Everyone laughed.
“Fame, shame…all the same at the Anchor.”
“Tell ’em, Curt.”
“Now, Ms. Lindsay tells us she is here to party, and I can tell you, when Ms. Lindsay parties, everyone, I mean everyone has a really good time.”
A round of whoops rang out at that.
“Remember the night when she danced on the table and then she…” Sam had to shout to be heard above the buzz of voices.
“Like yesterday, Sam. Like yesterday…Now, she’s going to slip up here on the bar…”
“Oh yeah,” the college boy exclaimed.
“…and she’s going to entertain us…”
“Right on.”
“…as she brings back to life the glory days of the Anchor.”
“Wait.” Jennie held out her hand to stop him. “Curt, I…I…”
Another whoop went up from the guys as the last of the holdouts joined the throng at the bar.
“Let’s party,” Curt shouted.
Jennie laughed, suddenly no longer hesitant. The Anchor hadn’t changed. Time to party.
“Let me help you, little lady.” As the guys screamed, a burly man with a mustache and beard swept Jennie off the floor and deposited her on the bar.
“Party. Party. Party.”
The entire group took up the chant as Jennie leaned forward to kiss the man on the cheek. He turned his head at the last second and her lips met his. A cheer went up as he placed his hand behind her head and held the kiss for several moments.
“Party. Party. Party.”
Jennie pumped her fists above her head in time to the chant, and began swaying her body to the rhythm.
“Party. Party. Party.”
She held out one leg for someone to remove her boot. “I can’t party with my boots on,” she cried, shaking her head.
When no one reached for it, she gave a deep sigh.
“I guess no one wants to party?” She paused, raising her hands in question, then shook her head in disgust. “Curt, help me down.” She began to slip off the bar.
“No!”
“Let’s party.”
“Well then, guys, don’t be shy,” she warned. “Sailors at the Anchor have never been shy.”
The college boy had moved to the front of the pack. He pushed an older man aside, grasped Jennie’s leg, and wrestled the boot off, dropping it to the floor. A cheer went up from the crowd.
“Yes,” Jennie shouted, holding out her other leg. “This is more like it.” The boy snatched at the other boot, and let it fall to the floor. Jennie saw the boy’s mouth moving, but his words were lost in the roar of the crowd.
“What are you waiting for?” she screamed, beckoning for him. “Come on up.”
“Let’s do it.” He clambered onto the bar and stood over her. The pack howled as he stripped off his shirt and tossed it away.
“Party. Party. Party.”
Jennie leaned back, resting one arm on the bar and looked up at him. Young, but kind of cute…
The boy began to fumble with his belt.
“Do it. Do it. Do it.” The boy’s friends were bouncing on a table, pumping their fists in the air, egging him on. The girl sitting behind them, had her head down, studying the cell phone clutched in her hand.
“Go. Go. Go.”
As the chant became louder, the noise rolled over her just as it had on the night she had left Thomas, when she had perched on the bar and partied until dawn. Thinking of him, she looked about.
What am I doing here…?
Then the guys surged forward, pressing so closely that a mouse couldn’t have slipped between any two of them. A second guy vaulted onto the bar.
“That’s more like it,” Jennie cheered.
“Do it. Do it. Do it.”
All other sounds, all thoughts, were drowned away as they chanted in a single voice, the words reverberating from the hard walls and high ceiling.
“Do it. Do it. Do it.”
Curt pounded the bar, his fist echoing the rhythm of their words.
Thump, uh, thump, uh, thump, uh…
The waitresses hopped about like cheerleaders, waving their arms and swinging their hips with each beat.
“Do it. Do it. Do it.”
The pulsing rhythm of the song pouring from the jukebox merged with the cadence of the voices, counterpoint to the thump of Curt’s fist.
Thump, uh, thump, uh, thump, uh…
“Do it. Do it. Do it.”
The din mounted, louder and louder, and the tempo increased, faster and faster, speeding toward a climax. Jennie felt as if everyone in the room was bound together, all sprinting in the same direction, with a single thought, a single purpose, like a company of soldiers dashing across no man’s land, no thought of the danger, intent on capturing the prize.
