Allie stepped to Janie’s other side, giving her a quick hug. “Way to go, tiger. You did what the rest of us wanted to do, and you did it with style. Want some gewürztraminer?”
Janie shook her head. “I’m designated driver. Why don’t you all just have several glasses in my place?”
Not for the first time, she wished she could be just a little irresponsible, at least for tonight.
The party broke up a half hour or so later. Sherice’s exit had put a bit of a damper on things, Janie reflected.
“So are you going to tell me what happened to send the Cotton Bowl Princess stomping out into the night?” Lee packed the remaining tapas into Styrofoam boxes, throwing in a little extra cilantro mayonnaise for good measure.
“Nope.” Janie had already decided she’d rather have her fingernails torn out than admit that she’d thrown Sherice out to protect Lee and Ken’s honor. Among other things, she figured they’d both find that hilarious.
“Ah well, at least Docia is smiling again. Or is that the result of the six bottles of wine you all consumed?”
Janie sighed. “They consumed. I had club soda, remember?”
She surveyed her three remaining guests. Docia was indeed smiling, although Janie wasn’t sure whether her smile was the result of Allie’s gifts or Sherice’s exit. Whichever—the smile was worth it.
“You think that bachelor party’s over yet?” Bethany raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen Horace drunk. I’d hate to miss it.”
“Well, if it’s not over yet, let’s crash it. They can’t keep us out of the Dew Drop, can they? It’s a public place.” Allie was grinning, not entirely as a result of the wine.
“You’re on.” Bethany hopped to her feet. “Come on Docia, don’t you want to see what they’re up to?”
Docia sighed. “
Down to
is probably more like it. By now they could all be under a table at the Dew Drop. I may need help getting Cal upright, although I’m not sure the four of us would be able to do it by ourselves.”
Lee handed Janie a bag of Styrofoam containers. “Here, sweetheart, lunch for tomorrow. Or you can share it with the drunks at the Dew Drop. Give ’em some of the wasabi dip if you want to sober them up!”
Outside the night air was like velvet, perfect late summer, with a slight breeze blowing down Main. Janie could hear the faint sounds of music from the patio stage at the Silver Spur, the hum of cicadas from the hidden front lawns, and the sharp bark of angry voices.
Several angry voices.
“What the hell?” Allie murmured.
A knot of men stood in front of the Dew Drop, yelling at each other. Actually, Janie realized, only one of them was yelling. The other voices were too low to hear.
The crowd shifted as the yelling man took a swing at someone else. Janie strained to see who it was, but the men kept moving around the two figures at the center.
And then she recognized the yelling voice—Otto.
“Oh, man,” Docia groaned as they approached the crowd, “what now?”
“…assault, goddamn it! He threw that goddamn thing at me on purpose! I want him in jail!”
Janie moved into the outer circle of the crowd, staring at Otto. The only time she’d ever seen him that upset was when Johnson City beat one of his teams in the state semifinals. He kept swinging his fists at somebody she couldn’t see until Cal grabbed hold of his arm and spun him around.
“Oh for god’s sake, Friedrich,” Cal snapped, “nobody’s arresting anybody. You really want to take Pete to court over jabbing you with a dart? You really think anybody’s going to take that seriously?”
“He did it on purpose, I tell you,” Otto snarled. “I don’t care if he’s your freakin’ brother. That’s assault.”
Cal blew out an exasperated breath. “Friedrich, just get over it. You go to court over this, and you’ll have everybody in town laughing at you. Is that what you want?”
Janie was close enough now to see the other man at the center of the circle. Pete Toleffson stood opposite Otto, long arms loose at his sides, his mouth curving into a faint grin. Janie suddenly knew exactly which Toleffson had thrown that dart.
“I’m going to whip your ass, Toleffson,” Otto yelled at Pete, moving toward him. “You smug son of a bitch.”
Cal shoved Otto back again. “Knock it off, Friedrich. If you don’t stop throwing punches, I’m going to call a cop to take you in so you can sleep it off.”
Horace, Wonder, and Lars lounged on a bench in front of the Dew Drop, watching Cal, Pete, Otto, and the crowd of interested Dew Drop customers who surrounded them.
Docia walked to the other side of the crowd and slid her arm around Cal’s waist. “My, this looks like a fun party. Didn’t they give you anything in the way of bachelor gifts?”
