“I don’t know.” Marcus ran his hand down the smooth fabric of the suit. “It’ll just get messed up while I am serving the food.”
“So you wear an apron. I’m sure Nonnie has something at her house to use if you can’t find one here.”
“Fine.” Marcus hooked a finger under the hanger and slung the suit over his shoulder. Nodding toward the hallway, he said, “I’ll be out in just a second.”
“All right, but I got to run over to Nonnie’s house and pick up something for her. I’ll get you an apron, too. I’ll come back after that.”
“Okay.”
After Skeet scooted out, letting the screen door slap shut behind him, Marcus carried the suit into the bedroom and spread it out on the bed. He slid the gray coat from the hanger and carefully pulled the matching pants off the hanger bar. Behind the coat, he noticed a plain white dress shirt and a deep purple tie. He ran his finger along the tie; the silky fabric was cool to the touch. He stepped into the pants and hiked them onto his hips. He pulled the freshly ironed shirt off the other hanger, slipped it on, and buttoned it. After tucking the shirt into the pants, he picked up the coat.
“Too hot to put that on right now,” he said as he tossed it back onto the bed and turned to look at himself in the mirror. Hey there, Mr. Fancy. Marcus turned to his left and then his right to check himself from each angle. He caught himself smiling in the mirror at the way the pants draped perfectly off his backside. Wow. These pants give me an ass. Marcus heard the screen door slam shut. He picked up the tie off the bed, draped it around his neck, and said, “Well, that was fast. Did you find the apron?”
When no one answered, Marcus turned and stepped back into the living room with his head down and his attention focused on his attempt to tie the necktie. “Can you help me with this?” He took a few steps toward the front door.
“Well, someone found a new person to buy him fancy things.”
Marcus stopped and slowly raised his head to look at the person speaking. “Robert.”
“Hello, Marcus,” Robert said as he stood blocking the front door with his arms folded across his chest and his legs spread widely. He still wore the same clothes. His silver hair stood out at odd angles over his ears, and it appeared he had not had a shower. His right eye was swollen and beginning to show the first signs of a bruise.
Marcus began slowly backing away from him until he hit the piano bench, making his knees bend and his body drop clumsily onto the bench. “Robert, what are you doing here again? Why aren’t you—” Marcus’s heart began to race, and he clasped the edge of the bench to steady himself.
“Still in jail?” Robert raised his eyebrow and shook his head. “Marcus, I paid that stupid, hick sheriff his little fine, and he let me out. That lawyer friend of yours and I made a deal with the police. They’d drop the drunk-driving charges if I didn’t press charges against you or that man you were with that hit me. Disorderly conduct, my hind leg. I’m less than happy that will be on my record. But you can make that up to me when we get home.”
“Well, you have no one to blame but yourself.” Marcus temples throbbed with the beat of his heart. “What in the hell were you thinking showing up here?”
“I was thinking that you clearly needed me to come down here and get your head out of your ass. You know you scared me to death just disappearing like that.”
“Really?” Marcus closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm his racing pulse. He rose slowly from the bench. “Is that why it took you over two months to actually try to find me?”
“I tried calling you and texting you. Then I remembered those certified letters from that attorney. Once I found where I had stuck them, it was pretty easy to put two and two together. I found this address online. Marcus, let’s just go home and put all this silliness behind us.”
Marcus’s mouth fell agape, and he stared at Robert. “You honestly expect me to go anywhere with you?”
“Come on, you’re being a drama queen.” Robert put out his hand to Marcus. “Just throw your stuff in a bag and we’ll head out. Once I get my car out of impound, we can head home. It’s at some place called Murphy’s garage. If you need to come back down here to settle your grandmother’s estate, I’ll drive you back.” Robert took a step toward Marcus.
Marcus bumped into the piano bench again as he tried to back away. “Robert, you hit me. Why would I ever get in a car with you again?”
