by T. S. Hill
Within a few minutes, the fireman had left with his order, and the cook was busily preparing our orders. The waitress was pouring our coffee and laying out silverware, while the third employee was busy stacking dishes.
I began making small chit chat with the waitress, “A little excitement up the street this morning huh?”
“Yeah, some guy had a little too much to drink, and crashed into a light pole and then the Simon Insurance office. Poor guy better hope that he has good insurance, cause old man Simon will sure sue his ass off.”
“Really?”, I asked just making conversation.
“Oh, for sure!”, she answered, “He comes in here, and never leaves a tip. The damned old skinflint!”
“Well, I tip generously, Sally, I said, glancing at her name tag, so just keep that coffee flowing for me.
“You got it handsome!”, she answered, and then addressing Lori, “Could you use some more too Sugar?”
“Sure!”, Lori replied, “and thanks!”
“No trouble at all, Sugar.”, the chatty waitress replied as she turned to get the coffee. As she returned and began pouring the coffee, someone came in the door behind us, then the next thing I saw, was a gun attached to an arm, laying on the counter on the other side of Lori.
An arm came between us, violently wrapping around Lori’s left shoulder and chest. Before either of us could react, Lori had been snatched backward off of the stool, and the gun was pointed to the side of her head. The attacker had taken a step back with Lori away from me and the counter.
“Empty the register in a bag and give it to me!”, He yelled at the waitress.
“I can’t open it, the cashier has the code, she cried back!”
“Which one’s the cashier?”, he roared, “Open this damn register and put the cash in a bag!” The girl that had been stacking dishes, moved, with her hands in the air, toward the cash register. When she arrived in front of the register, she stood with her hands in the air and stared wide eyed at the would-be bandit. “Open the mother fucker!”, he screamed at her. “Put the fucking money in a fucking bag!”, After fumbling with the register, the money, and the bag, she left the carryout bag setting on the counter, and raised her hands again.
The guy, was about six feet tall, and maybe two hundred and twenty-five pounds with a ragged beard and ragged, all brown, clothes that were filthy, and stank. I was betting that he was part of the local homeless population. I figured that he would let Lori go, grab the bag of money, then leave, but not so.
He growled in Lori’s free ear, the one that didn’t have a gun pointed into it, “Get the bag Honey!” Lori looked at me. I nodded my head downward once, hoping that she took my cue to cooperate. She picked up the bag off the counter and simply held it out in front of her. “Nobody move, and she doesn’t get hurt. “We’re leaving now, he said, “Nobody move!” He inched toward the door, pulling Lori with him.
“You’re leaving all the money here.”, I calmly told him.
“What money?”, he asked. I could tell this guy had never done anything like this before, and had probably followed a TV show script up to this point.
“I’ve got a pocket full of money that’s a whole lot more than was in that nickel and dime cash register.”, I told him. “It’s in my front pocket right here.”, I said nodding toward my left front pants pocket. While the would-be robber, studied my left front pocket, I looked at Lori and nodded my head down once, again.
“Why would you tell me that you’ve got money?”, He asked, suspiciously.
“I began addressing him in a slow even tone, both of my hands still raised beside my head, “Here’s the deal. I’ve got over two thousand dollars in that pocket, in hundreds, fifties and twenties. You can have it. But you have to leave the girl here. You give me the girl, and I give you the money.”
“No! You’re trying to trick me!”, he yelled.
“No! No! No tricks! I’m a man of my word. Look as a point of good faith, you can take the girl out the door with you, but just take the gun away from her head. You can have the two thousand, just take the gun away from her head. Deal? I’m a man of my word.” While I was talking, he kept glancing at my left front pocket. The bulge of cash was evident.
“Show me the cash.”, he said. Then snapped, “Slowly!” I slowly lowered my left hand, and eased my four fingers into my pocket, cupping my fold of cash, gradually pulling it from my pocket, and then raising my hand again.
Holding the thick fold of cash between my thumb and index finger, so that he could clearly see it, I spoke again in even tones, “I told you, I’m a man of my word. The money’s yours, just take the gun away from the girl’s head. Two thousand dollars, and she can go with you out the door as a shield, just don’t point the gun at her head.”
He slowly began pulling the gun away from Lori’s head. And I held the money a litter further forward. “That’s it, yes. Just point the gun away from her. The money is yours.”, I told him. He slowly lowered, the gun to his right, and I cut my eyes to Lori.
In a flash, she came out from under him grabbing his gun hand and spun her body, bringing his arm over her head. I saw her right leg go up and his gun hand slam down, at the same time that I heard a loud crack of bones breaking. Then the gun spun across the floor. The robber cried out. Her next blow was from a foot to his groin, then a sweeping kick that took a leg out from under him. He hit on his back and a size seven, ladies cowboy, boot heel landed in his face. Five more rapid stomps from the same heel, to his nose and lower jaw, left his face bloody and mangled.
Lori stood over the would-be robber for a couple of seconds and then yelled at him, “You cock sucking, mother fucker!”, and then gave him a swift kick to the back of his head with the inside of her boot. The guy was crying loudly and while doubled up in the floor, also writhing around and moving his left arm from this face to his obviously broken forearm. It looked like a clean break of both bones.
