Heartbreak under the Neon Light

"Oh, no." Lauren said as she finally noticed Natalie as well.

Jenna started sobbing harder as Natalie open-mouth kissed the girl she had been dancing with. That was the limit for Lauren, who started to climb out of the seat next to Misty to give the bitch a piece of her mind. She was held back by the shoulders by Misty who was shouting something at her, but she could not hear. Her anger was too intense. Josh got up to help hold her down, but that gave Jenna an opening. She dove out of the booth and ran towards the front door as quickly as she could. Josh tried to catch her, but could only watch the retreating figure of Jenna running out of the bar as quickly as she could, her face buried in her hands.

He noticed they had gained an audience from a number of people, including Natalie and her date.

"Oh, shit." He mumbled to himself as Natalie approached, a confident air to her walk. He backed away, there was no point in holding anyone back or hiding, Jenna was safely out of earshot of anything that would happen now.

"Hey, Lauren!" Natalie said with a happiness that really grated on the nerves of both Misty and Lauren. "Look, I wanted to say I am sorry for missing Jenna's birthday. She never even gave me a clue where she was meeting up at.

"Did you check your voicemail?" Josh asked.

"Yeah, I checked my voicemail, messages, everything." Natalie said, pulling her phone out. The phone was quickly grabbed by Lauren. It was on with too many unread message notifications and emails for her to have been consistently checking on it, along with one unread voicemail message from 45 minutes before. She raised an eyebrow to Josh, completely ignoring Natalie's protest over having her phone rudely grabbed out of her hands. Josh nodded and misty hit the play button for the voicemail where Jenna was telling her where they would be meeting.

"Very diligent, aren't you?" Misty said with a look that chilled Natalie to the core.

"You mean, she is here?" Natalie asked, wide-eyed as the message was played on speaker for everyone around to hear.

"She was, until she watched you prancing around the dance floor with your tongue halfway down that bitch's throat." Lauren said angrily.

"Oh, my God. I have to call, I need to explain." Natalie said, panicked.

"What is there to explain, bitch?!" Lauren yelled, starting to attract an audience.

"I am going to stay out of this one." Josh said, slipping through the gathering crowd towards the bar.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Natalie asked, upset.

"You know well what he means. You know she loves you and practically worships the ground you walk on." Lauren said, acidly, as she stood up to come face to face with Natalie.

"I never did anything to give her an indication that we were da-."

"Whether or not you did," Misty interrupted, following Lauren out of the booth," you told her you would come to her birthday party. It is still not yet time for it to even start! I am very sure she at least told you the time to appear."

"I-, I..." Natalie stammered, backing up as the two enraged women got face-to-face with her.

"She dressed up for you. As a matter of fact, she had me come over earlier today to your room you share with her because she wanted to dress up special and couldn't choose an outfit." Lauren said, her arms gesturing wildly in every direction as she talked. Natalie looked around at the crowd, feeling her cheeks start to flush.

"NO! No. Uh-Uh. You look at us!" Misty shouted. "You said you would come to her birthday celebration. Much like you said it last year and the year before. Every single time she asked you to come do something with her, was this what you were doing? Being a slut?"

"I am not a slut!" Natalie shouted.

"I can pretty much confirm everything you say is true." A voice came out of the large crowd that had gathered around them.

"Stefanie?" Natalie asked, her voice becoming suddenly weak and pathetic.

A short, petite brunette stood behind Natalie, hands on her hips. Lauren and Misty were temporarily floored by this sudden interruption.

"The girl's name is Jenna, right?" The girl named Stefanie asked.

"Yeah." Lauren answered.

"She had gotten extremely drunk one night after we went partying. In the middle kissing, she happened to mention Jenna's name. She said she didn't feel like going to a movie with her, so she came out to the bar I met her at instead. She said she had apparently made the right decision because I was such a good kisser. I felt disgusted and left her right there."

"When was this?" Lauren asked, the venom in her voice apparent. She watched as Natalie's voice went completely pale.

"Just before last Christmas." Stefanie replied.

That's it!" Misty yelled at Natalie, pointing to the front door. "Get the hell out of my club!"

"You can't- you're just a bartender!" Natalie said, trying to find a straw to grasp.

