Fraidy Hole: A Sheriff Lester P. Morrison Novel (12 page)

The day Jana arrived in Western Oklahoma, driving her late model Volkswagen Passat, and dropped her bag in the doorway of the ridiculously small and sparsely furnished apartment, Billy Ray knew from the look on her face that his marriage was in trouble.

Boise City was no San Antonio and as far as Jana was concerned, the Panhandle was the pits; jackrabbits and oil rigs, tumbleweeds and coyotes, red dirt and tornados. There was zero nightlife
—unless
you counted that hole-in-the wall bar on Main Street
—not
even a movie theater. The only decent restaurant closed up during the afternoon, (most folks in Boise City went home at night to eat) leaving the Sonic as the only option for fine dining. With Billy Ray out roaming around the county all day, the boredom was like a cancer, sucking the life out of her. She put in an application at the hospital, the only one within a hundred miles. The administrator was impressed with her education and experience but didn’t have the budget to hire her. And as for retail, as far as Jana was concerned, it sucked. Damned if she would forego her training to stock produce in the grocery store.
After
two long months that seemed like an eternity to the once vibrant young bride, she’d had enough and gave Billy Ray an ultimatum: “Come back to Texas with me or stay here…whatever, but I’m leaving.”

Billy Ray conceded to his mistake and kissed her goodbye, realizing the cold, hard fact that he cared more for his work than the blue-eyed girl he had fallen for during his time of depression and healing. He loved law enforcement, but with his disability, was afraid that no other police or sheriff’s department would hire him, least not without more than a high school education.
That was something he meant to look into, find some way to get a degree, maybe online.
But for now, here he was in Boise City, Oklahoma doing what he always wanted to do while Jana was back in San Antonio working at her previous job. The divorce proceedings were imminent.

He took the phone from the kitchen wall and dialed a number from memory.

After one ring, a deep raspy voice answered. “Hey Bro, you sorry piece of dog shit, what are you doing”

“I was hoping to talk to some poor excuse for humanity by the name of Jason Woods. With whom am I speaking?”

“Whom?
When did
you
get so goddamn literate?
Surely not from that hillbilly sheriff you work for.”

“I’ll have you know my employer is wise in the ways of the world, wise in what counts, while you my ignorant friend, still have difficulty distinguishing your anal orifice from a void in the earth.”

“Okay
,
Jerkface, you got me there.
Never did claim to be an intellectual like you. Hey, we going to the game or are you still running around town like some kind of Barney Fife?
I got a six pack in the fridge, or what’s left of it, to drink by Gawd now,
and
a flask of whiskey to sneak past the gate.
Get your young ass over here.”

Billy Ray smiled at the familiar BS from the man that had saved his life, almost as comforting as a hug from his soon to be ex-wife.
Not the same of course, but it was genuine feeling
passing
from one human being to another.

“I’ll be there as soon as I shower.
Go watch some porn on the Internet and think of me while you do it.”

“Good idea, but would you be offended if I substituted somebody like oh, Jennifer Lopez for my fantasy world instead of your ugly ass?

“I would, but I’ll get over it.
See you in a bit.”

Billy Ray
and Lester alternated weekends for being on duty and it was his turn to be off.
He was looking forward to a little lay back time, maybe watch
some
college football on the tube, or even better, see if Jason wanted to go dirt bike riding back in the hills. His
old
Honda 250
, one that he’d found in someone’s front lawn with a For Sale sign on it,
hadn’t been used in so long, the battery was probably dead.
Keeping the bike in storage like he did, he sometimes forgot that he even
owned
a motorcycle. He showered, dried off, sniffed the towel, and wished he hadn’t.
Blue jeans, Reeboks, and a pullover shirt with long sleeves to ward off the evening chill and he was ready to go.

Ten minutes later, and at the other end of town, Jason Woods sat in front of a garage on a cement block smoking a cigarette with a six-pack of bottled Coors between his feet.
“Where the hell you been?” he asked, getting to his feet. “You done dicked around too long
,
Bro.
Beer’s gone.”

“What’s that in your hand, diet Coke?”

“Well, there might be a slurp or two left.”

“Hand it over.”

Billy Ray upended the bottle while Jason grinned and watched his friend’s Adam’s apple bob up and down.

“Lied to me.
You had half a bottle there.”

“Didn’t want you drinkin’ and drivin’.
How would that look, a man with a star weaving all over the road, bringin
’
shame to himself and his community?
I’m just lookin’ out for your welfare that’s all.”

“Corporal Woods, it ought to be illegal for a man to be as full of shit as you are.
You need to go to the medics son, I do believe your body is running on half blood and half cow manure.”

Jason threw back his head and laughed so loud and long that his landl
ady
, Minnie Stapleton, came to the door to see what the ruckus was about. She took in the scene, shook her head, and went back inside to her chair and the TV.

“My man, I think you knows me,” Jason gasped.
“Hey, let’s go, let’s go.
We’re gonna miss the kickoff.”

The engine on the Camaro had barely come to life before Jason was into the glove box, flipping through the stack of CD’s.
By the end of
the
block, the windows were down and
Born to be Wild
by
Steppenwolf was blaring
from
the speakers
, turning
the
heads of anyone within fifty yards.
“Jesus Christ, Jason turn that down. You’ll get us arrested before we get to the damn stadium.”

“Oh no, no, no, that’s the beauty of hangin’ with you
,
little bro, I am immune to the law to-night.”
This was followed by another loud laugh and a sip from a silver flask from Jason’s back pocket.

