If You See Kay Jig

by Quinn Glasneck

  “I’m glad you made it down mostly intact. That was harrowing,” I said. “Maybe if you tried again, now that it’s November. There should be snow and possibly a beginners’ hill.”

  “I haven’t gotten to the worst part of my story,” Kay said.

  “Worse?” Justice asked, and there was a glint of schadenfreude glimmering from her otherwise jaded expression. “Tell.” She held up a cupped hand full of treats for Nicodemus.

  Nicodemus started eating sesame seeds like he was munching popcorn at a horror flick. Eyes wide and unblinking.

  “I get to the bottom of the mountain and stood in line for the lift. The lift-guy comes up to me and says, “Wait by the shed, we’re getting you some help.” As I mosey over to the shed, I’m wondering what that means, that they’re getting me some help.”

  “Yeah, you got to the bottom, you’ll take the lift up,” bar guy said and slid his glass to me for a refill of Badge Bunny Booze. “Seems to me that if they meant to be helpful, they could have pulled you off the crevasse sign before you broke your elbow.”

  “Agreed,” Kay said and lifted her glass to clink with the tumbler of whiskey I’d set in front of him. “But no. Turns out they had sent for the rescue patrol. The delay was that they were hooking up the St. Bernard’s to the sled.”

  “What?” I gasped − wide eyed, trying to picture her being tied into a gurney and pulled up the side of the mountain.

  “Yup. They wanted a pack of dogs to drag my butt up to the first aid chalet at the top. They thought I’d lay there and get pulled past all those tanned chicks in red string bikinis and perfect ski form.” Kay, being of Irish bloodline, was as white as porcelain, and the only color she got from being in the sun (or anything stronger than a 40-watt light bulb, for that matter) was to turn the color of a lobster. Almost instantaneously. Girls with perfect tans were a source of deep jealousy for Kay.

  “And more importantly in front of Terrance, I’m guessing,” Justice said.

  “Terrance hadn’t seen any of this?” I asked.

  “Not yet. There was zero chance that I’d let him mosey over to see what the commotion was about and find me there on the sled. The first time they sent the dogs, way back in Girl Scouts, was mortifying enough. I mean, I’d just met Terrance. I really liked him. And heck no, I wasn’t going to let some slobbering St. Bernard, with a barrel tied under his neck, make me look like an even bigger fool.” She looked down to where Twinkles was lying at her feet. “No offense to dogs in general.”

  Twinkles stuck out just the tip of his pink tongue to show no offense was taken.

  “Did they really have barrels under their chins?” bar guy asked.

  “No, they weren’t even really St. Bernard’s. They were a husky team. Regardless, I insisted on using the lift,” Kay said. “Only, it wasn’t like the kind you see in the movies. It didn’t have a bench seat. It looked more like a metal T. You have to have someone on each side. There was a guy already waiting for a T-partner, and I rounded to my side. When I sat down, BOOM! I was suddenly sliding down another Alp. This time I was tangled up with a random ski dude.”

  “Cute guy? Nice guy?” I asked, looking for any silver lining. I checked the clock to make sure I didn’t miss any of my time with my cute guy. Officer Goodman still had a fifteen-minute ETA.

  “Pissed off guy,” she said. “They sent the dogs after us. We both refused and crawled side by side back up the glacier. I don’t speak Italian, but it sounded like he was slinging a slew of cuss words my way.”

  “You could tell better if he had free use of his hands,” bar guy said. “For the record, I’d be pissed too.”

  Now that I focused on him, he even sounded old-school movie-style mafioso.

  “It’s one thing to act like a moron by not accepting the help, even if it would hurt your ego,” he said, “but now you’re taking a random guy down with you?”

  Kay wrinkled her nose at him. I knew she regretted clinking his glass. He wasn’t acting like a team player here.

  “So, how’d you two get up to the top?” I asked.

  “The guy got on the T-bar and up he went with a different partner. The ski patrol officer was begging me to lie down with the dogs.”

  “He that lieth down with dogs shall rise up with fleas,” Justice said, rounding the bar with her order tray laden.

