Honky-tonk Masquerade

Joe slung his guitar case over his shoulder and picked up his

bag. The bag was shapeless and heavy. He started down the
highway,

walking on the shoulder, burrs and dust attaching themselves to
his

boots.

The trucker pulled over to the side of the highway. From the

passenger seat, Joe looked at the run-down building beside the
road.

The sign said "Kickers" in letters made to look like cowboy
boots.

Under that, in clear plastic squares with black letters, the
should-be

words "L VE MUS C" and "NO OVER." Two pick-up trucks, identical
in

their disrepair, were parked near the metal door. The door itself
was

covered with the remnants of yellowed and tattered posters
announcing

the performances of some long-forgotten bands. The parking lot,

besides the pick-ups, contained three discarded beer bottles, one
large

tumbleweed, and scattered shards of glass that glittered and
sparkled

in the sunlight.

"You sure this is the place?" the trucker asked.

"Yeah...yeah, this is it." Joe turned to the trucker and stuck

out his hand.

The trucker shook Joe's hand with a callused paw.

"Well, good luck."

"Yeah, much obliged for the ride."

***

The roar of the truck pulling onto the highway gave way to soft,

scratchy jukebox music as Joe pulled the door open and stepped
inside.

While his eyes adjusted to the darkness, all he could see was the
light

reflected off the mirror behind the bar. Slowly, a weathered
wooden

stage, caged in chicken wire materialized in one corner.

"Crazy....crazy for feelin' so lonely" Patsy Cline's voice

crackled from speakers hidden somewhere in the gloom.

Joe slid onto a stool at the end of the bar and pulled a pack of

Camels from his shirt pocket. He shook the crumpled pack, which
yielded

a single bent, broken smoke. He reached across the bar and picked
a

book of matches from a plastic container. He read the words printed
on

the back as he struck a match and lit his last cigarette.
"Freedom

Bail Bonds."

A woman appeared behind the counter, seeming to come from

nowhere.

"Whatcha havin'?"

"I'm the entertainment tonight. Do I git to run a tab?"

She pulled a stained towel from somewhere under the bar and

studied his face.

"You Joe Feist?"

"Yes'm."

"You really know how to play that thing?" she said, nodding at

his guitar case, propped against another bar stool.

"I do alright I reckon'." His eyes traveled down from her face

to the place where an extra button was opened to reveal the tops of
her

pale white breasts.

"Yeah, I reckon' you think you do. So, what are you havin'?"

"Coors Lite, shot of Cuervo naked."

She chewed for a moment on her bottom lip.

"All right. We can do that."

She turned and walked away, but stopped and spun around to catch

him watching her. One side of her mouth curled up, revealing
slightly

uneven teeth, then she turned back again. She shoved back the
metal

door on a cooler, reached in, and pulled out a bottle. With a
single

motion, she whipped a church key out of her back pocket and flipped
the

lid off and into the trashcan. Next, she reached up and

pulled down a bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold, then paused. She looked
at

Joe and raised the bottle as a question. Joe nodded and took a
drag

off his cigarette, then held it up for her

to see.

"How about a pack of Camels?"

She twisted her mouth around a while, then nodded. She poured

The tequila, then picked out a pack of Camels from another shelf.
She

came back with the drinks and the smokes and set them down in front
of

him.

"You sure you don't want salt and lime with that?"

Joe picked up the shot glass and downed it in reply. He took a

drink from the beer. It was cold, and the sweat from the bottle

dripped down his shirt.

"I'm Renee." she said.

He looked her in the eye and nodded.

"Renee, nice to meet ya'." He picked up a napkin and wiped his

lips and mustache. "Agin?"

She slowly shook her head, and picked up the glass. She moved

down the bar and refilled it, then came back and slapped it down
in

front of him.

"You better be able to play."

"I can play."

The bathroom door swung open, and a man emerged. He sat on a

stool at the other end of the bar. He was a big, grimy man. He wore
a

grimy cap, grimy jeans, grimy shirt, and a grimier pair of boots.

"Renee? Where's my beer?"

Renee got him a beer.

"Shit, a man could die of thirst around here."

