Curing the Blues with a New Pair of Shoes Read online

  Sam chuckled. “I’ll try to stay on his good side.”

  “He’s driving a tractor today, pulling a float. Some of our senior citizen customers are riding it.”

  Just then the drums took up a marching rhythm and Edwina sat enthralled and waiting. In all of the years she had lived in Salt Lick, she couldn’t think of when a parade with bands and out-of-town participants had ever taken place. Float after float passed, each more clever and ingenious than the last. Along with the crowd, she clapped and whistled at every one of them. Sam got into the act and appeared to be enjoying it as much as she was.

  When the bands marched by, playing and drumming, she climbed out of the truck and stood on the running board clapping her hands in time with the music.

  Sam climbed out, too. “Those look like college bands,” he said.

  Edwina could tell he was impressed. “I know. Around here, schools spend a lot of money on their sports teams and their bands. They were a lot fancier back in the day when everybody was oil rich.”

  Edwina had to cast a second look to recognize Salt Lick’s seventeen-piece band. Only when they stopped in the center of the street and began to do Elvis impersonations did she start to associate the marchers with people she knew. She yelled at every one of them by name and waved.

  The American flag passed and Edwina placed her hand over her heart, tears burning her eyes. “When you live with a patriot like my Vic, you learn to love the flag.” Sam, too, she noticed, placed his hand on his heart, and that raised her opinion of him.

  Minutes later a cheer erupted from the crowd, and Edwina saw Debbie Sue and Rocket Man coming into view. While the band ahead of her played “Deep in the Heart of Texas,” Debbie Sue reined Rocket Man in a crisscross pattern back and forth across the street, bending down from the saddle to touch fingers with kids along the way.

  “Just look at that,” Edwina said. “Kids love Debbie Sue. She’s one of them. Those fat, snotty-nosed kids that accused her of child stealing ought to be spanked.”

  “I can see how much they like her,” Sam said. As Debbie Sue came nearer, Sam assumed a mischievous expression. “So you want her to think I’m gay, huh?”

  “What’ve you got in mind?” Edwina asked.

  “Watch this.” Sam raised his arms and waved frantically. He called out in a high-pitched voice, “Yuhoo-oo! Debbie Suu-uue! Oh, look, Edwina, doesn’t she look just fabulous?…Debbie Suu-uue. Over here, girl!”

  Debbie Sue waved back, but Edwina could tell from the stunned expression on her face that she bought his act.

  Sam turned to Edwina. “How was that?”

  Edwina grinned. “Awesome.” She raised her palm for a high five.

  But buying it didn’t distract Debbie Sue for more than a few seconds. When she and Rocket Man reached the spot in front of them, she stopped and reined the paint horse in a circle in the middle of the street. Her clothing and Rocket Man’s bridle and saddle glittered in the morning sunlight, almost creating an aura of light around her and the horse. Her smile rivaled the sunshine. She signaled to Rocket Man and he reared on his hind legs, flailing his front hooves in the air. At the same time, Debbie Sue swept her hat off her head with her left hand and waved it to the crowd in a wide arc. A deafening cheer arose.

  Edwina clasped her hands under her chin, tears burning her eyes. “That’s our girl! Would you just look at that? She trained that horse. That’s our girl!”

  “Wow,” Sam said. “She really is a cowgirl, isn’t she?”

  “Abso-fuckin’-lutely,” Edwina answered.

  chapter twelve

  Beside Avery, only a few feet away, the parade marched up the town’s main street. The dissonance of brass and drums mixed with Elvis tunes blaring from Hogg’s parking lot was deafening, but the spirit exuded by the crowd was uplifting. The odd little Salt Lick band’s music and gyrations made her want to dance along with them.

  Excitement churned within Avery. She had accomplished a lot. She was on her way to that byline. Already, she had shot dozens of pictures and this was only the first day of the three-day event. She had completed an interview with a Middle-Eastern bearded, turban-bound Elvis impersonator. He had come all the way from Las Vegas. To her awe, everywhere she looked she spotted another Elvis impersonator from a different part of the country, even a different part of the world. Tiny Salt Lick, Texas, was turning into a gold mine of stories.

