Heart of Texas

by Kirk Haggerty

  “Why not?”

  “Have you ever done this before?”

  “No, sir.”

  He took a deep inhale and blew out the smoke high above our heads, into the rotating ceiling fan. “Mr. ‘Price’, um, pardon me for intruding on this matter, but you’re a magazine writer, not an entrepreneur.”

  That information was not in the forms. I kept my cool. “How do you know that?”

  “Because my son was laughing fit to burst when he read your scoop on Texas idiots in Leather and Lace.”

  I was caught with my fly down. He should be scolding his son for keeping soft porn under his mattress; or was it Bo himself that read it? “Look, Mr. Hopkins, I’m just doing my job. I have an assignment here for a year, and part of that job is to open a business.”

  “Well, not with me, and not through this bank, Mr. ‘Price’. So if you’ll excuse me, I have other appointments this morning with more respectable clients.”

  I rose from my chair to leave. As I opened the door, I turned and asked ‘J.R. Ewing’, “Does Hamilton have any bookstores at all?”

  With the cigar still in his mouth he nodded. “A little one, across from the courthouse. It’s not very successful either. We Texans are not too keen on readin’, as you’ve written.”

  Sarcastic asshole. I thanked him and closed the door. I wrote an SMS to Bronsworth, “Any other bright ideas?” I hit ‘send’.

  The sign above the door read ‘Hamilton Books’; the place was a simple office, with wooden bookshelves, over-stuffed with used paperbacks. It resembled a dorm for college students who never wanted to finish school.

  “May I help you?” said the young nerdy lady in glasses, with a book in her hand.

  “Just seeing what you have.” I pulled out a book and ran through the pages.

  “Anything in particular? We have all genres.”

  “If you have anything about how to start a business; that would be great,” I said, not expecting an answer.

  But she gave one. “We have several. What sort of business do you have in mind?”

  She was the ultimate saleslady. She was wearing a blouse buttoned up to her neck. Her red hair was pinned up in a bun. “How to open a bookshop after Mr. Bo Hopkins refused to sanction a loan for me.”

  She raised her eyebrows and held the book close to her chest as if she had seen the Boogy Man. “Mr. Hopkins is one of the meanest men in town.”

  “I’ve met meaner.”

  “You wanted to open a bookstore?”

  “My dreams of riches have burst. Now I’ll have to dig ditches.”

  “Um, yeah. You’re not from around here, I can tell.”

  I nodded. “East Coast.”

  “Sorry to tell you this, but I’ve been running this place for almost two years and business has been terrible.”

  “So how do you pay the rent?”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s beside the point. I’m closing down very soon, since you’re so interested in knowing about the workings of my shop.”

  “Then you should have advertised a going-out-of-business sale.”

  Her forehead wrinkled with irritation. “Look, I don’t tell you how to do things. If I have to move out, I’ll take my books with me.”

  “You mean you take your books everywhere you go?”

  The lady walked over to the door and opened it, allowing the bell to ring and the warm air to enter. “It was a nice chat we had, but I need to continue, and if you’re not buying a book, then its better if you go on your merry way.”

  I crossed the threshold and turned to her. A quotation from ‘Pride and Prejudice’ came to my mind, so I said it. “Forgive me, Madame, for taking up so much of your time.”

  I had to get out of this ‘hick’ town and collect my sanity over a drink. I took the teen couple’s advice and drove for 45 minutes to Stephenville in the north, with my iPod playing the Best of Dr. Demento. I felt a little better when I heard the line from the ‘Star Trekkin’ song:

  Well, it’s life, Jim,

  But not as we know it,

  Not as we know it,

  Not as we know it. [2]

  Stephenville, population 17,000. Why didn’t Bronsworth send me here instead? Is it revenge for something I’ve done? I found a Starbucks and the Cinemark Cinema on the same road in town. For the rest of the afternoon I wasted a section of my life watching a double feature. The air was still warm as I exited the theater; now was a good time to call Debbie – but once again I got no answer. I sent her another SMS but she never wrote back. Ok, so then off to mindless hours of billiards and beer.

  When it became dark I took a walk for a few blocks until I found a nightclub called the “Rockin’ P”. Across the street from the club I noticed a statue of a cow on a pedestal, with a sign in its mouth that read ‘Moo-la, 200,000 in milk sales annually’. At least they had their priorities right.

  The place was a decent-looking club with a large bar with a dance floor and a side room with pool tables. A live band performed on the stage, although it sounded more like amateur night. Three guys with acoustic guitar, bass guitar and harmonica were squawking out some strange melody I’d never heard before. But when in Rome…

  I ordered a beer at the bar, but when I looked around I couldn’t find a single empty seat available. After a few minutes of strolling around in desperation, I spotted a table with three ladies and one empty seat. Since I was not the most liked person in Texas, and had nothing to lose, I strolled over to inquire. Of course I had everything to lose, because in Texas they could be armed.

  “Sorry ladies for the interruption, but is this seat free?” They were all in their twenties, each wearing different colored evening dresses; red, white and blue. I wondered where their Miss America sashes were.

