The Adventures of Slim & Howdy (3 page)

6

SLIM AND HOWDY WERE LEANING WITH THEIR BACKS
against the bar, drinking beer, waiting for their food. George Jones was on the jukebox covering Haggard, a tune about a guitar player working the Holiday Inn in downtown Modesto.
Yeah,
Slim thought.
Been there. Done that.

It was a slow night, maybe a couple dozen customers in the place, mostly couples, mostly happy. But there were a few in there by themselves, heartbreak written all over their faces, hunkered over their doubles, wishing things had turned out different. Man at the end of the bar, for example, sorry he’d cheated on his wife. Even sorrier he got caught. Kept telling himself she’d be back, and each drink made that seem more likely. Then there was the old guy in the booth in the back mumbling under his breath about not having that kind of money and cursing the Cowboys ’cause they didn’t cover the spread. Again. “Go on,” he mumbled. “Break my damn leg. See if I care.”

These were the people Slim couldn’t help but notice. Hard-luck cases and those prone to making bad choices. Sad faces and tragic lives. People who needed praying for ’cause they didn’t have a prayer to begin with. Things you could write songs about. It was a honky-tonk truth: heartbreak came by the case in a place like this.

Just then, an old B.W. Stevenson song came on the jukebox. The catchy up-tempo melody pulled Slim out of the dark and he started to hum along.

“That’s a good song,” Howdy said. Then, singing, “She takes my blues away.”

“Always liked it.” Slim nodded. “ ‘Shambala’ too.”

That’s when the two girls blew through the door like TNT, their hips swinging like church bells in the tower. Everybody looked up for a moment. Howdy nudged his new pal and said, “Well now, maybe
this
is why they call it Lucky’s.”

Howdy didn’t recognize them as the girls sitting by the pool at the Settler’s Cove. He’d only seen them from a distance then, with their hair tucked under baseball caps and those skimpy two-piece suits that would barely cover two big apples and a slice of pie. And, truth be told, he hadn’t been studying their faces at the time.

Slim had been so focused on getting his guitar back that he couldn’t have said whether the apartment complex even had a pool, so, as far as he was concerned, they were just two gals who, in the dim light, weren’t out of the question.

One was blonde, the other chestnut. They looked a little old for their age, which appeared to be midtwenties. If you were a betting man, like the guy in the back booth, you wouldn’t put money on either one being a debutante or a recent pledge for Kappa Kappa Gamma. Both wore tight low-riding jeans and skimpy half-shirts that revealed pierced belly buttons, little muffin tops, and those sexy little tattoos in the smalls of their backs.

“It’s like a welcome mat,” Howdy said wistfully.

Slim gave a derisive snort at that. “Just ’cause a girl’s got a tattoo there doesn’t mean she wants to have sex with you.”

Howdy peered out from underneath his hat with a look he reserved for those who just tumbled off the turnip truck. “Slim,” he said, “there’s an arrow pointing right down the middle there, underneath where it says ‘Visitors Welcome.’”

Slim took a closer look. “Not on both of them.”

“No,” Howdy said. “You’re right. The other one’s with the Sisters of Mercy.”

Actually not. Tammy, it turned out, had done a short stint one time for check kiting. Crystal, for felony shoplifting. In fact the two of them had met while taking advantage of the hospitality at the East Texas Correctional Institution for Women. But that was a few years back and neither had been caught doing anything lately. Didn’t even have a current parole officer.

“These two look right up our alley,” Howdy said. “In fact, the one with that little turned-up nose has the potential to be my next broken heart. What do you say we buy ’em a round?”

Slim looked like the idea had crossed his mind first and was about to weigh in on the subject. But that’s when the bartender delivered the pulled pork sandwiches, distracting Slim with the aroma. He was hungrier than he thought. “Lemme have another beer,” he said, turning around, belly to the bar.

“Make it two.” When they got their bottles, Howdy held his up for a toast. “Here’s to gettin’ your guitar back.”

The girls got a pitcher of beer and shot some pool while the boys ate. When Crystal went to the jukebox, Tammy hollered, “Play something country!” And she did. And for the next fifteen minutes there were lots of exchanged glances, coy smiles, and the occasional wink. At one point, as Tammy lined up the eight ball in the far corner pocket, Howdy ducked his head toward Slim and said, “Is it my imagination or do they both seem to take a lot of shots requiring them to bend over that way?” He shook his head and almost whispered, “Bless their hearts.”

“I’ll say this.” Slim tipped his beer toward Tammy, making sure she saw him. “That girl there is wearing the hell outta those pants.”

It came as a surprise to no one that Slim and Howdy soon bought a pitcher of beer, carried it over to the girls, and challenged them to a little bit of eight ball. Over the next two hours they fed the jukebox, shot pool, and drank beer. Even two-stepped once when somebody played something by the Derailers.