  She made her way up the pockmarked old sidewalk toward the rental car, still parked in the Hogg’s parking lot. As she walked, she studied the program of planned daily activities. Scheduled at the elementary-school cafeteria was a buffet lunch of peanut-butter-and-banana sandwiches, hot dogs, pork ribs and jelly doughnuts, all favorites of the King. At the bottom of the program, a note informed diners that the school nurse had set up a first-aid station in one corner of the cafeteria. If many partook of that lunch, Avery suspected, they might very well need a nurse.

  The meal would be followed by a scrapbooking session of Elvis memorabilia in the school gymnasium.

  For the more adventurous, school buses would be picking up and transporting sightseers to venues where Elvis had performed in Midland, Odessa, Big Spring and Andrews. Avery wasn’t sure of the locations of all of those towns, but it sounded like a tour that would last well into the evening.

  Glancing up as gravel crunched underfoot, she was surprised to find herself already back at her car. As she fished in her bag for her keys, she heard her name being called by a male voice she didn’t recognize.

  “Avery. Avery, wait up a minute.”

  She turned toward the sound, shading her eyes with one hand. To her surprise, Sam Something was coming toward her. And how did he know her name? They hadn’t been introduced, so he must have gotten it from Debbie Sue or Edwina. “Oh, hi. Sam, isn’t it?”

  “Sam Carter.”

  She had to look up at him to return his gaze, an unusual occurrence. She didn’t often have to look up at anyone. His azure eyes fixed on hers for a few seconds.

  Her mind went blank. Her heartbeat kicked up to where she could actually hear it and she foolishly wondered if he heard it, too. Something weird was happening here. She didn’t know what, but she both feared it and loved it at the same time. Confusing. Words rushed from her mouth. “I understood, uh, I mean I understand you work in Dallas, I mean for Dallas. I mean someone said you work for the Dallas Morning News.”

  Avery was annoyed at herself for behaving like an unsophisticated ninny. In fact, she hated herself more than she would have ever thought possible. I sound like an idiot, she scolded. What is the matter with me?

  Bracing a hand on the Aero’s trunk, he smiled a slow knowing smile, as if he had seen her naked—and liked the view. “Hope you won’t hold that against me.”

  “I, uh…I wouldn’t…I mean, why would I?”

  “I understand you’re with the Star-Telegram.” Sam moved a couple of inches closer. “Since we’re out here in the boondocks together after the same thing, maybe we can be of help to each other. Would you like to have a drink with me this evening? To talk shop, I mean? Maybe we could come up with a strategy.”

  “Strategy?”

  “You know. For sharing information or something.”

  That was unheard of among reporters employed by competing newspapers. She gave a nervous titter. “I don’t think so.”

  “C’mon. I believe we’re staying at the same hotel. They have a nice lobby and—”

  Having slept in it, I know, she thought wryly. “Uh, yes, they do.”

  “I meant to say lounge. It’s just off the lobby. Maybe we could meet there for a drink and have some dinner afterward.”

  Afterward? He actually said, afterward? After what? He was looking at her as if she were dessert.

  Without answering, Avery quickly opened her car door and eased behind the steering wheel. She had to. She felt as if she might faint and she needed the reassurance of the car seat under her bottom. She turned the key in the ignition and the radio bl
asted roaring white noise at an ear-piercing volume. She pressed too hard on the accelerator and the engine started with a loud growl. She jumped and let out a little yelp, then lifted her foot from the accelerator. Unfamiliar with the rental’s radio, she began frantically pushing buttons and turning knobs, but the volume only rose.

  Sam reached inside the car, across her body, and turned off the radio, his forearm brushing against her breast. She jerked straight up, jamming her head against the overhead.

  His face was only inches from hers and an expression of concern showed in his eyes. “You okay?” he asked softly, those incredible blue eyes filled with concern.

  His arm touching her breast had been an accident. She had no doubt of that, but she was so rattled she couldn’t think.

  “One thing I’ve noticed here,” he said, his face only inches away, “is you can’t get much on the radio.”

  To her utter dismay, she responded in a dreamlike voice. “Are you wearing Armani Code?”

