissa demanded. “We’ve been stumbling around in this swamp for hours.”
Batting away insects, Lloyd puffed and wheezed. “I’ve never had to do this on foot before. Just head toward the mountain; I think that’s north.”
Melissa marched on, trying to avoid most of the briars. “For God’s sake, you’re the country boy, aren’t you? Do I have to drag you along?”
Lloyd’s fair skin was blotched with puffy bug bites. He was limping. “My new boat, my baby,” he moaned. “After all I’ve been through in the last few weeks, I should have expected something like this to happen to me.”
“You’ve told me, Lloyd. You’ve made it sound like some sort of witch hunt. Come on!” Melissa shoved him and moved purposefully ahead. “You forget that I work as a public defender in D.C. I hear real horror stories every day.” She snorted. “I don’t have a fat cat backwater practice like you.”
Lloyd trashed through the woods, stumbling over tangled roots and brambles. When a large snake slithered across the path in front of him, he screamed and collided with Melissa who came up from behind. “Snake!” he shrieked.
“Oh, for Chrissakes,” she rasped. “It’s only a black snake. Down in D.C. I have to dodge rats as big as cats in the projects where my clients live.” She curled her hands into claws and raked the air in front of him.
“That’s not funny,” he moaned and thought her narrow, sharp features had a rodent-like quality. He was stuck in the wilderness with Rat Woman.
* * * *
When they finally reached the road, it was almost dark. Lloyd fell down in the weeds and assorted trash by the roadside. Melissa loomed over him. He couldn’t see her face in the twilight, but her posture looked threatening. Damn, Lloyd thought, what was the bitch’s problem. He’d gotten her to the road, hadn’t he?
“Funny, no cars have gone by,” he finally said. She didn’t answer.
Several minutes later, Melissa pointed and started waving wildly. “There, a car is coming!” The black Bronco slowly moved down the road and stopped.
“Oh, for Chrissakes,” Lloyd moaned. He thought of refusing the ride, but Melissa had already climbed in the front seat. He felt doomed. He would rather have slept on the side of the road. Finally, he heaved himself into the back seat in time to hear Melissa’s strident accusations.
“…and this wuss couldn’t even find the path. We’d still be wandering around out there if I hadn’t dragged him here.”
“Yes, I know him,” Sylvia agreed calmly. “He brings trouble down on himself. He’s like a huge raincloud,” she murmured.
They had gone two or three miles when the Bronco bumped to a halt. It was now completely dark. There was not even a moon. Strangest of all, Lloyd thought, they hadn’t passed a single car in either direction.
Sylvia fiddled with the ignition and hammered on the instrument panel with her fist. “Out of gas,” she said.
They sat in silence for a while. Lloyd spent the time digging at his mosquito bites. He found it difficult to string thoughts together anymore.
“Well,” Melissa said tersely, “what are you waiting for, Lloyd. We need gas.”
Lloyd limped down the road. Actually, he was glad to be out of the car and away from both women. There was some quality about them that made him extremely uneasy. His asthma had started up again.
* * * *
“Mary Liz over at the Food Lion says she’s never seen women buying so much champagne,” Sylvia chortled as she filled up the glasses then passed them out to the gang assembled at Juanita’s picnic table.
“Well, God knows we deserve it,” Dixie said. “Show us that there legal paper again, Sylvia.”
Sylvia waved a piece of notebook paper over her head and dance
d around the table. “Melissa turned out to be an amazing woman. This is all her handiwork.” She shook the paper. “When she heard my story, she said there were a few legal agreements Lloyd and I should have reached before he sent me that outrageous bill. So when the bastard finally got back with the gas, we were ready for him.”
Charlene carefully put the paper in her purse. “I thought Melissa was just another snobby bitch, but she’s one of us. Poor old Lloyd actually looked glad to sign and get away from both of us. Now he’s released me from all debt.”
“All right, Sylvia, you stuck it to that puffed up little jerk. Lloyd ain’t gonna look so prissy-ass smart no more,” Juanita said.
“It feels good, don’t it?” Dixie raised her glass. “To Sylvia,” she said.
“It feels great!” Sylvia yelled to make herself heard over the cheering. “Who’s next, girls? We’re just beginning to rock and roll.”