Lori bent over and looked at his face, yelling at him again, “You fucking ass wipe!” And, with that, she leaped into the air and came back down stomping her right boot across the break in his right arm. The guy cried out in what was probably the most miserable voice that I think that I have ever heard. “Put a damn gun to my fucking head!”, she said to him. Then she kicked him again with the inside of her boot, this time to the top of his head. She began walking away from him but turned back and spat on his head. “Let’s go Cowboy!”, she said to me.
“Just a sec!”, I said. I peeled off two twenties and laid them on the counter. Snatching up a handful of napkins, I called out to the waitress, “Sally? Will forty cover our bill and your tip?” Sally and the other two were just standing, staring at the would-be robber and Lori.
“Right!”, I said, picking up the wannabe robber’s gun from the floor with the napkins. I stepped over the poor, dumb, robber’s legs, and brought the gun around to the cash register. Reaching over the counter, I dropped the gun over behind it. I picked up Lori’s purse, then called out to the restaurant crew, “We’re going to check for his getaway driver! Don’t call the cops until we get back!”
Turning to Lori, I pointed at the door and said, “Let’s go!” She hit the door violently with both hands, her anger still being expressed. The door shot open wide and she walked through with her arms by her sides and her shoulders stiff.
“Mother fucking, mother fucker! Turd faced, son of a bitch! Put a mother fucking gun to my fucking head! I don’t fucking think so!” “Son of a fucking bitch!”, she screamed, I’m going to fucking kill him!”, She turned back toward the diner, and I grabbed her arm spinning her around. I kept walking her away from the diner, and though her body was stiff, she didn’t resist. We kept walking. Fifty feet further, she kicked a beer can that was in her path, and sent it sailing.
“Mother fucking son of bitch!”, She shouted out, and stomped her foot.
As soon as we made it around the corner, I told her, “We’ve got to run Lori.”
“Why?”, she asked, “W
e didn’t fucking do anything!”
“Because we don’t need to be answering any questions for the cops.”, I answered.
“Oh yeah.”, she responded, sounding like she was coming back to herself. “We’ll have to jog, she said, these fucking boots, throw me when I try to run.
“Okay.”, I answered her, “Let’s jog!” We started jogging and jogged all the way back to the corner where we had to pass near the wreck scene. There we slowed to a walked. Most of the emergency vehicles were gone now, and a couple of cars passed up the street. Just as we turned our steps into the hotel parking lot, one of the cop cars turned on its blue and white flashers, and pulled away from the wreak scene. A lump went up in my throat, but it sped down the street in the general direction of the diner.
Back at the hotel, we hurriedly loaded our things from the room into the truck. I left the hotel key cards on the dresser in the room, and we hit the road. It was 5:30 when we passed a bank, time and temperature sign. Within minutes, we were on I-40, headed east. Lori had hardly spoken since her last tirade and foot stomp.
After we were settled into the rhythm of the interstate, I spoke, “Lori, I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”, she simply stated.
“I broke two of my own rules, and it could’ve, and nearly did, get you killed.”, I replied, “It was my responsibility to keep us out of harm’s way, and bending, breaking my own rules, was my doing. I’m truly sorry. There will be no next time. That’s all I can offer you except my apology.”, I said.
“It’s okay, Cowboy.”, she replied, “We’re both adults. We take chances as adults. Sometimes shit happens. It could have happened at the next stop or the next. It was that fucking dumb ass that put that gun to my head. It was his fault! There were no Milinni goons there, and no cops.“
“I let us sit with our backs to the door.”, I argued. “Never have your back to the door. That is a high priority rule of mine. I should have insisted on a booth.”
“Who’s to say that if we had been in a booth, and he couldn’t have held me hostage, what kind of crazy other shit he might have pulled.”, She answered, “Hell, he might have shot the waitress, or shot all of us for that matter. We’re alive and out of there. I don’t blame you. So, quite blaming yourself! We’ve learned, we lived, now we move on.”
“I should be trying to calm you”, I said., “but look at you. I’m the one that’s almost a wreck.”
“What? You didn’t see me coming out of that restaurant?”, she countered, “That’s fucking out of control! I’m probably the one that should be apologizing. I just loose it over some things.”
“Like someone sticking a gun to your head for instance?”, I asked.
“For instance, yeah!”, she answered.
“Any other erroneous acts I should avoid?”, I asked.
“Aw Cowboy! I couldn’t get mad at you.”, she countered.
“Well, I know you could, but just hope that you don’t.”
She started giggling, and said, “I did fuck that ass hole up, didn’t I?”
“Thoroughly!”, I replied.
We road for a few minutes and then I started chuckling.
“What’s funny?”, she asked.
“I was just thinking about that restaurant crew explaining to the cops about that homeless dude trying to rob them, and that after he had the money, a customer offered to give him two thousand dollars more. And then a petite, twenty something, blonde, girl, of maybe a hundred and twenty pounds, intervened, and totally beat the ever-living shit out of him, leaving him as that fucked up, pile of broken waste, on the floor. Meanwhile, the restaurant staff has his gun in safe keeping, behind the counter.”
