Heteroflexibility (15 page)

“So there was a reason?”

“She wanted more kids. She wanted better things. Working around people like Marge…” He wouldn’t know them. “People like these rich biddies who were always acting superior. It got her down.”

“She shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“I wasn’t a very grateful kid. I was difficult.”

“You’re not that way anymore.”

“But I am. Cade even said so.” I circled the kitchen, agitated. I hated talking about Mom. I paused before a picture, a seven-year-old me with both my parents.

“This her?” he asked.

I nodded. It was just a snapshot, taken by a neighbor with a crappy camera. But the light was good, coming from the side. Both my hair and mom’s were lit up, the ends burnished red even though the color was generally a light brown.

“You got your curly locks from your Mom,” he said.

“The thing I hate most about myself.”

He fingered an errant strand. “Really? I’ve always liked it. So natural and wild. Almost like the angry sparks that come off you all the time.”

Angry? Sparks? Is that what I looked like? My first impression? “Well, I hate it.” I stared down at the floor at Mom’s boots, which hadn’t given me an ounce of pain all day. They really were a perfect fit.

Dad poked his head in the back door. “I’m going for a smoke on the porch. Who’s coming with me?”

We cut through the house, and Bradford and I settled together on the swing. Dad took a long pull on his cigarette, blowing gray rings into the night air. He leaned against the rail. “So what’s the plan, young folks? Seems like you have a plane to catch in the morning.”

“We do,” Bradford said. “And the girls need to be getting back to Austin.”

My chin snapped up. “What do you mean, the girls?”

“They’re here too.”

I shot out of my seat, staring out on the lawn as if they might be singing Kumbaya around a campfire in the driveway. “What? Where? All of them?”

Bradford planted his feet on the porch to still the wildly gyrating swing. “Just Nikki, Bella, Mary, and Aud. They’re at the Dairy Queen.”

I grabbed his watch. “It’s eight o’clock! You’ve made them wait there for two hours?”

“They wanted me to talk to you first. Especially Nikki. They’re probably gorging on peanut buster parfaits.”

Dad stamped out the cigarette with his boot. “Sounds like you need to go fetch them. DQ closes at nine.”

Bradford stood up. “Shall we?”

I turned to Dad. “I’ll be back. Eventually.”

He waved his hand, the end of the cigarette a red blur in the dark. “I won’t wait up.”

Chapter 18: Deep in the Heart of Testes

As Bradford pulled into the parking lot, I could see the girls inside the bright restaurant, hovering around a juke box on the back wall.

Nikki’s head popped up as we walked in. “They have two types of music here. Country AND Western!”

I smirked. “The last time I heard that joke was second grade.”

“And it still rocks,” Nikki said. “Unlike this selection.”

“I thought you liked country. Rainbow and all.” I winced to hear myself say the word, but it needed to get out there.

“I do, I do.”

Mary came forward for a hug. “So we all still okay?”

“We didn’t mean to traumatize you,” Aud said.

“I’m okay,” I said. “As long as you guys are.”

“Ha, you’re a half-homo now!” Nikki said. She punched a selection on the juke box. “We’ll have you fully converted by Sunday.”

I had to laugh. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Nikki shook her head. “Still in the closet! That’s okay. Sodom wasn’t built in a day.”

George Strait began crooning to “All My Exes Live in Texas.” Nikki grabbed Bradford’s hands and began two-stepping him around the Formica tables. I zinged with jealousy as they smoothly circled the Dairy Queen.

“We finally get a man, and Nikki snags him,” Mary said. “We didn’t want to horrify the natives by dancing together.”

Four old men drinking coffee sat in one corner, watching the couple.

“Personally, I would have given them a little show,” Aud said. “But Audrey’s not here.”

Nikki passed close by, still hanging on to Bradford. “We need to get out! Zest, what’s around here?”

“Don’t we have an early flight in a completely different city?”

“It’s not until eleven,” Nikki said. “I say we start the party tonight!”

Bradford stopped her mid twirl. “I say we get back home to rest up for the trip.”

Nikki completed the spin on her own. “I say you’re lame.”

Aud smacked Nikki on the head. “Speak for yourself.”

Nikki grabbed Bella with one arm and me with the other. “We hotties need some action. Let’s go find a place to kick up our heels.” She led us to the door.

