Marcus stepped quickly over to the table and surveyed the spread before him. Two of the chafing dishes held the chili that he and Francine had worked on all afternoon. He had made one vegetarian version, though Francine didn’t think there was a person in town who wouldn’t eat meat. Marcus still wasn’t sure if chili was the right decision with the possibility of dribbles on fancy dresses and the heat of the late summer night, but he had gone with the original plan.
Beside the chili were trays of crudités, pigs in blankets, cheeses, and fruits. Other chafing dishes held small ears of corn and small white potatoes. Marcus had found the Do-Nothings cowboy theme a bit challenging to fulfill beyond beans, but the dessert tray at the far end of the table was his pièce de résistance—haystacks. The caramel-covered chow mein noodles weren’t something a cowboy would ever have eaten, but their resemblance to hay stacks was too good to resist. He had filled in with cakes and pies donated by the women of Priscilla’s Sunday school class.
“Darling,” Helen purred as she looked at the trays on the table, “I hope we have everything laid out in a way that pleases you. Inez and I weren’t sure you would make it tonight after all the, um, drama last night, so we started without you. You won’t hurt my feelings at all if you want to shuffle things around a bit.”
“No,” Marcus replied. “I think it all looks absolutely perfect. But I thought we were going to put those palomino figurines of Inez’s in the center of the cheese tray.”
“Shit!” Inez spat out and snapped her fingers. “I completely forgot those durn things.”
“They do look a little bare, don’t they?” Helen said.
“I can call Priss and ask her to bring them over.”
“No. I’ve got an idea.” Helen turned to Skeet and asked him, “Baby boy, won’t you be a darling and run over to Ginsburg’s and pick up some toy pistols? I know they sell them in there because Cookie and I went around and around about the appropriateness of selling guns to children. She has those and some little sheriff badges and such.”
“Is Miss Cookie just going to give them to me?” Skeet kicked at the ground. “I don’t have any money on me.”
“What about your car wash money?”
“Um, I sort of, didn’t work much this week.”
“Fine.” Helen pointed to the coolers sitting behind the table. “Look in my purse over there and get some money.”
“You know what, Inez,” Marcus said as he picked up a tray off the table, “Let’s swap these two trays here. I think it makes more sense to have the cheese closer to the crackers.”
“Nonnie?” Skeet said as he rooted around in his grandmother’s pocketbook. “Why do you have a bag of nails in here?” Skeet pulled a brown paper sack out of the purse and held it over his shoulder as he kept digging around in the purse with his other hand.
Helen blushed and stomped over to snatch the bag out of Skeet’s hand. “I have those in case we needed to hang any decorations with them. And quit snooping around in there. Just take my wallet out of the side pocket where you know it always is.”
“Got it!” Skeet handed the fat red leather wallet to Helen. She opened it and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill.
“I’ll be right back.”
“And I expect change!” Helen called after the boy as he rushed toward the pharmacy. “I swear, that boy has been raised to think that money just grows in a cotton field. I blame his mother for that. Lord knows I didn’t raise his father to—”
“Girls,” Priscilla’s voice interrupted her as she waddled to the table, “everything looks absolutely lovely. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be here earlier to help with decorating. You know I have that women’s prayer group on Saturdays that I just can’t miss.”
“I think you could have skipped just this once,” Inez muttered. “After all, Jesus forgives. I don’t.”
Priscilla ignored her and asked, “So has anybody seen him yet? Did our plan work? I took the Reverend’s suit over—”
“Priss, shh.” Helen chastised.
“I’m right here, Priss.” Marcus leaned out from behind Inez and waved.
“Oh! Marcus, sugar, there you are. I’m so glad you didn’t go running off before this party.” Priscilla tugged at the collar of her ill-fitting fuchsia dress. “Lord, this heat. I don’t think we could’ve raised a dime tonight if people thought your food wasn’t going to be served. You’ve made a lot of happy eaters in your few weeks here.”
“I doubt that’s the reason people are here.” Marcus waved the compliment away.
