me help with some of the labor." He laughed. "You won't believe this, but I have
never enjoyed anything as much as I enjoyed working on the cabin."
"Deal," both Toni and Buddy said simultaneously.
Toni jumped into Buddy's outstretched arms, wrapping her legs around his waist,
and kissed his lips. "I told you he'd go for it." While Buddy continued to hold
her, she looked at Lance. "The stuff you bought last night is okay for snacks
and sandwiches," she said, "but I need to make a trip to Winston to stock up on
staples and real food."
"I'm sure you're right," Lance said as he pulled out his billfold. "We need to
set up some kind of household fund, but until we do, how much do you think you
need?"
"A hundred bucks should do it," she said as she pulled away from Buddy.
"I don?t have that much cash on me."
"I'm loaded," she said as she beamed at Buddy. "Buddy paid me this morning. You
can reimburse me later."
"Wiggle your butt, Ugly," Buddy said. "It's already two o'clock. You whupped me
at pool last night, but I'm gonna dance off both your shoes tonight. I want you
all cleaned up and ready to go by five o'clock."
Toni looked at Lance apologetically. "Buddy and I are going to a barbecue and
square-dance in Walnut Cove tonight. I'll fix your supper before I leave."
Lance coughed, stalling for time to think. "No need," he finally said. "I meant
to tell you. I have plans for tonight myself."
He spent the afternoon in his study, playing on the Internet. He used various
search engines, trying to locate a publisher for Toni's short stories. He found
dozens of sites, called e-zines, that publish short stories, but they either
paid authors little or nothing.
He was having a difficult time concentrating. He castigated himself repeatedly
for not realizing Toni and Buddy were lovers. The signs were all there. They
even have pet manes for each other, he reminded himself. I got her over her
hang-up and Buddy is reaping the benefit.
He looked up the number for Flint's Grocery, dialed and received a busy signal.
He waited a few minutes and tried again with the same result.
With images of Toni in Buddy's arms, he walked to the lake, intending to try out
one of the new rowboats, but changed his mind. He returned to the cabin just in
time to wave at Buddy as he towed away the RV.
He tried calling Flint's Grocery again and the line was still busy. "Tracy's
relief comes on at five," he mumbled to himself. "It's nearly four. I think I'll
pay her a personal visit."
Lance quickly showered and changed into a sport shirt and slacks and headed for
the Flint's Grocery. He slowed as he approached Hospital Road, but changed his
mind. "She's probably on the pill," he said to the empty Taurus. He tried to
visualize a romantic encounter with Tracy Flint, but it was Toni's face that
dominated his mind's eye.
Chapter Six
As Lance approached Flint's Grocery, something didn't seem quite right. There
was only one vehicle in the parking lot, an old van, and it was backed up to the
door, completely blocking it. Probably one of her suppliers, he thought as he
parked at the far right of the building, but he shouldn't be blocking the door
like that.
Still, the scene was suspicious. He slowly walked towards the door, eyeing the
unmarked van. The rear doors were wide open and Lance peeked inside. It was
loaded with cases of beer. He peered through the glass in the entrance door to
the store, but it was too dingy to see anything. He put his hand on the doorknob
but hesitated as he heard voices from within.
"What we gonna do with the woman?" a male voice asked.
"Bring her over here," a second voice said. "On your knees honey. Now!"
"Don't mess with her, Zeke. She done everything we told her. She give us the
money and loaded every beer she's got in the van fer us."
"I ain't gonna mess with her, man. Say yer prayers, honey. Bobby's gonna blow
yer pretty brains out."
"Please don't hurt me," Tracy pleaded.
"You ain't thinkin' straight, Zeke. You're too drunk. I ain't havin' nothin' to
do with no murder."
Lance felt his heart pounding as he crouched before the door and used his thumb
to clean a quarter sized spot on the bottom windowpane.
"Ain't got no choice, Bobby. She kin identify us. Many trips as she made loading
the beer on the van, she's probably got the tag number memorized."
