All Your Pretty Dreams (15 page)

Jonny managed to stay out
of most of the drama while up on the roof with his father. After a
hasty supper eaten over the sink he’d gone back up, making the most
of the twilight. Now it was after ten and his hair was wet from his
shower.

He stepped into the chatter
and gloom, pausing to looking around. Would Kiki be here? Was she
mad he hadn’t shown up yesterday? A large crowd, three deep at the
bar, crammed most of the open area. Lenny sat at his usual table,
the bachelor farmers, the college kids, and— was that Audri on the
bandstand? A guitar player sat on a stool next to an amplifier and
small speaker and began to play a blues song. Jonny felt a warm
familiarity cloak him— his hometown wasn’t half bad after all— as
he pushed his way toward the bar.

“
You brought in a band?”
Jonny nodded approvingly as Walter handed him a bottle of
beer.

“
Not me. But I’ll take
‘em.”

“
Hey!” Kiki Calhoun tapped
him on the shoulder, wearing in a white summer dress. “I thought
I’d scared you away.”

She led him to a table in a
corner where Frances sat fingering a Coke. Before they sat down
Kiki leaned close to whisper: “Things aren’t going well on her
parental project. I’m trying to cheer her up. Maybe find someone
here she can talk to.” She wiggled her eyebrows as if encouraging
him to be that person.

Jonny sat down and tried
to coax a few words out of Frances. She slumped in her chair, hair
hiding her face, a look that definitely said:
touch me and I’ll smack you
. He
wondered why she bothered. Audri was singing a gravely old song in
her rich alto voice. She nodded at him as she sang.

Lenny pulled up a chair. As
the band quit for a break he told Jonny he had raised five-hundred
dollars at the party last weekend and found seventy-five more
signatures for the petition to move the landfill. He thanked Jonny
again for playing.

“
So what’s going on with
the corn crib? You find one to remodel?”

Jonny shook his head,
draining his beer. “Been roofing with Ozzie. The whole damn roof at
last.”

Lenny stared from under his
bushy eyebrows. “Why aren’t you working on your own stuff? That
emergency house or whatever you called it.”

“
It’s just an idea. It’s
nothing.”

“
Ideas aren’t nothing.
They’re everything. Listen, I had this thought. You could call it
an idea, maybe.” He grinned. “Your corn crib— a way to promote Red
Vine. Our symbol. It, like,
shouts
Red Vine, Minnesota. Humble, farming, thrifty,
the recycling of old stuff. Plus it could be the mayor’s
office.
My
office.”

“
You serious?”

Kiki leaned forward,
flashing her smile. Jonny introduced her. “He’s running for mayor
of Red Vine.”

“
How ambitious. What are
you going to build for him, Jonny?”

Lenny grinned. “Tell her
what you’re going to build.”

Jonny tore at the label of
his bottle and sighed. “Okay. It’s a grain bin remodeled into a
cabin. Windows, doors, plumbing.” Jonny could see it in his mind,
the green door that symbolized farming, crops, the land. A tangled
red vine, snaking around the windows, painted on the metal siding.
“It’s just something we’re talking about.”

Kiki wanted to know what a
grain bin was, then asked all about his idea for the round metal
cottage. She and Lenny were way more excited about it than he was.
He hadn’t forgotten about it. The idea came back to him while he
was working on the roof or driving around town. There were more
pressing problems, like his parents’ marriage and the rest of his
life. Where would he get a grain bin anyway? How could he fix it up
without any money? He thought about his sketches, his rush of
enthusiasm. Both seemed childish now. He should just forget about
it and get on with his divorce and whatever came after. He got up
to get beers at the bar. When he got back Lenny was asking Frances
about her studies in physics. Quarks, she said. Sub-atomic
something-or-other.

It didn’t last long, like
most topics with Frances. Jonny passed her a beer and she grabbed
the bottle like she’d been scouring the desert for an
oasis.

“
Fanny,” Kiki said in a
warning voice.

