Dead Peasants

by Larry D. Thompson

  With thunder rolling in the west, the mourners gathered around the burial plot. The preacher told the pall bearers just to hold the casket while he said another few words, ending by saying that Willie was now in a better place. June burst out in wailing again as the pall bearers lowered the casket. The preacher said one more prayer and the congregation dispersed, leaving two of the pall bearers to take shovels and cover the casket with dirt.

  Jack caught up to Colby. “Willie was a friend of mine. We played dominoes at the icehouse. Follow us over there. We’re having a small wake in Willie’s memory.”

  Colby nodded her agreement as the rain began to fall. Jack escorted her to her Lexus and joined his friends at the Hummer, getting in just as the deluge came.

  33

  The clouds were covering all of north Texas. If anything, it was raining harder at Moe’s. Jack dropped his passengers at the icehouse and parked beside his RV where he went inside to find an umbrella. Then he joined the other men as Moe opened the garage doors. When Colby pulled into Moe’s parking lot, Jack rushed to her car with the umbrella, shielding her from the rain as they hurried inside. He saw that she, too, had been crying and hugged her. When she said she was okay, they joined the men at the domino table.

  Moe had purchased bottles of Wild Turkey, Johnny Walker and Tito’s for the occasion. He set them on the bar with glasses and ice, inviting his guests to help themselves. One by one the men walked to the bar, most of them opting for their usual beer. Jack poured two Tito’s over rocks and handed one to Colby. Colby took a large swallow and let out a sigh.

  “I must say I was surprised to find you in a little country church for a funeral today. I started to call you this morning and decided just to leave you to your business until I got back,” Jack said. “How did you know Willie?”

  Colby took another sip of her vodka. “When I graduated from TCU, my first job was with Allison Southwest, the big mega car dealer in this part of the country. It’s owned by Dwayne Allison. He’s a pretty big cheese around here. You’ve probably seen him in the Star Telegram or on the news at some civic event.”

  Jack nodded.

  “Within a couple of years I was finance manager of the biggest Cadillac dealership in the metroplex. Three years later I was managing the finance department for five dealerships with a staff of fifty working under me.

  “But, what does that have to do with Willie?”

  “Willie worked for the dealership, too. Can you refill my glass?”

  Jack returned to the bar, freshened both their drinks and handed Colby’s to her.

  “Willie was a porter at the Cadillac store. Whatever broke he fixed. He treated me like his daughter. Several times a day, he would appear in front of my desk, a big smile on his face, just checking to see if I needed anything. He retired about fifteen years ago. June cleaned houses. She started taking care of mine right after I went to work. She came once a week for ten years or so. They’re good people. I know all the kids and grandkids, too. I was one of the few white faces at their weddings in that little church.” Colby teared up. “I’m sorry. I’ll miss Willie, and I’m worried about June.” Composing herself, she asked, “So, did Willie beat you at dominoes.”

  “Are you kidding?” Jack grinned. “When I walked in here and saw Willie playing, I knew I was going to lose a couple of bucks.”

  Moe pulled a chair up to the table. “I don’t know how it could have happened.”

  “What’s that, Moe?” Jack asked.

  “How Willie could have slipped and hit his head on a rock bad enough that he died, and no one found him until almost sundown. Willie had been fishing that creek since he was a kid. He may have been getting on up in years, but he was alert and agile. Just don’t make no sense.”

  “Miss Colby?” Colby looked across the table to Jefferson Compton, a small, wizened black man who was quietly drinking a beer.

  “Sorry, Jefferson. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

  “That’s all right, ma’am. I just want to say this. Your Jack is a blessing. All of us folks have got financial woes these days. He’s helped me and practically everyone I know.”

  “Thank you, Jefferson. He’s not my Jack, but I’m learning that he’s really a good man.” Colby looked at Jack and squeezed his hand. Her gaze led to the Lone Star Beer clock on the wall. “Oh my God, I’m late. I’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Colby, it’s still raining cats and dogs. Nobody’s going to be looking at houses in this storm.”

  Colby shook her head. “Sorry. I’ve got to go.” Colby pushed back her chair and was out the door before Jack could even hand her his umbrella.”

