Chapter 13

Not that the sheriff stayed behind. He walked along with us. Wendy was anxious ... fidgeting ... antsy. The beat from the Avocado was catchy and had Wendy’s hips rolling. The sheriff was definitely paying too close attention to the sack of cats in her slacks. Wendy does NOT wear jeans. Summa Cum Laude Law School graduates who passed the bar on the first try do not wear jeans ... or so she said.

It’s okay ... linen clings ... jeans mold ... no matter ... it’s all fine ass.

“Sheriff ... your wife is looking this way.”

“Shit ... who is that woman?” he asked.

“Wendy Austin...”

He gave me that look ... you know the one ... the one that says, “Don’t make me make you regret it.”

“Wendy Austin ... Attorney at Law,” I said.

“That is a lawyer?” He said, “I expected she’d be a centerfold.”

“Exactly my thinking ... until she foxed me into marrying her.”

That brought us BOTH to a standstill.

The Sheriff made a simple statement, “Does Karen know?”

“Yup ... what she said was, ‘Stay out of Colorado.’”

“Colorado?”

“Common law,” I said. Then I had to explain the circumstances. So ... we’re standing out in the pasture ... and I kept talking until he said, “I see. Stay out of Colorado.”

We turned to the Avocado ... outside the crowd was fancy dancing. Some of those hispanics can really dance ... and they were dancing with Wendy ... and the sheriff’s wife ... and both of them were having way too good a time.

What I meant by that ... they were big eyed smiling ... and the smile reached those eyes ... if you know what I mean.

A walking, talking invitation for further exploitation. Those Guatemalans are short ... but suave. It was the tall, handsome Mexicans that worried me the most.

And not the ones cutting in on Wendy. Nope ... there was a passable guitar player singing in Spanish and Karen was out on the floor getting polka lessons from a tall, brown eyed handsome man. And he was standing NEXT to her ... with his arms around her waist and whispering in her ear.

Oh, I know ... he was whispering which foot went where and when ... sure he was.

And somehow ... some way ... I was standing next to Karen ... I don’t know how ... I was talking to the sheriff a good fifty yards away ... and I was next to Karen saying, “Karen ... you know how to polka ... you’re German. Quit leading him on.”

And HE said, “You win, señorita.” He reached in his pocket and took out a Five and gave it to her.

She grinned, folded the bill and stuffed it in her cleavage. I couldn’t see a bra ... she wasn’t wearing one.

<What are you going to do about that?>

“Shit. I don’t know.”

The sheriff said, “Don’t know what?”

“What to do about Karen.”

“Stay out of Colorado ... and don’t tell me if you do what you want.”

“Why not?”

“You might be common law in Colorado ... but what you’re thinking is bigamy in Wyoming.”

“Fucked! I am so screwed.” I looked at the sheriff.

“I know. Fuck around and lose what you should have had,” he said. “The grass might be greener on the other side ... but it leaves a bitter taste.”

I looked at him.

“There was this girl,” he said. “I wasn’t ready. I’ll never forget her.”