“
I’m old enough. I’ll do
what I want.” Frances tipped back the beer and took a long
drink.

Kiki turned to Jonny.
“Lenny tells me you played with that singer.”

“
Audri, yeah. She’s
good.”

Frances downed her beer in
noisy gulps. The guitar player returned to his stool and picked up
his instrument. He was a white guy with curly black hair that fell
in his face like Frances. He began a solo set without
Audri.

“
Did you bring her back,
Thunder?” Jonny asked Lenny.

“
Audri? No. Walter, I
guess. Hey, the Queen Bee asked me about her the other day. Maybe
it was her.”

Frances belched loudly then
declared, “Her name is Monica.”

They looked at Frances for
a second, some of her hair tucked behind one rather large ear. Her
face had a soft sheen of sweat like her bottle. She took a long
swig from her beer. Frances’s cheeks were sunken and her eyebrows
grew thick as small shrubs but things could be improved, if she
cared enough. Jonny wondered why she was angry at her parents, why
she hid behind that hair.

“
No, her name is Audri.
With an ‘i,’” Lenny said. “She—“

“
Not her,” Frances said, a
little slurry. She clapped Kiki suddenly on the shoulder, making
her jump. “This one. Her name is Monica.” Frances was very loud.
The musician finished his song. People turned to listen.

“
That’s right, Fanny,”
Kiki said quietly. “My sister couldn’t say it. She called me
Kiki.”

“
My name is Frances. And
Frances wants another beer.”

“
Frances is a little
obsessed with the correct form of address,” Kiki said, pulling at
the empty bottle in Frances’s hand.

“
My name is Leonard. I’m
not crazy about it. You can call me Lenny.” He talked to her
carefully, as if she was four years old or about to
explode.

“
Or Thunder,” Jonny said.
“Or Mister Mayor.”

“
A beer, sir!
Monsieur
Walter!”
Frances called, waving her bottle. The college kids around the bar
stepped aside for the bartender to deliver a single PBR to their
table. “Thank you, sir. Very kind.” Frances actually
smiled.

“
I think you’ve had
enough.” Kiki reached for the new bottle, but not fast enough.
Frances cackled and took a swig.

“
How old are you,
Frances?” Jonny asked.

She held the bottle aloft
and cocked her head. “Twenty-two years, six months, and five
days.”

“
How many hours and
minutes?”

Her eyes crossed in the
effort. “Seven hours and—” She consulted a watch on a leather band
on her wrist. “Forty-three minutes. No, thirty-seven. Yes, seven
hours and thirty-seven minutes.”

She could still read time.
She wasn’t that drunk. Her second beer was empty. Jonny stood up to
get her chips or something. Frances was obviously a neophyte in the
drinking game. As he reached the bar one of the college girls
grabbed his arm.

“
Hey, Jonny.” It was a
blonde— well, one of them, smiling seductively. “It’s me.
Alison.”

Before he could answer
another blond, the short, chubbier one, stepped in front of him. “I
loved that party last weekend. The accordion rocks!”

He mumbled his thanks and
kept moving. Behind him he could hear Frances talking loudly. As he
waited for Walter to pour a Coke he looked down the bar. At the
end, away from the others, stood Isabel, back to the bar. Her head
bobbed to the beat of the guitar but turned his way for a second.
He nodded and she glanced back to the guitarist.

After delivering a Coke and
a packet of beer nuts, Jonny stepped back from Kiki’s table. He
wasn’t in the mood for the bar tonight. Tomorrow he would have to
help set up for the Rose Rave, run errands for his mother for all
the things she forgot, and there would be many, and run
interference between her and Ozzie. Kiki had her arm around
Frances’s shoulder, urging her to drink from the straw. But Frances
had started talking and now she wouldn’t stop. She rambled on about
the night she was born, the full moon that brought her bad luck
and, she claimed, a power akin to certain witches. Born under a bad
sign, she declared loudly. Kiki tried to calm her, to get her to
shut up, or at least talk about something else.

