He leaned over, trying to look down my shirt. "Guy at the end of the bar bet me five bucks that I wouldn't have the guts to come over and ask you to dance."
Oh, joy.. Besides the fact that the jukebox was belting out some country schlock about "my man done did me wrong" that was about as danceable as quicksand, there was no dance floor in this joint. I wondered if he'd figured that out yet. "Uh, no. Thank you for asking."
"C'mon, shake a leg with oF Jinibo. I don't bite." He leered at me, and I leaned back to avoid the alcohol that exuded from his breath. I could have lit a match and watched the whole place go up in flames. "Leastways, not unless you want me to." He flicked the ribbons on my top and made a move toward the bow.
That did it. I slapped his hand. "Go away. Now."
Harlow stifled a snort. "I've got your back, babe," was all she said.
At that moment, good ol' Jimbo made an error in judgment. He reached out and clapped his meaty paw on my wrist. Big mistake.
"Take your hand off me while it's still attached to your arm," I said, my voice a low growl.
Jimbo yanked my chair around so I was facing him. "C'mon, woman. I want to dance."
The waitress was running in our direction with the manager in tow, but I was quicker. Jimbo hauled me out of the chair, and I let myself go limp. When he struggled for a better grip, I snapped my arm out of his grasp and belted him in the nose, then leaned over and head-butted him right in the gut. Like tall timber being felled, he teetered for a moment, then crashed into a.tray rack, sending the rack and its contents every which way. I blinked, realizing what I'd just done. Wow! I'd never been in a bar brawl before.
Jimbo rubbed his head, struggling to right himself through the patchwork of trays and napkins that covered the floor like a crazy quilt. "You bitch!"
"What the hell are you doing, Jimbo?" the manager bellowed. "Get your butt out of here. I told you before, leave the ladies alone." He yanked the big man to his feet while the waitress asked me if I was okay.
Jimbo managed to escape the man's grasp. His words slurred out of the side of his mouth. "Don't think you can get away with this! Throw me out, will you? You better watch yourself, Roberts. I know where you live!" He tripped over one of the chairs at the next table and fell again. After he righted himself, he turned to me. "This is all your fault, you witch!"
Incredulous, still in shock from what had just transpired, I started to hiccup and the next moment found myself howling like a moon-crazed wolf. I managed to get hold of myself and gave him a wide grin. "Kind of stupid to make a witch mad, now, isn't it? Maybe I should turn you into a toad? Oh wait, you already are one!"
"Don't laugh at me! I mean it! I'll show you who's stupid—"
The manager and his waiters managed to toss Jimbo out the door as we watched from our table. Harl shook her head. 'Too bad, what a waste. All that gorgeous black leather, too."
I stared at her. "You've got to be kidding. You talking about Jimbo?"
"Don't knock it," she said, grinning. "A lot of women go for the dangerous type, and he is kind of cute in a mean teddy bear way, but he's got the manners of a pig."
"Well, I'll agree with you there," I said as the manager returned. He practically groveled at my feet, begging me to believe that his diner was really a safe place to bring the family. I reassured him I wasn't going to sue. He promised that not only would our dinner be on the house, dessert included, but that I'd get a coupon for a free family dinner whenever I wanted to bring my kids in.
After he left, Alicia brought our order, along with an extra plate of breadsticks and complimentary refills of lemonade. She lowered her voice. "You be careful. That Jimbo's a strange one. Some of the waitresses have had trouble with him before; once he gets an idea in his brain, he can't seem to shake it loose."
"Which brain? The one in his head or the one in his pants?" I asked. Harl snorted a spoonful of broth through her nose, but Alicia shook her head.
"It might seem funny now," she said, "but I am telling you, the man is dangerous. He hasn't been right since ... oh, since his teen years. I'll have one of the waiters walk you to your car when you're ready to go."
"But it's still light out—"
"No matter. Better safe than sorry."
Great. Had I managed to make an enemy rather than just adventure into the land of surreal? "Who is he?"
She began arranging the trays on the rack again. "Some good ol' boy, lives in the woods out near Miner's Lake. I'm not sure who he works for, but he's not with any logging company that I know of. I think he does a bit of trapping and keeps bees; I seen him selling honey at the farmers' market. Things like that. Rumor has it that he hangs out with a group of bikers over in the Klickavail Valley."
Klickavail Valley. Nestled against the foothills of the
Cascades, the forested valley was reported to be the home base for a group of bikers, modern mountain men that had set up shanties on a wide expanse of land that one of their relatives owned. Every now and then, the paper noted some skirmish going on over there, but it was never major enough for the cops to go in and force everybody out.
Alicia finished picking up the napkins and tossed them in the garbage. "Anyway, Jimbo makes a lot of my girls here nervous. He's in all hours. We're a twenty-four-hour joint, ya know; the truckers need to eat all times of the day or night. Jimbo'11 come in late, two or three in the morning, to hustle pool in the back room." She made sure we had everything we needed and then left.
Harlow and I ate a subdued dinner and left early. We were both tired.
ANDREW WAS WAITING forme, an exuberant look righting up his face. His eyes shone as I wearily pushed my way through the front door. I gave him a halfhearted kiss and sank into the recliner, leaning back as I lifted my feet onto the footrest. Ah, luxury.