Page 9 of Step Puck

“He shouldn’t hug you. I don’t like it.” That’s all I can come up with.

“You don’t like it? You don’t like it?! Who put you in charge of me? Hum?” She glares about the room, her arms wide facing the other customers who can’t hold in their shock -shifting their asses in their seats and jumping up-at the soap opera happening before their eyes.

I take a step back, both proud and terrified of the rage pouring off her in heat streaks from her eyes. “Look Lor…”

“How many times do I have to tell the two of you not. To. Call. Me. Lor. Do you understand me? Can this finally get through your thick skulls.” She hisses the words to both of us, her head turns from one of us to the other. Her brown eyes narrow, making her threat real and deadly even though she doesn’t say the word.

I can’t believe we’re involved in this daytime tv like drama. Something I started I guess. Huh. Well maybe Lorelei’s mother started this tv drama that everyone in this restaurant seems to find entertaining.

“Yes, Ma’am.” It’s like we planned this synchronization of our agreement. I meant it as a joke but there is a glitter to her eyes as if she likes that acceptance of her disapproval.

She faces Bud again and rips a ticket from the order pad holding it out to him. “Your bill. I’m going to check on the other customers and maybe apologize to them. You can pay Mike.”

Lorelei swivels, back straight, head high and marches to the next table, a fake wide smile on her face as she excitedly pretends to take an interest in their birthday celebrations. Happy birthdays sing from those gorgeous lips.

On to the next table, her fake laugh and fake heart felt apologies grate on my nerves. “Look, Billy.” The words stumble from him in a drunk race from his mouth.

All this is more than I want to handle, from Dena and Bud to a pissed off Lorelei. I came for a nice, quiet drink and instead get more than I want to handle with all the spectacle. I think it’s time for me to call it a night. More than time. I mean why am I babysitting Dena, she’s a grown fucking woman. If she falls down this rabbit hole she’s heading for. Well, it’s her problem. Not mine. I have to find out what Lorelei wants to do. Stay with her mother or go out on her own. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.

I turn to leave, Dena calls out to me. I move to the front door, looking back at her still on her stool and a slack expression on her face as if the drink in her hand does have alcohol in it. “Billy, you’re not leaving yet are you?”

“Yeah, Dena. I’m done.” I’m still hanging though. Guilt wraps its fingers around my mind, telling me I can’t leave my drunk stepmother to make her own way home. Why I feel guilty? I don’t know. I mean I haven’t seen or heard from her in five years since my dad died. It’s like she cut me out of their lives. It hurt at first but fuck. I’m a grown-ass man I shouldn’t have those feelings of more heavy loss should I? But damn I missed Lorelei. Thinking her name I look for her and she’s watching me, longing right on her face but then her face hardens and she goes back to her customers.

If I can’t have Lorelei I have no need to be here anymore. I go to leave when arms wrap around my waist and fingers grip tight against my abdominal muscles. I heave a huge sigh, when will she get the message I’m not interested? The back of my neck has prickles of revulsion sliver down my spine.

“Aw. Come on back big boy. And I imagine you are a big boy.” Her clawed fingernails walk their way down to my crotch and I grab her hand into mine, tossing it away from my body before she can grope me more than she has.

“Dena, leave me the fuck alone. I don’t know how many time I have to say this. I’m. Not. Interested.”

Her lips turn down and she snarls as she notices where my eyes sit. “So you like them young huh? Untouched? No sloppy seconds like I am?” She thrusts her face close to mine. So close I can breathe in her nasty breath.

“Dena, that’s not it. I’m just not interested.”

“I know how to use this.” She slips her hand between her legs and I’m embarrassed for her. Can this get any worse?

“Stop please. You’re embarrassing yourself.” I take two steps away, closer to the door, my eyes wide, settling hopefully on Lorelei to save me. I feel like I’m being stalked by a lioness, ready to eat me, and not in a good way. I don’t want to be mean or rough with her because she was my father’s wife. He loved her. How I don’t know. She must have been different then. Not so desperate for attention. Any kind, even if it’s negative attention. I guess I should feel like a god the way she wants me. Why so many women, whether young or old want to be with me, I’m not that kind of man. Not anymore. When I was a young jerk sure. My ego being stroked was the biggest high I ever had. Now, I only want one woman and she doesn’t want me. Not with the glares of distain she keeps throwing my way. She thinks I want this attention from her mother?

Dena tries again, this time trying to force my arm around her waist, and gyrating up and down my body like she’s a eighteen-year-old bootie dancer. I grasp her arm, doing my damndest to pull her away. I glance over to Lorelei hoping beyond hope for some help. I don’t want to accidentally hurt Dena in getting her away from me. To my relief Lorelei leans down, says something to the customers she’s helping and leaves them, storming her way over, a hurricane filled with lighting and stormy winds about to bowl us over.

9

LORELEI

I can’t believe what my Momma is doing to Billy. There’s only one word for it. Assault. This stops now. I lean down, saying a few words to the couple I’m serving. I don’t even know what I said and storm over, swirling with black thunderclouds ready to do battle.

“Momma.” I stuff my body between the two of them, pushing Momma back. “Momma, stop.”

“Lorelei.” She scolds, her lips say the words her contempt for my getting between the two of them obvious in her tone. “Get out of my way.”

“Momma, what you’re doing is wrong. You could go to jail for assaulting him.”

“What are you talking about. What man doesn’t want a little free sex.” Her voice is low and drawling, a hint of a Southern accent when she’s ecstatic around a man.

Billy’s face turns tomato-red with humiliation, resentment and outrage at having to give up his own control. I can tell from the way he holds his hands away from Momma-the veins thick and heavy in his hands and arms at having to hold himself back.

“Momma, you need help with your drinking. You’re out of control.” I’m a lot shorter than she is but I’m feeling taller and like I’m the adult and she’s the twenty-one-year old. I want to start pulling my hair out in frustration.

“Let me tell you young lady…”

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