High Anxiety (16 page)

I explained the situation to the policemen.

“You’re trespassing,” one of the officers said to Brother Love. “The lady has asked you to leave. I suggest you pack up your things and clear out.”

“I can’t do that,” Brother Love said. “The Lord has sent me here on a mission. This jezebel woman must be saved.”

“How dare you call me a jezebel!” I shouted. I turned to the officers. “Do these look like the kind of pajamas a jezebel woman would wear?”

Both gave me a long, hard look.

“Just calm down, ma’am,” the other officer told me before turning his attention to Brother Love. “I’m only going to ask you once more to get off this lady’s property. If you refuse, I’ll have no choice but to arrest you.”

“I can’t leave a lost sheep,” the preacher said. “I’m a disciple of the Lord, and I must spread his word.”

“See, he’s nuts!” I said. “He and his whole church group are crazy religious fanatics.”

The officer handcuffed the minister while his partner spouted off his Miranda rights. Brother Love did not resist arrest as he was led to the police car.

Bitsy Stout had obviously gone inside for her camera; she was snapping pictures as fast as she could.

“You’re going to be sorry,” she yelled at me.

I was already sorry for having moved across the street from her.

 

 

Sunday arrived, and
I dreaded the anniversary party I was supposed to attend. I tried to think of a sudden illness I could come up with in order to get out of going. I even went so far as to search through my
Mayo Clinic Family Health Book
, but nothing short of a heart or lung transplant would have been acceptable in my mother’s eyes.

After cleaning the house and catching up on my laundry, not to mention running various errands—which included buying more frozen dinners—I dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt.

I drove to the VFW and waited for Jeff to arrive. He’d called to say he might be a few minutes late, and I did not want to enter the VFW alone.

I would not have noticed the white sedan parked on the far side of the parking lot if I had not been watching for Jeff’s car. Nor would I have thought anything of it had the driver not made a point to park along the very edge of the asphalt, facing the road, as though trying to maintain a safe distance. I told myself I was being paranoid; after all, the car was not unique. I probably passed a hundred white sedans each day on my way to the office, so that didn’t mean it was the one that had followed me the other night, with its bright lights glaring into my rearview mirror.

Still, the funny feeling in my stomach wouldn’t go away. A small voice told me I should check it out. I started my car, pulled from the parking slot, and turned in the direction of the white sedan. I didn’t get far before it screeched from the parking lot, turned onto the road, and sped off. It confirmed my suspicions that somebody was following me.

Jeff picked that moment to pull in.

He stopped beside my car and rolled down his window. “You’re not thinking of bailing, are you?” he asked, wearing a grin.

“I’m just looking for a good parking place in case I do decide to bail,” I said. “I think we should park our cars facing the road.”

He laughed. When he climbed from his car, I saw that he had chosen his outfit wisely—worn jeans and a checkered shirt.

I could hear my cousin, Lucien, and his band blasting their music even before Jeff and I reached the building. They called themselves the Dead Artists. They should have called themselves Pierced and Tattooed. They had more holes in their bodies than a pincushion. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I asked Jeff.

“It can’t be that bad.”

“Wanna bet?”

We opened the door and were almost knocked over by the loud music. Inside was an enormous, dimly lit, no-frills room with a bar lining one end of the room and battered tables and chairs scattered about.

Jeff put his mouth at my ear. “I almost never get invited to these high-class social events,” he said loudly.

“See what happens when you know the right people?” I said.

I found my aunt and uncle right away; they weren’t hard to miss, because they were the only ones dressed up. My uncle wore a tux, and my aunt Lou, who’d decided to become a redhead since I last saw her, wore her wedding dress.

Jeff followed me over. “Congratulations!” I said to them, trying to make myself heard over the music. I hugged them both. My aunt’s lipstick had bled into the lines surrounding her lips. “You look beautiful,” I said, noting there was more orange in her hair than red.

“Can you believe I was able to get into my wedding dress?” she said.

“That’s wonderful!”

“Yeah. Two weeks of laxatives and water pills,” she said. “I don’t have any liquids left in my body, and my intestines are completely empty.”

“Wow,” I said. “I would never have thought of doing that.”