"I guess you hadn't taken the time to read the sign out front." Misty retorted, the anger in her body turning to raw fury. Natalie appeared at a loss for words as a large man appeared through the crowd.

"Is she causing problems, Misty?" the bouncer asked.

"She is going home, right now. She is not welcome in this club ever again."

Natalie looked completely dumbstruck as the bouncer led her away to the front door.

"God, that was epic!" Lauren said, hugging Misty as the crowd returned to whatever they were doing before the disturbance.

"She deserved it." Misty replied, returning the hug.

"Remind me not to piss you off, Misty." Josh said, returning to the girls from the bar.

"Nah, you're just annoying." Misty replied with a smile. She felt really good kicking that bitch out of the bar.

"Listen, Misty. I need to go find Jenna. God knows what that girl is going through right now." Lauren interrupted.

"I'm coming with you." Josh replied. "That girl had it bad for Natalie, and she worries me sometimes."

"Me too." Misty agreed, nodding her head. "Look, give me a few minutes to call some extra help in and we can all go together. Despite the fact she won't stop looking at my ass every time she comes in here, I am probably too fond of her. She is a very sweet girl. If I can help her, I will. I want to come with you, too."

*****

The tires squealed as she rounded a corner, the frantic pace of the city left well behind as Jenna drove to the only safety net she felt she had at that time. It was a dark night, the illumination of the city showing above the majestic tree tops, but safely obscured from view. The battered old truck was showing more life now than at any time since she had learned to drive. Jenna was grateful for that. She had a hard time seeing through her tears, an endless flood she had been crying ever since she left Misty, Lauren and Josh at the club. She needed familiarity. She needed something real, not just a fantasy that would keep on disappointing her. There was only one place she felt she could go to get her head on straight.

As she saw the battered, familiar sign, Jenna refused to slow down until after she made a wild turn into the dirt and gravel parking lot, barely missing a couple of cars parked out front.

"Shit!" she exclaimed out loud as she parked the truck, pounding the steering wheel as hard as she could. She didn't bother locking the truck as she entered the building, the weathered boards that barely kept the cold chill of the winter air out of the Silver Spur Saloon were a comforting and familiar presence to her as any other place of significance in her life. Everybody who came to this out of the way bar knew her and her truck, both were left alone.

Not that a few of the bar patrons wouldn't have tried to get with Jenna if she had given them a chance. Perhaps all of them, a few women included would not have minded a shot at her if it weren't for the one person that Jenna had come to see. Molly, the owner of the Silver Spur Saloon, and the all-knowing, unforgiving god of everything that happened within this hole in the wall "saloon", had made it abundantly clear to everyone that Jenna was off limits. Nobody messed with Jenna out of fear of Molly and her 12-gauge shotgun, which she had no problem pulling out from underneath the bar counter.

Even without the assistance of Remington, Molly's overall demeanor and looks seemed to generate even the most begrudging respect from those who ran afoul of her. She was a fifty-three-year-old woman who stood about 5'9", she was strong as an ox and built like one, too. She kept her fading auburn hair always tied back in a severe bun. She had the jowls of a bulldog and the temperament of a rattlesnake whether angry or not. When she laughed, it was mirthful and loud enough that the walls of the building seemed to shake with the thunderous volume. When she was angry, her loud voice was often accompanied by the clatter of pots and pans being thrown against the walls, followed closely by someone retreating out the door for their very lives.

How someone had managed to remain with her long enough to father four children with her was a wonder to some people. Not when they looked at Ed, however. Ed was a gargantuous man, 6'4" tall with a balding head that hinted slightly at the thick, golden mane it used to be. At 60 years of age, he could still lift 100-pound sacks of grain with magnificent ease, his muscles still bristling for a man of his years. His disposition was a lot more laid back, content to sit behind the bar and mix drinks. He could usually be found smoking on an old calabash pipe when he wasn't busy with something else, a copy of Reader's Digest in his hand. Everyone knew Molly ran the show, Ed included, and he made no fuss. Whenever someone would ask how he could tolerate living with her, usually after a run-in with Molly themselves, he would usually just shrug with a sly grin and reply with,"Happy wife, happy life."

