My mother had looked at my father that way. He’d been the thief of her dreams, of her life. She’d loved us kids, but we all knew she’d longed for more. That road wasn’t one I was willing to travel.
“Okay,” she said finally, her voice small and dejected.
“Okay. Bye, Jess.”
It took her another moment and I knew she was covering the phone with her hand, possibly so I couldn’t hear her cry; but then she said in a rush, “Goodbye, Duane,” and hung up the phone.
I removed the cell from my ear and stared at the screen, at the number I’d saved earlier in the day, one I’d labeled as Jessica – Texas funeral.
I’d been an idiot.
Jessica wasn’t going to break my heart.
I was going to break hers.
CHAPTER 20
“Travel brings wisdom only to the wise. It renders the ignorant more ignorant than ever.”
― Joe Abercrombie, Last Argument of Kings
~Duane~
With the black cloud over my head, Beau and I arrived at the Pink Pony at 10:30 p.m. The lot was full, but that wasn’t unusual. This place was by far the best strip club in eastern Tennessee. I was no connoisseur, but Beau was, and I trusted his opinion.
The interior of the Pink Pony was mostly pink. The walls were pink, as were the carpet, tables, and chairs. The dancing platforms were a shiny black lacquer, and four white fiberglass carousel ponies decorated the stage. Girls would use the attached carousel poles in their act, and sometimes they would “ride” the ponies.
I knew the bouncer on duty from my days of picking up Tina after work. He waved us in and I immediately crossed to the bar. I didn’t notice any of it as we entered—the glitz, the tits, the girls, the patrons. Hank typically manned the bar on weeknights. We’d need his permission to go backstage and I wanted to get this over with.
As soon as he saw me he gave me a smile that was equal parts pleased and disappointed. He finished pouring two shots from a bottle with a black label then crossed to meet us.
“Aww, man. I was hoping to never see you here again.” He reached his hand out and shook mine over the bar, politely ignoring my foul mood, then turned to my brother. “Beau, are we still fishing on Sunday?”
“Yep. Butt crack of dawn,” Beau shouted over the noise, sliding onto one of the stools, and grinning at his old friend.
Hank was four years our senior. Growing up, he was only around for the summers; his parents shipped him off to boarding school during the year. Now he was living it up, a Harvard business school graduate turned local strip club owner, and a source of extreme embarrassment to his parents.
“Based on your phone call last week, I’m guessing you’re here to see Tina?” He sounded like he hoped his assumption was wrong.
“I’ll take some whiskey first.” I pulled a twenty out of my wallet and lifted my chin to the Jack Daniel's behind him.
I didn’t miss the way Hank glanced at Beau, as though asking for permission, before turning for the bottle on the wall and pouring three shots.
“One for each of us?” Beau leaned forward and passed me one of the small glasses.
“Nope.” Hank shook his head. “Duane here gets three shots and that’s it. I’m pouring them now so he won’t ask for more later. And they’re on the house.”
I wasn’t going to argue. If and when I wanted to get drunk it wouldn’t be at the Pink Pony right before talking to Tina Patterson about serious business.
“Thanks.” I passed one of the shots to Beau. “Here. I only want two.”
I picked up my shot and lifted it, but before I could down the amber liquid, Beau clinked his glass against mine and said, “To making new plans, better plans.”
I stared at my brother for a long moment and he held my glare. I appreciated the sentiment even though I was disposed to reject it in my present mood. I’d spent so long wishing for something that ultimately brought me misery.
No…I wouldn’t be making any more plans. Not for a while.
I finished my two shots in quick succession while Beau and Hank fell into an easy conversation about boats. I didn’t pay any attention. Instead, I used the time to scan the Pink Pony’s patrons. I didn’t see any Iron Order guys, but that wasn’t unusual. Rumor had it the Iron Order owned a stake in the G-Spot, a dirty little strip club down by The Dragon Biker Bar. Plus they had to behave at Hank’s club, he didn’t take their shit.
After scanning the crowd, I waited another five minutes for Beau and Hank to finish their conversation, but they were engrossed and I was too impatient to wait for a polite opening; thus, when the pleasant numbness of whiskey took its hold, I interrupted.