Crystal let Howdy get the impression that he was picking her up. Like when he offered to show her how to hold her cue stick so she could put that funny spin on the ball the way he did. She just let him reach right around her and brush his hands up against any and everything while she wiggled herself in the general direction of his belt buckle.

Tammy, who upon closer examination looked slightly harder than a federal tax form, came up behind Slim and slipped a hand into where he had the truck keys. His eyebrows sprang up as she lingered, like she was trying to find a small bit of lint or something. She was hard to resist, despite the rough edges. Or maybe because of them, Slim wasn’t sure which. But he was thinking he ought to examine her under a brighter light before making any decisions.

A little bit later, when the girls disappeared to the ladies’ room, Howdy pulled Slim aside and said, “Whatcha thinking there, partner? Hotel, or see if they’ve got a two-bedroom?”

“Hotel? You crazy?” Slim shook his head. “I spent enough on beer, pork, and the jukebox already. I ain’t springing for a damn hotel.”

Howdy leaned on his pool cue, tipping his hat back with the chalky blue tip. He said, “Well, just for the sake of conversation, where were you planning to sleep if these two honeys hadn’t showed up?”

Slim waved his hand toward the outskirts of town. “Hell, I don’t know, I figured we’d swing by the Wal-Mart, grab a couple sleeping bags, and head out to a state park or something.”

Howdy seemed incredulous. “You wanna go
camping
?” He gave Slim a sideways glance. “That’s a little broke back, don’t you think?”

“What’d you have in mind, the Four Seasons in Houston?”

“Doesn’t matter what I had in mind . . . before,” Howdy said. “What I have in mind now is finding out what kind of sheets Crystal’s got and how she takes her coffee in the morning.”

Slim lowered his voice and said, “Yeah, well, if I was with Crystal I might be thinking the same thing, but—”

It was almost too late when Howdy saw the girls approaching fast. He shoved Slim in the chest and said, “Awww, man, don’t say that.” Real loud, keeping Slim from putting his boot in his mouth.

Tammy came up and hooked a thumb into one of Slim’s belt loops. She said, “Don’t say what?”

Howdy acted like he hadn’t seen them coming. “Oh, Slim was saying he thought we might oughta hit the road if we’re gonna make it to where we’re going.”

“Hit the road?” Crystal sounded genuinely disappointed about this.

“Yeah,” Howdy said. “We got . . . uh . . . we got auditions.”

“Auditions? Where at?”

Slim said “Nashville” at the same time Howdy said “Austin.” They glared at one another before fumbling through some sort of story about how one of them had told the other that the Nashville audition got put off until next week and they had the thing in Austin first.

Not that anybody was buying it.

Tammy smiled and slipped her hand back into Slim’s pocket. She pulled out the truck keys and said, “Well, either way you go, it’s too late to be making a long drive like that. Why don’t y’all just come on over to our place and stay the night?”

7

WHEN THEY HIT THE PARKING LOT, HOWDY WAS GRINNING
like he’d just been crowned homecoming king. Crystal had given him the keys to her car, a Twentieth Anniversary Trans Am, the one with the turbo installed on a 3.8-liter V6 with ported heads and a Champion intake. A very bad boy delivering in the neighborhood of 280 horses.

Howdy pulled up next to the truck, leaned across Crystal’s welcoming lap, revved the engine a couple of times, and shouted to Slim, “Try to keep up!”

Slim said, “All right, just gimme a second.”

But it was too late. Crystal popped in a cassette of Chris LeDoux and let out a Rebel yell as Howdy fishtailed out of the rocky parking lot onto old Highway 90, spraying the truck with gravel as Slim and Tammy ducked into the cab to avoid being peppered. Howdy pulled a quarter mile in what he told himself was just over fifteen seconds but was probably closer to twenty, men having a tendency to misjudge such things in their favor.

Half a mile later they slowed down, waiting for Slim to catch up. After a few minutes, they passed the Beaumont city limits and soon after that they were far enough out of town that the sky wasn’t washed yellow-pink from the high-pressure sodium street lights.

The bucket seats and the console between them seemed to be the only things keeping Crystal from actually crawling into Howdy’s lap as they drove down the dark country road at sixty miles an hour. Figuring they’d have a lot more fun if they got home alive, Howdy made sure she kept her seat belt buckled while he talked up the virtues of patience and delayed gratification. She started to argue but stopped all the sudden, pointed across Howdy’s chest, and said, “Oh, take this left!”

“Hang on!” Howdy managed to keep it out of the ditch as he made the turn, though he almost hit the big entrance monument for Lake Creek Estates, a new subdivision where none of the houses were on wheels or blocks, a fact that lifted it several demographic notches above where either Slim or Howdy had imagined they were going.