“And I’m sorry about that.” Robert took another step forward. “I had a bad day at work. You caught me off-guard. And, need I remind you, you were the one lying about working at the diner again. I thought I had made it perfectly clear that I didn’t want—”
“You didn’t want.” Marcus stepped toward Robert and put his hands on his hips. The throbbing in his temples began to fade. “That’s all that matters, isn’t it, Robert? What you want. But what about what I want?”
“What do you want, Marcus?” Robert threw up his hands in frustration. “I gave you everything anyone could ever ask for.”
“Well, I didn’t want to get hit! I didn’t ask for that.”
“I told you I was sorry. I promise you it will never happen again.”
“You’re damn right it won’t, because I’m not going anywhere with you.” Marcus turned his back on Robert and looked at the pictures scattered along the back of the piano. He straightened one of the frames that had shifted when he backed into the piano bench. In the picture, his grandmother and the Do-Nothings stood with their arms around each other. “It isn’t just that you hit me. You were killing me daily in that house. I had no friends. I had no job. I had nothing except trying to make you happy and trying to become who you told people I was. You keep saying let’s go home.” Marcus laughed. “Home? You don’t know the meaning of the word. Robert, you promised me a home and you gave me a prison.”
“You didn’t seem to mind as long as I kept buying you things. Baby, I—”
Marcus whipped around and glared at Robert. “Do not call me baby.”
“Oh, come on—”
“Fine. I’ll admit it. I was blinded by the gifts and the fabulous life you offered. But I began to see that those gifts weren’t free. They came with a very heavy price—my soul.” Marcus sighed. “I am done, Robert. Just go away.”
The room was silent as the two men stared at each other. Robert put his hands on his hips and broke the silence. “What am I supposed to tell people back in Atlanta? That you’ve decided to run off to this hick town and play house with a bunch of gun-toting old ladies and that little twink I saw coming out of here earlier? Or is it that redneck who hit me last night? Is that the kind of people you want to be around? Should I tell people that?”
“Frankly, I don’t give two shits what you tell them. Tell them I died. Tell them I ran away with the circus. Tell them the truth, for once in your life. How do you think your society dames will react knowing that you hauled off and punched me?” Marcus rolled his head back onto his shoulders and tried to release the tension in his neck. “Or just keep spinning the same lies you always lived under. I do not care. And they won’t either. Those people don’t care about me. You don’t either, really. All you want is someone to look pretty on your arm. Well, that ain’t me. And I won’t stand here and let you say anything about those old ladies.”
“And the twink?”
“Not that it is any of your damn business, but that boy I am not involved with is Skeet. He’s just a friend. You know. Friends are those things you wouldn’t let me have out of some stupid fear that I might want one of them more than you.”
“And the hick that hit me? Look what he did to my face.” Robert pointed at his eye.
“It’s a bruise. Bruises fade.”
“I thought you said you didn’t want a man that hits.”
“He hit to protect me, not to frighten me. Though, thanks to your little performance last night, he’ll pro
bably never speak to me again.”
“Then I did you a favor. He’s a small-town boy with a small-town brain. What can he, or for that matter, any of these people, offer you?”
“They’re friends. No, not just friends. They’re family. They want me to be happy. They want me to be safe. They want me to actually enjoy my life. You know, those things people want you to have when they really love you? You see this house?” Marcus gestured at the room. “You know why my grandmother left it to me?”
“God only knows.”
“With her dying breath, she said she wanted me to be happy.” Marcus stepped to Robert and glowered close to his face. “She wanted me to have a home. And she never met me, Robert. You claim to love me and you don’t want me to have the things a woman who never met me wanted me to have.”
Robert narrowed his eyes. “I want the car.”
“The car?” Marcus walked away from Robert and then turned back to add, “Ha! You can have it. Or what’s left of it. Take it and go.”
