by Jeff Holmes
“After everything that’s happened, you’re fucking worried about THAT?” she screamed at him at Kite’s one night. “Look at my scars, Scott! You’re really telling me I can’t have a fucking cigarette?”
He dropped it and he even started smoking more again. It had been a trying six weeks.
Scott guided the Sky Bird toward downtown Kansas City, picking the right time of day to be headed eastbound on I-70 toward the skyline of the city. It was bumper-to-bumper at 5:00 headed westbound. Just as they crossed the state line, he pulled off on the exit that read “Kemper Arena/Stockyards/Gennessee Avenue.”
“What’s going on at Kemper? A Kings’ game?” Roni asked. “We’re going to a basketball game?”
“Nope,” Scott answered. “Maybe next time.”
Kemper Arena loomed in front of them, dark and deserted. Just before they reached it, he turned into a parking lot.
“Oh, shit! Roni, they’re taking us to the Golden Ox!”
The Golden Ox was one of the oldest and most famous steak houses west of the Mississippi and it was the centerpiece of the Kansas City Stockyards. And it was expensive.
“Footer,” Roni whispered, “we can’t afford this right now.”
“Yeah we can,” he answered. He kissed her and looked at her with both love and assurance. “We’re here to have fun tonight. Please have fun. Money is no object for once.”
“OK, baby, if you say so,” she said, then turned to Amanda. “Lobster and martinis, baby girl!!!”
Dinner was divine. The girls indeed both ordered huge lobster dinners, and doggie bags to go with them. Todd had a T-bone and Scott ordered prime rib. It was a feast like none of them had enjoyed in months.
After dessert, they walked back outside. Scott handed the ticket to the valet parking attendant and as they waited, the girls both hugged their guys. Roni and Scott both smiled when they heard Amanda quietly said “I love you” to Todd.
“This has been wonderful,” Roni said. “I can’t believe you guys drove us 130 miles for dinner. You’re amazing.”
“Well, we’re not quite done with the night, just yet,” Scott said.
Back in the Sky Bird on I-70, it seemed as if they were headed back to Manhattan, when Scott abruptly pulled off onto the Seventh Street exit in Kansas City, Kan., and into a literal combat zone.
“OK, you’re taking us on a date to the ghetto?” Amanda asked. “You realize Roni and I have purses and vaginas and everything, right?”
“Shhhh,” Scott said. “Just pay attention.”
Within minutes, they pulled up toward a large brick building with formal white columns in front. The marquee read “Memorial Hall welcomes ‘The Stranger!’
“Oh. My. God.” Roni stammered. “You landed Billy Joel tickets? FOOTER, I love you!”
“No shit?” Amanda asked Todd.
“No shit. Scott, here’s that parking pass.”
Doug the cop had a friend on the KCK police force secure them a security pass. Scott flashed it and they were directed to a lot right next to the building, about 30 feet from Billy Joel’s tour bus.
“This has been sold out for two months! How did you get these?” Amanda wondered.
“Well, there’s this girl who works in the hospital lab, Trish Lewis. She broke up with her boyfriend two weeks ago and the other people going with them backed out, so she just put them up for grabs,” Todd said.
“Only thing is, Trish is kind of kinky…well, she’s bisexual, so either you and me, or Todd and Amanda, might have to perform a, well, service,” Scott said, grinning.
“A service?” Roni asked.
“A ménage-a-trois; you know, a threesome,” Todd said.
“Why would you guys be involved?” Amanda said, wrapping her arms around Roni’s neck. “Maybe it should be a good old lesbian ménage-a-trois!”
“Exactly,” Roni said, leaning over to kiss Amanda on lips. “Who needs you two?”
“Can we at least watch?” Scott said.
“Pervs,” Amanda said. “We’re in love with pervs.”
The seats were superb. Section B-2, Row D, which put them on the aisle, just to stage right of the tiny 3,500-seat venue. They faced Billy Joel, backed by his band.