Frances jumped up. “I want
to dance. Let’s dance!”

Lenny took her outstretched
arm, leading her to the dance floor where she writhed spasmodically
for a few bars then collapsed, groaning, into a heap of arms and
legs. Kiki rushed over, they pulled her up, and the two girls left
the bar with arms draped over each other. After a moment of silence
conversations began again around the Owl.

Jonny stood next to Lenny,
watching them go. The door slammed behind them. Lenny nudged him.
“A little bit of Monica all night long…” he sang. “You sly dog. You
didn’t tell me about her.”

“
Kiki? I just met
her.”

“
That’s what I’m talking
about. You’re one fast mother.” Lenny looked up in time to receive
a friendly hug from Audri. “Imagine seeing you here again. Should I
take this as a compliment?”

“
Probably not,
mon ami
.” She wore a
low-cut white blouse of something stretchy, with fringe that swung
as she turned to Jonny. “No squeeze box tonight?”

“
Giving everybody a
break.”

She put her hands on her
hips. “Which one of you is going to buy me a drink?”

Lenny lurched toward the
bar to order her something, remembering halfway there to ask her
what she wanted. He disappeared into the college students. Audri
and Jonny talked about the guitarist, a friend of hers from St.
Paul. They were in a blues band called Monkey’s Uncle.

She only had time for a
couple sips before it was time for her to go back onstage. Lenny
sighed, watching her step back behind the microphone.

“
Forget about it, Thunder.
She and the drummer in Monkey’s Uncle are moving in together,”
Jonny said. “Hey, what about you and Frances?”

“
Christ on a crutch. Now,
seriously, what about the metal mayor’s office?”

“
You aren’t afraid of
being called the Tin Man?”

“
If I had a heart I would
be.” Lenny squared off, looking him in the eyes. “I’m serious, man.
When are you going to start? We don’t have forever. The election is
November fourth. But I won’t take office until
December.”

“
I don’t have a grain bin,
Len. I don’t know where I’d get one.”

“
That’s the
problem?”

“
Along with four or five
others. The first one is no money. Then, no time.”

“
Time you got. You just
have to quit working for your old man for free. Think, man. Outside
the squeeze box. Which old farmer will give you a grain
bin?”

They discussed which farms
around the county might be explored for derelict outbuildings.
Jonny humored him. What harm was there in talking about it? Nothing
seemed less likely to happen. They disagreed on the perfect spot
for it downtown. Lenny wanted it front and center, on the green
opposite the courthouse where everyone could watch its
transformation. Jonny wanted to work on it in secret if possible.
Inside a big barn would be ideal. It was academic. He didn’t have a
grain bin, didn’t have money to buy one, or the materials to finish
it off.

Jonny shook his head.
“You’ve got a campaign to run. You’ve got enough going on without a
harebrain idea like a metal office. And you’ve got to make your
moves on Frances before she leaves town.”

“
Ah. Double date with
Kiki? I might do that just to smell her again. Kiki, I mean. I’ll
take your word on the sniff test for Frances. But wait. I’d have to
teach her how to dance. And talk.”

“
And drink.”

“
And comb her
hair.”

They stood near the bar,
listening to Audri. Jonny finished his beer and said goodbye. As he
turned to the door someone touched his arm. Another over-sexed and
bored stupid college girl, he thought. They were relentless. It was
Isabel, holding a folded sheet of paper. Her short hair surprised
him, again. How it framed her face.

“
What’s this?”

She pushed it closer. “Just
take it.”

Passing notes? Which of the
girls was responsible for this? They were looking on, sly grins on
their faces. Alison tossed her hair. “Love notes for Jonny.
Mmmm.”

He checked that with
Isabel. She didn’t seem like the love note type but who knew? “Or
don’t. I don’t care.” But her arm was still out, note between her
fingers.

“
How about a message in a
bottle, Izzie,” a girl chirped. “I’d be glad to sacrifice one of
mine to the cause.”