Bobby stood facing the door, his left hand twisted in Tracy's hair as she knelt
before him, and his right hand holding a pistol. "Zeke, I ain't tradin' a couple
hundred bucks and a few beers for the 'lectric chair. We kin tie her up and put
her in the back room. We'll be long gone 'fore anyone finds her."
"You da one what's too drunk to think straight, Bobby. She seen the license
tag."
"I didn't," Tracy begged. "So help me, I didn't look at it. I swear to God I
won't report this. Just take the money. I won't tell."
"Waste her, Bobby. Go on. Do it."
Dad, Lance prayed, you made me play football in high school. Help me remember
how to make a flying tackle.
"I ain't gonna do it man."
"Gimmie the dang gun, chicken. I'll do it."
"No!" Bobby cried as he lifted the gun in the air, releasing Tracy's hair.
Zeke reached for the gun and, as the two men struggled, Tracy rolled away,
momentarily diverting their attention. The gun popped into the air, bounced on
the counter and fell behind it.
Lance bolted through the door and threw himself headlong into Zeke's back. The
force of the blow propelled Zeke into Bobby and the three men tumbled to the
floor as Tracy scrambled to her feet.
Bobby rolled to his back and, as he tried to get up, Tracy stomped her right
brogan directly between his legs. Bobby clutched his groin and howled in pain as
Zeke, now in a sitting position, launched a wild punch towards Lance who had
scrambled to his knees. The toe of Tracy's brogan broke Bobby's jaw and his body
went limp as a right uppercut from Lance caught Zeke under the chin. Zeke
screamed when his head bounced off the concrete floor. He rolled over and lay
motionless.
Panting, Lance looked up at Tracy. "You okay?"
She nodded.
"What do we do now?"
Tracy rushed behind the counter, tossed Lance a roll of duct tape, and dialed
911 as Lance bound the robbers.
The elderly farmer who ran the grocery store for Tracy at night was the first to
arrive, and a deputy sheriff was right behind him. Within minutes, other
deputies were on the scene and curiosity seekers began to file in.
Amid the flash of cameras, Lance told his story to three different
investigators. Tracy was on the other side of the store doing the same thing.
Onlookers volunteered to unload the stolen beer from the van and soon a tow
truck arrived and hauled off the vehicle.
An hour passed before the law enforcement officers departed, but the store was
now jammed with television crews, curious neighbors and well-wishers who
surrounded Tracy, expressing their sympathy and hoping for j
uicy details.
Lance slipped out the door, adrenaline still pumping, but at a lesser rate.
"Lance. Wait."
He turned and saw Tracy approaching.
"What can I say?" she said. "That was the bravest thing I've ever seen. You
saved my life." She wrapped her arms around his neck.
"You need to wash your windows, Tracy. If they were clean, people passing on the
road might have seen what was happening."
"First thing tomorrow," she promised. "Thank God you showed up when you did, but
why did you come today? You stocked up on groceries last night."
"I tried several times to call you, but your line was busy. I thought maybe
you'd like to do something tonight. I understand there is a dance in Walnut
Cove. I don't know how to square-dance, but I'm willing to learn."
She stepped back and smiled sheepishly. "I came on to you pretty strong last
night, didn't I."
"I was flattered," he said.
"You remember me telling you about the mechanic who used to work for my dad?"
He laughed. "How could I forget? You talked about him all night."
"He ? he called today. Well ? actually I called him. We talked a long time. He's
going to move in with me this weekend and reopen our garage."
Lance grinned. "I know that's what you wanted, but I thought he refused to work
for a woman."
She nodded and smiled. "He won't exactly be working for a woman. I'm going to
marry the bum and we'll run the place together."
Lance drove slowly back to Danbury and was trembling when he approached the
diner. Delayed reaction, he told himself. The parking lot was crowded and he did
not want to face the antagonism with which he was so familiar.
He felt weak as he entered the cabin and slumped, exhausted, in his recliner.
Using the remote control, he clicked on the big screen TV. Local news programs
were over, but he watched the NBC network news. His mind continuously replayed
the scene at Flint's Grocery. He knew both WXII-TV and WFMY-TV had film crews on
the scene and he resolved to watch the eleven o'clock local news.