Our ragtag group walked out into the night air, the cool draft heavenly after the stuffy Dairy Queen. We piled into Bradford’s little car, Bella sitting on Nikki’s lap. “We can’t go too far now,” Bella said. “I’m squishing Nikki’s nether regions.”

“Squish away, baby doll,” Nikki said.

Bradford pulled out of the lot. “Where to?”

Good Lord. We were in podunkville, beyond even the suburbs. “Head toward Fort Worth.”

I turned to the back seat, where the women smashed together like clowns in a Volkswagen. “What are you up for? Pub drinking? Rock dancing? Country swinging? Karaoke?”

“Maybe not karaoke,” Aud said.

“Right. True.” My face burned, remembering “I Kissed a Girl.” “What about a piano bar?”

“Ohhh, like the one on Sixth Street?” Mary leaned forward “That’s one of my favorite places.”

“It’s not quite as fancy as Pete’s, but it’s the same principle,” I said. “Two pianos. A lot of rowdy singing. It won’t be too crowded on a Thursday, I don’t think.”

“Let’s do it!” Nikki said.

“Just don’t volunteer to go on stage,” Mary said. “It’s embarrassing.”

Nikki stuck out her tongue. “I’m never embarrassing.”

***

The bar was more packed than I’d anticipated. Bradford paid for all of us, and we found a table near the back.

“Nobody puts Baby in a corner!” Nikki said.

“This is perfect,” Mary said, shoving Nikki toward a chair. “Let’s not get crazy the night before our wedding trip.”

Two men in cowboy hats played “Old Time Rock and Roll” on the dueling pianos built onto a raised stage. The crowd sang with them.

Bradford ordered a round of drinks, watching with amusement as Nikki, Mary, and Bella lustily shouted the tune. He knew everyone’s preference. When the waitress left, he sat back in this chair, arms crossed.

I leaned near to him. “You don’t sing?”

He shook his head. “Not in public.”

“Shower pop star?”

He finally cracked a smile, and I couldn’t help but feel happy. Of all the things to come out of the crappiest week of my life, he was the best part.

The piano players transitioned into “I Got Friends in Low Places,” and Nikki stood up to point to all of us as the chorus reached its peak. Several of the tables around us cheered their encouragement as she got up on her chair, shouting the words.

Aud covered her eyes. A bouncer began threading his way through the tables, and Bella pulled Nikki down from her chair. “Let’s not get kicked out on the second song, okay?”

I glanced at Bradford. He was looking over the bar with a serious expression. I followed his field of vision and realized what he was seeing. A whole lotta cowboys. And quite a few service men, actually, in uniform. Not the same crowd as Austin, whatsoever. I felt my anxiety ratchet up a notch.

The men at the piano ended the song. One began hammering a series of chords while the other stood in front with a microphone. “This is the part of the evening we tastefully call, ‘Show me the money.’” He grinned at the crowd. “We got an election coming up, and we figured, hey, this has got to be worth a few bucks.”

I glanced at Bradford, uneasy. He watched quietly, one elbow on the table, his chin resting on his hand. He hadn’t touched a drink himself.

“So here’s the thing,” the man called out, “We’re going to sing ‘Obama’s a jolly good fellow…’” He paused for a roomful of boos. “Now now. Put your money where your balls are. And we’ll keep playing it until you guys,” he paused to hold up an empty fish bowl, “fill up this jar.”

I shifted in my seat, stealing a look at the other women. Nikki, Bella, and Aud frowned in silence. Mary bounced in her seat, elated. Our McCain contingent.

The piano player settled in his position. “One, two, three, four, Obama’s a jolly good fellow, Obama’s a jolly good fellow, Obama’s a jolly good fellow! Who’s about to be president.”

The room echoed with boos. Men stepped forward to put money in the jar.

“Not enough! Let’s do it again!” And the song began anew. Mary pulled her purse out, but Aud stopped her. “Let’s just sit tight on this one.”

Each version of the song got increasingly obnoxious. The second piano player agitated the crowd. “What happened to the war on terror? Get scared?”

When the singer started acting silly, resembling a monkey in his actions, Nikki leapt from her chair. It took Mary, Bella, AND Aud to get her back down.

“This is a crock of shit. Racist fucks,” Nikki said.

“I don’t think they mean to appear racist,” Aud said. “Nobody’s that stupid. They’re just being asshats for money.”

