Nancy Bartholomew - Stand By Your Man

While he spoke, the beer snuck up and whopped me between the eyes. I'd only had two, but they were king-sized cups, and on an empty stomach at that.

"All right," I said, "I'll wait. But if you take too long, and I sober up, I'm out of here." Then the beer took over and did the talking for me. "You know," I said, "I don't need you. And I don't even drive a van, so if you're looking for some backseat boogie queen, well, buddy, you'd better roll on."

Weathers raised his eyebrow, frowned for a second, and then laughed out loud.

"Backseat boogie queen?" he said. "That's good. No, honey, you're not the backseat boogie queen type."

I watched him turn around and walk away, still formulating my comeback. What did he mean I wasn't the backseat boogie queen type? I was just as wild as stupid Tracy. I had half a nerve to show him just how wild I was. Stupid men.

My drinking buddies were watching Weathers walk away, moon-eyed. The blonde took another swallow of beer, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and belched softly.

"You just don't see an ass like that every day."

"You got that right," I said. "Asses like that only come along once in a blue moon." Idiot.

The three of us watched him walk away, straight over to Bess King's table. I waited until he was deep in conversation and then reached for my little beaded purse. I pushed my chair back and got to my feet carefully. The beer buzz hummed around my head and left me feeling a little woozy.

"You're not leaving?" Nosmo's girlfriend asked.

I looked at my drinking buddies and smiled. "Like a silver bullet."

"But he told you to stay right there!" the blonde exclaimed.

"He can tell me all he likes, but I've got a mind of my own. I'm not sitting around waiting on some man to finish his business and come after me."

The dark-haired girl sighed. "I waited on Nosmo, and where did it get me?" The water faucet started up, and it was crying time again.

The blonde looked at me and rolled her eyes.

I couldn't help it. I truly was on my way out the door, but opportunity is not a lengthy visitor. I pulled a tissue from my purse, handed it to the dark-haired girl, and sank back down in my chair.

"You must've been very close to Nosmo," I said. And that was all it took.

"He loved me," the dark-haired girl said, sobbing. "She wouldn't let him go!"

The blonde's head dropped down into her hands.

"Yeah," I prompted. "She looks like the type to hang on, just like a rat terrier."

The dark-haired girl favored Bess with a malicious glare.

"Nosmo said she'd ruin him, take half of everything they owned! She's a money-hungry, greedy bitch, and there's not a person in town would disagree with that."

"Surely you don't think she really killed him, do you?"

"Aw, Pauline, let it go, honey," the blonde said.

Pauline drew herself up in her chair and stared at me, her eyes wide and raccoon-ringed with mascara.

"She did. I know she did. I don't know how she got away with it, but she killed him all right, even if she had to hire it out!"

"Pauline," the blonde sighed. "Look at her, she don't look like a killer. More'n likely, it was business."

Pauline grabbed her beer cup, knocked it over, and went for her friend's cup.

"All right then, Christine, then you tell me this. Why'd she have him followed? And when we got caught, why didn't she do anything about it? Huh? Answer me that! And a week later, he's dead." Her voice broke off in a hiccuping sob. "Oh, Nosmo!"

Christine rolled her eyes again. "It's always like this," she said. "When somebody dies young, everybody thinks it's a conspiracy. Well, this time it's just a plain old killin'. Nosmo had a lot of enemies, Pauline. You can't work for…" She broke off then and looked over at me.

I cut my head from side to side, then looked back at Christine. "It's okay," I said, "I know who he worked for."

"Well then," Christine said, "you understand. It was business."

I looked at Christine, checking out her tight black satin dress with the little rhinestones that ran around the low-cut neckline. She looked like the type to know. She looked like a gangster's girlfriend. Maybe she'd heard enough to know. Whatever she knew, she certainly wasn't going to tell me. She hadn't even told Pauline.

I pushed my chair back again and stood up. Weathers was still talking to Bess and her mother. Her mother was frowning and sitting up ramrod-straight, as if she didn't like what Marshall was saying.

I took one last look at the back of his head, allowed myself one last little thought about the way it felt to run my fingers through that hair, and then turned away. I smiled at my companions, winked, and walked right out the side door into the midafternoon air.

I was closing in on three o'clock in the afternoon. The sun had warmed the autumn air to a right tolerable temperature, and everywhere I looked brightly colored leaves were falling, swirling down around my feet as I walked slowly down Nosmo King's driveway.

All in all, it might've been a lovely afternoon, had I not had Vernell Spivey to deal with and Marshall Weathers on my tail. My feet wouldn't quite land where I aimed them, and it was taking a lot of my concentration to walk in a straight line toward my car. It's not as if I were drunk exactly, just a tad wobbly. My head was as clear as could be, my feet were my only problem, or so I thought.

I got right up to the car and saw no sign of Vernell.

"Vernell Spivey, if you've run off like the low-crawlin' snake that you are, I'll have your hide before sunset!"

The bushes off to the side of the driveway rustled, and out stepped my ex-husband, a red and gold leaf clinging to his phony gray beard. His wig was askew and his clothes were rumpled. It didn't take long to realize that while I'd been sweating it out with Weathers, Vernell Spivey had been peacefully napping, as if he didn't have a problem in the world.

Vernell let out a long, slow whistle. "Maggie, you're a picture. Why, just look at you. With that emerald dress and them green eyes, baby, I don't know why I…"

"Vernell, shut up. Sweet talkin' don't work on me. Now tell me what's going on and be quick about it. It's only a matter of time before that detective comes hunting me up, and I'd like to know the truth before I have to face him down again."

"You know," Vernell said, "you are just like your mama made over. I swear, honey."

"Vernell. The truth."

Vernell sighed and fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette, found none, and frowned. "Come on back here, then," he said. He took two steps toward me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me into the bushes.

"Vernell!" This was vintage Vernell behavior.

"Maggie, it ain't what you're thinking. I just don't want that police of yours to come waltzing down the lane and come up on me. We're just gonna sit on the other side of this bush and have us a heart to heart."

Vernell broke through the thick branches, pulling me with him, until we'd crossed through them. We came out in front of the bass pond.

"Now, see here, isn't this better?"

I took a look around and had to admit Vernell had found a tiny piece of heaven. The pond was still, autumn leaves from the hickories and maples that surrounded it were floating like tiny boats across the water. The ground was a thick cushion of reds and golds and the sun streamed through the break in the trees like waterfalls of bright light.

Vernell sat down and patted a spot right next to him. "Come here, Maggie. I'll tell you everything."

I sat down beside him. That was the trouble with Vernell. He was always going to tell me everything, but weeding out the truth from the way Vernell wished things to be took time and skill and years of living with a man who just wouldn't grow up.