Allistair felt useless. She didn’t get to role-play with the other ‘actors.’ She was purely decorative. The clientele in the saloon all but ignored her.
Willy, on the other hand, was the center of attention. Probably because her breasts were plumping out of her plunging neckline like a pair of deployed airbags.
Allistair looked down at her own dress. She was no match for Willy. Besides, this was a family theme park and she felt showing so much boobage wasn’t right. Or was it just sour grapes on her part?
Sitting at the poker table with Willy were Sheriff Jeb, Dr. D. Kay, and One-Eyed Jack. Not only was Willy sitting astride the chair turned backwards with her dress hiked up around her thighs, she was puffing away on her cigar and winning the poker game.
Tourists were drinking sodas and a few were even huddled around the table watching the poker players.
Miss Kitty refilled Allistair’s ginger ale and asked, “Why the long face, darlin’?”
“I don’t understand why I’m so unappealing,” Allistair said.
“Why darling, you’re gorgeous. Especially with those long locks. Why so ever would you think you’re not?” Miss Kitty poured herself a root beer, opening the old fashioned bottle with one quick pop of a church key.
“Look at Willy. The guys love her.”
“You’re jealous of the male attention? I thought y’all were lesbians. Or did I get that wrong?” Miss Kitty sipped her soda.
“We are. It’s not the sexual stuff. I mean people are just drawn to her despite her foul mouth.” They glanced over at Willy. Her wig was askew, her lipstick was smeared, she was chomping on a cigar, and she was the center of attention.
At that moment, Willy threw her cards down on the table and beamed. “Got you again, Sheriff.”
“Well, I’ll be a well digger’s wheel barrow,” Sheriff Jeb said, laying down his cards in disgust as Willy scooped her winnings across the table toward her. She smiled broadly and winked at Allistair.
“That gal is smitten,” Miss Kitty said.
“What do you mean?” Allistair asked.
“Honey, I’ve seen love. And Willy’s been bitten by the love bug.”
Allistair looked at Willy again. She was arranging her chips into neat little piles. “Looks more like she got bitten by the gambling bug to me.”
Allistair saw a man raise his phone and take a picture of Willy. The man was fifty-ish with graying temples, he had a paunch and wore a safari outfit—Khaki shorts, khaki shirt and vest, long socks, and sturdy boots. He looked like a cartoon version of a big game hunter.
“Does that safari man look weird to you?” Allistair asked.
Miss Kitty pooched out her bottom lip and thought about it. Finally she said, “Define weird.”
She had a point, Allistair thought. In this day and age dressing like Teddy Roosevelt wasn’t all that strange. After all, look what she was wearing.
“Oh, shit,” Miss Kitty muttered. “It’s show time.” She ducked behind the bar.
“Huh?” Allistair asked. But before Miss Kitty could answer, One-Eyed Jack shouted, “Hold on there a minute, little lady. You pulled that ace out of your décolletage.” He stood and drew his gun, aiming it at Willy. “I won’t abide no cheating. I don’t care if you are a woman.”
Willy stood and faced off with One-Eyed Jack. “I ain’t no cheat.”
Sheriff Jeb pushed away from the table and stood, saying, “You’re both cheats. I’m taking the two of you to jail.”
Willy quickly reached over and grabbed One-Eyed Jack’s revolver, aimed it at Sheriff Jeb and shot him right smack dab in the middle of his forehead. Fake blood dripped down his nose, his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the floor.
The crowd of tourists gasped. A woman screamed. A baby cried. A Japanese man took a picture.
“You shot the Sheriff!” One-Eyed Jack exclaimed.
Willy said, “But I did not shoot the deputy.”
The crowd laughed.
One-Eyed Jack turned as red as an enraged bull. He grabbed his gun out of Willy’s hand and pointed the business end at her. Willy stumbled backwards, saying, “Don’t shoot me. Please. You can have all the chips. I admit it, I cheated, just please don’t shoot me.”
“I ain’t never shot a woman and I ain’t gonna start today,” One-Eyed Jack said. “But nothing says I can’t drown you.”