“What, you girls not getting the spirit?” a man at the next table asked. “Lookee here, we got some Obaminations getting cranky!”

Bella grasped Nikki’s hand and held it close to her chest. The man tipped his hat back and wiped his forehead. “We got some lesbians in the house!”

Thankfully, the jar filled up, and the piano players switched to “Hail to the Chief.” The crowd began stomping their feet and clapping.

Nikki sullenly downed her rum and coke as the main piano player came out front again. “While we’re feeling patriotic, this next one goes out to all our service men and women who are risking their lives to keep us safe from our enemies at home and overseas.” He scanned the crowd. “I see some of you are out there. Let’s get you all up on stage.”

As men and women in fatigues, khaki uniforms, and desert camo threaded their way through the room, the pianos banged out the opening chords to “God Bless the USA.”

“Fuckin’ A,” Nikki said. “I don’t think we’re in Austin any more.”

“They do this at the bar in Austin,” Mary said. “It’s a standard thing for military.”

“I got nothing against military,” Nikki said. “My uncle was military.”

The song arrived at its big moment, and everyone held up beer bottles and glasses. The men at the pianos left their seats, playing while standing, and the crowd all leapt to their feet, shouting and cheering.

We remained in our corner, watching the spectacle, taking Bradford’s lead in not drawing any attention to ourselves.

“This is nuts,” Nikki said.

“It’s okay to be patriotic, you know,” Mary said irritably.

The man at the next table turned, then elbowed his neighbor. “The lesbos don’t think our men and women are good enough to stand up for.”

His girlfriend turned to gape at us. Her hair was overprocessed, blond, and big. Her jeans were too tight, and her belly squeezed out above it to fill out her tube top. “They like girls, really?”

Another woman at the table shushed them. “Leave them alone. Don’t be a goddamn homophobe.”

The man’s face bloomed red. “I’m not any goddamn homophobe! I’m just saying the queers ought to have some RESPECT for the people who serve our COUNTRY. I don’t give a shit if they’re queers.” As his voice rose, others turned to look.

Bradford instantly stood up. “Ladies, it’s time to go.”

We scooted awkwardly around the table, trying to push our way through the crowded room.

“You better stop,” another man said, blocking Bradford’s way. “It’s disrespectful to walk out on a song for our servicemen.”

Bradford nodded but pushed on through. Two more men stepped forward.

“Did you HEAR what our brother SAID?”

“We got ears,” Nikki retorted. “And you can get the fuck out of our way, blowhard.”

“Nikki…” Bella warned.

One of the cowboys glanced down at their joined hands, then stared Bradford up and down. “Are you one of those pretty boys who likes it up the ass?” He shoved Bradford in the chest. “Maybe if you were a real man, these ladies here wouldn’t be so hot for each other.”

“Oh, that’s real classy,” Nikki said. “Maybe if we let the cattle in, we could improve the average IQ of the place.”

“Oh jeez,” Aud said. “Let’s go. Now.”

The song had ended and the majority of the room was settling back in their seats. Nikki pushed forward, thrusting me and Bradford through the men.

One of them couldn’t resist one more shout during the lull between songs, “You take your cream-style cunts and butt-fuckers and get on outta here.”

We burst out the door.

“Did he really say ‘cream-style cunt?’” Nikki said, laughing now that we were outside. “Oh my, Zest, that was a highly entertaining evening. Next time you pick a place, I’m going WHEREVER you’re going.”

I was gulping air, I felt so panicked. How could that girl be so mad and then joke around, inside of three minutes?

“Get in the car, ladies,” Bradford said, his lips pressed together. “Before some of them decide to come out.”

He peeled through the parking lot, obviously angry.

I felt responsible. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“Of course it would be like that,” Nikki said. “What did all you expect? Left wingers? We’re deep in the heart of Texas! Where sodomy didn’t go without a fight. Home of the Southern Baptists!”

Bradford’s face was tense, his jaw tight. I wanted to touch him in some small way, but it didn’t feel appropriate. “I’m sorry they said those things to you.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “We’re fine.” He glanced into the back seat. “We have a long ride home to Austin. Let’s get Zest to her dad’s so we can head back.”

I’d managed to ruin another evening. My social klutzism was just too much to bear.

Nikki tapped my shoulder. “Zest, stop brooding. Nobody’s blaming you. We forget sometimes we’re not in the bubble that is Austin. It’s fine.”