Good Wood (11 page)

I’ll admit I was a little disappointed when Joe failed to show. I’d spent quite a bit of time getting gussied up just in case. I wore my long hair down for the first time in months and I’d even put on a dress. His handmade spice rack was unexpected. I hadn’t even realized he knew it was my birthday and certainly hadn’t expected anyone to give me a gift-let alone him. The carving he’d done on the rack was jaw dropping, and I really hoped to thank him properly. I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off of his present all day. Stacy demanded to know what was going on between the two of us and when I insisted there was nothing to know, even Dirty S. didn’t seem to believe me.

“Where’s Joe?” I asked Mason as we looked over our menus.

He shrugged. “Knowing that boy he’s likely already prowling on Dirty Sixth.”

Known locally as Dirty Sixth, East Sixth Street was a wildly popular entertainment district in Austin. The nine-block area was listed in the National Register of Historic Places. A bonafide tourist hotspot, as a kid I considered it the center of the universe. Dirty Sixth featured lots of bars with live music, tattoo parlors, and souvenir shops hocking ‘Keep Austin Weird’ t-shirts and ‘I’m from Texas-We don’t call 911’ beer koozies.

“Dirty Joe’s
very
at home on Dirty Sixth.” Mac agreed and though they both laughed, they didn’t seem particularly amused. Robin’s expression looked sad at the mention of Joe. Stacy was eyeing me knowingly, so I decided to wait and ask questions later when I could get Robin alone.

An hour after we arrived at Guero’s Taco Bar, I’d made peace with the fact that he wasn’t coming. I was having a great time anyhow, watching my family and friends get to know each other better. A couple of my high school friends turned up for dinner, but soon had to beg off to relieve their babysitters. Thankfully, my mother was watching Mason’s kids, so I got to just kick back and be myself. Mac was hitting on Stacy hard and fortunately (or unfortunately) she didn’t seem to mind. Even Charlie the Plumber showed up.

The mood was shifting from dining to partying once the twins got buzzed and that meant it was time to move out into the beer garden. Luckily, we had no trouble getting seated outdoors, because Mac and Stacy both insisted on chain-smoking. Our waitress was good, but she simply couldn’t bring the pitchers of beer and margaritas fast enough. Ganging up on me as always, Mac and Mason regaled the dinner party with stories of my misspent youth. Stacy eyed me with unveiled awe.

“Molly!” She exclaimed, licking rock salt off her finger in a manner that had Mac ogling her. “I had no idea you were such a bruiser!”

“That was a long, long time ago.” I replied, and then turned to the group at large. “I’ve totally mellowed with age, y’all.”

“Hey, Mac. Tell them about that time she got suspended.” Joe’s gruff voice sounded from directly behind me. I turned to see him blocking the path of our waitress. By the way she surveyed his ass, she sure didn’t seem to mind the view. I couldn’t blame her. He looked flawless, as always. He tossed his leather coat on the bench next to me casually straddling it so he was turned to face me and the rest of the gang. I couldn’t help envying that bench.

“Ha! Oh my god! I can’t believe I forgot about that.” Mason chortled like a fool. Mac choked on the cigarette smoke he’d been inhaling and Robin patted him on the back evidently on nurse’s instinct.

“Ok…don’t leave us hanging.” Sanchez demanded, but in his usual genteel way.

I wadded up my napkin and threw it playfully at Joe. He dodged it easily, a twinkle gleaming in his eye. Both the twins laughed for a good two minutes before Mac launched into the tale. “So lil’ sis’ had quite the
growth
spurt during the summer between eighth grade and freshman year, if you know what I mean.”

“Went from being completely flat chested to a C cup.” I offered for the women at the table who both nodded in understanding. Joe swiveled his head in my direction. I felt his eyes drop to my cleavage, and I quickly looked away.

“So this muscle-head corners her in the back of the pep bus at an away game.” Mac continued. He directed his story to Stacy, who was a rapt audience.

“He was a wrestler. Big-ass mother. Huge dude.” Mason murmured with a small laugh.

“Yeah, he was.” Mac proceeded seamlessly.

“So he just helps himself to a handful.” Mason blurts, topping off his glass. Stacy scoffed and I rolled my eyes.

“Yep. He just feels me up. It was like two giant crab claws pinching you. Douchebag.” I snatched up the pitcher and poured a glass for Joe. He took it, eyeing me thoughtfully. “I told him to leave me alone and he said ‘not until you give me a kiss.’”