He holstered his gun, scooped Willy up, threw her over his shoulder and carried her kicking and screaming out the double batwing doors.
Allistair followed the crowd of tourists outside. She arrived just in time to see One-
Eyed Jack hoist Willy high into the air then dump her in the horse trough.
The crowd laughed as a sputtering, blubbering, wet Willy stood up with her cigar dangling limply out of her mouth. She picked up her wig and set it back on her head.
“Look, Mommy, it’s a wet whore,” a little boy said. His mother quickly covered the boy’s eyes with her hand.
Allistair noted Safari Guy on the edge of the crowd. He surreptitiously clicked a couple of photos of Willy with his phone.
Allistair rushed inside and scooped up some bar towels to dry Willy off. By the time she got back outside Safari Guy was nowhere to be seen.
Willy was now playing to the crowd, bowing and throwing kisses like some kind of diva.
Allistair sighed. Even wet and drippy, Willy was a star.
Ask Allie
The following is a letter from the nationally syndicated column Ask Allie.
Dear Allie,
I am in love with my best friend. She doesn’t know my feelings. I haven’t told her because I am afraid of losing her friendship. What do I do?
Sincerely,
Just Friends
Dear Just Friends,
You must tell her how you feel. Love isn’t something you can hide. I suggest inviting her out for coffee and telling her absolutely everything that is in your heart. If she is indeed your friend, you won’t lose her friendship. And you might even gain a lover.
Everybody loves cake, right? But what about stale cake? Ugh! Want to know how to keep a cake from going stale? Sure you do! Put a slice of bread next to the sliced part of the cake. The bread will go stale, but the cake won’t!
Sincerely,
Allie
A Case Of Mistaken Insomnia
Willy couldn’t sleep. It had been a busy day and she should be exhausted. But if anything she was still buzzing from all the excitement of opening day. And having Allistair breathing softly in bed next to her wasn’t helping either.
Willy had thought more than once that maybe she was in hell. Maybe that mobster really did shoot her in the face and she died. Everything after that was hell. Hell was being trapped into living a life with a beautiful woman that she couldn’t touch. A woman that perhaps didn’t want her. It was more than she could handle.
Willy eased out of bed, slipped on a chenille bathrobe, and padded out the door and down the stairs. She was going to fix herself some tea. Maybe she would read. That was the ticket. A cup of tea and one of Dickens’ novels and she would be able to sleep.
Willy walked into the dining room to find Nellie already sitting there and drinking tea. She signed, “I couldn’t sleep.”
Nellie signed, “Me either. Would you like a cup of tea?”
Willy nodded and sat. Nellie poured her a cup of tea and Willy signed, “Thank you.”
They sipped their tea for a few moments. Nellie signed, “Usually when people can’t sleep there’s a reason.”
“That’s true,” Willy signed.
“Do you have heart trouble?” Nellie asked.
“High blood pressure?” Willy asked. “Not that I know of.”
“No,” Nellie signed, “Not high blood pressure. Heart trouble. Love trouble.”
“Is it that obvious?” Willy signed.
“Obvious to everyone but you,” Nellie signed.
“I’ve got it bad. I tried real hard not to, but she is an
amazing person. Not like anyone else I’ve known.”
“And she did save your teeth.”
They chuckled.
Willy signed. “I love her. But I don’t know how to tell her.”
Nellie signed back, “How about saying, I love you?”
***
Allistair couldn’t sleep. This sharing a bed thing wasn’t working out so well. She kept thinking about Willy. About her butt. About her arms. About her lips. How was she supposed to sleep with all that going on right next to her?
She felt Willy shift in the bed, then get up and put on her robe. She didn’t open her eyes until Willy left the room. Where was she going in the middle of the night?
Allistair had a horrible thought. Maybe she was meeting Miss Kitty for a midnight rendezvous. Curiosity got the better of her. She got up and put on her slippers and robe. If Willy was having a tryst with somebody, she was going to see who it was first-hand.
She quietly walked down the stairs. There was a dim light shining in the dining room. She followed the light and stopped in the doorway. She saw Willy sitting at the table with Nellie. Then she saw Nellie sign, “I love you.”