“That’s what you think.
We’re in the
city
police bailiwick now.
Don’t believe for a minute that the boys in blue wouldn’t get an erection just thinking about giving the Sheriff’s Department a ticket.
Lester doesn’t exactly go out of his way to be congenial you know.
We share a dispatcher, but that’s about as far as anything you could call cooperation goes.
They got their turf and we got
ours.”

Jason acknowledged the warning by passing the whiskey to the driver.
Billy Ray refused the offer but couldn’t keep from grinning.

With the exception of a few seats near the goal lines and the end zones, the stadium was packed with fans.
The pom-pom girls, with their plastered-on smiles, shook their black and orange fists of color in a non-stop frenzy.
The girl cheerleaders bounced, kicked, and gyrated to the beat of the band while their male counterparts shouted encouragement for more noise through a couple of molded plastic megaphones.
The people filed in, searching for seats, stopping in the aisles while they looked for friends, creating a near grid-lock of bodies.
Several signs under the bleachers declared “NO LIQUOR”, but with the only symbol of enforcement being the lone rent-a-cop roaming the sidelines, suspicious bottles were being passed around with impunity.

Jason and Billy Ray found a spot on the top row on the home side, a long way from the field, but the crosslink fence that rimmed the seating area made a nice backrest.
Jason took another long hit off the flask and once again, offered it to his pal. Billy Ray did a quick look-see to both sides, didn’t see anyone he recognized, said hell with it, and took a sip.
He had to admit it, the whiskey warmed his tummy, and at this particular place and time, a little nip seemed like the right thing to do. What better way to spend a Friday night in Middle America?

It was a hard fought game but riddled with mistakes; fumbles, interceptions, and a lot of incomplete passes
,
especially by the Bobcats.
The quarterback, Boomer Kingston, was having an off night, bad timing with several balls that sailed over the heads of the receivers. Twice he fumbled the snap with no fault from the center.

The coaches were going half crazy, yelling at the boys for their mistakes.
Some of the fans were no better. One row below Jason, a skinny guy with a big goofy mustache and a polka-dot cap kept jumping to his feet and hollering to “get somebody in there that can catch the ball.”
After the third such rudeness, Jason grabbed the guy by the back of his collar and jerked him down to his seat.

“Hey Mofo, you’re gonna catch my fist if you keep blocking my view like that. Now sit down and behave.”

Whether it was the strong smell of whiskey on Jason’s breath or the menacing look, the skinny guy made the right decision, turned around, and stayed in his seat for the remainder of the game.
In the end, it was the
Bobcat
defense that saved the win, allowing only seven points
with
two interceptions
and a goal line fumble recovery
, while the offensive squad could muster only ten points on their own.
But it was a “W”, and that’s what counted as a happy crowd filed thru the exits.

“Home team struggled a little tonight,” Billy Ray commented, as they walked to the car.

“Passing game was off, that’s for sure,” Jason said.
“I noticed their star receiver, whatever his name is, little 81, wasn’t playing.
That didn’t help.”

Jason was lit up, feeling the whiskey.
He took off running through the parking lot, holding an imaginary football, dodging fans as if they were would-be tacklers, and at the end of the dash, hit the Heisman Trophy pose much to the amusement of two cheerleaders.

“Whooee.
Man that game was fun to watch.
Hey, let’s go to the bar, find some women, and take ‘em back to your place.”

“Dude, you gotta be dreamin
.
Did you forget where we are?
We’re in Boise City, Oklahoma man, where the sidewalks look like a ghost town by eight o’clock at night.
Only woman you’re gonna’ find in a bar around here is a sixty year old alcoholic grandma with half her teeth gone.”

Jason shook his head
in agreement
.
“Well, ain’t that the sorry fact.
Man, I gotta tell ya, I still don’t know why I let you talk me into moving out here
.
I don’t blame Jana for leaving you, bringing her out to this god-forsaken wasteland.
I should have went with her.
She was a fine lookin’ woman too.
I think she was sweet on me if you wanna know the truth.”

Billy Ray flipped him the finger
.
“Way I remember it is
you
called
me.
Seems you were having a little problem down there in Corpus Christie if I recall.
Or has that slipped your feeble mind? The fight you had with the Mexican? The one you almost killed? Ringing any bells yet? Surely you haven’t forgotten that the boy was a member of the Latin Disciples and you had that whole goddamn gang searching the city for your stupid butt, wanting to throw your bullet ridden body in the Gulf of Mexico for the crabs to nibble on.”

“Private Ledbetter, I wish you wouldn’t refer to your corporal as a stupid butt.”

“Corporal Woods, it is only because I can’t think of anything nicer at the moment.”

Jason took a moment to mull about it.
“Hmm, that’s fair I guess.
Now, take me to the bar damn it. And that’s an order. I’m gonna go find me a grandma that likes to parrr-ty.”

“Yes sir, Corporal Woods sir, and by the way, Jana thought you were a stupid butt too.

Billy Ray drove to what was optimistically called the downtown area and watched his friend as he pushed past the door on a beer joint called The Moonshiner Lounge leaving Jason to find his own amusement for the rest of the night.
Billy Ray had been inside the bar on a previous occasion. It was no bigger than a rich woman’s closet with only six barstools, one table with two chairs, and the obligatory pool table at one end.
In this town, if you wanted company with your booze, you had to drink where you could.
Yet, there was no doubt in Billy Ray’s mind that sometime between now and closing time, Jason would stir something up, one way or the other, good or bad.