Lost in Tennessee

by DeVito, Anita

  Butch made introductions around the table of high-school friends that never lost touch. Kate admired the camaraderie of the group. The way she grew up, her family had always been her world. She grew up in her uncle’s house. Her earliest memories were of construction sites, power tools, and running with the boys. While she couldn’t regret what she had with her family, a part of her wished for a group of friends that accepted her without all of the baggage family brought with it.

  Trudy waved to a man at the bar. “Here comes Hyde.”

  Kate looked around Butch at the bulldog of a man walking toward the table, a beer in each hand. Hyde Spence wasn’t tall, but he had big arms and a barrel chest.

  “That’s your man,” Butch said. “Best damned mechanic in the county.”

  Kate stood as Hyde reached the table and put on her brightest smile again. “Butch says you’re my man.”

  Hyde looked her up and down and up again. He turned to Butch and wrapped his arms around him, pouring cheap beer down Butch’s back. “I love you, man.”

  Butch pushed him away. “She needs a spare tire. Her car got a flat in my driveway.”

  Hyde looked her over again. “What kind of car?”

  Kate let the leer slide. She needed the spare. She’d already lost more time than she could afford. “1966 Shelby.”

  Hyde’s eyebrows were lost in his shaggy, brown hair. “No shit? What happened?”

  Kate shrugged. How do these things ever happen? “I ran over something. It wouldn’t have been a problem except my spare tire is missing.”

  “When was the last time you used it?”

  “Never. I’ve owned the car three years and never had a flat.”

  Hyde whistled long and low. “Buy me a beer, and I’ll bring you a spare tomorrow afternoon.”

  Kate sighed. “Make it tomorrow morning, and I’ll buy you a good beer.”

  Butch snorted. “I told you that stuff you drink is crap. It even feels like crap running down my back.”

  Hyde took a long drag from his bottle. “You’ve turned into a goddamned beer snob.”

  Butch shook his head. “I have taste, pure and simple.”

  With the deal made, Kate could focus on other needs. “Gentlemen, where is the ladies’ room?”

  With Kate out of earshot, Butch’s friends bombarded him. “I was telling y’all the truth. She got lost in construction then pulled into my driveway with a flat. I’ve known her for a few hours.”

  “You’re not sleeping with her?” Hyde asked.

  Butch rolled his eyes. Hyde perpetually expected Butch’s fame to mean he could and did bed anything in a skirt. His friend never believed that for Butch, the good life meant wife and kids. “I just met her.”

  Trudy draped her upper body over Butch’s arm, dancing her painted nails on his shoulder. “And he’s married.”

  Butch took a long drink of the cold beer. It didn’t do anything to loosen the knot in his stomach. It embarrassed him, admitting it to the people that mattered to him that his marriage failed. Best to do it fast. “I filed the papers. Fawn and I are getting a divorce.”

  The table sat in stunned silence for a full minute. Hyde slammed his bottle down so hard beer erupted out the top. “Goddamn it. It’s about time. To the ex-Mrs. McCormick. May she rot in Hell!”

  A roar went up from the table as bottles kissed in celebration.

  “We need something else.” Hyde pushed to his feet, slapping Butch on the back. “Be right back.”

  That knot loosened. Butch didn’t expect, didn’t deserve, the support but admitted he needed it. He listened to the celebration on his behalf, holding on to it like a life preserver in turbulent waters.

  Trudy leaned into the table, cupping her mouth to screen her words. “Speaking of ex-Mrs. McCormicks.”

  A honey-blonde with streaked hair made her way through the crowd, her gaze locked on to Butch. Angie Russell McCormick had been Butch’s high-school sweetheart. A lifetime ago, she had come to him, telling him she was pregnant. He did the right thing and married her. Weeks later, she lost the baby. The marriage didn’t survive long after. While Butch traveled and made a name for himself, Angie stayed home, helping her widowed mother and volunteering in the community. He helped her out when he could and later, against Finch’s loud objections, began giving her a monthly allowance. The courtesy checks gave Angie enough to live on, but it never seemed to be enough. Butch slunk down in his chair trying to be inconspicuous.