All thoughts of Thomas vanished as Jennie lay on the bar, lost in the music, her body moving with the beat as if she were dancing. Her eyes flashed from face to face, first Curt, then the boy, Sam, the old man, the boy, the girl with the phone, the boy…
“Yes,” she screamed, a cry of elation and delight, a certainty that anything was possible and nothing was beyond her reach. She was unstoppable. She was where she belonged.
“Get it on. Get it on.”
As Jennie smiled up at the college boy, reaching out one hand to pull him closer, the front door flew open, crashing against the wall. A burst of cold air tumbled through, and Jennie gaped in shock as Kara and Ms. Watkins stood in the opening.
***
Kara took in the scene, Jennie reclining on the bar, the boy looming over her, the men packed around them.
“Do it. Do it. Do it.”
She dashed through the crowd, elbowing guys aside.
“Jennie,” she screamed as she reached the bar, grabbing at her arm. “Jennie, stop.”
“Go away, Kara.” Jennie shoved her and she stumbled backwards.
“Chick fight,” someone shouted, amid fresh cheers.
Jennie reached out again for the boy. “You going to do it or are you all talk?” she taunted.
“Do it,” someone yelled.
The boy unbuttoned his jeans.
“Do it.”
“Young man, freeze,” Ms. Watkins ordered, pointing at the boy. She pushed through the crowd, the men moving aside as if they sensed who she was and imagined what it would be like to be summoned to her office.
“Party. Party. Party.”
“Ms. Bateman, come with us.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I want to…”
“Get it on. Get it on.”
“I don’t give a flying flip what you want.” Kara had regained her footing. “Come on.”
She yanked Jennie’s arm, pulling her off the bar, onto the floor. Kara tugged at the hem of Jennie’s tunic, pulling it down to cover her body at least a little bit. Jennie made to push her away, reaching out for Curt to pull her back onto the bar, but Kara caught the top of her tunic.
Jennie sputtered and coughed as the neckline dragged at her throat, but Kara held on. With one hand, she retrieved Jennie’s boots and purse. With the other, she helped Ms. Watkins begin to haul Jennie past the men, toward the door.
Jennie struggled to be free, hitting and twisting and kicking, her foot connecting with Ms. Watkins’s leg, causing her to release her arm as she fell.
“Hold on, now.” Curt pounded on the bar. “You can’t just come in here like this. Stop where you are.”
“Let go of me. Let go.”
A buzz ran through the room and grew louder as the crowd seemed to realize what was happening.
Curt motioned to Sam. “Grab her. Bring her to me.”
Sam reached for Jennie, but he tripped over Ms. Watkins and sprawled across the floor.
“Yeah, grab the chick,” a man screamed. “She’s ours.”
“Let me go. I’m not a child, leave me alone,” Jennie screamed. “Help me. Curt, someone, help me.” She flailed at Kara, slapping her head and her sho
ulders with her free hand, almost slipping away.
“Uh-huh, she’s a feisty one,” a guy exclaimed.
“Party. Party.” Guys on the far side of the room continued the chant, while those at the bar demanded Jennie’s return.
“Stop them,” the college boy shouted. “Block the door.”
“Let’s get her,” one of his friends screamed as he hopped off the table. “Drag her back to the bar and be next in line.”
Kara’s eyes cut toward the voice and she saw the girl who had been sitting with the college boy and his friends, standing on her toes, her cell phone held high above her head, a smile spread across her face.
“Bring her back. Bring all three of them!”
Kara lowered her shoulder and charged forward, forcing her way through what seemed to be rapidly becoming a mob. Ms. Watkins regained her footing and elbowed the boy’s friend in his ribs. He jumped out of her path and his howl of pain rose above the other voices.
“Catch them. Don’t let them out.”
Ms. Watkins placed her hands on Jennie’s back and shoved her toward the door. They had almost reached it when the girl suddenly blocked their path. Jennie put out her foot like a brake and the three of them jerked to a stop.