"Oh, shut up Harley, we've got company."

Harley turned, noticing Joe for the first time. He squinted at

Joe and scowled.

"Where'd you come from?"

"Nowhere special." Joe replied.

"That a guitar?"

"Yep"

"You the band tonight?"

"I'm the music, no band."

Harley studied him for a minute, and turned back to Renee.

"Put one on my tab for him, whatever he's havin'."

"He's the entertainment, he's on the house."

"Well," Harley grinned, "put on his tab for me."

Renee rolled her eyes. "Yeah, like that'll happen."

Joe picked up his shot glass and raised it again, a question.

Renee shook her head, but grabbed the bottle of tequila and

poured a shot into a fresh glass. She reached out for a wedge of
lime,

but caught herself and shrugged, remembering.

"Yeah, naked." she rolled her eyes at Harley.

"Give me one of those too." said Harley.

He picked up his beer and moved to a barstool next to Joe. He

glared at the guitar case leaning against it, then up at Joe. Joe

met his stare for a moment, then reached over and moved the case.

"You can put that up on the stage if you wanna." Renee said.

"Nah, I'll keep it here."

Harley sat on the stool and stared at Joe with bloodshot eyes.
He

couldn't focus, and blinked slowly. Renee delivered the shots.
Harley

picked his up, raising it in salute. Joe lifted his glass in
return,

then downed it.

Harley watched him, raised his shot to his lips, and poured it

down his throat. He wiped his mouth with the back of a grimy hand.
Joe

watched him with tired eyes. Hank Williams told them about a
cheatin'

heart.

"Where ya from?"

Joe studied his face.

"Well, where ya from?"

"Paducah."

"Paducah?" Harley was incredulous.

"Yeah, Paducah."

"Kentucky or Texas?"

Joe grunted. "Paducah, Texas."

"I took a shit in Paducah once."

Joe's lip twitched at the corner.

"Well, I stopped at the Allsup's and took a shit. It was just

bad timin'"

Joe shook his head, looking away.

A flash of sunlight filled the bar for a moment, and the door

closed behind the new arrivals. A Mexican girl came in followed by
a

man old enough to be her father. They went to a table in the back
of

the bar. Renee pulled a Budweiser out of the cooler and popped
the

top. Next, she poured a double glass of Jim Beam and Coke. She

carried the drinks to the table on a tray.

Harley watched Renee deliver the drinks, then glanced at Joes

face with a conspiratorial grin.

"Love to watch her go, but I'd rather watch her come." His grin

faded, replaced by a scowl. "Ain't you got a sense of humor?"

Joe's face softened into a smile. The tequila warmed his gut.

"Yeah, that was a good'n."

Harley grinned some more.

"I been workin' that girl for a while now. One of these days..."

Renee, passing by, overheard the remark. She slapped Harley on

the back.

"Yeah, one of these days when you change clothes and take a

bath, if I ain't dead yet." Looking at Joe, she asked "Another
shot?

A beer?"

"Coffee. And a beer."

She looked at him, a strange expression on her face.

"Coffee and a beer?"

"Yeah, wake my ass up."

Two more couples came into the bar and claimed tables. Renee

stayed busy pouring and delivering drinks. A few more grimy men
lined

up at the bar, and Joe moved his guitar case to the stage, placing
it

where he could watch it from his barstool.

The jukebox grew silent. A deejay began to play country songs on

the sound system, and one by one couples began to dance. The
trickle

of new arrivals became a stream.

_______________________________________________________________________

A girl came up to the bar and sat down next to Joe. She handed

her purse and jacket to Renee and ordered a drink. Renee brought
the

drink but didn't charge the girl for it.

Joe watched the girl from the corner of his eye. She was not

pretty, but he liked the way she looked. She had a small, sharp-

pointed nose, and thin lips. Her cheekbones were pronounced, her
jaw

delicate. Her jet-black hair, pulled tightly into a pony-tail,

contrasted sharply with her pale skin. A black heart was tattooed
on

the skin between the thumb and first finger on her left hand. She
wore

a simple gold wedding band with a small diamond, black tee

shirt, black jeans, and black sneakers.