“Ugh. What a pig.” Robin stirred her margarita with a perfectly French manicured hand. “This is
not
a funny story so far.”

“Not yet.” Mason cracked, his lips quivering with a smile.

“So what did you do?” Joe asked me. I looked at him over my shoulder. He was close enough that I could smell his spicy masculine scent. Remembering the last time we’d been that close made me bashful and I looked away. Naturally, Mac had no issue with telling the rest of the story.

“So she tells him ‘sure, big boy’ and when the dumbass moves in to stick his tongue down her throat, she drops him with a knee to the groin and a throat punch.” Mac slapped the table with his hand and guffawed.

“Right on.” Sanchez nods, a broad smile overtaking his face.

“Oh, that’s not all.” Mason tipped back his hat and threw his arm around Robin’s shoulder. “She hate-stomped his ass. When Mom and Dad went in to meet with the principal and superintendent, they had pictures of his face and Dad said you can see the imprint of her Doc Martens on his cheek.”

Everyone laughed and chattered at once, but I shook my head emphatically.

“He’s exaggerating. I did
not
hate stomp him.” I giggled, hiding my eyes. “I might have kicked him a couple of times when he was down…but that’s it.”

“Then how’d he get the boot print?” Joe asked, clearly amused by my flimsy version of events. I took my hand away from my face and glanced at him.

“Well?” He demanded seriously, glancing at my brothers. They both snickered like kids misbehaving in church.

“I tripped trying to climb over him out of the bus.” I confessed.

Sanchez and Charlie dissolved into fits of laughter, which set the twins off again. The girls just looked at me sympathetically. I turned to Joe, who sipped his drink with a poker face firmly in place.

“Thanks for bringing that up.” I said, shaking my head. He didn’t laugh or even smile, just seemed to study me quietly. I couldn’t decide what his complicated expression was about. Frowning, I turned back to my drink. There was no denying that he’d changed dramatically. I wasn’t sure what was different exactly. But it was like the playful spark in him was flickering, when it once had blazed like a wildfire.

Our waitress arrived with a tray of gooey looking double shots.

“Yay! Blow jobs! Whoo hoo!” Stacy jiggled as she hopped to her feet. “Come on, birthday girl.”

“You can’t be serious.” I muttered as Robin reached out and plucked her shot from the tray. Stacy took the remaining two and sat one in front of me.

“As a heart attack. Hands behind your back.”

“What the hell?” Sanchez turned to Mason.

“Blow jobs shots. Watch and learn, kid.”

Reluctantly, I climbed to my feet. I dutifully put my hands behind my back and Mac counted off to three. Robin, Stacy and I all bent down, wrapped our lips around the tall shot glasses, and flipped our heads back. I choked down the Coffee liquor, Bailey’s, and whipped cream with a bit of an effort.

“Holy shit.” Dirty S. blurted and Mason slapped him on the back heartily.

“Uck. That sweet shit makes me gag.” I wiped my lips with the back of my hand.

“That’s what she said.” Mac chimed in, wiggling his cigarette like a modern day Groucho Marx.

“Want another? I’m buyin’.” Charlie winked at me.

“I’m good.” I sat back down, realizing that Joe had moved a bit closer down the bench toward me. I glanced sideways at him and saw him lick his lips nervously. I picked up my beer to wash the syrupy taste away.

As story time continued, he kept invading my personal bubble. Once when I reached for the pitcher, he brushed his hand against mine, and his knee rested comfortably against my thigh. His nearness was driving me insane and buzzed like I was, I couldn’t decide whether to leave or jump him there in the middle of the restaurant.

Right as the band began tuning on the small stage, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and was surprised to see Francis standing behind me. He’d obviously gone somewhere to clean up and was wearing a new button up shirt. His normally disheveled hair was carefully combed to the side. He held out some wildflowers to me that he must have picked out of a nearby ditch himself. Thinking of the effort that he’d taken made my eyes sting.

“Francis! Aren’t you handsome?” I slipped my legs out of the booth practically climbing over Joe to stand and offer Francis a hug.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.” He replied, displaying a broad grin.

“I’m so glad you came!” I cried cheerfully, sliding my arm through his.