“What did you do to the car?” Robert began storming across the room toward Marcus. Marcus stood firmly in place with his hands on his hips and his chest out. Over Robert’s shoulder, he noticed a figure standing in the doorway with something slung over its shoulder. Marcus put out his hand onto Robert’s chest and stopped his advance. “Do not take another step.” Marcus twisted to one side and called out around Robert’s body. “Hey, Miss Annie. Are you here to play me a song? That would be just wonderful. My guest here is just leaving.”
Robert’s eyes grew wide with fear as he turned around to see the old woman standing in the doorway with a garden hoe raised over her head ready to strike. He turned back to Marcus with his mouth agape. “What is with you and these murderous old women? You know what? Fine. I’ll go. You really are the same trash I found in that diner. No matter how much anyone tries, that is all you will ever be. Trash.”
“Fine. You think of me as trash. And you can tell everyone you threw me away.” Marcus pointed toward the front door, his hand trembling slightly. “Now go.”
Robert spun on his heels and stormed toward the door. When he came face to face with Annie, he stopped and turned back to Marcus. “The car?”
“It was totaled. I’m selling it for scrap. I’ll send you the money. And don’t bother coming back down here looking for me. I’ll be moving on very soon.”
Annie dropped the hoe onto her shoulder and stepped to one side of the doorway. She swung her arm out across her body to gesture Robert out of the door toward a taxi sitting there. Marcus waved at Robert as he walked quickly out and down the sidewalk. Once he could see that Robert had reached the taxi, Marcus dropped back onto the piano bench and let out a long sigh. He held his hands in front of him and tried his best to calm their shaking. As the flashing in the corners of his eyes began to ebb, he looked at the old woman still standing in the doorway.
“Miss Annie, it would sure make me feel a lot better if you would come play me a song.” He patted the piano bench beside him.
Annie swung the hoe from her shoulder and propped it against the door frame before tottering over and sitting beside Marcus. She looked him in the eye and then gave him a wink and a smile. After she patted him softly on the knee, she placed her hands on the keys and turned her eyes upward in thought. With a firm nod of her head, she began playing a jaunty tune.
“What hymn is that?” Marcus asked.
She grinned and shook her shoulders in time with the music.
Marcus closed his eyes and listened to the tune Annie cranked out. When the song she was playing dawned on him, Marcus popped his eyes open and began to laugh aloud. “Is that ‘Hit the Road Jack?’ Oh, Miss Annie, that is the perfect hymn.” Marcus threw his arms out to the side and sang the words at the top of his lungs. As she pounded the keys harder, he began to spin and sway around the room behind her as his words tumbled into an unstoppable peal of laughter.
Chapter Fifteen
“Well, would you look at that,” Skeet said and let out a long, slow whistle. “These old broads have really outdone themselves this year. Jeez Louise, they must have used every string of Christmas lights they had between the four of them.”
Marcus opened the car door and stepped out into the parking lot of the Ginsburg Pharmacy. He slammed the car door and then leaned on the roof of the car with his arms crossed under his chin as he took in the dazzling array in the town square. Scattered around the empty streets were bales of hay, wooden hitching posts, and an old watering trough. In the center of the square was a small park with an octagonal white gazebo covered in small twinkling lights. Strands of larger bulbs extended from each of the eight corners of the structure out across the park and across the surrounding streets to wrap around the streetlight poles along the sidewalks. The usual rows of cars parked along the edges of the square had been cleared away, and the parking spots were filled with folding tables and chairs.
“Yeah. It looks amazing. I still can’t believe they just threw all of this together in a few weeks.” Marcus pushed himself off the car and walked around to join Skeet on the other side.
“Hell, these women could outfit an army in a weekend if it gave them an excuse to buy a new dress and drink a cocktail.”
Marcus laughed and nudged Skeet. “Yeah, I don’t think real cowboys would particularly approve of suits and dresses.”
“Or vodka cranberries, even if they are served in a jelly jar.”
“Or your pants. Can you breathe in those things?”
“Tight pants have a long tradition in the world of the cowboy, I’ll have you know.”