  “Don’t know if it’s free, we didn’t pay for it,” said the blonde in the red dress. The other two giggled; a brunette in white and a redhead in blue.

  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” I answered and sat down. “As you can see, the place is packed.”

  “Don’t forget it’s Friday,” said the brunette. “It’s packed everywhere.”

  The redhead shook her head. “You have a talent for stalking, I see.”

  “Stalking?” I asked. “Have we met?”

  “This afternoon, at the bookstore. So why are you following me?”

  I swore I was looking at another girl, but on examining her face I realized it was the same book nerd chick, this time without glasses and her hair draped across her shoulders. She looked much prettier than before.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you. I came to Stephenville to see a movie and get away from Hamilton.”

  “And why did you have to get away from Hamilton?” Book-chick asked. “Is it too small for a New Yorker like you?”

  “I’m not from New York, I’m from Boston.”

  The blonde asked, “Are you on vacation?”

  “I’m on a project.”

  “Sounds serious,” said the blonde, “Well, if you’ve already met our friend, then she would know what your project is.” The two laughed and looked at the redhead.

  She finished off her cocktail in one gulp. “Our out-of-town stranger moseys into Hamilton, thinking we still have hitching posts for horses, barges into my shop with a hundred questions and tells me he wants to open a bookstore. Then he says he got his loan rejected by Bad Man Bo Hopkins at the bank, and in a vain attempt to impress me, he quotes Jane Austen as he exits the place.”

  The two friends both exclaimed, “Oh, my gawd!” simultaneously and broke down laughing.

  “You sure know how to impress women,” said the blonde.

  “I wasn’t out to impress anybody.”

  The brunette asked, “Who do you work for?”

  Here it goes again. Make something up, quick. “I work for one of those Country and Garden magazines. Nothing big.”

  “And why a bookshop?” asked beautiful book nerd.

  “Because my parents run a bookshop.”<
br />
  The brunette snapped back, “Which may explain why he’s quoting Jane Austen to you, Karen.”

  “Karen?”

  “Yes, I’m Karen, and this is Stacy and Launa.”

  “Hi ladies, nice to meet you. I’m Daniel.” The band on stage began to play a new tune. People were crowding toward the dance floor.

  Karen rose from her seat. “You guys have fun together, I’m leaving. Thanks for the intros, Daniel.”

  “What you doing, girl?” asked Stacy, the blonde, her Texas accent slipping through.

  “Last thing I need is competition for my business, nor do I fall for ridiculous pick-up-lines. See you around.”

  “Will you at least give me my keys before you take off,” said Launa.

  I rose too. I had to speak louder due to the music. “Please, Karen, don’t go. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. It wasn’t my intention.” I was getting excited for some reason; it must have been some hot flashback of Debbie in bed. “Please, let me make it up by buying you a drink.”

  “No thanks.” She turned her back and headed for the door, or at least she tried her best to politely push through the crowd. She stopped dead in her tracks, turned and rushed towards me. She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the dance floor.

  “Let’s dance.”

  I noticed Stacy and Launa staring at us, then my view of them was lost in the shuffle of dancers and cigarette smoke.

  “I don’t get it. First you want to leave because you think I’m stalking you, now you pull me in to dance.”

  “Quick, put your arms around me and dance real close.”

  Who was I to argue? I obeyed. How often did this sort of thing happen to me? It was a slow dance and most of the patrons were shuffling around in small circles, snuggling up to their partners. I knew it was ‘show’, but still, holding Karen up close was a nice feeling. She turned her back towards the main door to hide herself better, and even buried her nose on my shoulder. Man, she smelled wonderful.

  “Well,” I said into her ear, “you win an Oscar for this performance. Who are you hiding from?”

  “An ex.”

  “Is that so bad?”

  “It’s complicated.” Her face was still buried in my shoulder.

  “It’s always complicated, my dear. What we’re doing right now is complicated, for me at least. Don’t you know by now when a woman nestles very close against a man’s body, certain chemical and physical things start happening to him?”

  Karen took a peek and frowned. “Shh, here he comes. What’s your name again?”

  “You got to be kidding. It’s Daniel.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “If you broke up with him, what are you afraid of?”

  “You never met Willi; he can be dangerous.”

  “What?”

  Seconds later, a big burly Texan with a cowboy hat and goatee beard showed up and tapped me on the shoulder hard.

  “You!”

  I had another talent besides writing. It was kickboxing.

  When I was writing stories as a kid for hours, my parents thought I wasn’t getting enough fresh air, so they took me to a sports camp one summer. I loved it and joined a club back home. I was good at it, until I got my first concussion from a knock-out and my mother had to take me home. I swear, after that incident my writing got better. But I still worked out with my punching and speed bags at home.

  I looked up and saw the red in his eyes. “Get the hell away from my girl before I kick your ass out of here!” Karen moved strategically out of the way, leaving some ‘fightin’ room’ for Willi and me.

  My boxing instincts were heightened to the highest level; now I was convinced that rednecks like him were the bane of all mankind.

