I Can't Make You Love Me, but I Can Make You Leave

by Dixie Cash

  “Oh, I know that. And you know I love them. And I do love Maudeen like my own mother. Shit, I’d kill for a Snickers bar about now.”

  “That whole sugar thing was dumb. I didn’t figure you could count on being calm once those cocktails you were guzzling wore off.”

  “Or a Butterfinger. God yes, I want a Butterfinger. Did you bring that candy with you that we were playing poker with last night?”

  “No, I forgot it.”

  “Well damn it all to hell, Debbie Sue. How could you forget it when you know I need sugar? Now I’m gonna have to go to the Kwik Stop.”

  Debbie Sue stepped in front of Edwina and clasped her shoulders. “Ed. Please don’t buy any more sugar. You need something with protein or complex carbs to level out your cravings.”

  Edwina twisted away from Debbie Sue’s grip, frowning. “And just how do you know this?”

  “You’re not the only one who reads, Ed. Except you rely on P. Diddy and I read stuff from legitimate health sources.”

  “Whatever,” Edwina said, readjusting her purse on her shoulder. “Lard and what else?”

  “Carbs, Ed, complex carbs. Pasta. Whole-grain bread. Even potatoes would be better than sugar. Proteins would be meat, cheese, dairy products—”

  “I got it, I got it,” Edwina grumbled. “So I’ll get a milk shake and some potato chips.”

  Debbie Sue let out a gasp. “You’re hopeless, Ed.”

  “Y’all want anything?” Edwina asked.

  “Thanks, but nothing for me,” Darla answered, preening in front of the large mirrors that hung at the workstations and studying her own profile. “God, I have to lose ten pounds by tonight.”

  “You could bring me a Baby Ruth,” Debbie Sue said to Edwina. “One of the giant ones, not the regular size. And Ed, if you get your customary Dr Pepper, make sure it’s sugar free.”

  “Bite me, Debbie Sue,” Edwina retorted as she made her exit. The door slammed behind her.

  “I have never seen her like this,” Debbie Sue said to Darla. “And she has never talked to me like that. Next time I need to be a real bad-ass I’m loading up on sugar.”

  “Debbie Sue, have you ever used one of those slimming body suits they advertise on TV all the time? You know the one. The model looks like a sack of grapefruit and she goes into the dressing room and comes out smooth with her tits shoved up under her chin?”

  “I haven’t, but Ed’s worn one.”

  “Of course you haven’t. You’re young and you’re built like an Olympic swimmer. And Edwina’s a rail. Why would she use one of those?”

  “About a year ago she was convinced she was getting fat and she bought one. It turned out she was allergic to whatever it was made of. She broke out in hives all over her torso and had to go to the doctor. It’s remarkable how soothing and smoothing Calamine lotion can be.”

  Darla laughed. “I want to try one. Where do you think I could get one around here?”

  “Walmart, maybe,” Debbie Sue said. “It’s practically the only place to buy anything anymore. There’s one of their superstores in Odessa.”

  “Can we go today?”

  “Sure. We’ll just have to leave Salt Lick a little earlier,” Debbie Sue answered.

  “Do you know I haven’t been to a Walmart store since I was a kid. And back then, it was nothing like it is now.”

  “Well you’re in for a treat, Miz Darla.”

  Just then the Christmas bells tied to the front door jangled and Maudeen hobbled in. She had used a cane to hold the door open and an ace bandage was wrapped around her right ankle.

  Debbie Sue rushed to the door to assist her, at the same time glancing out into the parking lot to see if she had driven herself in her ancient Cadillac or if her granddaughter had brought her to the shop. The granddaughter rolled down her window and yelled, “I’ll be back for her in about an hour and a half.”

  “That’ll work,” Debbie Sue yelled back and turned her attention to her elderly customer. “Maudeen, what in the world happened to you?”

  “Oh, hell, honey, I twisted my ankle. I was showing the ladies how to do the funky chicken and I got my high heels tangled up. Don’t get old, honey. Your body turns on you. It refuses to do anything you tell it to.”