“Well, at least my menu is reasonably Old West. If nothing else, I can impress the hell out of this town with my cooking before I ride off into the sunset.” Marcus hooked his hand around Skeet’s upper arm and tugged him off the car. They walked around the orange and white barricade the police had set up to block each of the streets that lead into the square and down the sidewalk toward the sounds of music and laughter. The dogwood trees planted in small square openings in the sidewalks were each swathed in strings of lights, turning the whole square into an oversized jelly jar filled with shimmering lightning bugs. “Speaking of cooking, we better go help set everything up. I promised Francine I would handle everything so she could enjoy herself tonight.”
“Wait, how did your making a promise turn into me helping all night? I’m here to have a good time as much as everyone else, and I don’t do food service. Anyway, I promised Sarge I would help him and the twins with the music.”
“They’re here?” Marcus stopped and stared at Skeet in disbelief. “I mean, that’s great, but are the people of Marathon really ready for that kind of performance?”
“Aw, come on Marcus. We thought we might convince you to slap on a wig and join us for a tribute to the Grand Old Opry. You’d make a fabulous Reba McEntire.” Skeet looked at Marcus with an earnest and determined set of his chin before breaking into a fit of giggles. “Oh, my god, I wish you could see your face right now. No. No one is doing drag tonight, silly. I just asked Sarge to be the DJ. Usually Martin Prescott handles the music, but apparently after you didn’t show any interest in him, he got very upset with Miss Inez and refused to do it.”
“Okay, you’re not going to make this my fault.” Marcus glanced over at the gazebo to see Sarge standing behind a turntable with headphones on his ears. He wore a blue suit that barely buttoned over his belly and a pink bowtie so bright that Marcus would’ve sworn it required batteries. He looked up from the record player and, when he noticed Marcus and Skeet, he lifted his hand and threw a salute to the boys followed by a kiss thrown with his other hand.
The twins, who looked absolutely nothing alike when they were in men’s clothes, sat on the steps of the gazebo flipping through crates of albums, occasionally pulling one out and showing it to each other. They wore matching blue and white seersucker suits and straw boater hats. One
of the men pulled a cover out of the box and screamed in delight as he hopped up and handed it to Sarge. Sarge said something to the man and he turned around to tip his hat at Marcus, revealing his bald pate. Marcus waved back and chuckled.
“Look at their little matching suits!” Skeet squealed. “Trust me. I’m glad it happened. Sarge and the twins will play much better music than that old fart would’ve. Frankie and I might get to show off some of the moves we learned from that bootleg copy of Best Little You-know-what House in Texas that we found online. Wait until you see my hitch kick.”
“Well, if I can get out from behind the food tables, I might be persuaded to spin you around the square once.”
Skeet placed his head on Marcus’s shoulder, stared up at him, and batted his eyes. “But Mr. Sumter, oh my! How the townsfolk will talk!”
Marcus shrugged Skeet off his shoulder and laughed. “You’re such an idiot.”
“Marcus, sweetheart! Over here!” a voice beckoned across the square. “Get your bony little butt over here!” Marcus looked over the tables, where a few early arrivals sat chatting and tapping their toes to the music that filled the air, toward the source of the voice. Inez stood behind a long table covered with chafing dishes, platters, and bowls. Much like the smaller tables in the square, the food tables were covered with red bandanna print tablecloths, and each held a centerpiece of vibrant flowers and mason jars filled with votive candles. Instead of her usual Braves T-shirt, Inez wore a green sleeveless dress and a tiny sequined cowboy hat pinned at a cockeyed angle.
Helen stood beside Inez, her usual bob twisted up in a loose bun, and her vibrant purple dress hidden behind a blue gingham apron. She was fussing with the arrangement of crackers and cheese cubes on a tray.
Marcus grimaced at Skeet. “Well, duty calls.”
“And gossip as well. I’ll hang out with you until Frankie shows up.”
Lunch with the Do-Nothings at the Tammy Dinette Page 19
