Chapter 1 #2
In the other chair, Donalda was giving Myra Emory, the local school bus driver, her bi-monthly facial, which regularly included tweezing Myra’s black chin hairs, while Myra bemoaned the menopause curse that had given them permission to grow.
Judge heard snippets of the female chatter but politely tuned it out— happy that his world did not revolve around fashion and gossip, although he did admire Calico’s habit of wearing wigs on bad hair days.
For men, it was almost as hard to look away from bad hair on a woman as it was not to look at the size of their breasts.
Moe finally finished Judge’s haircut and was using the clippers on his neck to clean off the fuzz when the front door opened with a bang, hitting the wall behind it.
Justine Edison, the owner of Edison’s Eats, and Calico’s next appointment, entered in a state of mild hysterics.
“Calico! I’m going to be late. Floy Beaudine’s snake is missing again! Elvis is on the loose, and I’m going home to put my Petey inside the house. I’ll be right back!”
The door slammed again as she made an exit, punctuating the panic that ensued inside the shop.
Farrah looked up from her manicure table and gasped. “Oh, Dear Jesus! I think I left my car unlocked.”
“Pythons don’t have hands. They cannot open car doors,” Judge offered to no avail, as Farrah dashed out the front door.
“Oh Lord, oh Lord,” Donalda moaned. “I purely do hate snakes.”
Myra Emory kept trying to remember if she’d left the window up over the kitchen sink, while Sister Carter was on the phone with her husband, telling him what she’d heard.
Calico wasn’t any happier about the news than Donalda was, and they both kept frowning and making “tsk, tsk,” sounds as they worked.
At the other end of the shop, Moe removed the cape and gave Judge a hand mirror to check out the cut from the back.
“Don’t need that. I’m satisfied,” Judge said, and laid twenty-five dollars on Moe’s station to cover the cut and a tip, then he smiled at the stylists as he left.
“You ladies are a far prettier sight than Moe,” Judge said.
Myra’s eyes narrowed. “Moe’s fat and going bald, but thank you anyway.”
Everyone laughed, including Moe, as Judge slung his suit coat over his shoulder on the way out the door.
Calico had once held a penchant for attractive men, but she was a two-time loser in the marriage department and had given that up some time back. Still, she wasn’t averse to looking. “You know, girls, Judge Benton is probably Blackjack’s most eligible bachelor.”
“Don’t forget the Langley brothers,” Donalda said. “Beau and Razor are kinda cute.”
Calico gave her a look. “Girl! Seriously? They play darts with a nail gun.”
Donalda sighed. “I don’t think I knew that. I suppose you’re right.”
Farrah came flying back into the shop, looking behind her as she ran for fear that Elvis might be on her heels. The thought of men and sex had shifted Elvis’s absence to the back burner.
When Judge Benton returned to his law office, he added to the chaos by mentioning the fact to his secretary, Priscilla.
“Haircut looks nice,” Priscilla said.
“Feels better, too. I like to keep it short in this heat. Lots of excitement at the shop, though. Justine Edison came in long enough to tell everyone Floy Beaudine’s python was loose again, and the women went nuts; all except Myra. She’s a cool one.”
Priscilla stood abruptly. Her mouth parted, but nothing came out.
“What’s wrong?” Judge asked.
“Elvis is on the loose?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I have to put my chickens in the coop. I left them free range in the backyard this morning. I won’t be long.”
Priscilla grabbed her purse and shot out of the office so fast Judge never finished what he’d been about to say.
He pictured all those pretty Barred Rock hens at the mercy of that damn snake and shuddered.
One of these days, Floy was going to need to hire himself a lawyer; he could just feel it.
Then he picked up his mail and was on his way into the office when the phone rang, which hastened his step.
He guessed he’d be answering his own phone for a while.
As Floy feared, panic erupted in town, and he could only guess that Mayrene had been the town crier, because the news was spreading faster than butter melting on hot toast, and he was already getting angry phone calls.
Residents began shoring up their defenses as if they were gearing for an attack, while back at the Beaudine home, Mayrene was kicked back in bed watching television when Floy knocked on the door.
“Hey, Honey Bee, I’m gonna be outside for a while, so I brought you some candy and a cold Pepsi. I’ll just put it right here on the floor outside your door.”
She held her breath, waiting to see if he was going to start begging her to unlock the door again, but then she heard him walking away. She jumped and ran, opening the door just enough to grab the snack and yell.
“Don’t you forget to bring me dinner and supper!