Lori started chuckling, and I started laughing. “The cops will tear the place apart looking for weed!”, she said, laughing harder. She started giggling harder and then erupted into laughter.
As our laughter subsided, we rode in silence for a few miles, and I spoke up again, “Lori, that scared the shit out of me. I was afraid that I might lose you before I could get an opportunity to move on the guy.
“Yeah”, she answered, “Scared the fucking hell out of me too.”
I continued, “I wanted to get his gun a little lower before I moved. “You jumped the gun a bit, and I was afraid that it wasn’t going to work for you.”
“I was closer.”, Lori explained, “All the space I needed was to have it not pointing at my head. I only waited as long as I did, so the gun would be below the angle that might hit you or someone else. I didn’t have the space to cover that you did. It would have taken you longer to reach him, and I was only a thousandth of a second away. It just made sense for me to make the move.”
“You actually had the presence of mind to reason all of that out in the split seconds before launching your attack on that guy?”, I asked her.
“Sure!”, she answered. I had sat silently for a few of seconds considering it all, when she suddenly smacked my right thigh with her left hand, in a violently hard and loud slap.
“Hell no! I didn’t fucking think shit!”, she yelled at me, I was scared fucking shitless! and just saw a chance, and jumped!”
“Ow!”, I yelled.
“Damn! Cowboy!”, she continued, “I was scared! I’m still scared. But, thanks for talking that fucker into taking the gun away from my head. I was afraid for a few seconds that he was going to get agitated at you and might start shooting.”
“Fortunately, that was a little past experience paying off.” I interjected,” I’m glad it worked.”
“I’m glad it worked to.”, Lori commented, “That experience didn’t come from husbands catching you with their wives, did it?”
“No! I’ve never put myself in those types of situations!”, I shot back.
“Lighten up Cowboy. I’m just poking atcha again. You have to admit though, that skill would come in handy in those circumstances.”, she offered.
I started chuckling, “Yeah, I guess it would!” I rubbed my thigh where she had slapped it. “Damn girl! My leg’s still stinging!”
“Oh, you’ll get over it!”, she said, “Just put some udder crème on it.”
“I’m not the one that gets off on pain”, I reminded her.
“Well, pain like that and pain when you’re making love are two different things, under two different circumstances. You ought to try it sometime. You might like it.”
“I have a feeling that spankings are a lot like kimchee. No matter where you serve it, it stinks. Spanking, no matter where you server it, stings. Just not for me.”, I said.
“Cowboy, there’s light licks and then there’s painful licks delivered when your passion is peaking. There’s a world of difference in the feeling of the pain, when you add passion to the mix. But, I’ll give you time, and with some light, not bad painful stuff, mixed in with a little passion play, you may begin to see what it’s all about.”
“We’ll see, Lori. Right now, this thigh is not feeling the love.”
After a little quiet, she slid a little closer to me, and spoke quietly, “Cowboy, hold me.” I wrapped my arm around her, and pulled her close. She sniffled and I realized that she was softly crying. I gave her a little squeeze, and she spoke, “I know I sorta lost my shit on that robber guy, but I was scared shitless. I’m still scared. I’m really scared of New Orleans. She leaned her head on my shoulder and sobbed softly for the next little while, and I held her close. I was worried about New Orleans too.
Chapter Twelve
Breakfast at a New Level
The journey is not all that is important, it’s also the people that we meet along the way.
In less than an hour on I-40, we were already entering the outskirts of Oklahoma City.
“You up to finishing breakfast?”, I asked Lori.
“I’m not sure that I will ever be hungry again.”, she answered, “Not diner food anyway. I don’t think I could ever bring myself to sit on another stool at a diner counter, even if the food was free!”
&n
bsp; “How about a nice. sit down at a table cloth, with fine china, and real silverware, kind of breakfast, with the must indulgently rich breakfast foods imaginable?”, I asked.
“What are you talking about Cowboy?”, she queried.
“In New Orleans, did you ever eat at Brennan’s?”, I asked.
“Are you kidding me? We were poor. And, that ass wipe SOB that killed mama, he didn’t spend money on me.”, Lori answered.
“Well,”, I began, “I happen to know that Oklahoma City has a place that is even fancier than Brennan’s and the food is just as good, if not better. Before we take care of my bit of business here, what say we indulge. I think we deserve it!”
“Only on one condition.”, She responded.
“Name it!”, I said cheerily. “Two conditions actually.” She said. “Name them.”, I quipped.
“One, we don’t eat on stools at the counter.”, she said.
“Lori, they only have fancy tables and chairs, no counter, no stools.”
“Then we sit in the back, with our backs to the walls.”, she fired back to me in an adamant tone.
“I agree!”, I answered, “What else?”
“Before we eat,”, she began, “you stop at the next dollar store we come to, and buy me a tape measure. And you know what for! You keep diverting us to things, and I keep missing out on getting my tape measure. You might as well give in that I’m gonna measure your dick!”
“It’s a cock!”, I responded.
“Dick!”
“Cock! Damnit!”
“Only when I let you be in charge!”, she shot back.