“No, you’ve made a lot of fans in this little town,” Priscilla said.
“Well, one man isn’t a fan now.”
“Oh, come on now,” Helen said, “it can’t be that bad.”
“Yeah. It can. Usually, if you get a man into a fist fight and get him hauled off to jail, he doesn’t tend to come back for more. It’s for the best, really. Ladies, you should know that I told Francine I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I only stuck around to finish this party. Once you pay me, I’m back on the road.”
“Sweetheart, you think we don’t know that?” Priscilla asked. “You know by now how this works. You tell one Do-Nothing, you’ve told all the Do-Nothings.”
“And you aren’t going to try to stop me?” Marcus asked, not quite believing the women’s passive acceptance.
Helen waved her hands in defeat. “You’re a grown man, Marcus. What are we supposed to do? Chain you to the diner stove? No. We’ve tried. But what about the house?”
“Katie Nell has my number. If I get an offer, I can come back to take care of it. I mean, clearly, it’s going to take a while. I don’t think she’s had a single person interested in buying it.”
Marcus noticed the women all cutting sideways glances at each other. “Is there something you ladies aren’t telling me?’
“No,” Helen said. “You just have to be patient. We don’t have a lot of people coming in and out of this town. It might just take a while for it to sell. But without the house selling, what are you going to do for money?”
“I’ve got what I earned at the diner. And I’ll just find another diner to work at on the way.”
“And what about that man?” Inez asked.
“Hank?” Marcus shrugged. “Like I said, he wouldn’t return my calls so—”
“Not him,” Inez said. “That idiot I nearly had to shoot last night.”
“Oh. That’s been handled.”
“Handled?” Inez’s eyes opened wide and she gasped. “Oh, dear lord, child, you didn’t go and kill the man, did you? I mean, if you did you should have called us first. You don’t know this town well enough to know where to put the body. I mean, things like this can’t just be done willy-nilly. You’ve got to—”
“Inez Coffee! I know you are not advocating this boy committing murder! That’s right there in God’s big ten no-no’s.”
“Priscilla, don’t be such a hard-ass. I was just suggesting that if he needed a little help with—”
Marcus laughed. “Priss, it’s okay. Calm down. No one is dead. Let’s just say between Miss Inez’s shotgun and Miss Annie’s hoe, Robert may think it’s safer just to give me a wide berth from now on.”
“Annie’s hoe?” Helen wrinkled her brow in confusion.
“Not important.” Marcus stood and walked around to the front of the table. He adjusted a tray of cookies while talking to the women on the other side of the table. “I finally stood up to him. I don’t know if he understands at all why I left. Hell, I don’t care if he understands. That can be the next boy’s problem. He knows to leave me alone, and I think this time he really will.”
“Girls,” Francine said as she walked to the group, stopping to kiss each woman on her cheek. Francine stood next to Marcus and draped her arm over his shoulder.
“Francine!” Marcus said as he stepped back to appraise her dress.
Her sequined top sparkled under the white lights around the square and her skirt flared out as she gave a quick spin. “I don’t think I have ever seen you not in uniform. Your dress is beautiful.”
“Thanks, sugar.” Francine nodded at Helen and said, “I’m here with the delivery.”
“Well, it’s about time.” Inez turned around and clapped her hands. “The square is starting to fill up.”
“What delivery?” Marcus asked. “I think all of the food containers are here. Did we forget the—”
Francine winked at Marcus. “Shoe Button, this is a special delivery.”
“Just for a certain VIP,” Helen said and winked at the other women.
“Who? The mayor?”
“Well, as I live and breathe, would you look at that?” Inez let out a slow whistle. “My lord, he does clean up nice.”
“Ooh, he’s headed this way,” Helen said, breaking into girlish giggles.