A few minutes later they were parked in the driveway of a stately four-bedroom, three-bath Georgian Colonial-style home. Howdy found himself wondering if one of the girls had taken possession in a nasty divorce settlement or maybe they were just renting in a depressed real estate market. He wasn’t about to ask, but he was starting to think that Beaumont or, more specifically, Lake Creek Estates might be the sort of place where a guy could get comfortable for a little while. Depending on how things worked out over the short term, of course.

Crystal was first to the front door with her keys out. She was giggling and fumbling and having a hard time seeing what she was doing, not just because she was tipsy, but also owing to the fact it was pitch black on the porch. “I told you to leave the lights on,” she said.

“I thought I did,” Tammy responded as she rooted through her own purse like she was trying to find her keys or a flashlight or who knows what women are looking for when they do that, Slim thought. Could be a Tic Tac or lipstick, there was just no telling.

Then, everybody heard something snap. “Oh, damn,” Crystal said. “Finally got the key in there and the stupid thing broke off. Now we’re screwed.” Just like it was an accident.

Howdy put his hands on Crystal’s slim hips and gently moved her aside. “Not just yet, honey. I have a little experience with this sort of thing. Old girlfriend used to lock me out of my house all the time.” He pulled his pocket knife, slipped the thin blade to just the right spot, and popped that door wide open. “Viola!” He bowed slightly and made a sweeping doorman’s gesture. “After you.”

When they stepped inside and flipped on the light, Slim and Howdy looked around in what might be described as bewilderment. They’d been expecting anything from a standard Thomasville living room set to Pier 1 hodgepodge, but what they got looked more like a cross between the showroom floor of a Circuit City and a pawn shop.

“Just moved in,” Crystal said, looking at Tammy with a big grin and another giggle.

“Yeah,” Tammy added. “Ain’t had time to get everything unpacked and put away just yet.”

Crystal was already pulling Howdy down the hall toward what they both hoped was a bedroom. Tammy headed for the kitchen saying, “I’monna see if we got a coupla beers in the fridge.”

Slim gave a nonchalant wave as he stood there taking inventory. There was enough home entertainment gear for two city blocks, let alone two country girls. Big screens, flat screens, speaker systems, amplifiers, digital this, that, and the other. Tammy came back with two bottles, handed one to Slim, and nodded toward the hallway. “C’mon, cutie.”

They heard lots of giggling as they passed the closed door where Crystal had led Howdy into temptation. They got to the master bedroom at the end of the hall. It featured a king-sized water bed, mirrors all over the place, and more expensive electronics still in the boxes. Tammy went to the bed and yanked off a pillowcase, then disappeared into the dressing room. Slim wasn’t sure what to make of that but he heard sounds like she was going through her dresser to put on something slinky. So, despite an ominous feeling to the contrary, he started to undress.

Just instinctive.

A moment later, Tammy came back to find Slim with a reluctant look on his face and his pants about halfway down. She smiled, and a tiny laugh escaped her lips before she said, “Slow down there, cowboy.”

“What?” Like a deer in the headlights.

She pointed at a flat-screen TV still in the box. “Grab that,” she said.

In his heart Slim suddenly knew the house didn’t belong to either Tammy or Crystal. But he didn’t want that truth to get to his brain, let alone any other part of his body. He was still half hunched over, holding his pants, when he repeated himself. “What?”

“I said grab that TV. Take it out to the living room.”

He looked around. “The living room?”

She smiled again, crossing to where Slim stood stiff as a statue, nor was he moving. She rubbed him in the right spot and said, “Don’t you worry, honey, I’ll take care of you when we get back to my place.” She winked. “Promise.” She touched his lips with her finger before she noticed a change tray full of coins on the table. She dumped the contents into the pillowcase, then looked over her shoulder at Slim. “C’mon now, get busy.”

Slim pulled up his pants and zipped them indignantly. “You brought us here to help you rob this place?”

“Well why not? You got that damn truck,” Tammy said gesturing toward the driveway. “I mean, I can’t get
shit
in the back of that Trans Am. I was thinking about rentin’ something, but then you two cowboys showed up and, well, anyway, grab that TV so we can get on out of here.”

Slim pointed at all the boxes. “Who’s all this belong to?”

“Technically it belongs to that Transistor Town up in Shreveport, but we’re taking it from a guy name of Black Tony.”

“Black Tony?” Slim didn’t like the sound of that one bit. He turned and headed for the living room, empty-handed.

Tammy followed. “Whoa now, cowboy, where you going?”

Slim knocked on Howdy’s door as he stalked down the hall. “Let’s go,” he said without breaking stride.

Howdy glanced over at a clock, mumbled, “Damn, that boy’s quick.”