Wendy Chapter 4: The Double Crown

Cowboys and cars

CHAPTER FOUR: The Double Crown

 

The idea that Eric might say hello before clocking on, as he did yesterday, gave me a happy rush. At 2:30, having finished most of my rooms, I retrieved my vacuum from the supply closet. Then I noticed a man at the end of the hallway. He had on a ten gallon cowboy hat and cowboy boots, making him look remarkably tall. He seemed to be singing as he weaved his way down the corridor.

 

We got drunks occasionally. If they quietly go to their rooms, we don't take much notice of them. The last time we had had trouble, some twenty-something girls in town for a wedding wanted to sit by the pool in lingerie with a bottle of champagne apiece. That happened on second shift, so at first it fell to Eric to cope with the situation. The girls were uncooperative, so he radioed security to herd them back to their rooms.

 

As I watched, the cowboy stumbled into a wall, slid along it to a room two doors down and tried his magnetic swipe card. I could make out the lyrics now.

“Cause I got friends...” he sang, then stopped while he rattled the door handle. He began again “I got friends in low places...” He was getting louder.

 

Unlike housemen, we housekeepers didn't have radios. He began hammering on the door, calling out incoherently. I was normally barricaded in my vacant rooms by my huge housekeeping cart, but I had been vacuuming the corridor, no cart to hide behind. And my skeleton key was on the cart. I couldn't open a nearby room and use the phone to call security.

 

I started backing down the corridor, but before I put any distance between us, he looked in my direction and squinted.

 

“Hey there, darlin'. I can't get this here door open for my life. Do you figure you could help out an old man like me?” Where the hell was he from with that accent? Surely people didn't really talk like that? He stumbled closer.

 

I reined in my curiosity about his speech. Torn between amusement and concern for my safety, I tried my best professional voice and said, “I’m sorry, sir. You have to go to the front desk if you’re locked out.”

 

He slid further along the wall towards me, pushed himself upright, towering over me. He had to be six and a half feet tall without his high heeled boots, plus the hat... This close, I saw he had a flask out. I couldn't believe this guy was for real ... a hip flask?

 

He staggered a few steps forward, then slung his arm around my shoulders, leaning on me hard.

 

“You want a sip, little lady?” He proffered the flask with an unsteady hand. I could smell the whiskey on him, and some kind of sweet tobacco. “Let's have us a party!”

 

“No, thank you, sir, I can't. I've got work to do.” At that moment, I saw Eric open the fire stairwell door. Thank God. I signaled him. He got his radio out.

 

“Shee-oot. That ain't no fun. Stick with me, Harlan Junior, I'll show you a good time. You ever seen a double-necked guitar? Got one right here in my room.”

 

He was bending over, breathing on me, but I didn't think this was on purpose. He could barely stand.

 

“Just like King of the Strings, Joe Maphis. You know Joe Maphis?” He looked down at me with blood-shot eyes in a leathery face. “Naw, you're too young. He was a legend, let me tell you.”

 

Just then a woman opened the room door. This was like some kind of dream. She looked like Dolly Parton, if Dolly Parton had fallen on hard luck and had become a street walker. Her tight denim skirt rode far above her knees and the plunging neckline of her ruffled peasant shirt left little to the imagination.

 

“Oh, you brought Junior back? Now that's a blessing.” She peered down the hallway just as I did. Eric was approaching. “Here comes security.”

 

She pulled a fifty dollar bill from her bosom and slipped it to me. My God, there were women who actually kept money in their cleavage?

 

“Here we go, Junior, stop hanging onto the lady.” She pulled his arm over her shoulder, encouraging him to lean on her instead. To me, she said “Let's just forget this happened, okay sweetie?”

 

I ducked out from underneath Junior's arm and nodded. When Eric reached me, I realized I was still holding the fifty dollar bill. We both looked at the closed door.

 

“Was that a cowboy?” Eric asked incredulously. “Are you okay? What just happened?”

 

Laughter pushed out of me on an unsteady breath. “I'm okay. And that was Junior, Harlan Junior. He wanted to show me his double-necked guitar.” I was still amazed. “And his girlfriend gave me this.” I held up the fifty.

 

“Fifty dollars? You scored!”

 

“Call security, tell them it's okay. He was just drunk.” I'd dealt with worse from mom's boyfriends. Bruce made Harlan Junior seem like Prince Charming.

