Chapter 38

Roxie sat in a lawn chair in Cal’s back yard, watching him bent over and trying to light a fire in his charcoal grill. It was Saturday evening. They had considered going out for dinner, but since the late summer weather was so nice they decided to stay at Cal’s house and grill outside.

Cal had a small back yard, but with a nice lawn. Roxie thought it could use a flower garden to add some color. The driveway ran the entire length of one side of the property and ended in a garage detached from the house.

“Junior always poured a cup of gasoline on it and threw in a match,” she suggested.

“It gives the food an oily taste,” Cal answered. “Don’t worry, this will be a lot better and in the end the fire will be ready just as quick as it would be with gasoline.”

“Whatever you say, Cal.”

What did she care how soon the fire got going, anyway? The week had sped by fast—a new campaign development just about every day. Cal had been hard at it, and she had been, too. By five on Friday afternoon she had covered every inch of all three trailer parks. It was Saturday afternoon and time to relax in a tee shirt and cut-off shorts. She tossed her sandals aside when her feet touched the grass.

As it was, Cal had spent the better part of the Saturday at the office catching up on his legal work Roxie put in some time mowing her lawn and some other chores. They planned to mix some business with pleasure after dinner with a short visit to the Dew Drop Inn for a few drinks and some electioneering at the same time.

Smoke began oozing out of the grill and Cal stood up. He was about to say something to her but the phone inside the house rang and stopped him.

“I don’t know who that could be,” he said.

“Bring us something to drink when you come back out,” she called after him as he bounded to the back door of his house.

Roxie heard him answer the phone. She could tell by the way Cal was talking that it was George Lambe on the other end and they were talking about something to do with the campaign.

She knew that Cal would be on the phone for a while. She eyed her open pack of cigarettes on the small table beside her. She was trying to cut down. Cal was being really good about looking the other way when she decided to smoke one.

“Do I really want one right now, or not?” she asked herself.

She hadn’t smoked one since that morning and so she felt fresh and clean.

She decided that the cigarette could wait a little bit longer. The tension of the campaign had nearly all drained out of her. There would be a new edge honed onto her nerves by the time she returned to her Sunday morning shift at the diner. So it was important to let last week’s burden wear off.

“It’s his campaign, anyway. I shouldn’t even be worrying about it,” she thought. “Cal likes it this way. He’s never happy unless he’s under pressure about something. At least, I got him to put on a pair of jeans.”

But, she was finding that she did care about it, like it or not. She couldn’t stop thinking about how much it meant to Cal to win. And she anted up by promising to deliver the votes from the trailer parks. She was just waiting to be dealt her cards.

“Worrying about it won’t do a damn thing to solve it,” she decided.

She leaned back in her chair a little more and let out a big breath. Although it was September, the weather was still warm enough to be comfortable, even if the sun went down earlier each day. Soon, Cal would be off the phone and return with the steaks and the beers.

She closed her eyes and felt herself drift toward that dreamy state. She was almost there when she heard footsteps behind her. She couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes.

“Cal, did you remember to bring me a beer?” she asked.

She heard the footsteps come to a halt just behind her chair. Cal was probably setting her beer on the table next to her pack of cigarettes. She would have to wake up and drink it while it was still cold. Life was full of tough decisions.

“Who, may I ask, are you?” a shrill voice from behind her demanded.

Roxie shook her eyes open and swiveled around in her chair. She saw the woman standing with her hands on her hips about three feet away. Roxie sprang to her feet.

“I guess I’d like to know who the hell you are,” she fired back.

The woman was brunette, slender, nice looking. She was wearing a pair of shorts designed to prove that she had shapely legs and a sleeveless, gingham blouse with the ends tied in front of her so that the skin of her midriff was showing. She had left an extra button undone at the top.

“I asked you first,” she said to Roxie.

“Well, since I belong here and you don’t, you can answer first,” Roxie answered.

Roxie knew the identity of the woman standing too close to her. Cal had told her all about the crazy-lady, Patty Whateverhernamewas and described her to a tee. She let her eyeballs give her a once over from head to toe.

Roxie never blamed women who were pretty for how they looked. She couldn’t stand it when they knew it and went out of their way to make sure that she knew it, too.

“I was just looking for Cal,” the intruder said.

“Well, you found me instead,” Roxie snapped back. “What do you want?”

“It’s ... it’s about the campaign,” she stammered. “Would you just tell Cal that Patty is here? I’m his Campaign Assistant.”

“Hello Patty, what’s up,” came Cal’s voice from the house.

He was standing in the doorway as he said it. He opened the door and bounded out to where the two women were squaring off.

“Cal, honey, I just came over to talk about the campaign.”

“What about it?” Cal asked.

Roxie watched as Patty shifted her weight from side to side.

“Well, you know, just to see if there’s anything—just anything—I can do for you. You know, I told you to call on me if you need anything.”

“But I didn’t call you,” Cal said.

Patty put a broad smile across her face. Roxie had seen smiles like it before—like when certain patrons in the diner told her how much they enjoyed their meal and then stiffed her on her tip.