  Kay rolled her eyes. “Finally, a brave sole stepped up and said he spoke English. He explained that the T-bar wasn’t a seat. It was a pusher. You stick it under your butt, and it shoves you up the mountain. He was courageous enough to get pushed up as my T-bar teammate.”

  “Soldier?” I asked. “Cop?”

  Kay gave a half shrug. “I don’t have your divining skills in that department. But he was heroic, I’ll give him that. He talked to me the whole way, encouraging me to keep my skis straight, to be calm. He had an alpha-voice, soft and steady. So, maybe a cop.”

  A woman sitting at the end of the bar pushed her credit card in my direction.

  “Ta da!” I said, moving to the cash register to ring her up. I looked at her name Elaine Alberta Thomas embossed on the front. “Up to the top of the giant ice cube, and the adventure is over. Whew!”

  “Except for the line of people waiting their turn to take a picture of me.”

  “This is on the Internet?” Justice asked, coming back for extra napkins.

  Kay grinned. “I gave them a false name and told them I was Canadian.”

  “That’ll throw them off the scent,” I said.

  Justice gave an almost-chuckle under her breath, and I was pretty sure that we’d have an album of those pictures by morning − she was, after all, good enough to hack into the Pentagon, surely finding these photos should be a piece of cake.

  I handed the woman the receipt and a pen. “Thank you Ms. Thomas, I hope you’ll come back soon.”

  She pulled a lemon rind from her mouth and said, “I don’t know. This place kind of sucks.” She turned and left.

  “And so,” Kay concluded, “I have zero desire to go to Switzerland, because that was the highlight of my ski career, and it’s all been downhill from there.”

  “Pa-dum-dum,” I said, drumming on the bar like the band for a late-night comic.

  “You sound like a dangerous woman to hang around with,” godfather-guy said. “Some people are like that, if you hang around with them, bad things come your way just because they attract it. You know what I’m saying?”

  Kay shot me a look. She was probably thinking this guy should be looking at me and not her. I had a habit of finding myself in bad situations – okay, I had a way of finding dead bodies. I never made the bodies dead. That is to say, the deadness of the bodies was never my fault.

  The bodies just ended up where I was walking in a freakishly frequent way. But, hopefully, my days of finding dead bodies was behind me.

  2

  Thursday Night

  Hooch’s Bar

  My phone buzzed in my pocket.

  Bzzzz

  I glanced at the clock. I still had ten minutes until Officer Good-times! pulled up in his police car. His blue shirt tight around his biceps, his tool belt framing his goody trail. Whew! was I looking forward to my dinner break. I should probably go drag a comb through my hair, I thought, pulling the phone from my apron pocket.

  Bzzzzz

  Bzzzzz

  Bzzzzz

  Officer Goodman: I just pulled up in your alley and flipped on my lights. Ready?

  Officer Goodman: NO! Radio call. I’ll be back ASAP. Sorry!

  Officer Goodman: So sorry!

  Officer Goodman: More sorry than you can imagine.

  I didn’t know about that. My sorry meter was thumping against the far-end of the dial. My mouth dropped into a frown.

  “What?” Kay asked.

  “Duty called,” I said, waggling my phone at her.

  “That’s why you love them. Protect and serve. Knights in shining armor. Gallantry and courage.”

  “Okay. Okay,�
� I grumped. “But my appetite was revved. Now, I’m starving.”

  “Poor baby. Hey,” Kay said. “What do you call a randy police officer?”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “An under covers cop.”

  “Apparently not tonight,” I said, reaching for an orange wedge to nibble.

  “Oh, did you hear?” Kay grinned. “The celery was just arrested.”

  “Stop,” I said.

  “Yeah, he was accused of stalking.”

  “Seriously, stop,” I said.

  “One more?” She gave me her best pouty face.

  “No.” I tossed the orange rind into the waste bin and turned to Justice. “Hold down the fort. I’m heading out to pick up a cardiac arrest burger. Anyone want anything?”

  Kay reached over the counter and grabbed her own orange wedge. “Did you hear about the cardiac arrest victim who was defibrillated?”