  Enough of this strange behavior, Jack thought. Colby won’t like it if she catches me following her. At least he was in his Hummer which didn’t stand out quite as much as Lucille.

  34

  Jack dropped three twenties on the table and said he had to be going, too. He ran to his Hummer and pitched the umbrella in the back seat. Pulling out of the parking lot, he had to turn on his lights. He could barely make out what he thought were the taillights of Colby’s Lexus heading south on Main and going up the bridge over the Trinity. Jack accelerated until he closed the gap to two blocks. He was thankful for the storm since there was no way Colby could spot anything but headlights in her rear view mirror. He prayed the storm would continue until she got to wherever she was going.

  Soon she was going through town and out Seventh Street and continued on Camp Bowie when the streets intersected at the Museum District. She passed the Starbucks where they first had coffee, and Jack concluded that she must have an appointment at her office. Then she passed it by. In Ridglea she pulled into a left turn lane at a light. Jack looked for somewhere to hide and drove into a shopping center parking lot a block behind her. When the light turned to green, Colby turned and Jack left the parking lot, trying to make the turn before the light changed. He was too late.

  Jack was trapped at the light with cars already moving east. “Shit!,” he said, pounding the steering wheel. All he could do was wait. When the signal turned green again, Colby had disappeared. He passed the shopping center and wound through an upscale neighborhood until he came to a golf course. With Colby’s Lexus nowhere in sight, he mentally flipped a coin and turned right, looking through the storm for Colby’s car and hoping she wouldn’t spot him.

  There it was. The Lexus was in an almost deserted parking lot in front of the Ridglea Oaks Nursing Home. Jack drove slowly by. What the hell is going on? Colby’s never talked about having a relative in a nursing home. She told me that both of her parents died several years ago. Is this a friend? Jack thought through all of the options and struck out. He drove slowly up the street until he thought it was safe to park and watched his rear view mirror. Half an hour later Colby left the nursing home and turned back in the direction of Camp Bowie.

  Now what do I do? Jack thought. The only idea that came to mind was flowers. He drove a block to the next intersection and made a U-turn. Back on Camp Bowie he searched until he spotted a flower shop. Flowers were not something that often entered Jack’s life. In fact, his best recollection was that he had ordered some for his mother’s birthday before she died, probably fifteen years ago. Otherwise, he always had a secretary to handle such chores. Still he popped the umbrella and entered the shop.

  “I’d like to buy a dozen roses in a vase.”

  “What color, sir?” The girl at the counter asked.

  Jack looked in the refrigerated case. “Red will do just fine.”

  Five minutes later Jack was back in his Hummer. He parked in the nursing home lot and was about to get out when he realized he was still wearing a coat and tie. That won’t do, he thought. He stripped them off and stepped into what was now a slow drizzle. He opened the door to the nursing home and walked to the reception desk.

  “Evening, ma’am. I’ve got this delivery for…” Jack looked among the roses. “Darn it. Looks like they forgot to put the card with the flowers back at the sh
op. Can I put these down here on your desk?”

  The receptionist nodded. “You’ll need to sign the visitor log. You must be new to this job.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Third day.” Jack signed the log and fumbled in his pockets until he pulled out the receipt he had received when he bought the flowers. “Here, maybe this will help. These were ordered by someone named Stripling in Toledo, Ohio. You have someone by that name here?”

  “No, sir. We don’t. Now, Ms. Colby Stripling comes here once or twice a week to see her husband; only, he’s got a different name.”

  Jack was stunned and could only stare at the woman behind the desk. Colby’s married and hasn’t told me. What the hell?

  “Sir,” the receptionist said, drawing Jack’s attention.

  “That must be him,” Jack finally said. “Can I take these to his room?”

  “Won’t do him any good.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He’s been in a coma for ten years or so. He won’t even know they’re in his room.”

  Jack stumbled for words. “Well, then, why don’t I just leave them on your desk for you and the other guests to enjoy?”