  Debbie Sue made a little gasp and planted her fists at her waist. “And what have I told you about wearing mile-high shoes? I can’t even wear them myself.”

  The diminutive woman brushed her away. “We’ve been through this before, honey. Now you know I love my high heels.” She looked at Darla and winked. “Makes me taller and the men can’t get enough of ’em.”

  Darla laughed and it occurred to Debbie Sue that she hadn’t told Maudeen a celebrity was going to be in the shop. “Maudeen, there’s someone I want you to meet,” she said enthusiastically, taking her by the elbow and guiding her gently to where Darla stood.

  “You don’t have to introduce me, honey,” Maudeen replied. “I practically watched this one grow up onstage. Hello, Mrs. Denman, it’s nice to meet you. I thought you were dead, honey. I’m glad to see I was wrong.”

  “Maudeen,” Debbie Sue said, “I thought you’d be a little more excited. It isn’t every day we have a star in the shop.”

  “Don’t be offended, Mrs. Denman,” Maudeen said. “When you reach my age, just waking up each morning is my excitement for the day. Anything else comes in a distant second.”

  “No offense taken, darling,” Darla said, taking her hand and covering the top of it with her own. “And please, call me Darla.”

  Coloring, trimming and curling Maudeen’s thin, wispy hair took Debbie Sue only a short time. During the process, the elderly woman regaled them with tales of her romances. She was under the dryer when Edwina returned.

  “What took you so long?” Debbie Sue asked.

  “Oh, you know me. I ran into people and got to talking. Everyone in town has heard about us backing you up, Darla. They asked me a million questions. Is she nice, what does she look like with her makeup off, can she still sing as good as she used to.”

  “I hope you had a positive answer for all those questions,” Darla said, smiling.

  “Oh, I did, I did. But I didn’t tell them you’re over here at the shop. They’d have followed me back for sure.”

  “That was good thinking, Ed,” Debbie Sue said. “Looks like you got your sugar high under control. You seem more like your old self.”

  “Debbie Sue, you are so smart. Remind me the next time I ask you if you were born stupid that I told you on this date that you’re smart. I ate a jumbo hot dog with lots of cheese piled on. Carbs and protein, right? I ate two egg, cheese and potato burritos, a container of yogurt, gag me, and I washed it all down with a sugar-free Dr Pepper.”

  “Good Lord, Edwina,” Darla said. “I’d have put on ten pounds if I’d eaten all of that. And speaking of weight, Debbie Sue’s taking me to Walmart this afternoon to buy one of those body-slimming thingamajigs.”

  “Did she tell you what happened to me when I wore one?”

  Darla laughed. “She mentioned it.”

  “Just be careful is all I’m saying. Okay. Now that I’m fortified with real food, get over here and let me take a gander at those chicken lips.”

  A couple of hours later, Darla was leaning in close to the mirror, turning her head from side to side, pursing and relaxing her lips. She couldn’t believe the difference. She had always drawn her upper lip with lip liner and in a photo it could pass. But in person it looked just like what it was—an upper lip drawn with lip liner. But this was perfect. Edwina had used a shade natural to her own lips, with just a hint of color. That woman was truly an artist and Salt Lick was lucky to have her. She could teach Valetta Rose a thing or two.

  “Try not to move your lips too much for another hour or so,” Edwina said. “You don’t want that ink to spread. Here, put this ice pack on your lips. It’ll help keep any swelling down. Come back to the sink so I can put a conditioner on your hair.”

  Dutiful
ly Darla followed Edwina to the shampoo bowl. Relaxing on the chaise chair, she felt more alive than she had in years. She was happy to the point of giddiness. Tonight was the first night of her new life. She would do the Darla Denman comeback tour for a year, maybe cut a new album, and then she would happily retire as Bob’s wife. The wife she should have always been but never was. She had a lot to make up for where Bob was concerned, and she was ready and willing to do it if she just got the chance.

  With that sweet plan on her mind she settled back and drifted off, hoping for Edwina to work another one of her miracles.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sitting in a bar near the civic center, Bob watched Eddie and Valetta Rose play pool.