Allistair’s heart broke into a million jagged pieces. How could she have been so blind? Willy and Nellie were in love!
Allistair quickly turned and ran back upstairs to her room. She shut the bedroom door and fell onto the bed, crying.
Groundhog Day
Willy and Allistair were both operating on little to no sleep. They dragged their feet down the road toward the saloon. Willy wasn’t happy about having to face another day of performing for the tourists. She couldn’t believe this was her life. Was she doomed to repeat this day forever—playing poker, getting caught cheating, shooting Sheriff Jeb, and then being thrown into a horse trough? The same scenario over and over and over? It was like living a really bad Groundhog Day. Except in that movie Bill Murray got the girl.
And Willy didn’t know what was wrong with Allistair. She had been acting funny ever since she woke up this morning. She was polite, but that was about it. She acted like she hardly knew her, all full of ‘thank yous’ and ‘pass the biscuits, please.’ The harder Willy tried, the more standoffish Allistair became.
A tour bus honked its horn and Willy and Allistair quickly moved from the road to the boardwalk. Willy shot hate rays from her eyes at the busload of tourists who snapped pictures of them as the bus drove by blowing dust in their faces.
Allistair surprised Willy by grabbing her arm and saying, “There he is.”
“Who?” Willy asked, looking around.
“Don’t look!” Allistair admonished in a loud whisper. “That guy dressed in the Safari outfit over your left shoulder. He’s standing in front of the dentist’s office. He’s been following us ever since we left Miss Havisham’s. I saw him yesterday in the saloon. He watched you play poker and took pictures.”
“A lot of tourists took pictures.”
“This guy is different, though,” Allistair said. “He’s creepier.”
Willy coughed into her hand, stealing a glance over her left shoulder at the Safari Guy. Allistair was right. He was creepy looking. She took Allistair by the arm and continued to stroll down the street in apparent nonchalance. “You’re right,” she whispered, “He’s creepier than the other tourists.”
“It’s more than that. Think about it. Why would anyone spend two days in a row at Ghost Town?” Allistair asked.
“I don’t know, Allistair, but why would those weird people go to the Renaissance Fair year after year?”
“He’s got to have an ulterior motive.”
“Like what?”
“Like trying to kill us?” Allistair said in a ‘duh’ tone.
“Ah ha!” a man’s voice said, and both Willy and Allistair about jumped right out of their corsets.
It was Antonio. He was sitting atop his white horse, beaming down at them. He took off his hat and did that swoopy bow thing at Willy.
“Damn, Antonio. You scared us,” Willy scolded.
“I am so sorry, my love. It was not my intention,” he said, climbing off his horse. He brushed his lips across the back of Willy’s hand.
“Gross. Now, she’s going to have to sanitize that,” Allistair grumbled.
Willy ignored Allistair and said sotto voce to Antonio, “See that guy over there?”
Antonio glanced across the street. He whispered, “Do you mean the men dressed as rodeo clowns?”
“Clowns? What the fuck are you talking about?” Willy and Allistair both turned and looked across the street. Sure enough, there were two men in clown get-up eating ice cream cones. That was super-weird. Weirder than the Safari Guy.
Willy said, “No, not them. The Safari Guy. He’s been lurking.”
“Lurking?”
“Following us around. Can you find out what his deal is? He’s making Allistair nervous.”
“Of course,” he said. “Anything for my true love. I shall escort you two fair damsels to the saloon and then do some reconnoitering. I will stick to his ass like a cocklebur.” He looped his arms in theirs and they headed toward the saloon. He whistled between his teeth and his horse obediently followed behind.
Willy looked behind her just as Safari Guy dipped back into the shadows. The ice cream-eating clowns were staring at her and as soon as she looked at them, they looked away.
Hmmm, something was rotten in Ghost Town, she thought. Very rotten, indeed.
I Shot The Sheriff Reprise
Willy had put her foot down about being involved in the show. No way was she going to be thrown in a horse trough every single frickin’ day. She had voiced her adamant displeasure to Sheriff Jeb, and he said they would go back to the old show he had going with One-Eyed Jack.
