Nancy Bartholomew - Your Cheatin Heart

"Maggie! Leave him be!" I realized then that Jimmy's unrequited love had not gone completely unnoticed. Jimmy was supremely embarrassed. He blushed even redder, pretended to choke, and looked down at his lap.

"Mrs. Spivey, he doesn't love her. That's my only beef with the whole deal."

Jimmy was carrying his coughing fit a little too far, bringing his hands up to his neck, jerking in his seat. Just like a Spivey to overact.

"It don't matter," Mrs. Spivey yelled. "He can't go around the rest of his life mooning after his brother's wife!"

Jimmy slipped to the floor, sliding under the table. Even for a Spivey, this was a bit much. His face was a dusky red, and his eyes had rolled back in his head. I didn't waste any time at all. I ducked down under the table, crawling my way over to the disabled Jimmy.

Above me, I heard Ma Spivey screaming. "You two get up from under there!" I don't what she thought I was doing, but the reality was enough for me to handle.

"Jimmy! Can you hear me?" His face was a mottled reddish blue. I bent my head close to his mouth. Not a sound. That's about when Roxanne reappeared from the ladies' room.

"What the hell's going on here?"

I had my fingers halfway down Jimmy's throat. I didn't feel anything, so I sealed my lips over his and blew. Roxanne bent down and peered under the table.

"Jimmy! Oh my God!" She was gone, standing upright and screaming at Ma Spivey. "They're making out under the table! At my wedding rehearsal!"

This brought the band to a standstill and the wedding party on the run. I felt them stampeding, the floor trembling beneath me as I struggled with the dead-weight Jimmy.

"Help me get him out!" I yelled, but the others were too busy listening to Roxanne to hear me. I flipped Jimmy on his stomach, knelt behind him and tried to pull him up. I formed my hands into a knot by his diaphragm and pulled as hard as I could.

Someone pushed me aside.

"Leave my wife alone! "Vernell yelled.

He grabbed Jimmy from my arms, attempting to haul him out from under the table, his arms wrapped around his brother's torso.

With a sudden jerk, Jimmy's body flew up. Vernell staggered backward under the weight of his brother, and a huge wad of steak went flying from Jimmy's mouth, past me and across the table into Mrs. Spivey's lap.

Jimmy gasped, his eyes fluttered, and he awoke just as Vernell's fist went flying toward his face.

Ma Spivey screamed "Stop!", but it was too late. Jimmy sank to the floor again and Vernell stared wide-eyed, from me to his mama.

"I heard it all!" Ma Spivey exclaimed. "Jimmy said she was killing him!"

Roxanne lunged toward me, but someone grabbed her, holding her back. Jimmy was coughing and writhing around on the floor, struggling to scramble to his feet.

"He was choking! Did y'all not see the hunk of steak?"

They ignored me, all yelling at once. Jimmy struggled to his feet, a dazed look on his face.

"What happened?" he asked.

The wedding party turned on him, all talking at once. It was a huge mess. Somehow, Jimmy persuaded a reluctant and suspicious Roxanne to believe that he had choked and we were not kissing. With Jimmy's testimony, Ma Spivey and the others were forced to accept that I had not tried to kill my brother-in-law, but you could see in their eyes that some doubt remained. Especially with Ma Spivey and Roxanne.

I looked back on that night, five years ago, and I could see how Marshall Weathers had gotten the wrong impression of me again. Out in the country we used to say, "If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck, and smells like a duck, it's probably a duck" But I wasn't a murderer, no matter what I smelled like.

" Are you coming inside or are you gonna sleep in the car?" Jack had snuck up on me, at least it felt that way. In all probability, I'd been lost in my memories. He leaned against the front fender, waiting for me to move.

"Go on ahead," I said, stirring. "I'll be in in a minute."

"You all right?" he asked, concern mirrored in his eyes.

"Finer than frog hair split down the middle." I didn't meet his gaze for long.

He shrugged and turned away. That was something I liked about him. If I said I was fine, then he let me be fine, no matter what evidence there was to the contrary. When I stepped out of the car, he was disappearing inside the club without a backward glance.

I'd reached the stairs, almost to the back door, when I heard the ping and saw a tiny flash of light. It took the second shot for my brain to register that someone was shooting at me.

I think I screamed. I know I ran for the door, grasping at the handle, ducking down, every nerve in my body painfully tingling with fear. I half fell in the back door, too scared to do more than run for the first person I saw. Cletus.

"Help me!" I yelled. My body was at war. Part of me was scared to death, the other part, numb with denial. Don't be silly! No one shot at you !

Cletus, for his part, responded like a bouncer, instantly and with a sense of authority, no rushing, just steady, solid presence. He stood next to me, muscles bulging, dressed all in black, his bald head gleaming in the club lights, a tiny earpiece and wire running down to a small box clipped to his waist. Cletus was on the job.

"What happened?" he asked, his eyes scanning behind me, running to the sides, looking for trouble. I pointed to the back door; by now the denial side of my body had won out. I was calm, even a little embarrassed.

"Out there," I said. "I think somebody shot at me." The band, unaware of my situation, saw me and went into my intro. I had to get back on the stage. A new thought entered my mind and blew away the denial. "What if the shooter came into the club? What if he was already in the club?"

Cletus spoke into his walkie-talkie. Across the room, I saw two of the security staff begin to move, one toward the back door and one out the front. The guy working the front door picked up the phone.

"Clete, what if he's in here?" I asked.

"He didn't come in here with a gun," Cletus answered calmly.

"How do you know?"

Cletus looked at me. "I know," he said. "You're all right."

I was facing a dilemma: Did I trust Cletus to really know the club? In the six months I'd worked here, nothing had ever happened. But someone had just tried to shoot me.

The band was coming up on my spot. I either ran up those stairs now or missed another intro and faced Sparks after the set. I ran. After all, it was my job and I needed iv I'd just have to trust that Cletus could do his job. I grabbed the mike and walked out onto center stage.

He was too hot to handle.

He said, "Baby don't touch."

I said, "I live for the moment,

I ain't asking for much."

You've never had trouble,

you never had style.

Well son, you're fixing to tumble

'cause I'm totally wild.

The Young Bucks were back on the dance floor. The night was coming to its hormonal peak. This was the last set, the last chance for the unattached to hook up before the bartenders announced last call and the houselights went up. Alcohol was having its desired effect on the crowd. Anyone who wanted to dance was out on the floor, with or without a partner.

Jack wandered up. "Why're the cops back?" he asked.

I looked out past the dance floor. Two uniformed officers stood talking to Cletus. He'd called the cops.

"Someone shot at me out in the parking lot, right after you went inside."

I looked behind the two officers, expecting to see Weathers. If he was there, he hadn't come inside.

Jack grabbed my arm. Sugar Bear was playing the last few measures of the song. The dancers whirled around the floor, oblivious to everything but their carefully timed steps and twirls. Jack and I were standing in the eye of the evening's storm.