“Tasha?” Jennie covered her mouth.
“Slut,” the girl screamed as she thrust a cell phone toward Jennie’s face, its screen displaying an image of Jennie lying across the bar, her skirt hiked up, the boy looming over her.
“Close the door. No one leaves.”
“Your name will never be Lindsay again. I’ll see to that,” the girl spat the words into Jennie’s face.
“Stop them,” several men yelled. “Lock the door.”
“Come on, Jennie. Let’s go.” Kara’s voice shook. Shouts echoed across the room.
A man reached out and grabbed Kara’s shoulder, but she shoved him off. “What are we waiting for?” Kara jerked on Jennie’s arm. “Come on.”
“Three’s better than one.”
“Move, Jennie, move.” Kara was in a panic. “We need to get out of here.”
The mob surged forward. “Get them. All of them. Back to the bar. We’ll teach them to…”
“Come here, old woman.” A young guy grasped Ms. Watkins from behind. “You’re going nowhere.”
She wheeled about to face him. “I recognize you, young man. Tommy Richards, you were my student.”
“I…I…” The guy’s eyes grew large and he released his grip. He melted back into the crowd.
Kara and Ms. Watkins yanked Jennie through the door slamming it behind them, and, for a moment, there was silence.
“Get her,” a muffled voice shouted, and a roar went up inside.
“Hurry,” Kara cried. They dragged Jennie to her car. Kara looked back at the door, expecting to see it pop open and the mob to pour through. She turned around. No cars, no people, no lights in other buildings. They needed help, but where?
Jennie had begun to cry. Her body was shaking and she was gasping for breath. Kara didn’t know if Jennie finally had realized what had been about to happen or whether the exertion of the struggle had simply been too much. She caught Jennie as she began to fall and shoved her into the car. Fumbling through Jennie’s purse, she found the key. “I’ll drive her home.”
“I’ll follow you.” Ms. Watkins glanced back at the Anchor as a second roar seemed to rock the building.
They all turned as the howl of voices was punctuated by a gunshot.
***
Kara tore away from the Anchor as if the shot had come from the starting gun at Daytona Speedway. She raced through the city. As the car flew up the entrance ramp and entered the highway at full speed, Jennie lay across the back seat, whimpering.
“Jennie, what were you doing? What were you thinking?”
It was a moment before Jennie spoke. “I don’t know. I…I just thought I wanted…”
“You’re off your meds. Why?”
“I didn’t want to be weak. I didn’t want to need pills every morning to function, every night to sleep. I just wanted to be normal,” she cried.
“Sweetie…”
Jennie sat up. “I wanted to prove I was in control,” she screamed. “Prove that I wouldn’t be sick again.”
“Prove it to whom? To Thomas? If that man pushed you into this, I’ll…”
“To myself,” Jennie snapped. “To Tasha. She told me I would be sick again. She showed me articles. She said it would kill her father if he married me again and I…if that happened.”
She swallowed hard. “Now she’ll tell Thomas, and…it doesn’t matter.” She flopped back onto the seat. “Nothing matters anymore.”
“Wait, she’ll tell Thomas? Was that Tasha? The girl at the door? Your Tasha?” Kara’s head whipped around. “You acted like that in front of Tasha?”
“No,” Jennie cried. “I didn’t see her. She’ll tell Thomas, and he’ll tell me to go to…to leave him alone, to never come back.”
“Maybe…”
“You heard her. ‘Your name will never be Lindsay again.’ That’s what she said,” Jennie wailed. “Wouldn’t you tell your dad if you found he planned to marry a crazy tramp?” Jennie began to cry again. “A sot and a slut, that’s what she once called me. And she was right.”
Kara left the interstate, Ms. Watkins close behind. By the time they reached Jennie’s house, she had fallen asleep.
They helped her inside and put her to bed.