Long ago, after the death of Jenna's' father, and long-time patron of the Silver Spur, Molly had practically adopted Jenna as a daughter. Jenna had basically been raised in the smoke-filled confines of the bar after her mother died. As her father would sit at the bar eating peanuts and drinking his pain away under the neon glow of Budweiser and Coor's Lite logos, Jenna would be kept busy by some of the bars' other patrons, bouncing her on their knees, or when she got older, taking turns playing pool games with her. As the night would wear on, Molly would cook her a meal on the house, afterwards turning one of the booths reserved just for her use into a makeshift bed with a pillow and a blanket.

More than once her father would get thrown out of the bar by an irate Molly telling him to come to his senses and raise his daughter. One night, after that time-worn and familiar scene had played itself out, they had all, Jenna included, heard the screech of tires and the loud crash that followed. Molly, who was at the time trying to coax Jenna to sleep didn't even look out the window. Her worst fear for the spunky seven-year-old girl had finally played itself out. Molly had merely clutched her hand to her chest, as she saw the fearful reaction, Jenna's screaming flight towards the front doors.

Jenna had run out to see the battered old pickup flipped on its' side, running towards it and screaming for her daddy. She was held back by some of the regulars as others went to check on her father and the driver who hit his truck. Her father was found 20 feet away from the twisted wreckage, in the parking lot of the grain elevator across the street. Pickup trucks, even the sturdiest ones, were not designed with the ability to resist a T-bone collision with an eighteen-wheeler. His final act, his attemptive rescuers discovered with sorrow in their hearts, was to clutch a picture of himself with Jenna and her mother. He had died before they reached him.

Since then, Molly raised Jenna. Jenna was blessed with the combination of the strict parental discipline of Molly, and the gracious good looks of her own mother. She had worked in the kitchen after school, earning a wage and learning the value of a dollar. She had learned to be fiercely independent, self-reliant, and utterly confident in everything. That was, until she became a teenager. She had a tendency to gravitate emotionally towards the bad boys, and over the years would wind up crying in her booth at the Silver Spur. Increasingly, the extroverted little girl had turned into a shy introvert who nonetheless showed promise for a bright future. That future, Molly felt, was threatened by the boys Jenna naturally seemed to gravitate toward. She was usually cut short by Molly's casual threats of taking her shotgun to the latest offender, Jenna unwilling to believe that Molly would truly do so, but in her heart knowing she would for her.

Molly firmly held the view that she was the mama bear that pretty girls like Jenna occasionally need to ward off the evils of the world, especially little boys. Not that it mattered, Molly was serving her purpose. Jenna was an intelligent young girl back then. She knew she was a lesbian by the time she turned thirteen. The problem was, she felt the need to hide it. At a time of every girls' life when their hormones are raging wildly, she knew the perfect excuse was to just "go for" the boys with a reputation. Molly's shotgun did the rest of the work. As long as she could keep bringing those boys in, and letting Molly chase them away, it was only a matter of simple acting and scrubbing pots and pans as punishment for her "wayward tendencies" to keep her secret hidden. Usually that always ended with Molly trying to offer advice on what a real man is, and say that she felt the need to protect Jenna since she was the closest to family the young teen had.

Jenna, now a bright 20 years of age, was in need of Molly's advice right now. She could use some of that protective instinct, or maybe just a sympathetic ear. She knew Molly would give it to her. Despite her low bullshit tolerance, Molly was a very good listener and even better with giving the kind of spot-on advice a person would need for any situation. Jenna had become so frequent a patron over the years, that, despite her less frequent visits since starting college, everyone knew that Jenna and Molly had worked out a code for whenever she came in. Jenna located her target, a battered old jukebox whose tunes had last been changed in the 90s. The coins flew from her purse to the slot with amazing speed as she pressed B1.

Those who had become accustomed to this scene, the old regulars, gave the girl sympathetic looks as she passed quickly by to a booth in the darkened corner of the saloon. They did not expect any reaction out of her, they could see she was in no mood to talk- to them, at least. Nobody even really needed to look up to know who had just walked in, and for what reason. Everyone knew what was coming, even Ed.