“I been hearing a lot about Chet Monroe lately. None of it good.” Dixie’s tone was serious. “He’s turned into a real badass.”
“Dealing drugs?” Charlene asked.
“You bet. He’s pedaling that shit to middle school kids now.”
“And that ain’t all, is it, Dixie?” Juanita said.
“That ain’t the half of it. Chet and I go way back. He’s the man I followed down here from Romney. Only I ain’t never told you girls the truth.” She hesitated. “He wasn’t so bad back then—just drank a little too much booze and cut deals on hot car parts.”
“C’mon, Dixie, you might as well finish the story,” Juanita coaxed.
“The truth is Chet dumped me, not the other way ’round. Left me with a load of bills and not as much as a ‘so long.’ The law ransacked the trailer, accused me of heisting cars. I’d like to see him go away for a long time.”
“In that case,” Charlene said. “We need to set him up.”
“Now you’re talking.” Juanita nodded. “Ain’t your cousin the bartender down at the County Line Bar?”
“He’s been there a while,” Charlene agreed.
Juanita looked serious. “We need to know when Chet usually hits the bar, how long he stays and what he drinks.”
“I’ll tell ya right now, he’s a bar fly and an easy drunk,” Dixie drawled. “This is gonna be a cinch.”
“Here, take a holda my hand, girls.” Juanita stretched her arm across the table and the others followed her lead. “Here’s to swatting flies,” she said.
“Yeah!” the women yelled and cheered for Dixie.
* * * *
A jukebox blared county music at the County Line Bar. The women, dressed to kill in an abundance of flashy spandex and gaudy jewelry, were drinking red wine at a table near the door. A round had already been sent over by one of the men at the bar. Dixie nudged Juanita as Chet Monroe walked through the swinging doors. When he noticed the women, he headed for their table.
“Well, if this ain’t a surprise. You girls are looking good. Especially you, Dixie.” He smiled and put his hand on her shoulder.
“Looking good yourself, Chet. Let me introduce my friends.”
“Only got a minute, girls. Got an appointment, but what the hell.” Chet pulled up a chair next to Dixie and ordered a drink.
After the first round, Chet loosened up a little and flashed the women his winning smile. “I’m on top of the world.” His voice was smooth. “I’m sitting with the best looking women here.”
“Saw that fancy new vehicle you’re driving, Chet. Business must be booming,” Juanita said.
“Yeah, got two more roofing jobs lined up today.”
“Roofing jobs,” Dixie snorted. “You’re a piece a work, Chet.”
“What you talking ’bout. I’m a hard-working man.”
“There’s only one thing you ever worked hard at.” Dixie winked at him.
“There’s a couple of things that would fit in that category, and one makes me think of you,” he replied. “C’mon, let’s dance.”
“Actually, those two look pretty good together. He’s a good-looking guy.” Charlene observed as she watched the dancers. “Too bad he’s such a shit.”
“He ain’t so pretty if you know him,” Juanita said. She glanced at her watch and made a call on her cell phone. “Excuse me a minute, girls.”
Grabbing her large handbag, she got up and headed across the dance floor. As she passed Chet and Dixie, she tripped and crashed into them. The two women landed on the floor.
“Oh, my God,” Juanita cried. “I feel like I been hit by a freight train.” She looked around for her handbag.
Chet reached down and helped Juanita up. “Sorry. Dixie here always was clumsy. You O.K.?”
Juanita nodded and struggled to her feet.
Dixie had already scrambled up and handed the bag to Juanita. “Here. Ain’t this yours? You don’t wanta forget this.”
Chet looked Dixie up and down. “You doing O.K.?”
“Yeah, I’m tripping all over your big feet. They’re about as big as your big mouth.” Dixie grabbed his hand. “C’mon man, you gotta move them feet.”
Returning to the table, Juanita pulled a ring of keys from her bag and handed them to Sylvia. “Things went good,” Juanita said. “Chet doesn’t even know he’s lost these.” She glanced around the empty table. “What happened to Charlene?”
Sylvia nodded at the pool table. “She found Skeeter.”
* * * *
Charlene removed a pool cue from the rack and smiled at Skeeter. “How about a game, cowboy?”
He looked at her narrowly. “You girls are upta something and I don’t like it. Chet Monroe ain’t nobody t’ mess with.”