“I’ll stay with her,” Kara said. “She’s exhausted now, but this isn’t over. She may well be manic again when she awakes, and who knows what she’ll do.” She took Jennie’s cell phone into the living room and began to page though her directory.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for her psychiatrist. I’m going to tell her what happened.”
“It’s almost one in the morning.”
Kara shrugged. “This is what she’s paid for. Let her earn her money. Jennie needs to see her tomorrow.”
***
It was still dark when Jennie awoke. She lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling. As she turned over to go back to sleep, she heard a noise coming from the kitchen.
Springing from bed, she retrieved the heavy flashlight she kept beside her dresser, and she crept out of her room and down the hall.
Entering the kitchen, she found Kara making coffee.
“What are you doing in my house?” she growled.
“Aren’t we in a good mood this morning? No thank you, Kara, for dragging me away from that mob at the bar, driving me home, staying with me overnight?” Kara pulled another mug from the cupboard. “You know, Ms. Watkins and I—”
Jennie’s head snapped up. “Ms. Watkins?” Her eyes shot open and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my…That wasn’t a dream?”
Kara shook her head.
“You both saw…”
Kara nodded.
Jennie’s eyes narrowed. “And Tasha saw it too? The little twit will run straight to Thomas. She’ll ruin my life. I need to stop her.” She sprang from her chair, ready to hunt her down.
“Jennie, sit,” Kara ordered.
Jennie hesitated, then she plopped into a chair, put her head on the table, and began to cry. She felt her cheeks stinging with the heat of shame, recalling too vividly what she had done, flirting with guys at the party, people she worked with, showing up at the Rusty Anchor almost naked, propositioning an entire roomful of men.
“So I lose everything. Thomas. My job…” She looked up at Kara. “You despise me.”
“I don’t despise you.” Kara rolled her eyes. “Ms. Watkins is really worried about you. She wanted to stay last night too, but I told her I could handle things.”
“What am I going to do, Kara?” Jennie cried. “What am I going to do?”
“Well, I’d suggest a shower and breakfast. Dr. Wilson is expecting you at eight.”
“Dr. Wilson? How…”
“I called her this morning at one thirty. Told her
what happened. She sounded rather unhappy.”
“She’ll kill me.”
“And well she should. How stupid, Jennie, how totally stupid.”
Jennie stared at the wall and did not respond.
“Go and shower. You stink like that bar of yours.”
At eight o’clock, Jennie slinked into Dr. Wilson’s office.
In the past, Dr. Wilson had always greeted her warmly when she had arrived for an appointment. This morning when Jennie entered, Dr. Wilson glared at her and did not speak for a full minute, an eternity for a therapist.
She recounted the events of the past several months, staring at the floor, ashamed to meet Dr. Wilson’s gaze. Jennie didn’t know that a therapist was allowed to shout at a patient, but Dr. Wilson exercised that “right” this morning, whether allowed or not.
“Sixteen years you’ve been stable, and you allowed one bitchy little girl to control your thoughts and to push you back to where you began.”
Jennie nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Incredible,” Dr. Wilson roared.
As Jennie glanced around the office, as if searching for a safe port, she heard a soft, tentative knock on the office door.
“What is it?” Dr. Wilson snapped.
Kara cracked open the door.
“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” She turned to Jennie, holding out her telephone. “You have a call from Alexis. She called me when she couldn’t reach you. You really need to take it.”
Dr. Wilson gave a brief nod and Jennie took the telephone.
Alexis was crying. “Jennie, Tasha’s hurt. You need to come.”
“What’s wrong, Alexis?”
“Angie, her roommate called me. Said some woman, she didn’t know her name, drove her home last night. Tasha’s face was bruised. Her body was bruised. She could hardly walk. Angie called an ambulance when Tasha fell on the floor and couldn’t stand up.”
“Have you called your father?”
“Tasha won’t let me, Jennie. The nurse thinks she was assaulted, but she won’t allow them to do an exam. She told the hospital she’s an adult, not to call Dad. Told me I’d no longer be her sister if I called him…Jennie, you’re the closest thing to a mother she has. Please come.”
Once and Future Wife Page 21