Jeff just stared.

“Thank you for coming, Kate,” Uncle Bump said, leaning close so I could hear him. “It means a lot to have our friends and family celebrate with us.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world!” I introduced Jeff, who shook their hands and wished them well, although I was almost sure they couldn’t make out what he was saying. “Jeff is a veterinarian,” I said loudly.

“Have you ever worked with hogs?” Aunt Lou asked.

Jeff shook his head.

“I can tell you everything you need to know about hogs,” she said.

I leaned close to Jeff. “My aunt learned to castrate hogs at a very young age.”

Jeff nodded at her. “I’ll bet you were really good at it.”

“I held my own,” she said.

“I’ve seen her do it,” Uncle Bump shouted. “Once a man has seen something like that, he never forgets.”

“I need a stiff drink,” Jeff said.

I used sign language to let my aunt and uncle know we were going to the bar, sidestepping an assortment of people who looked like they’d once played on
Hee Haw
. Jeff and I ordered beer.

A man leaning against the bar beside us filled two shot glasses from a quart-sized Mason jar. “Have a shiner,” he said, shoving the drinks toward us.

“What’s in it?” Jeff asked.

“A little of this and a little of that.”

I shook my head. “Um, no, thank you.”

“Scaredy cat,” the man said, his eyes bright with merriment. He turned to Jeff. “How ’bout you, pawdner? Show the little lady what you’re made of.”

Jeff looked uncertain. “Well, I—”

“Just toss them back, real quick like.”

“You don’t have to drink that, Jeff,” I said. I barely got the words out of my mouth before Jeff put the first shot glass to his lips and chugged it back. The man handed him the second one, and Jeff did it again. I just stared. Two seconds later, his eyes rolled about, he wheezed, and fell to his knees. I gave a squeal and knelt beside him. “Are you okay?” I cried.

His face was as red as a stop sign. He choked and coughed. “Water,” he managed.

The grinning bartender had a glass waiting. I took it from him and handed it to Jeff, who drank it straight down. I glared at the man standing on the other side of Jeff. “What did you give him?” I demanded.

“Moonshine,” he said. “I made it myself.”

I picked up the empty shot glass and sniffed. “It smells like turpentine!”

“It haint gonna kill him. Just give him a good buzz.”

I helped Jeff to his feet. “I think it singed my esophagus,” he said, hanging on to the bar as though he weren’t sure he was going to be able to stand.

“Why did you drink it, you idiot?”

“I didn’t want to look like a sissy,” he whispered.

The music stopped, and my cousin hurried toward us. “Hey, Kate,” he said. “You look hot! If we weren’t related, I’d—”

“Never mind,” I interrupted, knowing Lucien wouldn’t let something like being blood relatives stand in the way of jumping my bones. The guy with the quart jar offered him a drink.

“I wouldn’t drink that,” Jeff managed with another wheeze.

Lucian ignored him and gulped it back. He gave a huge shudder. “Man, that’s good stuff!” he said as Jeff and I stared in disbelief. I didn’t know if Jeff was impressed that Lucien was able to drink the moonshine and still remain standing or if he was taken by surprise by the huge ring through Lucien’s nose.

“There’s more where that came from,” the man with the quart jar told Lucien.

“Cool band,” Jeff managed to say.

Lucien puffed with pride. “We write our own stuff. Hey, I gotta take a whiz before we start the next set.” He hurried away.

“Are you really related to him?” Jeff whispered. His eyes were glazed.

“Scary, huh?” I said.

“Kate!”

I turned at the sound of my mother’s voice and gave her my brightest smile. As usual, my aunt Trixie was close behind. They wore matching leopard-print overalls.

“It’s good to see you again,” my mother said to Jeff. “Thank you for joining us on this auspicious occasion.”

“I’m honored,” he said.

“Great party, Mom,” I told her. I knew she and my aunt had worked hard to put it together.

“Have you seen the hors d’oeuvres?” Aunt Trixie said. “Arnell made all your uncle’s favorites.”

“Really?” That meant the menu would include pickled eggs and Vienna sausage. “We’ll have to check it out.”