Hunger pangs joined the other knots in his stomach and he went to the kitchen,
but when he sat at the table, looking at the two baloney sandwiches he made, his
mind rebelled. You deserve better than this, he told himself.
He checked his watch. Most of the diners will be gone by now, he decided, but
when he arrived at the Danbury Diner, the parking lot was still full. "Don't
these people ever go home?" he muttered.
He screwed up his courage and pushed open the diner door.
"There he is!" someone shouted.
Suddenly a crush of people surrounded him, hugging him, shaking both his hands,
and slapping him on the back. Everyone was talking at once. He didn't even know
most of the people.
Someone began singing "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow," and others quickly joined
in. One of the men from Buddy's crew was standing on a tabletop, waving his
hands as if he were directing a choir.
"Leave him be," Skinny demanded as he pushed through the crowd and wrapped his
arm around Lance. "Man must be starved."
"His dinner is on me," someone shouted.
Skinny led him to an empty table. "You like T-bones?" he asked.
Lance smiled and nodded. "How about fries, my special salad and homemade dinner
rolls to go with it?"
"Sounds great."
"Funny thing, Lance," Red Suspenders said. "I was in my storeroom this afternoon
and found a whole bunch of them red phones you wanted. You can trade in the
black one you bought."
"That's great," Lance replied. "I'll stop by in the morning. Now that I've moved
into the cabin I need a total of five."
"Tell us about it," someone pleaded.
Lance looked up and found he was completely surrounded by a sea of smiling
faces.
"Not much to tell. I blundered into a robbery in progress. The two guys were
drunk as skunks. Tracy took care of one while I took out the other. That's it."
"Ain't the way I heared it," another of Buddy's crew said. "I went down there
right after it happened. Heared about it on the scanner at the pool hall. Tracy
said they was about to kill her when you busted in and whupped tail."
"Tell us about it, Mr. Sayer," a frail white-haired woman pleaded.
Lance sighed and told the complete story as best he could. Skinny served the
meal just as he finished.
"Take away that Pepsi and give the man a beer," someone said.
Lance held up his hands as he smiled. "Really, folks. I'd rather have a Pepsi
tonight."
Three complete strangers occupied the remaining chairs at his table and the
surrounding crowd remained. Lance found himself doing more talking than eating.
He answered questions about the renovation at the cabin, the upcoming fishing
contest, his computer software business and the Christmas tree project.
As he finished a huge slab of chocolate cake, Red Suspenders pushed through the
crowd. "I went and got them red phones for you," he said. "I stacked 'em on the
front seat of your car."
"Thanks. I'll stop by and settle up with you tomorrow."
"No charge," the hardware store owner said as he hooked his thumbs under the
braces and popped them against his chest.
"Hey, folks," Skinny said as he approached carrying a cigar box. "I think the
pool is over and Lance is the winner." As the crowd applauded the decision,
Skinny placed the container on the table. "The money's yourn," Skinny said with
his imitation southern drawl, "but you can't have the box. Them things is hard
to come by."
Lance sat in the darkened ballroom, flipping back and forth between two
television stations. WXII-TV ran the story first and WFMY-TV soon followed.
WXII-TV said his name was Chance Saver. WFMY-TV got his name right but said he
was a customer in the store who sneaked up on the robbers. Both stations showed
video of the store, but they only interviewed Tracy on camera. She didn't
mention Lance.
She probably did mention me, he thought, but they edited it out. He held up the
remote control to click off the TV just as the anchor said, "There was a big
hoe-down in Walnut-Cove tonight. Stay tuned for the story after these messages."
Lance chuckled at the commercial for sanitary napkins and became thirsty as the
next commercial showed a man crawling over desert sand towards an oasis composed
of hundreds of cans of beer floating in a pond of ice. I wonder if they'll show
video of Buddy and Toni? he asked himself as the anchor introduced the piece.