  “Who the fuck are you talking to, asshole?” I pushed King Kong away and he fell against another dancing couple, causing more irritation to the patrons. “You don’t threaten us like that. Get out before I call the …”

  I couldn’t finish, a giant fist was approaching me fast. I dodged and kicked Bozo in the groin as hard as I could. He reeled over, holding his crotch, meanwhile I punched him as hard as I could on his nose – I wanted blood to block his vision as much as possible. Other men began jumping on Willi, supposedly either bouncers, or more of Karen’s pissed-off ex-boyfriends with axes to grind.

  In the chaos, I grabbed Karen’s hand and pushed through the mass of spectators witnessing the latest WWE Summer Slam on the dance floor. I led her in the direction of the restroom, where there were fewer people. The music had stopped by now and there were women screaming, louder than the musicians could ever play.

  “Let’s find a way out,” I said. She seemed to be following me with no resistance now. I found a back door in the kitchen and tried it. It was an alley way, but before we could make our escape, we saw another group of shadows. We ducked behind a trash container. Two big men were punching each other and wrestling hard between the brick walls of the alley and onto the stone floor.

  I was sure I’d seen one of these men before. There it was – a Hell’s Angels jacket.

  It looked like T-Bone, fighting another moto gangster from an opposing pack, but I couldn’t recognize the other club jacket. Karen was about to scream but I held one hand over her mouth and placed a finger from my other hand across my lips.

  The other biker tried to pull out a knife, but T-Bone disarmed him during the scuffle. He trounced his opponent with a massive punch in the face, then another one in the ribs, then the stomach. The poor guy remained motionless. T-Bone searched his victim and pulled out a bag from the man’s coat pocket, and his wallet from other one. He got up just as I hid again behind the container. I heard him run down the alley away from us. I counted to five and looked again, the man remained lying on his back on the ground.

  I released Karen’s mouth.

  “We’ve got to do something,” she said, it sounded like she was wheezing.

  I didn’t want to go back into the club; not with Willi the killer ex-lover after my ass. Nor did I want to go down the alley to catch up with more cycle thugs who might be waiting. The best thing was to take her hand and approach the man on the floor, to see if he was still breathing. I bent down to see his chest rise and fall. Karen pulled something from her purse. I thought she was going to stun me with a Taser or use pepper spray on me, instead it was like an asthma inhaler because she took a puff on it.

  “Are you Ok?” I asked.

  “Yes, but he’s not.”

  I gently slapped his face to wake him up. “Sir, can you hear me? We’re getting help.” I didn’t want to use my cell phone for obvious reasons so I asked Karen if she had one. She pulled her phone out and dialed 911. One of the workers, wearing a white apron, came out. I signaled to him that we needed help.

  “The police and ambulance are on their way,” said Karen.

  I turned to the worker, “Wait here until the ambulance arrives.”

  The man nodded and remained kneeling by the injured man. As I got up, Karen asked, “Where you going? We need to tell the police.”

  That was what I wanted to avoid. If they asked me questions, I feared that my name would be dragged all over the place.

  “I’d better walk you back to your car.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know why you East-Coasters never want to get involved when a crime occurs. We have to report this, as well as the fight between you and Willi.”

  “Hey, that was his fault.”

  “Exactly the reason why you have to report it. Willi doesn’t know who you are. What are you? Chicken? Not after what I just saw.”

  We heard the sound of sirens coming up the street. It would be impossible to disappear now. What the hell – I had a gut feeling my assignment was going to come to an end anyway. I seemed to bring up too much trouble no matter where I went. After giving our stories to the police, we saw the ambulance take the biker away on a gurney, and the cops taking away Big Willi in handcuffs. He gazed at me one more time before the police
shoved him into the back of their squad car. Sort of like Schwarzenegger’s ‘I’ll be back’ look.

  “My friends are still here and it’s late,” Karen said. “I gotta go.”

  “No problem. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

  “And … thanks for helping me out.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She turned and disappeared into the night, into a sea of headlamps and flashing blue lights.

  Chapter Five

  I finally reached Debbie in the morning from my motel bed. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for four days.”

  “Sorry, Daniel, I’ve been so busy since you left.”

  “Not even a chance to answer an SMS?”

  “You know how crazy it can get at work. Things just happen.”

  It sounded like I’d caught her by surprise. “You doing good?” I asked, hoping the answer would be somewhat positive.

  “Yeah, doin’ good. Look, Daniel, my folks say I’m too stressed out, they want to take me on vacation for two weeks.”

  “When you leavin’?”

  “Today, as soon as they pick me up.”

  “Where to?”

  “Adirondacks.”

  “So far?”

  “Not as far as Texas.”

  “Ok, then send me some pics of the scenery.”

  “I will.”

  “Take care of yourself, Deb. Love ya.”

  “Love ya too. I gotta go. Bye.”

  Instead of taking a shower, I put on swim shorts and headed out to the motel pool. I could just feel it was going to be a scorcher today. My cell phone peeped and I saw the message:

  Talked to my contact in NYC.

  This Killer Jack biker is a Gulf War vet with the Hell’s Angels. Recently snitched on some of his members for drug pushing ia rival gang. The police commended him for doing the right thing, but his HQ was damaged, now that he’s made new enemies. He’s been on the run for weeks.