Marcus turned around to see what the women were looking at. Across the town square, Hank stood looking through the crowd. Marcus’s breath caught in his throat. Hank wore a simple dark suit, a white dress shirt, and a bright paisley tie. His hair glistened under the twinkling lights from a heavy layer of pomade that sculpted his usually unruly hair into a slicked-back sweep above his face. His beard was trimmed, and his usual work boots were replaced by shiny black and white oxfords.
“Hank?” Marcus spun to face the women. “Oh, my god, what have you ladies done?”
“I know I said we’d given up but…well… God forgive me, I lied.” Priscilla held her hands in front of her chest as if praying.
“Sweetheart, we may be called the Do-Nothings but, frankly, it’s just not in our nature to do nothing. Sometimes things need a little push.”
Hank made eye contact with Marcus and began to work his way through the crowd. As he neared, the women began chattering over each other behind Marcus.
“Here he comes.”
“You know, I thought he was fun to watch go away, but he looks even better coming toward you.”
“Lord, do you know how long it’s been since a man crossed a crowded room for me? Isn’t it romantic?”
Marcus clenched his teeth in a fake smile and hissed at the women, “Would you ladies hush?”
Hank walked to Marcus and stood in front of him with his hands crossed behind his back. He rocked back and forth on his heels and looked at Marcus with a bashful smile.
“Good evening, Hank,” Helen purred over Marcus’s shoulder.
“Ladies.” Hank nodded at the women.
“Whoo, boy!” Inez hooted. “I didn’t know you had it in you to look this sexy!”
Priscilla stepped to Hank and brushed some lint off the collar of his jacket. “See Hank, I told you that suit would fit you perfectly. I know y’all think I’m an old prude, but I can judge a man’s body from a hundred paces.” She plucked a daisy out of one of the flower arrangements on the table, broke the stem, and stuck it in the buttonhole on Hank’s lapel. She beamed with satisfaction as she patted his chest.
Hanks blushed and ducked his head. “Yes, ma’am it does fit well. Tell the reverend thank you for me, will you?”
“Francine, why don’t you run over to the gazebo and ask that Sarge fellow to play something nice for dancing?” Helen pushed Inez and Priscilla away from the men. “Inez. Priss. Come help me with these chafing dishes.”
“Hold on,” Inez said as she yanked her arm out of Helen’s grip. “I want to see what happens.”
Priscilla clutched Inez’s arm and yanked her backward. “Inez, don’t be a pain in the ass.”
“Priscilla! Language.”
Marcus waited for the women to walk away before turning to face Hank.
“Good evening, Fiat.” Hank bowed slightly.
“Good evening.”
“Wonderful weather tonight.”
“Yeah.”
“Want to dance?”
“You don’t dance.”
Hank held out his hand to Marcus. “Just shut up and come on.”
Marcus noticed that every speck of grease and grunge had been scrubbed away, and his nails appeared to have been freshly manicured. He took Hank’s outstretched hand. “Okay. But you have to lead.”
“Lead? You expecting Fred Astaire? I’m afraid, Fiat, you’re going to have to settle for the old grab and waddle.”
Hank looked at Marcus’s hand and squeezed it. He led Marcus out in the center of the street in front of the square into a small crowd of people dancing. Hank turned to face him and wrapped his arms around his waist. As Marcus tucked himself closer into Hank’s arms and draped his arms over Hank’s shoulders, the first notes of a Judds song floated across the town square from the speakers on the gazebo. Hank began to gently rock their bodies back and forth in time with the song. The twins stepped up to the microphone and began to sing the words of the song in a tight, soothing harmony.
“Did you pick this?” Marcus craned his head back and wrinkled his brow at Hank.
“No. I have no idea what it is.”
“It’s called ‘Mama, He’s Crazy.’” Marcus chuckled and shook his head. “Probably Francine’s choice. It’s oddly perfect.”
The couple swayed back and forth to the music. Marcus closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the gentle rocking motion, letting the tension of the previous day slowly slide out of his muscles. He tipped his head forward and rested it on Hank’s shoulder. “So does this mean you aren’t mad at me?”
“No. Not mad,” Hank mumbled in his ear. “Not anymore.”
