This is the sixth chapter of a story that will run all week.
Terry Pratchett says “Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don’t find out til too late that he’s been playing with two queens all along.” Perhaps that’s a pessimistic view of Fate. Jolene would have said you were a damn liar if you told her anything other than the fact that the cards had been stacked against her from the day she was conceived. As far as anyone knew, she’d never even met Terry Pratchett.
After Little Emory was born Jolene was actually glad she lived in Fort Stockton, despite what folks said about her at the Piggly Wiggly and the Klip-N-Dye. Being a single mother put her in the class of folks people liked to talk about. They’d pray for her over at Second Baptist when the Women’s Bible Study Group got together. But that was really just a way for the facts to be shared under the guise of talking to God so they didn’t have to be whispered in the parking lot after the meeting broke up.
Jolene was glad she lived in Fort Stockton because, just like everyone knew her for who she was, she knew who everyone else for who they really were. She knew not to trust them any farther than she could throw them. She knew she didn’t have to worry about any of the boys she’d grown up with pushing her for something. She was damaged goods. A woman who’d never been married and had a child out of wedlock. The deck may have been stacked against her, but at least all the cards were on the table.
After several months of sharing her bed with Sam, giving Little Emory a taste of what life would be like with a father, and taking memorable camping trips all over Southwest Texas in Sam’s camper, Jolene thought for the first time that she was holding a winning hand.
“We been an item for six months now,” Sam said as he pulled the sheets down that were covering Jolene, revealing her breasts that were like small mounds of smooth melted white chocolate. “What do you say you call your mama and see if she could keep Little Emory tonight? We could go out to the Silver Slipper Supper Club to celebrate our anniversary with a good dinner. Then pop over to the Lucky Lady Lounge for a nightcap.”
Sam continued pulling the sheet down and caught a honey-like scent. In the beginning Jolene would have stopped him from revealing so much of herself in the morning daylight. That was a few months back.
“Then, after a few cocktails, we can come back here and pick up where we just left off.” Sam was letting the tips of his fingers take a journey south as if they were on Highway US 67 headed for Marfa at a leisurely pace. “But with the boy not being here, you won’t have to scream into the pillow.”
The coarseness of Sam’s talk made the peaks of Jolene’s ripe peaches stand at attention as she made her way out of bed, grabbed her robe, and made her way to the yellow wall phone hanging in the kitchen. “Mama? Can you do me and Little Emory a huge favor?”
That night at the Silver Slipper, Jolene felt like a high school girl going out to dinner before her first prom. Sam ordered appetizers, a dozen raw oysters, noting what the alleged side effects of them would be. “I’m countin’ on at least four or five of them working tonight. Maybe a few more in the morning, before you go pick-up the boy.”
Jolene blushed that such things would be referenced while eating at such a fancy restaurant. But the blushing did nothing to reduce the tingling of her lady parts, something Sam had learned how to influence with just his words and the tone in which he spoke them. She secretly hoped he’d suggest forgoing the nightcap at the Lucky Lady. She didn’t need the effects of alcohol to set the mood. The oysters and freshly starched jeans Sam wore were having all the influence in that area that was needed. But Sam enjoyed a few beers before the act. Secretly, Jolene thought he enjoyed showing her off a little, as well and she took pride in that. She’d never been shown off before. And a few beers made him much more expressive when they coupled, something she loved to hear.
In Sam’s Ford truck after dinner, Jolene made moves that she thought may induce him to head straight for her place rather than the local Fort Stockton watering hole. While the effects of her efforts were obvious, the result did not cause Sam to change directions. They were pulling into the parking lot 20 minutes later to what appeared to be a packed house.
Finding a spot in between a Falcon wagon and a 1959 Ford Sunliner, Sam eased his pickup into the spot like he was planning to ease something else in as soon as they got back to Jolene’s place. Jolene didn’t recognize the red and white convertible, but noted it was a fine looking automobile.
The car was finished in two-tone red and white. Exterior details included a replacement power-operated white soft top, which was tucked safely in the folded position behind the rear seat. A red top-boot covered the lowered top. A hood ornament, dual fender-mounted side mirrors, fender skirts, and a chrome grille, bumpers, window surrounds, and side moldings served as jewelry, adorning the low slung convertible.
The cabin housed bench seats upholstered in red, white, and black along with a color-coordinated dashboard, door panels, and carpeting. Amenities included front and rear passenger seat belts, an analog clock, an AM radio, and a heater. Jolene was never good with cars. She’d have never guessed that the Sunliner was a 1959 model, just like her own Chevrolet Bel Air. To her the Ford looked much newer, and was, of course, a whole lot nicer.
She did recognize the Falcon wagon and the sight of it made her not want to go into the Lucky Lady.
It was Dodd Friso’s derelict ride. Which meant that Dodd Frisco was inside. Which meant there was bound to be a confrontation, something Jolene would have chosen to avoid at nearly any cost. Glancing into the cabin of the Falcon, Jolene noted there was already a pile of empty beer cans on the passenger side floorboard. Dodd was drunk before he even went in, which was going to make him even more belligerent, if that was possible.
Sam opened the door for Jolene so she could go in first, always the gentleman. The place seemed to be at capacity. The jukebox was blaring Carrie Underwood singing Cowboy Casanova.
“He looks like a cool drink of water / But he’s candy-coated misery / He’s the devil in disguise / A snake with blue eyes.”
Jolene looked around and saw a lot of familiar faces. Dodd Friso wasn’t one of them, which she considered a win. Sam squeezed past her, grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him towards the bar. As luck would have it, Mason McCullough was sliding off a stool, obviously way past his limit. He offered his place at the bar to Jolene. She slid onto the stool like she had slid on top of Sam earlier that morning. Sam stood behind her and signaled an order to Hank on the other side of the bar. “Two Lone Star Longnecks. And keep ‘em coming.” he mouthed.
Should’ve Been a Cowboy came on the jukebox, creating the need for several of the more inebriated patrons to join in as though they had talent. “Go west young man, haven’t you been told? / California’s full of whiskey, women and gold.” Toby Keith sang.
Toby wasn’t loud enough to drown out the amateurs.