 

Eric radioed down and called off security. He asked, “What’ll you do with that fifty? Paint the town red?”

 

“Maybe I’ll get a cowboy hat and a hip flask and bother housekeepers.”

 

“Or housemen?” Eric asked. His look of feigned hope made me laugh.

 

“No, only housekeepers. Housemen don’t rate the special cowboy treatment.”

 

“So you won’t slip me a fifty? I promise I wouldn’t call security if you leaned on me.”

 

“Nope, nothing for you, you shiftless layabout.”

 

He put his arm around me and begged, “Please?”

 

I felt a thrill of excitement. I was so close to him I could smell his warm, woody scent.

 

I shook my head. “No, you men don’t deserve it.”

 

His radio crackled. “I’ve got to go,” He gave my shoulder a squeeze and dropped his arm. “You’re a hard-hearted woman.”

 

I watched him stride down the hallway. He could lean on me any time.

 

***

 

When I finished my rooms and clocked out, Patricia called me over.

 

“Wendy,” she said with a smile, “one of the guests left something for you at the front desk.”

 

Curious, I walked to the lobby across the smooth expanse of carpeting. Peter smiled too, looking as pleased as Patricia. He handed me an envelope and said “Harlan Junior’s girlfriend left that for you.”

 

Inside I found a pair of tickets for his performance the next night. I'd never been to a live music performance. This one was at a night club I'd driven past, the Double Crown. I laughed. I was about as likely to use those tickets as I was to go to one of Pam's pop concerts.

 

Thinking he would enjoy my Harlan Junior story, I called Uncle Philip when I got home. I was right.

 

“Honey, you need a stick to beat them men away. Who are you going to take with you to the show?”

 

“You can't be serious. A country music concert? At the Double Crown?” The idea of going to a night club with a neon sign bigger than the club itself was ludicrous.

 

“You need some fun in your life. You should take tall dark and handsome with you.”

 

“Eric? Oh, no, I couldn't ask him.” Heat started creeping up my face.

 

“And why not? Sweetheart, one thing I know about is men, and that man likes you.”

 

Uncle Philip spoke so confidently that I began taking the idea seriously.

 

“You think so? And I should ask him?  But what would I wear?”

 

“You came to the right place for advice. When is this concert?”

 

“Tomorrow night.”

 

He insisted on meeting me at the mall immediately for an “emergency fashion consultation.”  When I met him by the fountain, I was pleased to see him looking better.

 

After a good deal of debate, I ended up with a pair of boots and an outfit rather like Harlan Junior's girlfriend's, but with more coverage. Uncle Philip treated me to the boots. I tried to protest but he insisted.

 

“Let's say it's your birthday gift, nine months early.”

 

The following lunchtime, I fretted about my plan to ask Eric to come with me to see Harlan Junior. As he approached from the sub shop, I wondered how on earth I'd work my way around to the topic. The opportunity came right away.

 

Upon settling himself and unwrapping his sandwich, Eric said “You've had some interesting guests this week. Drunks, exhibitionists ... what's next?”

 

“Nothing more, I hope.” I laughed.

 

Now was my time. I decided to try a roundabout method.

 

“You know Harlan Junior left me something yesterday?” I asked. I ignored the jumpy lightness in my heart.

 

“Yeah, Patricia said so. I've been dying to know. What was it?”

 

“A pair of tickets to his concert tonight. At the Double Crown.”

 

“The Double Crown? Their sign is great. I drive past it all the time.”

 

“You should come with me.” I used the most casual voice I could muster.

 

“You'd let me come with you? Wow, I've always wanted to go there. ” Eric's evident delight pleased me. I didn't know if he was excited about going somewhere with me, or just the idea of fulfilling his dream to go to the Double Crown, but it seemed like he was accepting my invitation.

 

“Sure, I'd love it. You'd be doing me a favor. I don't want to go alone,” I improvised, trying to sound relaxed. Then curiosity got the better of me. “You've always wanted to go there?”

 

“That sign is awesome. I have always wanted to know if the inside was as wonderfully tacky as the outside.” His excitement was contagious.

 

“Well, we'll find out tonight.” Then the mundane intruded. “How do you want to get there? Shall we carpool?”

 

We decided Eric would pick me up at eight. When I returned to work, all thoughts of Dave and the exhibitionists (as I had come to think of them) were pushed out of my mind by excitement and dread alternately.