“What changed your mind?” Marcus said as he opened his eyes to look at the other couples dancing around them. He could see the Do-Nothings standing in a line along the sidewalk watching him with smiles on their faces. As Hank spun them slowly around, the reflections of the lights swirled on the pavement below their feet.
“It was the strangest thing,” Hank answered. “This morning, I got to the garage late. Was up last night at the police station, you know.”
“I’m sorry about—”
“Shh. Let me finish.” Hank cleared his throat. “Anyway, Miss Helen was there waiting on me. Seems she had a nail in her tire. I told her she could sit in the waiting room while I fixed it, but she followed me into the garage and talked to me while I worked on it. Told me some interesting stories. She wanted to encourage me to come to this dance tonight. Then around lunch time, Miss Inez had a nail. She was chatty, too. By the time Miss Priscilla showed up, I was on to their game. Either they were up to something, or someone really needs to check the streets in your neighborhood for nails.”
Marcus looked over Hank’s shoulder at the women. “Busybodies. Wait, Priss was involved? I thought she didn’t approve of—”
“Yep.” Hank nodded his head. “Miss Priscilla brought me these clothes. I found a note she stuck in the pocket.”
Marcus took his arm from Hank’s neck and pulled an index card out of the breast pocket of Hank’s jacket. In a childish scrawl were written the words, 1 Corinthians 13:13. “What is that?”
“I had to look it up. ‘The greatest of these is love.’”
“Subtle.” Marcus stuck the card back in Hank’s pocket.
“Don’t be mad at them. They were trying to help. Francine was the last to show. She told me... about the eye.” Hank stopped dancing and stepped back to look Marcus in the eyes. “I know the truth. The whole story.”
Marcus’s face grew flush. “And?”
“And… I wish I had hit him harder than I did.”
Marcus dropped his head against Hank’s chest and sighed. Hank touched Marcus’s chin and lifted his face.
“I know you didn’t steal the car. Sheriff Stewart told me you had the title in your name. And I know what that jerk—”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all of it before. I tried
that night I made you dinner but…I was just embarrassed and—”
“Shh. I understand.”
Hank wrapped his arms around Marcus’s waist and began dancing again.
“Hank?”
“Hmm?”
“I know you said you don’t like casual flings. You know I’m probably still leaving?”
“Fiat, I said I don’t like meaningless. Casual and meaningless are not the same thing. I can do casual.”
Hank lowered his hand down Marcus’s back and pulled him closer.
“Hank?”
“Yes?”
“The music stopped.”
“Don’t care.”
The men continued spinning silently around on the concrete as all the other couples wandered off to the tables at the sides.
“Hank,” Marcus whispered, “you’re Orpheus.”
“What?”
“Helping to lead me out of hell.”
“No, Fiat, you got yourself out of hell. I’m just a guy who wants to dance with you.”
“Well, you want to lead me out of here back to my place?”
“Yes. I do.”
Marcus dropped his arms from Hank’s shoulders and took his hand. As they walked past the grinning Do-Nothings toward Hank’s truck, Marcus looked at Hank and whispered, “No looking back.”
Chapter Sixteen
Marcus shifted across the cool sheets until Hank’s chest and pelvis rested along his spine and hips, his chest hair tickled at his shoulder blades, and his warm breath tiptoed around the fine hairs at the back of his head. Hank grunted lightly and grabbed Marcus’s hips to pull him closer before draping his arm across Marcus’s waist. Marcus lay awake and listened to the steady rhythm of Hank’s breathing and the low murmur of the ceiling fan slowly twirling overhead.
The night spent together after leaving the dance had been nothing Marcus had previously imagined or experienced. With his few one-night stands, the point had been to get in, get off, and get out with as little connection, communication, or concern as possible. With Robert, lovemaking had grown from a mildly pleasant way to spend half an hour, to an occasional chore as tedious as dusting louvered blinds.
Lunch with the Do-Nothings at the Tammy Dinette Page 20