“Too bad Jay couldn’t be here,” my mother said.

I nodded. “I know he’ll be disappointed that he couldn’t make it.”

Aunt Trixie looked excited. “Guess what? We’re going to have square dancing later. One of Lou’s brothers is going to teach us.”

“Sounds like you two thought of everything.”

“Well, we’d best mingle with our guests,” my mother said. She pointed to the man with the moonshine. “If he offers you a drink, tell him thanks, but no thanks. That stuff will rot your gut.”

“Uh-oh,” Jeff said as they hurried away.

“Why don’t we find a place to sit?” I suggested. “Do you think you can walk?”

He looked uncertain. I linked my arm through his and led him to a table. He sat down. “I can’t feel my face,” he said, touching his cheeks.

I figured I’d better get some food in him. “You need to eat something. Will you be okay here by yourself for a few minutes?”

“Huh?”

“Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

I made my way to a long table piled high with fried food. The waiter stood on the other side slicing something. “What is that?” I asked.

“Spam. Would you like some?”

“No, thanks.” I filled a small paper plate with cheese cubes and crackers and returned to the table to find Jeff slumped in his chair. “Here,” I said, setting the food before him. “You’ll feel better once you get something in your stomach.”

He reached for a piece of cheese but missed his mouth. He dropped it, and it hit the floor. “Oops,” he said.

I retrieved the cheese and dropped it in an ashtray on the table. “I’ll help you,” I said. “Open your mouth.”

He did so, and I put a cheese cube on his tongue. “Do you think you can chew?” I pushed his jaw up so his mouth would close. He chewed.

“I shouldn’t have asked you to come with me,” I said. “We can leave as soon as you’re able to walk.”

“I don’t want to be a party pooper.”

I looked up and found Arnell headed our way carrying three bottles of beer. He was dressed in a red-sequined pantsuit and matching heels. His makeup was perfect, but he looked anxious.

“May I join you?” he asked, placing a beer each in front of Jeff and me. “I’m trying to shake off that guy in the white cowboy hat.”

“Have a seat,” I said, looking past him. I saw the cowboy staring.

“Is he looking this way?” Arnell whispered.

“Yup.”

“I hope he doesn’t try to join us.”

“Right now he seems to be worshipping you from afar.”

Arnell looked at Jeff. “You don’t look so good.”

“He accidentally drank some moonshine,” I said. I popped another piece of cheese in Jeff’s mouth. “Chew,” I said.

“I shouldn’t have worn this outfit,” Arnell said. “I’m sending out the wrong message. Do I look like a cheap slut?”

“No, you just, um, stand out a little.” The cowboy headed toward us. “Uh-oh, here he comes.”

The man reached our table. He swept off his hat and smiled at Arnell. “May I get you something to drink, little lady?”

Arnell shook his head. “No, thank you.”

“Mind if I sit down?” He motioned to the empty chair next to Arnell but didn’t wait to be invited. He turned the chair around, straddled it, and leaned his elbows on the back, his gaze fixed on Arnell all the while. “I’m Hoss,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Arnell. And I’m waiting for my date to arrive.”

“That’s a purty name. I like your outfit. Do you come here often?”

Arnell just looked at him. “If my boyfriend sees you sitting here when he comes through that door, he’s going to rip out your gizzard.”

“Might be worth it,” Hoss said, then turned to Jeff and me.

I made the introductions, and Hoss offered Jeff a meaty handshake.

“Are you related to Lou?” I asked.

Hoss nodded. “We’re cousins.”

“Are you a hog farmer?”

“Nope. I have my own trucking business. I don’t mind telling you, I make a good living.” He smiled at Arnell. “Folks’ll tell you I can be very generous.” The band started playing a slow number. “You wanna dance, honey?” he asked.

Arnell shook his head. “No, thank you.”

Hoss stood. “Aw, c’mon, just give me one little dance.” He took Arnell’s hand.

“I don’t know how to dance.”

“All you have to do is follow my lead.” He pulled a frantic-looking Arnell to his feet and led him to the dance floor.

“I’ve never met anyone named Hoss,” Jeff said, putting another piece of cheese in his mouth. His words were slurred.