  “Kay. Stop! These aren’t even funny.” I untied my apron, getting ready to leave. I was not in the mood for stupid. I’d just had my lollipop snatched by a villain.

  “I think they’re funny,” Mafioso said. “What happened to the cardiac victim and the defibrillator?”

  Kay turned a grateful gaze on him. “He was shocked, he survived.”

  Mafioso nodded as if she’d just passed him some news and not tried to tell him a joke. “You know, my cousin who owns the restaurant next door, Nicky−”

  I knew it!

  “−had a stroke. Some do-gooder found him, called an ambulance, and took care of his kid Georgie. Saved Nicky’s life.”

  “That would be your do-gooder right there.” Kay pointed at me.

  “You?” A storm seemed to brew across his face. “How can that be? I heard that there was bad blood between you and Nicky.” He leaned his head back and looked down his nose at me. “I heard you were giving Nicky a hard time at his restaurant. Do you think you’re the reason he had the stroke? Your tormenting his business? He’s not a spring chicken you know.” He sat up straight again and shook a stern finger at me. “It’s not nice.”

  That took me a moment to process. What? That was exactly opposite of reality. Ever since Hooch took off for warmer climates and I took over the bar, Nicky was the one tormenting me.

  “Nicky had a stroke from a blood clot he got when Delight was giving him a hickey,” Justice said.

  “A hickey?” Mafioso stilled. Frowned. Shook his head “That’s not right. Nicky has a waddle.” He gestured at his neck to show what he meant.

  We all knew what he meant. We’d already processed the imagery when the incident happened. And had since managed to block it out. To be honest, I didn’t want my imagination to go there again.

  “No one would suck on Nicky’s neck waddle,” he concluded.

  “Delight would,” Justice said.

  Nicodemus nodded his head.

  As if on cue, Delight walked into the bar.

  Tonight, Delight was dressed in a pair of black yoga pants, purple glitter platform shoes, and a matching top. Her drag-queen-length fake eyelashes were a matching purple. She wore her hair in a giant RuPaul cascade. She looked fabulous!

  Mafioso spun in his stool and looked confused by what he was seeing.

  Twinkles got up and ambled over, wagging his little stub of a tail. Delight knew just how he liked to have his ears massaged. As Delight scrunched her periwinkle painted nails into his fur, Twinkles started moaning and bicycling his rear paw in the air.

  That should be me right now with Officer Goodman, I thought with a sigh.

  I had brought a cardiac burger back to Twinkles. We were eating together in my office. “I shouldn’t have given you that.” I grimaced at Twinkles. “Your vet is going to be mad at me when you haven’t dropped the extra weight.”

  Twinkles rolled his eyes up with his angelic look.

  Yeah, I knew his eating that burger was all my fault. I gathered the paper wrappers into a ball and pitched them into the waste basket. “I’ll take you for a walk in a little bit, and we can burn off some of the calories. Okay?”

  He yawned and stretched, then ambled over to the couch where he nestled into the cushions for an after-burger nap. I checked my watch, yup, that was the end of my dinner break. I was no more satisfied now than I had been before I ate. I had really been in the mood for Officer Goodman’s buns, not cardiac burger buns.

  My phone buzzed, and I yanked it from my pocket, thinking maybe Goodman was freed up, and we could get in a quickie. After all, a girl sometimes just has to grab a snack. Life wasn’t always the buffet we’d want.

  Hooch: Colleen said you didn’t get back in touch with her. She needs to get your credentials and ABC license to you.

  Colleen? Nope. I didn’t know a Colleen.

  Me: Should I know what you’re talking about?

  Hooch: Saturday.

  Me: I’ve still got nothing. Can you be more specific?

  Hooch: I sent you an email.

  He sent me an…I scowled as I moved over to the computer and plunked into my ancient cloth covered rolling chair. I booted up and tapped on the mail icon to pull up my inbox. After doing a quick search, I concluded I’d responded to each of Hooch’s emails. After all, being so far away, Hooch rarely sent me business-oriented emails − instead they usually had updates on his rest and relaxation strategies.