She glanced over at Joe. Her lips curled at the corners in what

passed as a smile. Her eyes looked strained in the light reflected
off

the mirror.

"Hey." Her voice was low and came from deep in her throat.

"Hi." Joe motioned to Renee for another shot of tequila, and

tilted his head toward the girl. Renee's eyes met his for a
moment,

then shifted to the girl. The girl nodded. Renee brought two
shots,

placing one in front of each of them. Joe touched his shot glass
to

hers, and they drank.

She gave Joe a smile, and stood up. She pushed her stool

against the bar and pulled a nametag from her pocket. Rae Lynn.
She

walked past Joe, around the end of the bar, and pulled a drink
tray

from somewhere underneath. From the pocket of her jeans she
extracted

a wad of bills and placed it in a compartment of the tray.

Joe got up and walked to the stage. He removed his guitar from

it's case and started tuning it. The bar grew silent for a moment,
and

then the quiet roar of conversation resumed.

The deejay tapped his mike.

"Tonight, we have Joe Feist, ladies and gentlemen." The deejay's
voice was flat and toneless.

Joe adjusted his microphone, and started to play. The song was a

slow blues tune about a man who was in love with his best
friend's

wife. The man knew that his friend was unfaithful. The man

remained silent, the twin secrets of his love and the husband's
wrong

breaking his heart.

Rae Lynn delivered drinks to a table, and waited while the man

fumbled for his wallet. Joe saw that she was watching him as he
sang.

Her eyes were shining, liquid pools in the light from the stage

Joe packed his guitar back in its case. Renee gave last call.
Harley

was the last to leave, stumbling out the door with his arm around

another man's shoulder.

"Glen, make sure you take him home and don't let him drive!"

"Sure Renee, I won't let the old fool kill himself, or worse,

someone else."

"You make sure!"

Joe trudged to the bar, and leaned his case up against a stool

again. He watched as Rae wiped down the tables and picked up
empty

beer bottles and half-full glasses. Renee brought Joe a beer and a
shot

glass. She tilted the bottle of Cuervo Gold over the glass and looked
at Joe. He nodded with a tired grin.
"Well, you didn't lie. You can play that thing okay I guess."
"Well, I guess I do okay."
"Well, I like your style, but it's kind of sad." Renee frowned.
"Well, that's the blues."
"I wouldn't know, all I know is two kinds of music, country and
western."
Joe grinned and turned on his stool to watch Rae as she vacuumed the
carpet.
"She's married, Joe."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Renee leaned on the bar and poured herself a drink. "Now it's
my turn. Yeah, she's married to the biggest asshole in town.
She's really a sweet person, but kinda quiet, you know? Like it's a
burden to just talk to anyone."
"Well, that's a shame. About the asshole I mean."
"Yeah, and the worst part is, he's my son."
Joe tilted his head back and looked her in the face.
"I see."
"Well, he's just like his dad...I tried, but..." she shook her head
and looked at her drink like there was poison in it.
"So how's he treat her?"

"About like you'd think. He's probably out sowing his wild oats
now."
"Why's she put up with him?"

"Well, Joe, who knows? Why'd I put up with his dad? I have no

idea, but I'm still doing it. Only thing, he knows better than to
come

sniffin' around my tree anymore."

Joe smiled at the image. He raised his glass in a

toast and drank the shot down.

"Well, I guess you get lotsa offers?"

"Oh yeah, and I'm going to take Harley up on his?"

Joe grinned and tilted his head toward the restroom

doors. He got up and walked into the men's room.

When he returned to the bar, Renee was sitting next to

a girl with long black hair cascading over the collar of her
jacket.

She turned as he sat next to her. Her face lit up in a beautiful

smile. His heart pounded and he could hear the blood rushing,

thundering in his ears. She looked vaguely familiar.

"Renee! Aren't you going to introduce me to your

friend?"

Joe wondered about the puzzled look on Renee's face, and thought

the girl looked a little like Rae, but prettier and more feminine.
As

he took the girl's hand in greeting, he saw the black heart
tattooed

there.