Southern Hearts (13 page)
I had thought perhaps that had been our bond, that she had, without knowing, encouraged me to believe in things and given me a more clear perception. I didn’t want her to become tainted, I didn’t want her views of people to become distorted, and that was what had raged inside of me. That was what had sparked my fire, not that I had been physically attracted to her. I wasn’t. It wasn’t in a sexual way; it was like an older sister watching out for the younger. Like a teacher watching out for her students. It was that woman, that leather-clad diesel dyke who had been pawing her. She didn’t care about Lani—her interest was purely primal, landing her in the sack and then taking off without a word, leaving her broken. How could Lani have allowed herself to be played so convincingly by that hedonistic butch?
I was steaming. I would have to protect her. The job had been laid in my lap and it was now my responsibility. I picked up my pace, marching in a straight line toward the house.
“Did you change your mind about talking with the band?” Tami asked as she unfolded some chairs and arranged them to face the stage.
“Not now!” I barked.
Tami just shook her head as I marched past.
“I was looking for you, chèr. Regee is on the phone for you,” my mother said as I stormed up the back steps.
“Who?” I said.
“Regency,” she repeated.
I quickly moved past her and into the house. The telephone receiver was sitting on the cabinet at the base of the stairs.
“Hello!”
“Kari?”
“Yeah, who’s this?” I asked.
“Hi, sexy, it’s Regee.”
“Oh.” I calmed a bit. “Hi.”
“Did I catch you at a bad time? Seems like maybe I’m bothering you,” she giggled.
“Ah.” I thought. She was bothering me. She was distracting me from what I viewed as a pressing and important mission. “No, I was just—”
“Well,” she interrupted. “Some of my friends and I are going dancing tonight at ReVeAll, the lesbian bar over in St. Martinville, and I thought you might want to come along.”
“Not tonight,” I said politely, “but thanks for the offer.” I wasn’t sure why I had turned it down; it would surely have taken my mind off Lani and the events of that afternoon, and that would have been a welcome distraction.
“I spent the day with Tami and Megan at the Zydeco Festival.” I paused. “I’m kinda tired.”
“Come on, it’s just a little local bar, a few friends hanging out and dancing. You don’t have to stay long,” she coaxed.
“Oh, okay! Sounds good. What time?”
“I’ll pick ya up around 9:30, so be ready.”
Chapter Eleven
The bar was dimly lit, stuffy, and filled with women. Smoke permeated every niche of its dingy space, stinging my eyes like salt in an open wound. Women were everywhere, chatting, cajoling at the bar, wooing the waitresses and bartenders, and arguing over whose turn it was to hold the pool stick for the next go-around of eight ball.
It had to be the alcohol, but for the first time in a month I was feeling loose. All the cares of my life that had made me abrasive and rigid had now been dispelled.
“I should drink more often,” I said, raising my glass in a toast to the other women who were huddled at the bar table.
“It becomes you,” Regee smiled devilishly, clanking her beer mug to mine. “How about we dance?” She pulled my arm as I took another swig.
“Dance? I think I’m too drunk for that.” I teetered on my seat and then tumbled off, knocking my head on the wall as I fell. “See!” I said, laughing.
“Okay, your loss,” Regee grabbed one of the girls from the table around the waist, pulling her along behind her, then threw her arms up over her head and wiggled her hips as she squeezed onto the dance floor.
It was 11:30 p.m. We had been crammed around the tiny round tables and on skimpy bar stools for over two hours, and in that time Regee had danced with just about everyone, except for the few women who had the arms of their overprotective mates planted permanently around their shoulders. Her style of dancing leaned somewhere between obscene and promiscuous as she thrust her body firmly into the dangling arms of whoever was fortunate enough to be dancing next to her. She moved her hips seductively to the beat, gyrating her butt in wide circles reminiscent of our day on her boat. I recognized her technique almost instantly; it was sexual, and not dancing at all.
She was getting horny with each grind of her body, climactic from each blaze of harmony, and to the women around her, their bodies snuggling hers, orgasmic. I kept a watchful eye on her, and as the night progressed it became obvious to me that she had slept her way across the slick flooring and paneled walls of the bar many times over. The women seemed to know her and greeted her warmly. Actually, warmly was a severe understatement, I thought. They greeted her as if they had last seen her naked over their combed percale sheets, under a twirling ceiling fan, their bodies molding together like hot wax, and her friends who were gathered in front of me had been no exception.
She had made the rounds, she had been the courtesan, she had been the toy of every woman she had wanted, and my name came up in the alphabetical list smack dab in the middle. I had been just another plaything, another pinnacle to conquer, another pussy to taste. Maybe I had tossed back one too many beers and that numbed the reality, but a certain tranquility came over me at the thought. It didn’t bother me—maybe it should have, maybe it would later, but at that moment I couldn’t have cared less.
She could have introduced every one of them to me and stuck her tongue down their throats as I watched, and I would have stayed distant and unaffected.