That’s where Willy was right now—watching the shootout between One-Eyed Jack and Sheriff Jeb with all the tourists. She stood on the boardwalk, sandwiched in between Miss Kitty and Allistair, playing the part of the wilting feminine flower—which basically meant fanning herself and pretending to abhor violence.
One-Eyed Jack and Sheriff Jeb were in the middle of the dusty street, fifty paces apart, giving each other the stink-eye.
“They use those fake bullets, right? The ones Sheriff Jeb invented” Allistair whispered.
Miss Kitty spoke from behind her fan, “They shoot blanks. Sheriff Jeb’s bullets don’t reach that far so they have pouches of fake blood strapped to their bodies. They pretend to be shot and slap the pouch with their hand. It explodes and looks like they were shot. Blood everywhere.”
Sheriff Jeb spat a stream of brown tobacco juice into the dust. “You can back out now, Jack. Just pack up and ride. I won’t stop you.”
“What’s wrong, Sheriff? You yellow?” One-Eyed Jack said. His hand twitched near his gun.
“I’m a peace lovin’ man. There ain’t no need for bloodshed. Get outta my town and you’ll live to see another day,” Sheriff Jeb said. He cracked his knuckles.
“I intend on seeing this day’s sunset. Unlike you. You can’t shoot worth a hill a beans.”
“You couldn’t shoot the side of a barn if it was standing still,” Sheriff Jeb taunted.
Allistair elbowed Willy. “Look, there’s the Safari Guy.”
“Where?” Willy asked.
“Over by the ice cream stand. He’s eating a chocolate ice cream cone.”
“That is all kinds of wrong. Bad guys aren’t supposed to eat ice cream cones,” Willy said. Not to mention who had ever heard of ice cream in the old west? It was stuff like that that annoyed Willy to no end—ice cream at a shootout and root beer in the saloon. Whatever happened to verisimilitude?
“There’s Antonio right behind him. I think he’s flirting with the girl who’s selling the ice cream.”
Bang!
The crowd jumped. A woman screamed. A baby cried. A dog whimpered. A Japanese man took a photo.
One-Eyed Jack clasped his hand over his heart. Blood blossomed over his chest like rose petals
opening to the morning light. He fell to his knees. His eyelid fluttered. He slowly, painfully, raised his gun and aimed. His hand trembled. He fired. Then he collapsed, face-first, into the dirt. He twitched once or twice then stopped.
Miss Kitty wailed and ran to her fallen lover. She knelt in the dirt beside his still body and covered her face with her hands, keening into her handkerchief.
Only then did Sheriff Jeb fall to one knee. There was a patch of blood on his leg. He tore the bandana from his neck and quickly tied a tourniquet around his thigh. He slowly rose to both feet.
The crowd cheered, hooted, and hollered. Sheriff Jeb waved his big hat in the air, victoriously, smiling, as if to say, “The good guys have triumphed once again!”
Sheriff Jeb lurched toward the saloon, limping even worse than usual. A crowd of men huddled around him, patting him on the back, and congratulating him.
Willy and Allistair waited outside the saloon until most of the crowd had dispersed and Miss Kitty’s fake sobs turned into the occasional hiccup. That’s when Willy saw the two clowns standing in front of the General Store. They looked evil. Even more evil than clowns normally look. They were shifty-eyed and their beards were beginning to grow through their white make-up.
Willy and Allistair quickly covered their faces with their fans. Willy pushed Allistair into the saloon, figuring it was better to be in a crowd than on the boardwalk like two sitting ducks. They made their way through the crowd and approached the bar.
Willy risked a look over her shoulder and saw the Safari Guy walk into the saloon with Antonio close on his heels. The two clowns weren’t far behind. Willy watched as the Safari Guy stared at the clowns. The clowns stood on the tippy-toes of their big shoes and craned their necks searching through the crowd for Willy and Allistair. They decided to split up and search. All Willy could see was one red nose bobbing one way and the other red nose bobbing the other direction. It was like following the bouncing ball on those old cartoon songs.
Kiss & Tell Page 18