  “Too late,” Trudy said. “She’s spotted you.”

  “How did she know I was here?”

  “I’m sure a dozen people posted to Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. She would have heard.”

  “Butch! Butch!” Angie called out as she elbowed her way through the sea of bodies. She broke free near the table and stood tall, giving Butch the smile that always got her what she wanted. “Nobody told me you were back in town.”

  “Hey, Angie. You look good.” Butch muttered the compliment manners compelled him to give.

  “Why, aren’t you sweet for noticing? I did just have my hair done.”

  Trudy leaned into Hyde but didn’t quiet her voice. “And her tits.”

  Hyde snickered while he leered at Angie’s shirt. More of her was out than in the tight, black, knit cotton.

  Angie leaned against the table, turning her back on the hecklers and giving Butch a full view of what his money bought. He knew the minute she got down to business. Her mouth pursed, and her bottom lip went pouty.

  “Butch, did you know that the way of life of the Northern Pine Snake in Tennessee is being threatened? Construction and development is ruining the poor little snakey’s habitat. A group of us are working to save the cute little snakes from mass destruction. All we need is a tiny donation for medical bills and foster care.”

  Trudy rolled her eyes.

  Hyde choked on his beer. “Foster care? For snakes?”

  Butch looked Angie in the eye. He wasn’t giving in. Not this time. “You just got your check, Angie. If you want to save the snakes, use that.”

  Angie leaned into Butch, brushing her new and improved tits across his shoulder. “But, Butchy, you know I have expenses. After paying for basics, I’m lucky I have enough left to buy the occasional drink.”

  Butch tilted his chin toward her. “How could you have spent all of the money?” A blur of red flashed across the floor, barreling straight at him. Butch saw the accident before it happened. He spun out of his chair and caught Kate around the waist as her feet slipped out from under her on a puddle of beer.

  “Crap.” Kate clung to Butch’s shoulders as her legs imitated Bambi on ice.

  “Are you okay?” Butch lifted Kate, set her on her feet on dry ground.

  “Excuse me. We were having a conversation,” Angie said, rolling her mascara-lacquered eyes.

  Butch narrowed his gaze on his ex. “Cut it out, Angie. She slipped.”

  “Besides, you weren’t having a conversation,” Trudy said. “You were trying to sucker more money out of Butch.”

  Angie glared at Trudy. “Saving the Northern Pine Snake is important.”

  Butch closed his eyes, knowing when Angie got something stuck in her craw, there would be no end to the nagging until she got her way, but was he ever tired of it. He opened his eyes and gazed down into the blue eyes of the woman who dismantled his tractor. He found strength there. Determination. “Angie, this conversation is over. You have to live within your means. If you need more money, get a job like everyone else.”

  “About damned time.” Trudy bobbed her head, emphasizing each word. “Go find another gravy train and crawl under it.”

  “Trudy,” Butch said without taking his gaze from Kate.

  “If your conversation is over, can you come with me?” Kate looked up at him with a fire burning in her eyes, her little body nearly vibrating with energy.

  He found himself nodding and let her pull him away from the table. He smiled and looked over his shoulder.

  A
ngie’s mouth hung open, a hand on her cocked hip. “This isn’t the end, Butch McCormick.”

  The threat didn’t faze him. Butch knew Angie would be on his case tomorrow and the next day. But for the first time in a long time, he really didn’t care. Kate had his hand in both of hers, dragging him across the dance floor and into the game room.

  “You gotta see this; you gotta see this; you gotta see this!”

  Chapter Two

  A dog barked…somewhere. Kate raised heavy eyelids, drawn by the noise from the bottomless pit where she had sunk. She rolled her aching head, and arms tightened around her. Her eyes snapped wide open. Seconds passed before she made sense of the scene. She and Butch lay on his living room floor, twisted together like two strands of yarn. Her head lay on his shoulder, and his leg trapped her thigh. Hands were everywhere. A blue and white blanket lay at their feet.