Scott and Roni went after the first round of beers. While they were standing in line, Roni turned to Scott, as she often did, and randomly hugged him around the waist. It was almost child-like the way she did it. At 5-5 up against his 6-2 form, her head always came up at the perfect height for him to kiss her tenderly on the head. She loved that.
She looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you for tonight, Footer. It was such a great surprise. But why?”
“What, two guys can’t take their best gals out for a special night without there being a ‘why’ involved?”
“No, not really.”
“Well, OK…you’ve been so sad lately, Cowgirl. I can’t stand seeing you sad. When Todd found out about these tickets, we decided we had to do this.”
“Todd really loves Amanda, doesn’t he?”
“He really does. He’s been so worried about her since that night. Almost as worried as I’ve been about you.”
“I’m OK, Footer.”
“Bullshit. You haven’t been sleeping and you’re smoking more than you have in months; it’s kind of scared me. You almost remind me of myself about a year ago. And I know I never want you to be as sad as I was.”
Roni looked up at him. For the first time in weeks, the baby blue eyes danced instead of sulked. She smiled and hugged him again in her child-like way.
For the next two hours they rocked and rolled. Billy Joel put on a great show; it really wasn’t Scott and Todd’s style, but all they cared about was the girls were having fun. They sang and danced from the first chords of “The Stranger” to the final notes of “Souvenirs.”
During “Only the Good Die Young,” Amanda and Roni acted it out as if they had been rehearsing for weeks. Joel himself had spotted them and gave them a wave after the song.
Scott had always liked Billy Joel before this, especially his early songs like “Piano Man,” “I’ve Seen The Lights Go Down On Broadway,” and “Say Good-Bye To Hollywood,” but he kind of considered the new stuff a little campy or even bubble-gum. But tonight, he was loving every minute of it, and he and Todd were both happy watching the girls let loose.
The two happy couples walked out into the mild November night and around the corner of Memorial Hall into the security lot. Since Scott drove out, Todd agreed to drive home.
“Want to have a beer and a smoke before we take off?” Amanda asked, still energized from the concert.
“Absolutely!” Roni said, a new picture of enthusiasm.
Even in the security lot, after a concert, no one was going to care if someone cracked a beer or fired up a joint. Scott lit one of the Hawaiians, took a long draw, then handed it to Roni and lit a cigarette.
Sitting in the same place it been before the concert, the tour bus’ diesel engines were idling a few yards away from the Sky Bird. People shuttled in and out of the stage door and in and out of the bus. In the shadows one figure could be seen pacing between the bus and the building, smoking a cigarette.
Todd studied the figure for a moment. “Hey Billy! Nice show tonight, thanks!” he shouted.
Scott, Roni and Amanda’s heads all snapped up in Todd’s direction.
“Thanks man, glad you guys liked it,” the shadow responded.
“Oooooh my God,” Roni said under her breath. “That’s him!”
Billy Joel emerged from the shadow wearing a pair of track pants, a black t-shirt and leather bomber jacket. “Hey, are those my dancers?”
“That’s them, Billy,” Scott said as the girls let out a junior high-ish squeal.
After introductions, Scott offered Billy a beer. “Coors? Sweet. I was just going to go get one off the bus, but this is way better.”
To cap the night, they drank a beer with Billy Joel. They took pictures and the girls had their concer
t T-shirts signed. Suddenly, that night in Aggieville was far in the distance.
Scott was just waking up as they crossed the Tuttle Creek bridge and drove back into Manhattan. Todd was driving and the girls were chattering away.
“OK, so I’ll go over and pick up tickets tomorrow after class,” Amanda said as Scott stretched.
“Babe, give Amanda $10 for our tickets,” Roni said.
“Tickets?” Scott asked.”For what?”
“We’re going to go to the game Saturday. It’s the last home game; they play Iowa State.”
“Works for me!”
They pulled back into the carport and disembarked. Amanda grabbed Todd by the hand.
“C’mon Marquis! Take me to bed and mistreat me!” she shouted. It was just after 1:00AM.
“Goodnight you two,” Roni called after them. “Breakfast here tomorrow, ‘Manda?”