  The receptionist nodded her agreement. Jack turned and rushed out the door. When he got to the Hummer, he sat quietly for about fifteen minutes, pondering what he had learned and what to do about it. Now he had some answers about Colby, but also had just as many new questions. Finally, he concluded that confronting her would be the worst possible move. He would keep what he knew to himself and be attentive to Colby. He would continue to be her best friend. Eventually, she would tell him about her husband.

  35

  TCU ended up losing one game and was selected to play Florida State in the Sugar Bowl. It wasn’t for the national championship but was an acceptable consolation prize. J.D. became a starter in the third game and was the first freshman all-conference tight end in decades. Sports writers were already touting him as an All-American next season.

  Jack got on the phone as soon as the announcement was made. The first call was to a ticket scalper who charged him $5,000 for two seats on the fifty yard line. His next call was to a plaintiff lawyer friend in the Big Easy who wrangled a suite at the Royal Sonesta Hotel in the French Quarter, three night minimum, of course. He managed to get reservations at Emeril’s New Orleans the night before the game and Brennan’s after the game. The Brennan’s reservation was for six since he hoped that J. D., Samuel, TCU’s quarterback and J.D.’s best friend and dates would join them. The last series of calls were to limo services until he found a company that still had one available.

  On the day before the game Jack picked Colby up at her house at noon for a two o’clock flight. They turned their bags over to a skycap and then found a parking place close to the terminal. With first class tickets they took the shorter line through security. Once in the air, Jack ordered black coffee and sipped it while Colby snuggled against his shoulder and dropped off to sleep. When they got to the baggage area, they saw several limo drivers holding signs. One said “Jackson Bryant.”

  “You didn’t tell me we were going by limo.” Colby grinned.

  “I’ve got him for the whole trip. We won’t need him much, but I didn’t want to fight the Sugar Bowl traffic.”

  Jack walked up to the uniformed black man, holding the sign and stuck out his hand. “Jack Bryant.”

  The chauffeur took his hand. “Johnson Bowles. Pleased to meet you. Is this Mrs. Bryant?”

  Colby also stuck out her hand. “Colby Stripling. I’m not his missus, just a friend.”

  Jack pointed out their bags as they appeared. Johnson grabbed the bags and escorted them to his Lincoln limousine, parked at the curb.

  Thirty minutes later they stopped in front of the Royal Sonesta. The doorman assisted Colby out. Jack waved him off as Johnson retrieved their bags from the trunk.

  “Welcome to the Royal Sonesta. You folks here for the Sugar Bowl?”

  “You bet,” Jack replied. “Horned Frogs are gonna send the Gators back to the swamp.”

  After checking in, the bellman led them to the elevator and punched the button for the third floor. They went to the end of the hall where he opened the door and stepped back to allow the couple to enter.

  “As requested,” Jack said. “A suite with separate bedrooms. We’ll meet only in the living room. And for good measure, your room has a lock on the door.”

  Colby kissed Jack on the cheek. “Jack, you’re sweet, but I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

  The living room had a chandelier that looked like it belonged in the entry hall of a plantation. The center of the white marble floor was covered by an oriental rug. The French doors to the balcony were framed in drapes of green and rose. Colby threw open one of the doors while the bellman brought their bags.

  “Jack, this is a corner room.” They stepped out onto the balcony. “Look, there’s Bourbon Street. We can sit up here and watch all the action tonight. You think someone will ask me to show them my boobs?”

  “Damn right they will. One look at you peering over the balcony will draw a crowd.”

  “Can I do it?”

  “Depends, I guess on how many beads they’ll throw up here.”

  “I’m just teasing. Go tip our bellman.”

  “Now, I do have a very special set of beads, purchased just for this occasion.” Jack opened his bag and handed Colby a small black velvet box with a white ribbon. Colby’s eyes sparkled like a kid at Christmas as she carefully removed the bow and opened the box.

  “Mikimoto pearls. Jack you shouldn’t have.” Colby’s demeanor changed. “Maybe I shouldn’t accept these. Look, Jack, you know how fond I am of you, but I don’t want you to think this is a date that will lead to something else.”

  Jack folded his arms. “Colby, I’ve told you I understand the boundaries of our relationship. I’m not trying to change them. Just do me a favor and take the pearls.”