  The heart pounding in her chest matched the banging in her head. Flipping through mental images, the crisp pictures of the early evening blurred and then just ended. Kate had no idea how she ended up with Butch on the floor. She still wore her jeans and the scoop neck tank top, but her feet and arms were bare. She would have been cold if not for Butch’s body heat. Kate moved back a judicious few inches, waking Butch. She rubbed her head and pried her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “What the hell happened last night?”

  Butch moved his legs, freeing her, and propped himself on his elbow. “You don’t remember?”

  “Of course I remember.” Kate rolled her eyes, lying her butt off.

  “Uh huh. Tell me your favorite part.”

  “Riding the bull.” Kate remembered pulling him across the bar to the black monster sitting in a quiet corner, just waiting for someone to notice. She sat up high, her thighs spread wide while the room spun. True, it may be the only thing she remembered, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t her favorite.

  The ends of Butch’s mouth curled slowly into an easy smile. “And after that?”

  Kate narrowed her eyes. He knew something she didn’t. A shit-eating grin like that could only mean she’d done something she wouldn’t be proud of. God, she hoped she hadn’t done something stupid. Embarrassment in a room full of strangers was one thing; stupidity something else. “Sure, and after that.”

  Butch climbed into the armchair, stretching his long legs in front of him. “No, what did we do after that?”

  Kate pushed up and sat tailor style, combing her hair with her fingers. “I’m a little foggy on most of the night.”

  “That’s not surprising. You had more than your fair share of the local spirit. It’s distilled just south of here at Cloud Nine. The shot is one of Hyde’s favorites, called Slice of Heaven.”

  “It went down smoothly, but now I feel like I licked a cat.” She stuck her tongue out for his inspection.

  “If that’s all you feel, you handled it better than most.” He obliged her and looked at her tongue. “No fur. You’re good.”

  “I’ve got that going for me.” Kate went to the kitchen and turned on the faucet.

  “Pain killers are in the cabinet above the sink. Grab a few for me, will you?”

  Kate opened a couple of half-empty cabinets, trying to remember where she’d seen Butch’s glasses the night before when he’d invited her in for his mother’s fried chicken. One cabinet had enough dinner plates to share a meal with friends, a handful of bowls and small plates. A second cabinet had the glasses. On the top shelf, holding court over the rest of the cabinet, were four glass in a deep cherry red. While she admired the pretty glasses, she took a glass from the bottom shelf that looked like a Mason jar with a handle. She downed three pills and half a glass of the most refreshing water she had ever tasted. Her rusty throat loosened, like the tin man after a good lube. She returned to the living room and handed Butch the ice water and pills. Kate had never shied away from keeping up with the boys, but the boys had always been family. She had been out for an adventure, not to get drunk. The holes in her memory bothered her, really bothered her.

  Butch drained the glass, washing down the pills, then pressed the cool glass to his head. “What are you thinking about so hard? I can see the steam coming from your ears.”

  “There, uh, may be a few gaps in my memory. I don’t know what happened. Maybe I should have eaten more.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t be too hard on yourself. Hyde plied you with shots. I think he wanted to impress you.”

  “Impress me?” An image flashed. Little blue glasses etched with a dog pointing and filled with a sweet liquor. Had she bought the drinks? “The shot glasses. I thought they were cute.”

  “You stole a few.”

  Her mouth fell open. “No. I wouldn’t do that.” She pulled her purse close and opened it wide to find two blue shot glasses. “Will you return these? I don’t know what I was thinking. I remember we were celebrating…something.” Alcohol snuffed out the spark of a memory. “What was it?”

  “My third divorce. Your first bull ride.” Butch chuckled, but the sadness lingering below the surface ruined the effect. Laughter brought out the twinkle in his eyes, dimples in his cheeks, and made him beautiful. He laughed on the surface and only on the surface.

  Kate thought he needed a reason to laugh. While she would only be here for another few hours, she would spend the time she had making this good man happy. She kicked companionably at his foot. “Why is that funny?”

  “Do you remember the mechanical bull?”

  She bit her lower lip, watching still images flip through her mind. “Yes. His name was Rip. It was written on the blanket.”