“Impressive! He can’t get himself to a job every day, but he can show up for free food.” Joe quipped, the smirk on his face far from friendly. I shot him a deadly glance. Francis just laughed it off, but I was livid. In a hurry to dispel an awkward situation, I guided Fran over to an empty spot next to Charlie and joined him at that end of the table.

I flagged down the waitress and asked her to bring Francis a menu. I was so angry I could feel the heat rising in my face and I couldn’t even look in Joe’s direction. I quietly asked the waitress to bring me a new glass. As I made small talk with Charlie and Francis, I tried to get my temper under control. Joe’s attitude regarding Fran had seriously offended me and seemed so out of character for the man I’d always thought he was.

He had always been the guy that all the girls loved: hardworking, funny, handsome, kind. The benchmark that I held all men to, which probably accounted for my unrealistic expectations and string of brief failed relationships.

The shift in his nature not only broke my heart, it crushed me. It may sound childish, but I grieved a little for the old Joe. The loss of my fantasy Joe was akin to watching your favorite horse break its leg. The Joe I used to know would never have disrespected anyone the way he’d just disrespected Francis.

As the night progressed, conversation became more challenging due to the volume of the band. It looked more and more like my brother was going to take my cashier home. Francis wandered away with Charlie to the bar and I saw Mason sit down by Joe.

“I wonder what ole’ Francis is going to do when they open that hotel.” Mason glanced over his shoulder as if checking that Francis was still out of earshot.

Joe looked down at his beer unhappily. “I don’t know. But Graham said we’re going to have to tear down that one-man tent city of his soon.”

Sanchez ditched out a few minutes later, probably because watching Mac with his hands all over Stacy’s ass was a little hard for him to stomach. Every time the band started a slow song, Charlie kept asking me if I wanted to dance, but I just shook my head.

Joe worked the crowd, chatting up every pretty girl in sight. Watching him in action was slowly killing my buzz and I had the distinct vibe that Charlie had a bit of a crush on me. I was going to have to shoot him down soon. Mason and Robin begged off, explaining that the kids had soccer in the morning. I was seriously considering sneaking off and calling a cab when Francis offered me his hand. I quizzically tilted my head at him.

“A woman as lovely as you should not be watching lesser women dance.” He proclaimed, and unable to resist his friendly eyes, I allowed him to pull me to standing.

“Watch my purse!” I called to Stacy taking one last sip of beer for courage.

As we approached the dance floor, the band launched into a cover of “Jackson”, the old Johnny Cash and June Carter tune. I’m no dancer, so watching Francis launch into expert two- step moves was both humbling and overwhelming. I shook my head wide-eyed and was about to walk away when I noticed Joe wandering in our direction. He was with some redhead in a Dallas Cowboys t-shirt who had her finger through his belt loop.

“Teach me!” I called over the music. Francis nodded and pulled me into a waltz like stance. Asking Francis to teach me wasn’t a tough call. Sitting by like a wallflower while Joe pawed all over some 19 year old on the dance floor would be an epic fail. It wasn’t happening.

Fortunately, Francis was a skilled and enthusiastic instructor. He led me like a pro, spinning me around and guiding me through several repetitive steps. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joe walk away from his admirer. I managed to avoid stomping on Fran’s feet but I could feel him watching us. Two other couples joined us and at one point during the song we traded partners with one of the other pairs. I nearly tripped dancing with the much taller cowboy who was probably one hell of a sex God circa 1987. The gathered crowd hooted and hollered, egging us on.

Thankfully, I’m a quick study at everything I do, and managed not to embarrass myself too badly. Silently, I congratulated myself of the decision to wear cowboy boots and not flip flops. The whole thing turned out to be a lot of fun. By the time we were done, I had a stitch in my side-more from laughing at myself than any sort of physical exertion.

Francis bowed to me theatrically and I gave him a huge hug. The band took a break and a Willy Nelson ballad blared out of the speakers. Francis hummed along as we danced.

“Where on earth did you learn to dance like that?” I asked. A momentary flicker of raw emotion cracked his veneer.

“I wasn’t always like this.” He replied, and the frank look in his eyes nearly made me cry. Then just like that, he plastered on his signature car salesman façade, “I don’t know about you, but I’m parched.” I forced a grin and hooked arms with him once more.

“We need a shot after that!” I decreed. I tugged him along, breezing by Joe and his ginger friend without so much as a sideways glance. Spotting Stacy and Mac at the bar with Charlie, I headed in their direction.