  “Well, yeah. Yes, I am. Do you like it?”

  His breath smelled of cinnamon. Mmm…cinnamon toast kisses. She was lost for a moment, thinking of kisses and the places she’d like to seek out the scent of that cologne. “I, uh, I…It smells good. I gave my daddy some for Christmas.”

  Daddy? Had she really said daddy? What was she, ten?

  She cleared her throat and placed her left hand on the steering wheel, setting up her forearm as a barrier between them, hoping he would read the body language and remove his upper body parts from inside the car.

  He did move and Avery adjusted the rearview mirror and fussed with her hair, trying to hide her chagrin. “Well, it was nice talking to you.” She pressed the brake pedal and put the car in gear. “Perhaps we’ll—”

  “But you didn’t answer my question,” he said, his smile still making her unsettled and clumsy.

  “Did you ask me a question?”

  “I asked if you’d like to have a drink with me this evening.”

  Avery wanted to yell “yes,” but she was uncertain if she could take the humiliation of her own odd behavior much longer. Reaching deeply within for the shreds of resolve that had always seen her through tough times, she plastered on a saccharine smile. “I’m sorry, but I have plans. Perhaps we’ll see each other again.”

  She read disappointment in his face as he relinquished his hold on the door. “We’ll see each other again, Avery,” he said with finality.

  “Okeydokey,” she said, grimacing inside and hating herself all over again. Now she sounded like Brittany at the hotel. Grateful she was wearing sunglasses—because if she hadn’t been, he would have seen her eyes roll back in her head with disgust at herself—she backed away from her parking spot.

  Okeydokey? My daddy? Dear God, she was losing it.

  She headed for the Styling Station, where Edwina and Debbie Sue had told her they would be. It was unnerving the way Sam made her feel. Not normal, certainly not routine. She enjoyed men and had always had more male friends than female, so what made her so uneasy around him? It had to be his job. He was a competitor, a reporter with a newspaper that was surely bigger than the Star-Telegram.

  Avery had no trouble finding the vintage rock and wood building that housed the Styling Station. She could see it had once been a service station, and the gas pumps wearing clothes were hard to miss. She wondered what that was about. She should have done more research before coming here, she told herself.

  As she pulled into the parking lot, she made note of the different styles of lettering on the sign. The word STYLING had obviously been hand painted in bright red on a white background. The word STATION looked to have been painted professionally, but the paint had faded badly. The original color could no longer be determined. A bright yellow sandwich board on the ground said DOMESTIC EQUALIZERS. This was the right place. There couldn’t possibly be two locations that fit this description.

  Sleigh bells banging against the front door announced her arrival. Debbie Sue was just emerging from behind bright floral curtains that covered a doorway. She had a pitcher of something red in her hand. “You’re right, Avery. He’s as gay as they come.”

  Remembering their bet, Avery had to laugh. “I was about to say the opposite. He just asked me out for drinks.”

  Debbie Sue swerved a narrow-lidded look to Edwina, who had a smug expression on her face.

  “He’s the sexiest guy I’ve met in a while,” Avery added cautiously, uncertain what might be going on between her two new friends. “I would have accepted, but I couldn’t get my tongue untangled.”

  “Have a Bloody Mary,” Debbie Sue said, pouring the red liquid into a tall glass that held a stalk of celery and handing it to her. “It’ll calm you down.” She jammed her fist against her hip and glared at Edwina. “Something tells me you’ve got something to do with this, Edwina Perkins-Martin.”

  Edwina’s brown eyes popped wide in an innocent stare. “C’mon now. Surely you smart ladies can take a joke.”

  Chomping on the celery stalk—she’d had nothing to eat all day—Avery wondered if this kind of exchange was common between these two. She cautiously sipped the liquid. It was the best Bloody Mary she had ever had. She quaffed the remainder and Debbie Sue refilled the glass.

  “You know I can take a joke,” Debbie Sue said to Edwina. “So which one of us was he trying to fool?”

  Edwina reached into her pocket and pulled out the bet money. “Girls, that information’s gonna cost you.”