 

Excitement dominated until I got home and looked at the cowgirl outfit Uncle Philip picked out for me. Would I look ridiculous? 

I took a quick nap and showered. There was some leftover mac and cheese, which I prepared with a salad. My stomach was jumpy, but I forced myself to eat.

 

As I was eating, Pam came home.

 

“What's for dinner tonight?” she asked.

 

“You'll have to find something for yourself. I'm going out.”

 

“What? Where would you go? You never go out.” Her incredulity was rather insulting. Why would it be so far-fetched that I would have somewhere to go?

 

“I'm going to the Double Crown.”

 

“That tacky country place?” She wrinkled her nose.

 

“Yes, I got free tickets and decided to go. It should be fun.”

 

 “Better you than me,” she said dismissively. “But what am I going to have for dinner?”

 

“I leave that to you.” I brought my plate to the kitchen, ignoring her increasing huffiness. She's a grown woman, she can feed herself. After washing my dishes, I prepared to robe myself. With some dangly silver earrings, the outfit didn't look half bad. Not at all my usual style, but nice.

 

Butterflies rose in my stomach as I waited in the living room. The movie Pam was watching was a poor distraction. I resisted the urge to peek through the curtains. After what seemed like a very long time, the doorbell rang at eight o’clock.  My smile grew bigger when I saw Eric's bolo tie. I had my purse over my shoulder, ready to go, but remembered I’d left the envelope containing the tickets on the kitchen counter.

 

I opened the door wider and gestured. “Come in, Eric. I have to grab the tickets.” When he entered, Pam was intent on her phone. “Eric, this is my sister Pam.”

 

She looked up long enough to say, “Hey,” and went back to her phone. That girl was impossible. I hoped Eric wouldn’t be offended by her rude behavior. I grabbed the tickets and returned to the door.

 

“Good night, Pam. Leave the porch light on for me, please.” I waited to get a response from her.

 

She glanced over and said, “Whatever.”

 

I left Pam behind with great pleasure and focused my attention on Eric. “I like your tie,” I said as we went down the front steps. “Where did you get it?”

 

He smoothed it unnecessarily, looking pleased. “My brother-in-law brought it back from Arizona for me. Kind of a joke. I've never had an occasion to wear it before now.” He turned to look at me more carefully and said, “You certainly pull off the cowgirl thing well. Nice boots.”

 

I was incredulous when he walked up to an old, enormous, shiny light blue American car.

 

“What kind of car is this?” I asked as he held the passenger door for me.

 

“1985 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham.”

 

I slid into the car, scooting farther back than I thought possible into the cavernous space. It might look crazy on the outside, but it was luxurious on the inside. It felt more like a love seat than a car seat. I wiggled around, enjoying the cushy feeling.

 

“Where on earth did you get this car? It's ...” I did mental subtraction “Over thirty years old!”

 

“From my grandfather. He drove it to church every Sunday until he died three years ago.”

 

When we pulled away from the curb, I couldn't believe the ride; it was so smooth. Then I noticed the fuzzy dice.

 

“No wonder you wanted to see the inside of the Double Crown! Just your style!”

 

“I have to admit, my tastes run a little tacky.” He stroked the steering wheel like a lover.

 

“But you don't drive this to work, you have a Honda.”

 

“My dad keeps it in their garage. It's still his, technically.”

 

We filled up the rest of the drive with small talk about cars: My Subaru, Japanese cars versus American cars, where you can buy fuzzy dice.

 

“I guess Harlan Junior is a sold out show. Look at everyone.” As we took our place in line, a couple was turned away at the door. Finally I surrendered our tickets in exchange for a black hand stamp in the shape of the sign, a dynamic looking lopsided triangle. 

 

When we entered we were bathed in red light. There was a huge mural of a hot rod decorated in flames with a buxom blonde posing near it. The long bar had high stools done in deep red vinyl with leopard skin accents. Along the opposite wall were circular booths in the same red and leopard skin combo. A replica of the club’s sign outside hung over the stage, the club's name picked out in red, blue and yellow neon. Was this interior decoration tongue-in-cheek or serious? There was a single blue light over the cash register; all the other lights were red. It was like a smoky womb. The seating was almost full, so we grabbed one of the tables on the floor.