” she said, then slammed and locked the door.
Happy she was off kitchen duty and in charge of the remote, Mayrene crawled back in bed with her phone and her snack.
She unpeeled a Hershey Kiss and began channel surfing as the chocolate melted on her tongue.
Floy’s initial assumption that he’d soon find Elvis was fading. He had searched through the barn, the old chicken house, the unused hog pen, and the car Mayrene had wrecked months earlier and was now parked in the weeds beside the shed. Still no snake.
His place wasn’t inside the city limits, but he could see the City Limit sign if he stood in the middle of the road. He guessed that was close enough to give people a fit if a snake the size of Elvis got loose, and Floy finally threw up his hands in defeat.
“Dang it, Elvis. Where in God’s name have you gone?”
He glanced at his watch. It was getting close to noon, and he’d promised Myra Emory that he’d give her a quote on a new roof for her house, but this was an emergency.
Floy’s Fix-It business was temporarily in time out.
He had to organize a search party and get the python back into the tank before dark.
He loaded the old tank into the back of his pickup truck and headed off to Beers and Cues where Beau and Razor Langley, his two employees who were also his best friends, hung out.
They’d helped him round up Elvis twice before, and would do anything for a couple of six-packs, even hunting down a snake.
Beers and Cues was a landmark in Blackjack.
It was the oldest building in town, and the first thing travelers saw as they approached the city limits from the north.
Every so often, a member of the city council would suggest the owner, Jerry Adams, needed to trim back the kudzu that had taken over the building,or do something about the ruts and lack of gravel in the unpaved parking lot.
It had yet to happen, and right now the question if it ever would was far, far down the list of Jerry’s “things to be done,” because Jerry was in a hospital in Louisville having his man boobs removed.
Mary Sue, his live-in girlfriend, had requested the reduction because they were bigger than hers.
As Floy walked into the bar, he noticed Mary Sue’s hair was shocking pink today, and the second roll of her belly fat was protruding slightly from the midriff-length T-shirt she wore. She was wiping down the bar top when he approached.
She greeted him with a nod as a Garth Brooks serenade blasted from the sound system hanging sideways on the wall.
“Hey, Mary Sue. Looking good,” Floy said.
Mary Sue took a drag off the cigarette hanging from her lip, then squinted through the smoke circling her head.
“Heard Elvis was on the loose again,” she said.
Floy nodded, then pointed to the two men at the far end of the room who were playing darts with a nail gun.
“That’s why I’m here. I need my guys.”
She pointed. “Follow the noise.”
Floy walked the length of the room, taking care to stay out of range of any ricocheting nails.
“Hey boys! Who’s ahead?” he asked.
“I’m ahead,” Beau Langley said. “Wanna play?”
“No, no, I’m good,” Floy said. “I came to see if you two wanted to help me find Elvis.”
They looked at each other, then back at Floy.
“What are you paying?” Razor Langley asked.
“I’m not doing it for a six-pack again,” Beau added.
“I was thinking a couple of six-packs apiece and a tank of gas.”
Beau yanked the power cord, promptly unplugging the nail gun.
“I call dibs on riding shotgun,” Beau said.
Razor groaned. “No fair. I rode in the back of the pickup bed last time.”
“That’s because you were still wearing off the stink of being skunked,” Beau said.
Floy ignored their banter.
“Let’s ride. I want to get Elvis back in the tank before dark, but first I need to stop off at Edison’s Eats and pick up some stuff for Mayrene’s dinner. She’s not cooking.”
“Sorry to hear that. Is she sick?” Beau asked.
“No. She’s just pissed about Elvis and holed up in our bedroom. She laid down the law this time. It’s her or the snake.”
Razor grinned. “That’ll make it hard for a guy to get any of the good stuff.”
Floy frowned. “I’m not discussing my wife or my sex life with you two. Do you want your beer and gas ,or not?”
“We want,” Beau said, slapped his brother on the back of the head, then turned around and waved at Mary Sue as he followed Floy out of the bar.
“See you later, honey,” Razor said.
Mary Sue frowned. “You owe me five bucks.”
Razor dug through his pockets, pulled out a handful of ones, slapped them on the bar, and winked at her as they left the building.
Mayrene’s belly was grumbling, and her hopes of getting anything to eat at noon were fading fast. She’d heard Floy drive away hours ago and knew that she could make a run into the kitchen for something to eat before he got back, but she had worked herself up to a real good mad and was willing to go on a hunger strike, if that’s what it took for him to get rid of that snake.