that.”
“You’ve got sex on the brain.”
“And proud of it.” Laughing, Nora stood and slipped into a plaid shirt. She buttoned it only halfway up, and tucked it into her jeans. “If I were you,” she said, “I’d go for it.”
“I know you would.”
“You only go around once.”
“My life is not a beer commercial.”
With a laugh, Nora zipped her fly. “Let’s went, Queeksdraw.”
“Jacket?”
“And hide my considerable charms? Bite thy tongue, wench.”
They went outside. Abe and Jack were waiting in the Mustang. Leaning across the seat, Abe opened the door. Nora climbed in back with Jack.
“You look good in your dive habiliments,” Jack told her.
“I look better without ‘em.”
“Bet you do.”
Tyler slid onto the bucket seat and pulled her door shut.
“No funny stuff back there,” Abe said as he started the car.
“Far be it from us,” Nora said with a giggle.
“Are you sure you two are librarians?” he asked.
“Nora’s a librarian. I’m a media specialist. That’s their five-dollar term for a school librarian.”
“I’m a school librarian,” Nora protested.
“Don’t look like one,” Jack said.
“She’s college,” Tyler said. “I’m high school. They don’t fool around that much with projectors and…”
“Just when I’m horny,” Nora said.
Though there were no other cars in sight, Abe signaled his right-hand turn before swinging onto the road. The headlights bore pale tunnels into the darkness. “If this place turns out too sleazy,” he said, “we can always try somewhere else.”
“Let’s hear it for sleaze!” Nora called out. She and Jack clapped and whistled.
“Do we want to be seen with these two?” Abe asked, smiling at Tyler.
“I think we’re stuck with them.”
“He’s trying to pull the wool over Tyler’s eyes,” Jack whispered loudly. “Point of fact, Abe’s an animal. Tell you the time he pissed on Colonel Lockridge? Jesus jumping Christ.”
“Jack!”
“You…urinated on a colonel?” Tyler asked.
“Just on his legs. He had it coming.”
“Right in the fuckin’ officers’ club.”
“In the restroom?”
“Right in the fuckin’ officers’ club,” Jack repeated, louder. “After that, they called him ‘Whizzin’ Abe.’”
Abe, laughing softly, shook his head. “It was a long time ago. My manners have improved.”
“Two years ago.”
“You’re asking for it, Jack.”
“What did this Lockridge do?” Tyler asked.
“Changed his pants,” Jack answered.
“No, I mean…”
“He’d insulted a friend,” Abe explained.
“Remind me never to insult your friends.”
“You’ve nothing to fear.”
“Whizzin’ Abe is a gentleman with the ladies,” Jack said. “Usually. Though I do remember that time…”
“And here we are,” Abe said. “The Last Chance Bar.”
The sign, just ahead, lit up the darkness with red neon letters. An upper corner sported the outline of a tipping cocktail glass. “What do you want to bet,” Nora said, “the other side says First Chance Bar?”
As if to satisfy her curiosity, Abe drove past the sign before turning onto the gravel lot.
“It does, it does!” Nora blurted. Someone back there slapped someone’s bare skin.
The tires crunched over gravel as Abe drove along behind several parked cars. The building, a squat adobe box, had neon beer signs in both its front windows. Tyler heard muffled sounds of music from inside: Waylon Jennings singing “Luckenbach, Texas.” Abe pulled to a stop beside a pickup truck, and they climbed out.
He took Tyler’s hand. The music stopped as they entered the bar. Through the noise of voices and laughter came the jingle of a pinball machine, the clack of pool balls. The warm air was thick with swirling ribbons of smoke. As they made their way toward a table, Tyler saw a few heads turn to inspect them. One of the faces, ruddy and white-bearded, belonged to Captain Frank. He stared at her, one eye squinted almost shut.
“You’ve got sex on the brain.”
“And proud of it.” Laughing, Nora stood and slipped into a plaid shirt. She buttoned it only halfway up, and tucked it into her jeans. “If I were you,” she said, “I’d go for it.”
“I know you would.”
“You only go around once.”
“My life is not a beer commercial.”
With a laugh, Nora zipped her fly. “Let’s went, Queeksdraw.”
“Jacket?”
“And hide my considerable charms? Bite thy tongue, wench.”
They went outside. Abe and Jack were waiting in the Mustang. Leaning across the seat, Abe opened the door. Nora climbed in back with Jack.
“You look good in your dive habiliments,” Jack told her.
“I look better without ‘em.”
“Bet you do.”
Tyler slid onto the bucket seat and pulled her door shut.
“No funny stuff back there,” Abe said as he started the car.
“Far be it from us,” Nora said with a giggle.
“Are you sure you two are librarians?” he asked.
“Nora’s a librarian. I’m a media specialist. That’s their five-dollar term for a school librarian.”
“I’m a school librarian,” Nora protested.
“Don’t look like one,” Jack said.
“She’s college,” Tyler said. “I’m high school. They don’t fool around that much with projectors and…”
“Just when I’m horny,” Nora said.
Though there were no other cars in sight, Abe signaled his right-hand turn before swinging onto the road. The headlights bore pale tunnels into the darkness. “If this place turns out too sleazy,” he said, “we can always try somewhere else.”
“Let’s hear it for sleaze!” Nora called out. She and Jack clapped and whistled.
“Do we want to be seen with these two?” Abe asked, smiling at Tyler.
“I think we’re stuck with them.”
“He’s trying to pull the wool over Tyler’s eyes,” Jack whispered loudly. “Point of fact, Abe’s an animal. Tell you the time he pissed on Colonel Lockridge? Jesus jumping Christ.”
“Jack!”
“You…urinated on a colonel?” Tyler asked.
“Just on his legs. He had it coming.”
“Right in the fuckin’ officers’ club.”
“In the restroom?”
“Right in the fuckin’ officers’ club,” Jack repeated, louder. “After that, they called him ‘Whizzin’ Abe.’”
Abe, laughing softly, shook his head. “It was a long time ago. My manners have improved.”
“Two years ago.”
“You’re asking for it, Jack.”
“What did this Lockridge do?” Tyler asked.
“Changed his pants,” Jack answered.
“No, I mean…”
“He’d insulted a friend,” Abe explained.
“Remind me never to insult your friends.”
“You’ve nothing to fear.”
“Whizzin’ Abe is a gentleman with the ladies,” Jack said. “Usually. Though I do remember that time…”
“And here we are,” Abe said. “The Last Chance Bar.”
The sign, just ahead, lit up the darkness with red neon letters. An upper corner sported the outline of a tipping cocktail glass. “What do you want to bet,” Nora said, “the other side says First Chance Bar?”
As if to satisfy her curiosity, Abe drove past the sign before turning onto the gravel lot.
“It does, it does!” Nora blurted. Someone back there slapped someone’s bare skin.
The tires crunched over gravel as Abe drove along behind several parked cars. The building, a squat adobe box, had neon beer signs in both its front windows. Tyler heard muffled sounds of music from inside: Waylon Jennings singing “Luckenbach, Texas.” Abe pulled to a stop beside a pickup truck, and they climbed out.
He took Tyler’s hand. The music stopped as they entered the bar. Through the noise of voices and laughter came the jingle of a pinball machine, the clack of pool balls. The warm air was thick with swirling ribbons of smoke. As they made their way toward a table, Tyler saw a few heads turn to inspect them. One of the faces, ruddy and white-bearded, belonged to Captain Frank. He stared at her, one eye squinted almost shut.
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