Cal glanced at her and smiled. “Just entertainment. Looks like the party’s over, though. Time for everybody to go home now.” He narrowed his eyes at Otto.
Otto grunted but stayed where he was.
“Good.” Docia nodded decisively. “Let’s get out of here, Doc. I need to show you my booty.”
Cal raised an eyebrow, grinning.
“I mean gifts,” Docia stammered. “I need to show you my gifts.”
Lars pushed himself up from his seat beside Horace. “Where’s Sherice?”
“She left early,” Docia said quickly.
Lars shrugged. “Probably walked back to the hotel. It’s not too far from here, right?”
“You want a ride back, bro? Maybe we can find her if she’s still walking.” Cal glanced back at Lars.
“Nah.” Lars shook his head. “Let her find her own way. I’m going to stumble back there myself. Too drunk to drive anyway.” He gave them a slightly vacant grin, then shambled up the street toward the Silver Spur.
Cal turned back to where Otto and Pete still faced each other in the middle of the street. “Come on, gents, get over it. Like I said, it’s time for everybody to go home.”
Allie helped Wonder to his feet. “Okay, Steve, you need to sleep it off. Tell me you don’t have a root canal scheduled tomorrow morning.”
“Nope.” Wonder leaned heavily on her shoulder. He looked a little the worse for wear. “Nothing until noon. See, I planned ahead. Of course—” he glanced back toward Pete and Otto, “—I never planned on it being this exciting. Maybe somebody will knock some teeth loose.”
“You can tell me all about it while you have your cocoa,” Allie crooned, nudging him up the street.
“Cocoa,” Wonder mumbled as they moved away, “you are kidding, right?”
Janie and Bethany sat on the bench with Horace. Bethany leaned her head against the wall. “You think this is gonna take much longer?”
“Depends on Friedrich’s stamina,” Horace rumbled. “Personally, I’m ready to go home.”
Bethany dropped her head on his shoulder. “Me too,” she murmured.
Janie watched them. Horace was in his late sixties and looked sort of like Wilford Brimley in
The Firm
. Bethany was probably pushing fifty, although Janie wasn’t sure which side she was pushing. Now they snuggled together like a couple of teenagers.
It gave a person hope.
Cal still had one hand on Otto’s beefy chest, holding him back from Pete. “Are we done here, Friedrich? You ready to go home now?”
Otto’s mouth was pursed in a thin line, his gaze fixed on Pete. “You son of a bitch. You did that for no reason. Just because you were losing.”
“I had a reason, Friedrich,” Pete snapped. “You shouldn’t go tossing Janie Dupree’s name around in a crowded bar.”
“Janie Dupree’s my girl, Toleffson. I’ll toss her name around if I feel like it.”
Janie leaned her head back against the wall, feeling utterly exhausted all of a sudden. “Oh for pity’s sake.”
She pushed herself up from the bench and stepped in front of Pete. “Go home, Pete,” she snapped. “You’re just making it worse.”
Behind her, she heard Otto snicker. She turned, pushing him back up the street in front of her. “Go home, Otto. Just go home. It’s over now. We can talk about it later.”
Otto squinted at her, as if he wasn’t sure exactly who she was. His close-cropped hair was slightly mussed, his eyes bloodshot. He flexed his large hands at his sides. “Janie?”
Janie thought of all the nights in Otto’s monster truck. His damp hands, his thrusting tongue. “Just go home now,” she repeated, giving him a slight push on his chest.
Otto caught her wrists, gazing down at her, his eyes suddenly dark. “Don’t want to.”
For a moment they stood staring at each other. Otto’s grip on her wrists was almost painful. Janie’s mouth slid into a grim line.
“Do it anyway.” She pulled her hands away from him, then stepped back. After a moment, Otto turned on his heel and stomped off down Main.
Janie stood for a moment longer, catching her breath. She hadn’t been afraid of him. Not really. She turned and looked back. The crowd in front of the Dew Drop had faded away. Horace and Bethany trudged off toward the clinic. Cal and Docia were already gone. Sighing, Janie started to head up Spicewood toward home. The sack of leftovers she’d grabbed from the bench banged against her leg as she walked. Oddly enough, she was suddenly hungry.
“Ladies shouldn’t walk alone at night, even in Konigsburg.” Pete Toleffson fell into step beside her.