They did. Toni's dancing image occupied the entire ninety second spot as a
narrator told the story. Why not? Lance reasoned. She's a beautiful woman. He
loved the white cowboy hat she wore, the shiny long-sleeved blue blouse that
ended just below her breasts, the extra short blue miniskirt that began just
below her navel and the white boots on her feet.
Lance nursed a beer as, propped up in his bed, he watched the Tonight Show. When
he snapped off the lights and settled between the sheets, he smiled as he
relived the scene at the Danbury Diner. The television stations may not see me
as a her
o, he thought, but the people who count do.
The smile disappeared when he heard Buddy's truck park in front of the cabin. He
listened for the sound of truck doors opening. After ten minutes, he could stand
it no longer. Leaving the bedroom lights off, he moved to the window. The porch
light he left on for Toni illuminated the truck, but tree branches obscured his
vision of the occupants.
Wonder what they're doing? he asked himself. He laughed sarcastically and said
aloud, "You have to ask?"
When Lance went to the kitchen for morning coffee, Toni, dressed in a
see-through nightgown, sat at the kitchen table, watching a television news
program.
She jumped up and hugged him. "Lance," she cried. "You're a hero. I'm so proud
of you."
"Didn't amount to much," he said as he pulled away from her. "It's no big deal."
She watched him pour a cup of coffee. "I think it's a big deal."
He shrugged his shoulders and leaned against the counter, sipping the steaming
liquid from his favorite red cup and forcing himself not to look at the luscious
body the thin material clearly revealed. "You have a good time last night?"
She nodded. "It was okay. The food was good."
He looked out the kitchen window. Two robins were fighting on the rail of the
deck. He chuckled when he realized what they were really doing. "I caught you on
the eleven o'clock news last night. I'd like to see you sometime in your dancing
clothes. You looked great on TV."
"Lance, is something wrong?"
"No, I just wish you'd do me a favor."
"Name it."
"Put a robe on when you're wearing that thin nightgown."
"I ? I'm sorry. I'm used to living alone. I just didn't think." She moved beside
him, took the mug from his hand and set it on the counter. She wrapped her arms
around his waist. "I thought you'd enjoy seeing me like this."
He did not push her away, but neither did he hold her. "It's bad enough
imagining you in Buddy Mabe's arms. It's pure torture seeing your sexy body, and
knowing that it belongs to Buddy."
She hugged him tighter. "I'll have you know my sexy body belongs to me, Lance
Sayer. Buddy and I have been friends practically from the day we were born, and
friends is all we are."
"Maybe, but you sure have me fooled. You go around hugging and kissing him all
the time, you call him 'Handsome,' you went out with him Thursday night and
again last night."
She refilled her cup, returned to the table and stood there with her back turned
to him.
Lance stole a glance. Her backside is just as gorgeous as the front, he
observed.
"I told you where we were going last night. Buddy and I have won first prize in
the square-dancing contest at the annual Walnut Cove Hoe-down for the last nine
years."
"According to the TV, you won again last night."
She nodded. "Thursday afternoon I kept an appointment with Doc Henderson about
my cramps. I ran into Buddy at the diner and we wound up shooting a few games of
pool."
"You sick?"
"You know about my cramps."
"Was the doctor able to help?"
"We'll find out the next cycle. He gave me a Depo-Provera injection."
"Never heard of it."
She laughed. "It's a birth control drug. The advantage over the pill is that
it's effective a week after receiving it, where you have to be on the pill for a
month. You need a shot every thirteen weeks instead of taking the pill every day
and the best part ? the reason Doc Henderson wanted me to try it ? is that for
some women it greatly reduces cramping."
"I hope it helps," he said as he refilled his mug.
"What do you want for breakfast?"
"I ate so much at the diner last night, I'm not hungry this morning." He headed
for the door.
"Lance, hug me just once."
He did not turn nor slow down. "I don't hug other men's women," he said. "You
and I are just friends, remember?"
She screamed after him. "I'm not Buddy Mabe's woman. Lance, sometimes you make
me so angry I could cuss."
They spent the morning working together in the study, but not speaking. Lance
was desperately trying to get back into the program enhancement interrupted two
months earlier. Toni was learning to use Microsoft Word by entering several of