“Yep, 0900 as the boys say,” Amanda said as they went in the back door.
“They’re very cute,” Roni said, smiling at Scott as they headed into their house.
“As cute as us?”
“Well no way. Duh! Now c’mon, Mitchell! Take me to bed so I can mistreat you!”
****
CHAPTER 24
At the end of another three-day shift Scott was looking forward to sleeping in and relaxing. He stopped at Hardee’s and picked up a couple of burgers, fries and a vanilla shake for him and a strawberry shake for Roni.
He pulled Sarge into the carport and could hear music coming from the house as he walked up to it. He smiled as he quietly slipped in the kitchen door and crept around the doorway into the dining room.
Roni was in one of Scott’s dress uniform shirts and a pair of Bobby Brooks with the classic black ski socks on. And together, she and Van Morrison were belting out “Caravan.”
Roni really was a good singer, but she never thought so. Between Scott, Mark, Joanie, Betsy and most of her friends, they were all a musical bunch.
Watching her dance around barely dressed with a flashlight microphone made Scott smile. Then, suddenly, Scott detected another sound that wasn’t part of Van Morrison’s backing band. The phone was ringing.
Scott reached over and clicked off the speaker switch. Roni screamed, having no idea he was there. Scott put his finger to his lips to shush her, then grabbed the phone.
“Yes, this is Scott. Yes, she’s right here. Just a moment.”
Scott held the phone out to her. “Who is it?” she asked.
“The Gong Show. They want you to audition.”
“Fuck you. Who is it?”
“Someone from Clarkson Photo in Limon.”
Roni’s eyes bugged and rolled back. The idea of your wedding photographer calling you at home at 9:30 on a Tuesday night (well, 8:30 in Colorado, but still), 48 days from your wedding day probably wasn’t a good thing.
“This is Roni. Yes. What?! Oh no, I’m so sorry. OK. Oh NO! This late? Isn’t there anyone else who could do it? Denver? Could you get some names for me? If you get a list, my mom can come get it. Next week? Oh. Well, OK; I hope he feels better. I understand. I hope he feels better. Good night.”
Roni tossed the receiver to Scott. “ARRRRRRUGHHHH!” she shrieked. “This is not fucking happening. We have no time for this shit!”
“What the hell is wrong?” Scott asked. “Do we have photography issues?”
“No. We no longer have a PHOTOGRAPHER! Old man Clarkson had a heart attack. They’re cancelling all of their dates until April! What in the hell are we going to do now?”
“Did she give you any alternatives?”
“Yeah. Calling someone from Denver, who – IF we find anyone – is going to probably charge us double, plus mileage, since it’s New Year’s Eve.”
Scott led out a low whistle. “Well, call Kat and see if she has any ideas. We probably can’t fix this now. I’m going to eat and take a shower; we’ll work on it in the morning.”
“Can we do anything uncomplicated, Footer?”
He walked over and kissed her. “If it were easy, anyone could do it.”
“I suppose. Bring my shake?”
Scott handed her the cup. She took a big draw off the straw. “That helps,” she said. “I suppose.”
Roni was sitting on the love seat, wrapped in the big blue blanket when Scott came down from his shower. She fished through the ashtray and found a half-smoked Hawaiian, picked up Scott’s Zippo and lit it.
“Well, she’s going to make some calls tomorrow. She didn’t sound very optimistic.”
Scott sat down next to her as tears filled her eyes. She wasn’t really crying, but was just frustrated.
“We have beaten about every odd so far, baby. This is a long one, but we’ll figure out something. Hey, we can’t have a wedding without pictures. Too bad Maggie already has another job that night.”
Roni took another drag on the joint. “I guess we’ll figure it out. I’m going to bed.”
“I’m going to watch the news, and then I’ll be up. Smile.”
She shot him a smile, kissed him and gave him a hug. “I’m really glad I fell in love with you. You make me believe in anything.”