Janie sighed again. “Is that a fact? Even if they’ve lived here all their lives? Even if they’re heading home?” She’d never felt less like being a gracious lady.
“So they tell me.” Pete nodded toward her sack. “Did you get presents too?”
“No.” Janie held it up. “It’s leftovers from the party.” The sack looked slightly crumpled. She must have been holding the top too tightly. Oh, well, the contents still probably tasted okay. “What about you. Did you get the burgers?”
Pete shrugged. “Everybody else did. I had an order of fries Wonder missed.”
Janie stared down at the sack in her hand. She really should be getting home. Where Mom would probably ask about Otto, if she was still up. Janie glanced up at Pete. “Want some tapas?”
“Yep.” Pete smiled at her. “I can even offer you a beer, now that I’m off duty. Nobody needed me to drive them anyway. They all had women to guide them home.”
“Yeah, well, those women weren’t in any better shape than they were.” Janie sighed one more time. “A beer would be great about now.”
Chapter Thirteen
Sherice realized her mistake before she’d gone fifty feet from Brenner’s—three-inch heels were not made for walking. But god it had been so great to wear them in front of those losers, to show them what a real woman looked like.
She had very little use for other women, for the most part. Most of them didn’t come close to her in looks, and they all resented her for it. She served on committees with lots of women like that. They kept her off the boards of the charities where she needed to be if she and Lars were going to move up in Des Moines society. Sometimes they managed to blackball her altogether when she tried to join.
The minority of women who did come close to her in looks were her competitors. Hanging around with them had never occurred to her. She’d never understood why women thought they needed to be friends with people who might cause them trouble in the end.
She managed to walk a block down Main before she turned onto a side street and pulled off her shoes. It wouldn’t do for anyone important to see her walking barefoot, but she figured nobody important would be living in these dinky little houses.
They reminded her a lot of Urbandale. Which didn’t mean they made her homesick. She’d already been thoroughly sick of home when she’d left.
Sherice tucked her shoes under her arm and began walking in the general direction of her motel. In reality, she wasn’t all that eager to get there. Lars would probably still be at the party for Cal, and then he’d probably be too drunk to do anything when he got back.
He’d been too drunk to do anything for most of the week. Not that Sherice particularly wanted him to do anything, but she did like to remind him of her importance every once in a while.
The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that this whole marriage thing wasn’t working out, but she hadn’t yet decided what to do about it. She’d wait until the wedding was over and then start making plans when she got back to Iowa—where there were some lawyers who weren’t related to Lars, and where she had a perfect bargaining chip in her eleven-month-old daughter. Caution also told her to hold off until she had a few prospects lined up before she jumped.
She turned down another dark street lined with houses. She was pretty sure it ran in the same direction as Main. If she followed it, she could cut up to the motel when the time came.
Sherice pushed the hair back from her forehead, feeling the dampness of sweat at the roots. Now she’d need to wash her hair again, and she hadn’t yet found a stylist in town that she’d trust to do a decent blow-out. She wasn’t sure how she was going to manage looking great at the wedding. No matter what she’d said to that Dupree woman, that dress wasn’t going to work for her. Too long, for one thing. Her legs were one of her best assets.
She was sweaty, her make-up was running, her hair was beginning to frizz, and her feet hurt. Goddamn Texas anyway! Sherice was one very unhappy woman.
And then she was a nervous one. A man stood under the street light just ahead of her. A very big man.
He was leaning against his truck, drinking a beer. He wasn’t aware of her yet, but he would be soon. Sherice studied his shoulders for a moment. They looked vaguely familiar.
Ah, yes, the barbeque. And then in the street afterward. She knew who the man was now. The guy with the abs. “Evening,” she called. “Got another one of those?”
Olive lay curled on the living room rug when Pete and Janie entered the apartment, but she got up and followed them as soon as Pete closed the door. He walked into the kitchen, trying to keep that light tone he’d managed to come up with in the street.
He didn’t know who he blamed more for the generally stupid situation he’d found himself in—Otto or himself. Before Janie had stepped up, Pete had been ready to punch Otto’s lights out just for the hell of it. And then she’d settled things, simply, politely, firmly.
Pete watched her lift Styrofoam containers out of her paper sack and place them on the kitchen table, giving a great imitation of someone who wasn’t thoroughly pissed.