  Hooch was hanging out in Barbados on a doctor-ordered change of life. Now, he watched the waves, waved at the women, and drank Mai Tais to his heart’s content, while I ran our bar.

  I texted him back.

  Me: Nothing about Colleen or Saturday in my emails.

  Hooch: You’re right. It’s here in my draft folder. Sorry about that. I’m sure you can still handle it. I have confidence in you. Sending now.

  Holy moly, what could that mean? Anxiety burbled through my system as I waited for the ping.

  Ping!

  I tapped the email open and scanned down. My anxiety turned to an upset stomach, which turned into a sudden numbness that traveled from my toes up through my body, then came to a screeching halt with a blazing headache that made me see double.

  When I felt the tap, tap, tap on my foot, I looked down to find Nicodemus with a paw on my shoe and a concerned look in his eye. “It’s okay, buddy. Thanks for caring.” I lifted him up to my shoulder to return him to Justice, feeling mildly guilty for having distracted him from his service work.

  “You okay?” Justice asked from where she was filling a pitcher of beer. “He’s never alerted on anyone else before.”

  “I was having a moment,” I said, placing him back on her shoulder.

  The door burst open, and I spun around. “Whoop!” I called out. “Polar Bear and the Beavers are here!” I hustled over to the crowd as the bar filled with big men dressed in their rugby kilts and team jerseys, mud spattered and disheveled.

  “Mmm, mmm, mmm.” I heard Delight behind me. “Yes, he is. A mighty fine-looking, huge-assed polar bear of a man. Looks like a lumber jack. Looks like that Paul Bunyan fellow. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if he has a blue ox with him.”

  I wasn’t going to tell Delight that Polar Bear’s real name actually was Paul Bunyan. His mom had a good sense of humor, a lucky last name, and a giant of a child.

  When I reached out to give him a hug, Polar Bear grabbed me around the waist and swung me in a circle. He set me down on the counter so he could look me in the eye. “And how have you been keeping, lass?” he asked, feigning a rich brogue.

  “All the better to have you in town.” I rested my hands on his broad shoulders. “When did your team get here?”

  “We flew in this morning and worked out this afternoon. We have to acclimate to your hot temperatures. How you call this fall, I don’t know.”

  I turned. “You all know Kay.” I gestured toward her.

  “Yeah, we do!” a Beaver called.

  “Oh, Kay!” Morgan squatted down, grabbing her by the back of her thighs and tipping her over his shoulder as he stood back up. He wh
irled her around then brought her, squealing and laughing, over and set her down beside me. “A sight for sore eyes, for sure,” he said.

  I pointed behind the bar. “And new to the Hooch family, we have Justice and her service rat, Nicodemus.”

  Nicodemus waved his paw in the air then brought it across his belly in a genteel bow.

  A hearty, “Hey ho!” rose up.

  “And this is our friend Delight.” I pointed over to her.

  “I like your skirts,” she said. “They’re real colorful.”

  The bar stilled.

  Twinkles covered his eyes with his paws. His tail stopped its wiggling.

  “It’s a kilt,” Polar Bear said. “Do you know why it’s called that?”

  Delight shook her head.

  “Kilt is what happened to the last chap that called it a skirt.” He gave her a friendly wink.

  Delight laid a beautifully manicured hand over her sizable chest. “Good thing I’m not a chap then.” She batted her heavy lashes. “I still like what you’re wearing. They’re real manly looking even if I called them skirts. It’s a cultural thing, if you see what I’m saying. Folks don’t wear those from where I was raised in Texas. I didn’t mean disrespect.” She took a sip of her wine. “You all just finished playing ball in your kilts?” she asked wiggling her fingers toward Morgan’s uniform.

  “Had to,” Morgan said. “Not enough room for my balls in a pair of trousers.”

  Delight got a kind of a stunned grin on her face.

  I knocked on the bar to get Justice’s attention. “Badge Bunny Booze for the Beavers, please.”

  She reached down and brought up the shot glasses, lining them up on the bar. “So when you’re out playing, what were you playing?”