  Colby smiled as she walked to the mirror and clasped the pearls around her neck. Turning to Jack, she said, “Maybe one of these days our relationship will change, just not now.”

  Jack looked at his watch. “We’ve got time for a nap before dinner, in our separate bedrooms, of course.” Jack took Colby’s bag to her room. “Sleep tight,” he said as he closed her door and walked across the living room to his bedroom.

  Colby unpacked her bag and hung her clothes in the closet. She stripped down to her panties and bra and studied herself in the mirror. Next the bra and panties were on the floor and she was looking at her nude body, adorned only with Mikimoto pearls. She rubbed her hands down her body to her hips and next caressed her breast until the nipples rose. Maybe it’s time, she thought. It’s been ten years since I’ve been with a man. She turned and slowly walked to the door, put her hand on the knob and hesitated. She opened it just a crack when a blank look came over her face. Colby quietly closed the door and crawled into bed, her mind overflowing with confusing thoughts.

  Jack put on white pants, a white shirt and a new purple blazer with the Sugar Bowl insignia on the breast pocket, bought just for the occasion. No one would mistake him for a Gator fan. He crossed the living room and knocked quietly on Colby’s door. “Time to wake up. There’ll be a martini on the bar for you. I’ll be out on the balcony.”

  Colby murmured she would join him in a few minutes. He stepped out onto the balcony into a crisp evening and pulled two wrought-iron chairs to the rail to watch the partiers already filling the street below

  Fifteen minutes later Colby joined him on the balcony, martini in hand. She was wearing a purple cocktail dress with the front cut low enough to reveal cleavage below the pearls. “Like my new dress?”

  “Sweetie, with that dress and your figure, you’re either gonna stop traffic or cause accidents when the male drivers can’t take their eyes off of you. Have a seat. We’ve got a few minutes. By the way, we’re hoofing it to Emeril’s. It’s only a few blocks. In fact, I told Johnson that we wouldn’t need him u
ntil the game tomorrow night.”

  After they finished their drinks, Colby draped a white shawl around her shoulders to ward off the night air, and they took the elevator down to the first floor. When they stepped out, there was a white, horse-drawn carriage, pulled by a giant white Percheron at the curb. The driver was dressed in a white tuxedo and matching top hat.

  “Oh, Jack, isn’t that beautiful. Can we ride in one of those before we leave?”

  “How about right now?” Jack walked up to the driver and shook his hand. “Evening. I’m Jack Bryant.”

  “Good evening, Mr. Bryant. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Colby looked at Jack with amazement in her eyes. “Now I understand what you meant about hoofing it. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, Jackson Douglas?”

  Jack only smiled as the driver assisted Colby into the carriage.

  36

  The next day Jack and Colby played tourist. They started with breakfast at Brennan’s even though they had reservations there that night. They walked the French Quarter, stopping in antique shops and art galleries. Colby insisted on going into a voodoo shop where she bought a doll, wrote “Gators” on it and, with a gleam in her eye, drove a hat pin through the belly. At five o’clock that evening, Johnson was waiting at the hotel with the back door of the limousine open. In honor of his guests he was wearing a purple TCU baseball cap. When they arrived at the Superdome, Johnson dropped them in a passenger zone, and said he was going to drive a few blocks away to watch the game on the television in the back seat. He would return toward the end of the fourth quarter.

  TCU fans had gathered at the side of the stadium, using the back of a pickup for a podium. When Jack and Colby got close, they could hear someone introduce Bob Lilly, the TCU All-American from the fifties and later all pro lineman for the Dallas Cowboys. He talked about the history of Frog football, starting with the golden years of Sammy Baugh and later Davey O’Brien. He played in the era of the Southwest Conference when Coach Abe Martin usually won the conference and a Cotton Bowl berth about every four years. Then came the dry years and the Frogs wandered through the backwaters of major college football until Gary Patton became head coach. He got a commitment from the school administration to turn TCU into a major power and rewarded their decision with a dozen years of steady progress toward the top of Division I. The pep rally ended with the TCU fight song.