“Silly, I know that you’re too bashful to call me, so I decided to stop on over and see...”

“No, I’m not,” Cal interrupted.

The smile disappeared from Patty’s face, just like it did on those non-tipping customers when Roxie brought them the check.

“I can see you don’t need anything,” she sniffed, “you’re getting everything you need from her.”

Roxie felt the veins in her neck throbbing.

“What?” she shouted.

She took a step forward, but Cal stepped between them.

“Look, Patty,” he said, “the other day you created a problem in my office when I was gone. Delores told me all about it. Now this—what’s going on?”

Patty began to sob. She drew a tissue from her pocket and dabbed her eyes. Roxie had seen it all before. She stole a glance at Cal. She was sure the little debutante would just melt his heart away.

“I think you need to get control of yourself before you can continue to work on my campaign,” Cal said.

It was that stern voice that Roxie had heard Cal use a few times when he really meant business.

“You can’t work on the campaign if you’re going to be unstable, and I’m not going to ask others put up with this nonsense.”

“Damn, Cal is full of surprises,” Roxie thought.

“You’ll have to go now,” Cal said in a quiet voice. “I’m sorry it has to be that way, but there you have it.”

Patty stopped sobbing. She balled up her hands into fists and clenched her teeth.

“You’re kicking me out?’ she shouted. “Kicking me out? You’ll be sorry.”

She about-faced and marched out of Cal’s back yard and onto his driveway. She was on her way out to the street where her car was parked when she halted and pirouetted to face them once again. She raised her arm and pointed her finger at them.

“You’ll be sorry, and don’t forget it,” she screamed.

She spun around a final time and hurried to her car. In a few moments she was gone.

Roxie looked at Cal and he was looking down at the ground.

“I’m sorry, Cal. I should have been nicer to her. I didn’t want to make any trouble.”

Cal shook his head.

“If it wasn’t this time, it would have been some other,” he said. “I had no idea she was going to show up.”

“I know that,” Roxie answered. “She was making you choose between her and me.”

“She was successful in that,” Cal agreed. “I made my choice. She didn’t stand a chance.”

Roxie moved closer to Cal. She put her arm around his waist.

“So I saw,” she said.

She took her other hand and gave him a playful poke in the ribs.

“She’s a lot prettier than me.”

“No, she’s not,’ Cal said. “You’re better looking.”

She poked him in the ribs again, just a bit harder.

“I didn’t ask you if she is, I told you she is.”

Cal laughed and Roxie was glad.

“Maybe on the outside,” he conceded, “but not by much.”

He took her hand that was holding him at the waist and then bent over and kissed her on the forehead.

“She’ll be back, you know,’ Roxie warned him. “She’ll insist on the last word. She craves attention from you. She won’t give up until she gets it.”

“I have no doubt that you’re right. Delores said the same thing,” Cal said. “But it won’t be tonight, so let’s worry about it tomorrow. In the meantime, let’s get those steaks on the grill.”

“And then a couple of rounds at the Dew Drop?” Roxie asked.

“I guess so,” Cal said. “I almost forgot about that.”

“Then we’ll come back here, and I’ll make sure you’re getting everything you need.”

Cal opened the door for Roxie. She stepped in and Cal followed her and they were in the Dew Drop Inn. It was nine in the evening. In the dim light he could see that it was a nice crowd on hand. Most of the customers were on the older side and these were the folks who Cal wanted to meet and greet.

“Hi Cal,” Herb yelled out from behind the bar. “Usual?”

Cal nodded ‘yes’. In about a minute he had a beer in his hand and Roxie was sipping a gin and tonic. Herb tried to comp the drinks, but Cal insisted on paying.

Cal thought that Herb had yelled to him a bit louder than necessary to be heard above the crowd noise. He sensed it to be Herb’s way of announcing that ‘Cal the Candidate’ had come among them and they should all line up to shake hands with him. It was nice of Herb to do that but Cal hated it, although he knew that’s what he had to do.

It was an ample crowd, but not a packed house. That would come later—between ten and eleven. A rougher crowd would take over bit by bit. They were the ones who swarmed around the pool table in the back, playing for quarters while their girlfriends fetched drinks for them. Cal figured Junior to be among them.

“Cal, I don’t think I know anyone here,” he heard Roxie say to him.

She grasped his arm as they walked together across the room.

“I don’t, either,” Cal admitted, “except Herb and he’s too busy to visit with right now. I’m just not very good at this.”

“Well, we’ve got to work out something,” Roxie said.

There was a table about three paces away with two middle-aged couples, each with a beer in front of them. All of a sudden Cal felt Roxie peel away from him. She was shaking hands with one of the men at the table.

“Hi Mr. Grigsby,” Roxie said as she pumped his hand.

“I ... I think I know you from somewhere,” the man with the receding hairline said. “You’re...”

“Roxie—from the diner,” Roxie beamed.

“Ah, yes, Roxie! I haven’t seen you...”

“And this is my date, Cal Tucker,” she hastened to interrupt. “He’s a County Legislator—running for reelection!”