"Oh, shit." he had muttered, not even having noticed she had arrived until that song started playing. Seeing Jenna's overall state, he knew how tonight would end for him if he didn't go fetch Molly right away. He made his way into the kitchen by only a few steps before he heard Molly clamoring towards the front. He winced slightly knowing there'd be hell to pay for whoever had hurt her this time. Molly hurried past him, giving him a tap on the shoulder, thanking him. He let out a breath he had been holding in, glad he would not have to deal with Molly's wrath this evening. Walking back to tend to the bar, he risked a furtive glance to the booth in the corner. Immersed in shadow a small, petite silhouette came together with a broad one in a shaky, emotion-wracked hug.

"Now, you tell me what happened." Molly said, pulling out of the hug.

"Here you go, darling," said Ed before Jenna could answer. He had sauntered over warily with a Budweiser each for Molly and Jenna. Putting it down in front of Jenna, he winked at her with a rare warm smile crossing his face. Until...

"Damn it, Ed! Quit your slack-jawing and tend to the damn bar!" Molly shouted, startling everybody in the bar. Ed beat a hasty retreat to the muted guffaws of the regulars, and even Jenna was hard-pressed to suppress a slight smirk at the antics she was all too familiar with.

"Now, tell me who I have to kill. Ed! Bring my shotgun, I'm going for a ride!" Molly shouted aloud, eliciting another startled response from the patrons. She saw Jenna's eyes widen in horror, and gave her a smirk from her bulldog jowls. Ed arrived at the table with a two-barrelled shotgun and extra shells.

"What are you doing, carrying that gun around the bar like that?! Put it back before you kill yourself!"

Ed retreated once more, looking extremely perplexed.

"No, Molly. You don't have to kill anybody." Jenna said, her depression returning, the pain rising in her eyes along with the fresh tears threatening to destroy what was left of her mascara. She had to come clean with Molly before she could tell her her latest tale of woe. "I haven't been entirely honest with you-"

"What did I tell you about lies, young lady?!" Molly screamed. If there was one thing she disliked more than young men, it was a liar.

"Please, Molly," begged Jenna, "just listen."

"Okay," huffed Molly, crossing two beefy arms, "I'm listening."

"I-I am a lesbian." Jenna stuttered, her gaze dropping to the floor. She was prepared in her mind for the worst possible reaction. This corner of town tended towards the conservative side, and she was always wary of who she might reveal her secret to. It was more of a shock then, when she heard snickering. As she raised her eyes slowly towards Molly, she saw a growing display of toothiness from the woman who adopted her as her own. Suddenly, Molly busted out into one of her famous booming laughs. The bar filled with the cavernous sound of her mirth. Tears were springing to Molly's eyes, hamhock hands with sausage fingers wiping them away as fast as they appeared. Molly calmed herself down, and spoke in a lowered voice as ham hock hands completely engulfed Jenna's.

"Girl, you have got much to learn about me still to think that I would be mad at you for being a lesbian."

"But-"

"Oh, don't you dare throw me in with their lot, child." Molly chided, a wide grin still planted on her swarthy face as she pulled away from the hug." Haven't you lived with me long enough to know that I don't care what you do as long as it makes you happy? For some reason, though, I don't think your being lesbian has worked out too well for you honey, and- why are you looking at me like that child? Just about everyone here has known for years you preferred girls."

Jenna was momentarily brought out of her teary-eyed stupor, confusion written all over her face.

"Years? Why didn't any of you say anything to me? It would have made things so much easier to talk about whenever I have had problems."

Molly gestured for Jenna to take a seat in the nearest booth, and began talking as soon as Jenna complied.

"Much for the same reason that you didn't come right out and talk to me about it, I suspect. As for them, "Molly gestured towards the guys lining the bar, "I told them to find another bar if they said a word about it. They're almost as much a fixture in this place as Ed and I, so of course they kept quiet." Molly replied, laying her hand on top of Jenna's. "It has been difficult for me to see you struggle with this secret for so long. I have effectively raised you since you were three years old when your mother died. Your father, God rest his soul, was a good man. His problems were that he was too grief-stricken to raise you proper, and he had no idea what to do with a little girl."

"When he first started to bring you here, he made frequent mention of the fact. He wanted a woman to help raise his daughter, but was too despondent to get into another relationship so soon. I guess I was the best solution. He could drink himself stupid every night and I would look after you, teaching you to at least be lady-like, and keep you safe as best I could."