  Meanwhile, ravenous for food, Sam stood at the order counter in Hogg’s studying the menu, thoughts of Avery’s rejection still ripe in his mind. He didn’t know what to make of her odd behavior.

  The lunch special had been created especially for the festival, according to the order taker. A Hunk of Burning Love accompanied by an All Shook Up translated to a double-meat burger with chili, cheese and jalapenos and a chocolate milk shake. Perfect. He placed his order and captured the only corner booth in the joint, his nose already enjoying the aroma of one of those famous hamburgers Hogg’s claimed Elvis had loved.

  While he waited for his meal, his thoughts drifted again to the crazy encounter with Avery in the parking lot. He had started the flirting routine as part of his conspiracy with Edwina, but somewhere along the way it had backfired. Despite the invitation he had accepted to have dinner with Caleb Crawford’s family this evening, he found himself desperately wanting Avery to accept his invitation for drinks in the hotel lounge.

  He couldn’t account for the feeling. Sure, she was good-looking. Well, she was more than good-looking. She was downright hot. She came close to fitting the description of his fantasy woman. And he still had the damnedest feeling he had seen her or met her somewhere before. He couldn’t erase that notion from his mind any more than he could erase the image of the woman herself. In an unsettling surge of emotion, he had become the unwitting fly, and she, the spider.

  “Number twa-ulve,” the counter clerk called out and Sam walked over and received his order, smiling inwardly at the West Texas twang. As he ate, he watched the café’s customers paying five dollars each to pass in and out of the back room to do nothing more than look at the blue suede shoes that didn’t even look like suede. He was sure his dad owned a pair of house shoes that looked exactly like those on display.

  To a person, the shoe observers emerged from the viewing speaking in low, reverent tones. He heard snippets of conversation everywhere, such as “I was in high school when I saw him,” or “He was so kind and beautiful,” or “I could feel his spirituality when he sang gospel songs.”

  Listening, Sam was reminded that he had two stories to cover. The Caleb Crawford phenomenon, on which he already had a substantial start, and an event that was unfolding by the moment in front of him. Only now did he realize he hadn’t really given the latter its due. He hadn’t prepared himself for what he was witnessing—everyone’s adoration for the one and only Elvis Presley.

  The same emotion that filled him when he was at a onc
e-in-a-lifetime sporting event began to form within him, and he wanted to do the Elvis celebration story justice. He needed to find the beginning of Elvis’s relationship to this desert burg in the middle of nowhere.

  And while that desire was jelling in his mind, he heard the voice of the King again and looked toward the entrance. A group of senior citizens came through the door dressed in dated clothing styles. He recognized them as the dancers from the malt shop float in the parade.

  The one with the copper-colored hair caught his eye. She looked to be the same age as the others in her group, but she carried herself and behaved like a younger woman. She looked like a little old lady full of mischief and full of stories. Sliding from the booth, he approached her.

  “Excuse me, ma’am. My name’s Sam Carter. I’m a reporter with the Dallas Morning News. I saw the banner on your float, WE KNEW ELVIS BEFORE HE WAS THE KING. May I ask you a few questions?”

  The elderly woman smiled up at him with a twinkle in her eye. “Why lands sake, I wondered how long it would take for the press to find me. Well, here I am, darlin’. Ask me anything you want.”

  Sam gestured toward the booth where the remainder of his lunch waited. “I have a table here. Would you like to sit with me?”

  “Why, thank you. I’d love to.” She slid across the vinyl seat, adjusted the bright green scarf around her neck and folded her hands on the table. Sam positioned himself across from her and looked at her more closely. He could envision her having been a beauty in her youth. With a measure of sadness, he thought of his own grandmothers, who had both been attractive young women if old photographs could be believed, and how time had a way of inflicting punishment.

  “A joke? What kind of joke?” Avery managed a weak laugh along with her two new friends, but the revelation that she had been the brunt of a prank involving Sam Something had her insides shriveling like a bacon slice in a hot frying pan, even after three Bloody Marys.

  “Now don’t get upset. It was all in fun.” Edwina stepped behind her and reached for her suit jacket. “Let’s get you out of this jacket. Can’t do a good makeover with you all trussed up like a turkey.”