Roni climbed off the couch wrapped in the blanket and headed up the stairs. Scott went over to the TV and switched it to Channel 27, the Topeka NBC affiliate. About five minutes in, the phone rang. Scott grabbed it quickly so the upstairs extension didn’t bother Roni.
“Hello?”
“Hey Bro.” It was Amy. Another call at a strange hour.
“What’s up Blondie? How’s school?”
“Actually pretty good. Got a 99 on my Humanities paper that’s a quarter of my grade. Chemistry sucks, but I still have an A.”
“Lil’ sister, I do someday hope to have a class that sucks that I’m getting an A in. So what’s really up? I’m guessing you’re not calling at this hour to tell me about school.”
“Umm…yeah. Uh, well, I broke up with Mark. I went over to Greeley and we talked and I just told him I was done with him being so possessive.”
“How’d he take it?”
“It’s Mark. ‘You didn’t even give going to Greeley with him a chance. How could you do this to me? Who are you fucking?’.”
“Sounds about right.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“About what?”
“Well, I really wish you wouldn’t make me and Mark be a couple at the wedding. Can’t we switch things around?”
“Switch things around? Amy, I don’t know. Couldn’t you have waited about six weeks?”
“No. That would have required, um, obligations I was no longer willing to go through with.”
“OK, that’s enough information. You really couldn’t have timed this worse, Amy. We now have doubleheader of wedding issues.”
“Why? What else happened?”
“The photographer cancelled. Well, the old guy had a heart attack.”
“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry Scott. That fucking sucks.”
“Yeah, so your timing isn’t the best.”
“I guess not. But it doesn’t change my mind. Please?”
“Amy, I’ll talk to her. OK? That’s all I’ll say right now. Look, if this is what you wanted, I’m happy; you’ve been talking about this for a while. Are you OK?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’m kind of sad it didn’t work. God, it was two-and-a-half years. But I just felt so trapped anymore. I actually feel better.”
“OK, that’s good.”
“But you’ll talk to Roni?”
“Probably not tonight. But yeah; we need to figure out the photography thing first.”
“OK. Hey, could you also ask if it’s too late for me to bring a date?”
“A date?”
“Um, yeah. A date.”
“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
“I love you Big Bro!”
“Love you, too. Good night.”
Scott hung up the phone. He lit a fresh joint then realized the news was over; Ca
rson was coming on. He stared at the phone.
“If that thing rings again,” he said out loud, “it’s going out the window.”
The bedroom TV was on Channel 41 and a Rockford Files rerun. It was a chilly night so Roni had the extra quilt on the bed. She was wearing a Royals’ t-shirt and the black socks.
“Who was on the phone?” she asked in a drowsy voice.
“Amy.” Scott said as he tossed his robe on the bedpost.
“What was up?”
“Well,” Scott said as he pulled on a t-shirt and boxers, “she dumped Mark.”
Roni took the covers and pulled them over her head. “That’s IT! I’m not coming out of here! I AM DONE!”
Scott knew it was probably the wrong time, but this was actually kind of funny.
“You can’t stay under there forever, Roni. You’re afraid of the dark.”
The covers came back down. Roni was staring straight up at the ceiling.
“What the fuck else? I suppose she wants switched now.”
“Yeah. But I told her she might just have to suck it up, too.”
“Anything else?”
“She wants to bring a date.”
“Can we just elope?”
“I think that we’re a little past that point.”
“Can I kill Amy?”
Scott crawled under the covers and pulled her close to him.
“I’d prefer not. Is there a Plan B?”
“Let’s just go to sleep. Good night, Footer.”
“Good night, Killer.”
Scott awoke around 9:00 the next morning to the sound of hammering coming from outside the dormer windows.
“What the hell?...” he said to himself as he crawled out of bed and walked to the window. He opened the curtain and hopped back in surprise as Jack grinned in at him.
“Oh, hell you are home!” Jack said with a laugh. “Didn’t answer the door when I knocked. Sorry ’bout that!”
“It’s OK, Jack. What are you doing?”
“Putting up Christmas lights!”
“On the16th of November?”
“Yep! Do it about now every year!”