“You don’t like it?” Charlene tossed her hair back. “Well, you’re not involved.”
“Charlene, you sound just like the resta them. And that ain’t good.”
“I thought you liked them?”
“Like ’em!” Skeeter said. “Juanita’s related, but she’s a bossy bitch. Sylvia’s a smartass city girl and Dixie’s a slut. Altogether, they’re dangerous as hell.” He turned and walked toward the bar.
Charlene was confused. Did Skeeter really worry for her safety or was he just another control freak? When she returned to the table, Dixie and Chet were already there.
“Charlene.” Dixie gave her a penetrating look. “Sylvia here’s drunk and about ready to puke. I gotta hold her hand, so you dance with Chet.”
As Dixie helped Sylvia out the rear exit, Chet grabbed Charlene and led her out on the dance floor.
* * * *
Music from the bar carried out to the parking lot. “That’s Chet’s shiny new truck,” Dixie said softly. “Here, take these latex gloves.” The two women walked to the back of the lot.
Sylvia pulled on the gloves as she looked over the truck. “My brother used to sell high end cars. See that logo on the side? This is custom made and expensive.”
Dixie used a key from the ring to open the door. “Chet’s never made an honest dollar, so we’re just helping out law enforcement.” She climbed into the front seat and looked around. “Wouldn’t it be a hoot if ol’ Chet already had a bag of grass in here. He said he was on his way to a meet.”
Dixie unlocked the glove compartment, reached in and pulled out a handgun. “Will ya look at this here—a concealed weapon. Gotcha!”
Sylvia gave her accomplice a large bag of grass and watched her shove it into the glove box with the handgun. Then Sylvia pulled a joint from her pocket.
“You lit up yet?” Dixie asked. “Here, I needa drag.”
“This should be enough for ‘probable cause’,” Sylvia said, “but we need to hurry.”
Dixie took a long drag, pinched out the end and placed the joint in the ashtray. Then the two women ran through the shadows to the bar’s back door. “Goodby, Mister Candyman,” Dixie called over her shoulder.
* * * *
Charlene and Chet were still dancing when Sylvia and Dixie got back to
the table. Skeeter, his expression dark, his eyes menacing, stood at the bar watching the dancers.
“That boy is ’bout ready to explode,” Juanita said and gestured at her cousin.
“Chet’s got little Charlene in a bear hug. He deserves all the trouble coming his way.” Dixie looked delighted.
When the song ended, Chet patted his partner’s butt and was leaning in for a kiss when Skeeter lunged at him, dragging him away from Charlene.
“Get your hands off her, you sonnuvabitch,” Skeeter yelled. “I’m gonna kill you.” He landed a punch on Chet’s nose.
“My God! Ya broke my nose. What the hell’s wrong with you, man? You’re crazy!” Chet, bleeding profusely, took a couple of swings at his opponent, then backed toward the door.
“Get him,” several in the crowd yelled at Skeeter. “You ain’t gonna let that bastard walk, are ya?”
Chet wasn’t fast enough and Skeeter grabbed him again. “You wanta see a bear hug, you dumb shit? I got my own version.”
The two men rolled on the floor. Chet’s cries of pain now became calls for help, but not a soul stepped forward.
Chet finally wrangled himself free and had started to crawl toward the door, when the Sheriff and his deputy came into the bar.
“What the hell’s going on here?” Jim Minns demanded.
“Monroe started it,” one of the on-lookers yelled.
The Sheriff looked down at Chet, who was bloody and moaning. Then he sized up Skeeter, who stood belligerently with Juanita and her friends.
Chet heaved himself to his feet and tried to push through the door. “Thanks, Sheriff. You came just in time. These people are all crazy, so I’m getting outta here.”
“You’re right, Chet. You’re coming with us. I got a phone tip concerning you and we needta search your vehicle, son.”
“What the hell ya talking ’bout? I’m clean. Ain’t nothing in my truck. I swear.”
While the deputy cuffed Chet, the bartender scooped a ring of keys off the floor and handed them to Sheriff Minns. “These your keys, Monroe?” The Sheriff asked.
Struggling in the deputy’s grip, Chet turned and spotted Dixie, who grinned and blew him a kiss. As the door slammed, the barkeep brought a bottle of champagne to the women’s table.
Wicked Women and Other Stories Page 3