  “Damn, Valetta Rose,” Eddie grumbled, digging three crumpled bills from his jeans pocket and slapping them onto her outstretched hand. “You shoot pool better than anybody I ever seen, man or woman. You should go to Vegas to those tournaments or something.”

  “I don’t like playing for money,” she said shyly.

  “You sure don’t seem to mind taking my money,” Eddie said.

  “But this isn’t money that I’m going to keep.” She smiled as she laid the bills on the table. “This is for the next game. Rack ’em, Eddie.”

  Eddie picked up a bill and fed it into the table and the sound of dropping balls thudded in the dimly lit room.

  Valetta Rose strolled over to where Bob sat, reached for her Coke and took a long drink. She appeared to be the only member of the group who didn’t drink.

  “You’re whipping Eddie’s butt,” Bob said, as she set her glass back on the table. “Where’d you learn to shoot pool that well?”

  She ducked her head, not looking at him. “Ever hear of Clyde, Texas?”

  Bob shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”

  “It’s a little town outside Abilene. It’s where I grew up. I’ve got three older brothers. My mom used to make them take me with them everywhere. They figured the only way to handle it was to treat me like one of the guys. The only pool table in town was in the back room of a convenience store. So they took me to the convenience store when they went to play pool. If they couldn’t come up with a way to get rid of me and if there was nobody else to play with, they let me play. After I got older, I took to practicing by myself, mostly to stay out of their way if they were flirting with girls or if they got in a fight. And if that didn’t work I always had a hold on a cue stick I could use for a weapon.” She laughed, a shy, self-deprecating sound. “Mom hoped having me there would keep them from getting into trouble.”

  Valetta Rose was becoming a more interesting person all the time. Bob read a dozen scenarios between the lines of her story. “And did it?”

  She sipped her Coke. “My brothers were outlaws in those days. They took after my dad. They loved to start fights, end fights and jump in the middle of one that was already going on. There weren’t three tougher boys around. ’Course they had to be to survive living with my dad. I always felt safe with them.”

  Bob angled a look at her. “How in the world did you end up in the world of stage makeup? I’ve seen a lot of people in that business, some good and some so-so, but you’re really good.”

  She smiled again. “Promise not to tell?”

  Bob crossed his heart with his index finger. “Absolutely. Anything you tell me is safe.”

  “Okay, don’t laugh. I used to work in a funeral home in Abilene.”

  Bob gave a belly laugh. “I heard that, but I didn’t know if it was true.”

  “You laughed,” she exclaimed.

  Bob could see he might have hurt her feelings. “I’m not laughing at you, Valetta Rose. I’m laughing with you.”

  “But it isn’t funny. It’s sad. We’ll all be in that position someday.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry I laughed. But you’re so young. How did you get a job like that?”

  “I helped to pick up and deliver dead people from wherever they fell. Hospitals, streets, wherever. One night we brought in the woman who had been doing the makeup on the dearly departed at that funeral home for years. With two upcoming funerals, the director just about lost it. He ordered me to step in and do her makeup and I did. As they say, the rest is history.”

  “You must have made those corpses look good.”

  “Let’s just say the one who died an old maid wouldn’t have if I’d been fixing her face. She looked beautiful lying there in her coffin. Her family complained that she didn’t look anything like herself and they were right. To heck with them, I thought. A girl deserves to meet her maker looking her best. Don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely,” Bob answered, no longer grinning.

  Eddie had finished racking the balls and was leaning on his cue stick. “You’re up, Valetta Rose.”

  She smiled and walked away. Bob had never had a conversation of more than a few words with Valetta Rose. She seemed like a different person from the one he had first met. He had mistaken her quiet demeanor as snooty, but he could see a more accurate word was guarded.

  She chalked her cue and shot, but missed. Stepping back, Eddie approached the table and leaned in for his turn. He began a run on the table and Valetta Rose returned to Bob’s side.

  “So tell me,” Bob said, “how did you come to meet my wife?”

  Valetta Rose hooked a sheaf of her blond hair behind her ear, still watching Eddie at the pool table. “It was an accident. I went to Nashville to visit my brother a couple of months ago. He took me out one evening and we wound up at the club where Roxie was singing.”