  Butch snickered. Kate imagined manners kept him from laughing outright at her. “That blanket was like a burial shroud. R.I.P. Rest in peace. The owners had to permanently pull the plug on it when the insurance shot through the ceiling.”

  “But…I remember riding it.” She vividly remembered the feeling of her legs on the wide leather.

  “You tried. Oh, Lord you tried. We explained to you that the bull didn’t work. You were bound and determined to fix it. You crawled underneath it, asking us to hand you wrenches and things. A crowd gathered around you, cheering you on.” Butch sat up, acting out parts of the evening, laughing to his core, laughing until tears wet his eyes. “It took Hyde and me to pull you away.”

  Kate turned to the picture window, listening to the story. She wished it didn’t sound so damned believable. Who in their right mind would crawl around a bar floor to re-wire a mechanical bull? Butch seemed to get a kick out of it, there was her silver lining. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry?”

  His arms spread across the back of the chair, Butch looked very satisfied. “Don’t apologize. It would ruin the best night I’ve had in a long time.”

  Kate leaned against the arm of the couch and patted Butch’s hand. “In that case, you’re welcome. Why did we sleep on the floor last night? My back aches like I fell down a flight of stairs.”

  “I didn’t think I could carry you up the stairs without both of us taking a tumble.”

  Kate froze with her hand on his. Her sudden fever meant her face would soon be the color of a tomato. “Excuse me. Did you say you carried me?”

  Butch covered her hand, and captured and held on to it. “It’s been a long time since I’ve slept with a woman. I forgot how nice it could be.”

  The intimacy of her hand in his made her heart flutter. A tragically few number of men had incited this type of physical reaction, and ensuing experiences proved disastrous. Short story: the sex hadn’t been worth it.

  Kate extracted her hand to break the contact and changed the subject. “Nice is not how my back would describe it. I need to stretch out.” She inhaled, reaching her fingers to the ceiling, and let her hands fall to the floor in a graceful swan dive. She moved through the sun salutation poses, taking the time to work the kinks out of her back, hips, and shoulders. She looked to the heavens and then floated down to earth.

  Butch pulled the blanket out of her way and tossed it o
n the couch. “There’s only one bathroom. Do you want to shower first?”

  “No, you go ahead. Hopefully when I finish this, I’ll feel human again.”

  Kate loved the lines of the farmhouse the first time she’d walked up the long drive with Butch. She knew the inside would be just as spectacular. The height of the farmhouse made it appear narrow where, in fact, spacious rooms could house a crowd. Windows on the front and on the left side above the staircase lit the large entryway, bare except for a worn rug in the middle. Straight through, a spacious kitchen with miles of counter contained a table for four under the window to the back yard.

  Thick wood fully trimmed every room, a detail sinfully omitted in most new homes. The craftsmanship of generations gone by lived on in each window and doorway, in the infinite trail of baseboard, in the crown molding that encircled the living room.

  The soft gray of the living room’s wood floors nearly matched the color of Butch’s eyes. A long couch, comfortable armchair, and a few mismatched tables filled the room. The pale walls sported darker patches where pictures used to hang. The brickwork of the fireplace and woodwork of the mantle could be photographed and featured in one of her architectural magazines.

  Kate checked the phone that sat on the floor, plugged into an outlet. She had lucked out that Butch had the same model of phone and an extra charger. With her battery full, the screen lit up, announcing she had missed twenty-one calls. Tom left most with a few from her uncle and cousins. Notably—but not surprisingly—none belonged to her father.

  Kate unplugged the phone, pacing as she dialed. “Hey, Tom, it’s me.”

  “Kate.” Tom said her name in a long exhale. “Where have you been? I called you a dozen times. You know your father didn’t mean the things he said.”

  “It doesn’t matter. The project is only a few days behind schedule. I can make that up. It will come in on budget and be the show place of the county. I don’t need my father’s approval. Just his money.” Maybe if she said it often enough, she would believe it.

  “Don’t say that. You know he loves you. He’s just worried.” Newspaper rustled. Sunday morning. Tom would be sitting on the couch reading.