 

It was too loud to talk, but Eric gave me a delighted smile. Then he was up, shouting in my ear and all I could hear was “... favorite song!” I noticed the jukebox beyond the bar when I saw Eric plugging in his coins. As he returned to the table, a new song came on. It was Patsy Cline, singing “Crazy.” Even I recognized the love song. Eric put on a sappy look and clasped his hands to his heart, leaning towards me. His pantomime serenade was cut short as the jukebox music went off and a yellow spotlight illuminated the MC on the stage.

 

“Ladies and gentleman, all the way from Texas, please give a warm Double Crown welcome to Harlan Junior.” And there was Harlan Junior, carrying the double necked guitar he'd bragged of. He was even larger on stage. He placed the guitar on a stand. The whole thing was bigger than life... big man, big guitar, big everything. I recognized his girlfriend by her beehive, sitting in the front.

 

The concert was more interesting than I'd expected. He played what seemed to be some old standards and encouraged the audience to sing along. Then he launched into a series of humorous original songs interspersed with instrumentals ... a brother-in-law on the run, getting a ticket from a highway patrolman, a love affair with a hot-rod. It seemed he could turn anything into something funny. He was amazing on the guitar too. I followed his use of the two necks closely, enjoying the different sounds he could coax out of each one. At one point Eric tried to tell me something, but all I heard was the word “surf.”

 

The audience decided the show was over after the second encore. Once again it was impossible to talk over the hubbub. Eric steered me through the crowd and out onto the sidewalk, where clumps of concert-goers stood about, talking.

 

He laughed and burst out “That was fantastic!” when we found a pocket of room outside. I was laughing too. He squeezed my shoulders and said into my ear, “It was a lucky day for you, getting Harlan Junior on your floor.” A jolt of excitement shot through me when he leaned close, his hand on my shoulder. 

 

As Eric escorted me back to the car and opened the door for me, anxiety returned. Had we just seen some music together as friends, or was this a date? The car was overwhelming evidence in favor of it being a date. This was the sort of car you saved for special occasions. A shiver made my arms break out in goose bumps. I focused on fastening my seat belt.

 

We compared notes on the highlights of our evening on the drive to my house. Harlan Junior's giant guitar was the best part in my opinion, but Eric had fallen in love with the décor. As we pulled up to my house, I buzzed with nervousness. When I looked up, the porch was in a black pool of shadow. Typical Pam. I rummaged for my phone and found its battery run down.

 

“Eric, could you walk me up to the door with your phone? Pam forgot the porchlight and my phone’s dead.”

 

He shined the beam on the sidewalk as we approached the house and climbed the stairs. I fumbled with my keys and unlocked the door. Eric tapped his phone and the bright light disappeared.

 

“I had a good time, Wendy.” His voice was smooth and deep. In the darkness of the porch, his black eyes glinted with reflected moonlight.

 

“I did too.”

 

Our kiss just happened, all by itself. It was a soft kiss, no hardness or rushing on his part. I leaned in slowly, went from the caress of lips to the light brushing of tongues, my hands on his shoulders, his arms around my waist. We lingered, tasting and touching, a gentle exchange of tongues.

 

When we pulled away, my eyes had adjusted and I could see his face, warm and handsome.

 

“I'll see you tomorrow,” he said.

 

“Tomorrow.” I squeezed his hand and slipped in through the front door. When I shut the door, I pulled off my boots and headed to bed. It seemed unbelievable I could have such good luck. Life had dealt me some rough situations, but maybe things were turning around. Maybe it was time for me to have some of the good things in life. 

Author's Note

Thank you for reading. All comments and observations are welcome.

Reviews

[Shannon]

This chapter was fun and enjoyable. I feel like you might use some of Eric here to expand on. He's got some character here. I like how he approaches life. Also, it occurred to me that we haven't heard much more about Wendy's cooking which featured strongly in the first chapter, both with her sister and Eric.

"Then our kiss just happened," I might get rid of 'then' it's nit picky for sure, but I think the shorter statement would have more impact.

I am guessing Wendy's last statement is not at all correct?

[SweetNutmeg]

Thank you for the review!

I'm not sure I understand what you meant to say about Eric. You think I might expand more on Eric in this chapter?

Wendy's cooking has not been dismissed, there is more about that to come. I get back to that in chapter 6. Do you feel, as a reader, you want more about her cooking? That it feels like I brought it up and then forgot about it?

I agree with you about "Then." It is better without.