  “Nashville Nights?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. When she finished her set, she came over to the bar for a drink. I commented that she’d look less harsh if she used a different shade of makeup. And if she went a little lighter on the eye shadow and used blush better.”

  “You said that to Roxie?” He chuckled. “I’m surprised you survived.”

  “Oh, she was plenty pissed, but you know Roxie. Anything that might make her look better got her attention. She must have thought about what I said because later she asked me to come back the next night and do her makeup before the show. I did and I figured I’d never hear from her again, but she kept calling me. Then she called and asked me to come on this tour with her, all expenses paid. I didn’t even have to think about it. I’ve never been anywhere that my brothers didn’t take me.”

  “I remember the transformation; but she never told me it was you who was responsible. I thought she went to some high-dollar salon. You should feel proud of yourself.”

  “I do. That and shooting pool is about all I know how to do.”

  “But working on the living has to be a lot different than working on the dead.”

  “It is,” Valetta Rose said with a laugh. “The dead don’t call you names and throw things at you. But I was used to that treatment.”

  “Your dad?”

  “He was mean. Let’s just say I learned how to cover bruises early.” She took a long drink of her Coke. “First my mom’s, then mine.” She shrugged. “I learned early to take advantage of what life throws your way, even if it’s shit.”

  Darla snapped her cell phone shut. “Bob says we go on at eight thirty. I told him we’d be there by seven o’clock.”

  Debbie Sue stopped chewing on her thumbnail long enough to look at the clock. Four hours. She had only four hours to steel herself.

  Edwina had finished tattooing Darla’s lips and had put a shining coppery color on her long hair. Now Edwina lazed in a chair, examining the Chili Pepper No. 5 nail polish she had applied to Darla’s toenails minutes earlier.

  “Works for me.” Darla bent over to smooth a smudge.

  “Tell me what will be going on,” Debbie Sue said, having added pacing to her case of nerves. “Step by step. I don’t want any surprises.”

  Darla smiled. “You really are nervous, aren’t you? I thought maybe you were kidding.”

  “I wish I was,” Debbie Sue said.

  “But
when you barrel raced, you rode out into an arena packed with people and every eye on was on you. And only you.”

  “She had Rocket Man with her,” Edwina said, shaking the nail-polish bottle. “Isn’t that right, hon?”

  “Rocket Man is my horse,” Debbie Sue explained to Darla. “He’s so big and strong, such a great athlete. I felt like every eye was on him, not me. All I did was sit on his back and have fun.”

  “All right, then, you can let me be your Rocket Man,” Darla said. “You enjoy yourself and I’ll try to keep every eye on me.”

  “You’re right. You’ll be the focus, just like Rocket Man was.”

  “Except you won’t swish at flies with your tail and throw your head back and whinny,” Edwina added.

  “God, let’s hope not,” Darla muttered.

  Debbie Sue laughed and shot Darla an appreciative glance. “Thanks. Now, tell me the routine. Yesterday, we didn’t exactly rehearse it in the right order.”

  Darla explained that Bob would come out first with a big welcome to the audience. He would talk about the tour and invite everyone to buy CDs that would be strategically located in the lobby. He would then ask Darla to come out to the stage and give everyone a big hello. Then he would introduce Roxie, who would sing the opening number.

  “Will he say he’s married to her?” Edwina asked, still preoccupied with the nail polish and her toenails.

  “Oh, no. There’ll be no mention of that.”

  “Doesn’t she have the same name?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “Then the audience is gonna assume she’s your daughter.”

  Darla’s eyes bugged and she stared at Edwina. “Oh, my God! Do you really think they’d think that? Do I look old enough to be her mother?”

  “Of course not,” Edwina said. “Forget I mentioned it. They’ll think she’s your sister. You know like Loretta Lynn and Crystal Gayle.”

  “Actually,” Darla said, twisting her mouth, “Loretta is old enough to be Crystal’s mother.”

  Debbie Sue saw a need to change the subject—and quick. “What about the band? Will he introduce them?”