“You’re not getting out of here without dancing with me.” Regee nuzzled up to me. “I hope you know that,” she said with a sly little chuckle.
“Okay,” I conceded, “but you’re gonna be sorry.” She put her palm in mine and tugged me from the stool.
Large woofers lurched with tinny sounds from overhead, a mix of techno and pop, with a few ear-shattering combinations of hard rock and metal thrown in for variety. The dance floor was small and cramped with an assortment of women that hit every note of the lesbian stereotypical scale, their aroused, untamed bodies colliding brutally into one another. I jumped up and down like a pogo stick in my attempt at dancing. Women of all shapes and sizes knocked into me with such force I was sure come morning my body would be bruised purple.
“I told you you’d be sorry,” I shouted over the music at Regee, who was bumping her way toward me.
“Just listen to the music and let it take you where it wants.” She guided me, putting her hand around my hips.
“I can’t do anything but,” I yelled.
“You’re not letting it take you,” she said loudly into my ear.
“Believe me, I’m being taken,” I said, resuming my clumsy bounce.
I jumped around like a child on a candy high who had forgotten to take his Ritalin. I pushed upward on my tiptoes and turned around with each jump, giving me a blurred view of each cranny of the bar as I spun.
“That’s it for me,” I said, clutching my stomach as I belched and almost threw up. “I think I just stirred the hot wings with the Millers and now it has been joined and wants out.”
“I’m gonna take a breather too.” Regee turned and headed toward the table.
She had taken only two breathers the whole night and neither of them had lasted more then five minutes, which had given her just enough time to flirt with the waitress, buy a drink for a cute young thing sitting in one of the bar’s corners, and ask me if I was ready for a refill.
I sloppily hiked myself up on the stool and took a long gulp of beer. Regee sat on the stool next to me, tapping the pack of her Camel cigarettes over the cornice of the table, taking one out, lighting it, and then taking a long drag from it.
I gazed out about the bar, noticing as the clock struck midnight that the place had about filled to its capacity. Even more bodies had stuffed their way through the doors. Every stool was taken, every inch of counter space at the bar had arms resting on it, and the few booths were bulging with women. I watched as a small group of biker-type women pushed their way through the groups clustered near the back entrance and ran, securing one of the scant few booths just as several woman got up.
I rubbed my finger over my eyelashes. Either the buzz of my intoxication was wearing off or I had just seen what I had come out into the night to avoid: Lani. I took a second glance, eyeing the same woman who had been all over Lani earlier that day.
“Fuck! I can’t escape it,” I yelled, the blare of music drowning my voice.
Is she stalking me
? I thought. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get away from her. I was bothered, though as I thought through it more rationally, I knew our series of encounters had been more random then calculated. I hadn’t even known I was going to the Zydeco Festival until that morning, when my sister had invited me to tag along, and my decision to come with Regee to the bar had been just as abrupt and last minute. And this was the only gay bar within eighty miles.
I watched Lani get up from the booth and step to the bar to order a drink. She had on a short vest buttoned at the waist, with a white tee tucked into a pair of tight leather pants that were ornamented with grommets and ties down the inseam so they resembled a pair of chaps. I watched her stroll and I found it both sexy and alluring. Her friend took one of Lani’s breasts into her hand, leaning down as if she were going to suck on it. I couldn’t get my thought past what an uncouth little tramp the woman was. But as Lani responded to her, it was apparent she didn’t share my sentiment.
I stared, but unlike at the festival where I had gotten an eyeful without her knowing, this time as I looked, she caught sight of me. Realizing I had seen them, Lani appeared a bit embarrassed. She put her palm under the woman’s chin, lifting it up and then staunchly moving from her reach, then waved.
I didn’t want to respond; I thought of playing the fool and pretending that I hadn’t seen her. But my eyes were fixed on hers, and no matter how furiously I had wanted to, I couldn’t pull my gaze from hers. It hurt to see her. I put my hands over my face, then waved back. Everything inside of me erupted, sending up a surge of heat with the violence of an unconstrained inferno. I wanted her. I ached so badly I couldn’t stand it. Every emotion I had ever been capable of flashed across me, and I flushed scarlet.
I took a sip of beer, becoming restless and jumpy with each passing second. I could hear the click, click of a metronome pacing my thoughts and echoing through my ears. My hands, my skin became irritated and itchy as if covered in poison ivy. I looked toward the floor, and my heart skipped and my pulse pounded in my eardrums. I took another drink, then looked at Regee and in a moment of panic, seized a hunk of her hair into my fist, pulling her to me as I pushed a rush of breath into her mouth. I held her until she grasped my face and rammed her tongue into mine. We exchanged clumps of spit. I swallowed, and a ball of nicotine and ash hit my larynx, the stench filling me like the scald of an iron. Sweat dampened my earlobe. Her blouse was soaked, and she smelled like the locker room after a PAC-Ten game. The odor overcame me, and I choked and backed away.