As for Wendy getting some good things in life, I guess you'll have to keep reading to find out. :P

I appreciate the time and attention you've given this chapter, and the preceding chapters. You've been very helpful.

[Shannon]

I think perhaps you can hint at some of his character here in previous chapters and expand on him a bit. So maybe he has a goofy lunch bag that he uses or funky shoes or something that hints at this guy especially in hindsight. I also might have him amp up the silly charm in this chapter, matching the car to further make Wendy suspect it's a date, but wonder if its his silliness instead! Like holding doors, your chariot awaits, that sort of thing.

The cooking does feel a bit forgotten and it was part of the relationships, so even if Eric asks her what she has cooked up for her lunch when he sees her briefly, that sort of thing...

[Shep]

that was one hell of a date and fifty dollar tip of good fortune. I loved this chapter things are coming right along. and I am loving it

[SweetNutmeg]

Thank you for continuing with my story. You're a great audience!

[Isemay]

I am thoroughly enjoying this one, too. Hate to have to stop here for now!

[SweetNutmeg]

Thank you for reading and reviewing! I'm glad you are enjoying my little story.

[Mal Shelton]

Aside from some grammar oopsies, it looks promising! I look forward to seeing more.

[AUU]

I felt like I was a third wheel! This was a very natural date scene. I loved all the little nuisances you used when being at a concert. Like misunderstanding a date's words.

"Now was my time. I decided to try a roundabout method."

I liked the above line. It was a sharp way to put the scene in perspective and was on-point for Wendy's character.

We also got to know Eric a little better and his "tacky" sense of style,

A few things:

1. I felt as though this line, "When the girls were uncooperative, he radioed security to herd them back to their rooms," was a little passive. You could drop "When", and add a conjunction ", so he..."

2. “I’m sorry[,] sir."

3. “Good night[,]Pam.

4. “Do you have a flashlight? Pam must have turned off the porch light.” I like that Pam forgot to leave the light on. It speaks volumes of her character; however, and this is nitpicky, and I know I use flashlights in my story too, but considering the circumstances I think a flashlight would be outdated. Smartphones lol they all have "flashlights."

5." I kicked off my shoes." I thought she was wearing boots to the date?

I am a little confused by something, and I may have missed it outright in an earlier chapter, but where does this take place? At first I thought this was England. I haven't noticed any specific slang, so I was beginning to think otherwise. Then we were introduced to the cowboy, and with Wendy's shocked reaction I again thought we were in England. Then there was all the mentions of American things, and Arizona, and even though it all seemed a little alien to Wendy, I don't think she found any of it too culturally shocking, if indeed they live in England.

I apologize if this whole England thing was fabricated by my own imagination. I do tend to do that.

[SweetNutmeg]

Thank you for pointing out my little mistakes. That's super helpful.

lol, we are in Aiken, Illinois. I mentioned it in passing when we were introduced to Uncle Philip, but I was introducing so much stuff at once it would be easy to miss. I like the idea though...

Now, the flashlight... I forgot phones have flashlights because I have a Windows phone, which doesn't have such a handy thing and I can't find an app for it. Which is highly annoying. But the main idea was to get him up on the porch with her. I didn't want their first kiss in a car, no matter how snazzy the car might be. So I'll have to think this over. Maybe her phone's battery is dead? I'll think of something.

Thank you again for such a careful, thorough reading of my story. Your comments are super helpful.

[SweetNutmeg]

I re-wrote this section with the flashlight thing in mind. Does it flow and make sense like this?read moreI re-wrote this section with the flashlight thing in mind. Does it flow and make sense like this?

"When I looked up, the porch was in a black pool of shadow. Typical Pam. I rummaged for my phone and found its battery run down.

“Eric, could you walk me up to the door with your phone? Pam forgot the porch light and my phone’s dead.”

He shined the beam on the sidewalk as we approached the house and climbed the stairs. I fumbled with my keys and unlocked the door. Eric tapped his phone and the bright light disappeared."

[SweetNutmeg]

Whoops, I went back and checked, I mentioned Aiken, but not the state. I fixed that.

[AUU]

Cool. Cool. I didn't know windows phones do t have flashlights! Lol

Um...if you liked the flashlight then you should keep it. I just thought it was it read a little odd. If you want both on the porch; then in my opinion you could just have Eric volunteer to walk her. Up to you.