Hoedown

Ba-Ding!

I checked the display... three minutes away, thirty-five minute trip, and a decent rider rating. Of course, I accepted the trip. It was 2:15 am, bars closed fifteen minutes ago, and I lived a half hour south. With any luck, this passenger was going my way, a good end to a busy night of carting drunks home.

I pulled around the corner and checked the pickup spot again, yep, that cowboy bar, "These Boots." The big neon sign flashed a cowgirl kicking up her booted feet and the flashing words beneath that said "Liquor and Dancing" in western script. I cringed a little, these cowboy folks tend to drink a lot and can get pretty rowdy. My momma always told me, "Nothing good ever happens after midnight." And she was pretty much right. Something clicks after midnight and the drinkers get drunker, the quiet ones get loud, and the loud ones get ornery.

Several clusters of folks gathered around the entrance and they eyed my car as I pulled up, but nobody made a move towards my car. I felt a little dejected, if the rider wasn't out here then they were probably in the bathroom, puking. I've seen it before. But it was my duty to get as many people home safely as I could; puke or no puke. I preferred no puke, but it wasn't always that way.

I opened the car door and stood by it. The timer on the Uber clock ticked past three minutes, I can cancel at five minutes and make my $3.75, but I'd rather get this long ride home. I hollered out the name they gave me, "Cassidy!" Nothing happened for a few moments, then the crowd parted slightly as a figure approached.

Dark brown, almost black curly hair, probably a pretty face but it was rather dark and hard to tell, a damn sexy body dressed in full sexy bra-less cowgirl attire, and a rather distinguished limp on her... left foot. Yep, she limped hard up to the car, and nearly stumbled on the last step.

"Are you Cassidy?" I asked gently.

The noisy crowd snickered as someone muttered just loud enough for us to hear, "Bring out the Gimp!"

She whirled on the crowd, some of who now openly laughed and a few who seemed embarrassed by the evil comment. But most laughed.

"Cunts!" she yelled at them. More people laughed.

Seething with anger, she turned back to me and whispered, "Yes, please take me home."

However, in her South Carolina accent, it sounded more like "Plays tike may ho-ume."

She looked defeated as she slid into the backseat. I turned on the interior light so she could get her seatbelt buckled while I downloaded the ride information.

Fuck, I thought. Thirty-five minutes due north, so an hour-plus empty ride home after that. Oh well. At least she looks biologically stable.

She must've seen me cringe because she asked if Fairmont was okay.

"Yeah," I reassured her. "No worries, I'm delighted to take you where you need to go."

"Delighted, huh? Well I'd be delighted if you crashed into that truck over there, the one with the confederate flag in the back window."

"Well, I could do that... but I need this car for tomorrow, so..."

I smiled and looked in the mirror as I spoke to her. She looked up and smiled at me for a moment, then she cast down her eyes again and looked down at her left leg. I turned off the interior light and pulled away from the bar, heading north on Main Street.

And, although I only caught a glimpse of her face, I saw that she was damn cute. Her smoldering dark brown eyes could set your heart on fire. But, even though she smiled at me, there was a definite sadness to her face.

Momma, you forgot this one: After midnight, the sad ones get sadder.

"So, uh, normally I ask my passengers how their night has been. But I'm kind of afraid to ask you..."

I let that hang there, testing to see if she wanted to talk. Sometimes people want to chat, sometimes they don't. Doesn't bother me, I won't press them if they don't want to have a conversation.

"Chuck wouldn't dance with me. He wouldn't even fucking dance with me."

"I see... and Chuck is... the guy with the truck?"

"He's a fucking asshole. And I hate him and his truck."

This conversation wasn't going so well, and it began to feel as if I was prying, which I don't like doing.

"Well, miss, we've got a little over half an hour to go. Just sit back and be comfortable, I'll get you home as soon and as I safely can."

I could see her looking out the window as the closed-down shops went by. She wasn't looking at them, though. She had that thousand yard stare.

"You know what, Mister Uber driver?"

"James."

"Okay, you know what, James? I don't wanna go home no more. I want you to take me to that Motel Six they got out there. I ain't fucking going home. I reckon you can change that for me?"

"Yes miss, gimme a minute or so."

I fiddled with the Uber App and put in the new destination as she kept talking.

"You know, you're like the fuckin' modern day bartender, ain't you? Do people ask you advice and shit? Tell you their problems? Oh shit... I'm sorry. Where I come from, if you ain't swearing twice in one sentence people look at you funny. I'm trying to cut down but I've been fuckin' drinkin' and it slips out. Shit, sorry, there I go again."

"Where's that you're from? And don't worry, I've said some of those words myself."

"I'm sorry, you're just so proper and all. I was in the Marines. And you try to be one of the guys, ya know? And the guys swear. All the fuckin' time."

"Is that where you got the limp?"

She huffed and sat quiet for a few moments. "Yeah, I got a splinter when I was in the Marines."

Properly rebuked, I apologized.

"Listen miss, um... Cassidy. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry—"

"No, no, it's fuckin' fine. It's just not fine with Chuck."

I didn't know what to do or say at this point. It seemed like most things I said were pissing her off. So I stayed quiet for a little bit.

"Well?" she asked. "Ain't you gonna ask what isn't fine with Chuck?"

"Sure, I just don't want to make you uncomfortable."

We slowed down for the red light, and I groaned. The lights in this town aren't that smart. Sometimes they will stay red forever, especially when we are all sitting there waiting for it and no other cars are coming at all.

"You know what, mister Uber? It's weird talking to the back of your head. Can I sit up front with y'all?"

I looked around, still green lights on the cross traffic side, I clicked open the electronic door locks.

"Sure. Nobody's coming. Come on up... oh wait... hey... I meant go outside... watch it... that's my head... your foot is... well alright then... put your seatbelt on please?"

I wasn't expecting her to climb over the seat. A normal person would've gotten out the back door and then sat in the front.

"Okay, all better. What was I fucking saying?"

"Um," I stalled. "Would you like a water? They're in that little cooler you knocked over."

"Oh yeah, fan-fucking-tastic. You want one too?"

I nodded as we started moving again. She chugged down the small bottle. Wiping her mouth, she started talking again.

"So yeah, you wanna know what's not fuckin' fine with Chuck? He won't fuck. Chuck won't fuck, me."

Without thinking, I asked, "Is he gay?"

"Oh no. He will fuck. Just not me. One time in the last three months since I've been home. One fucking time. And he had to have a viagra."

"Well pardon me for saying so, but he's an idiot or something. I mean, you're... well I'm s'posed to stay professional and all. But, you're very attractive."

"Thanks, but you haven't seen my foot."

"Uh, the one with a splinter?"

"What? Oh yeah, splinter. That's funny. No, I meant, you haven't seen my foot... because it isn't there. It's gone. It's somewhere in Afghanistan."

"Oh... I... I see."

I glanced over at her, from somewhere in her purse she had pulled out a knife. In the dark, it looked like some kind of tactical knife, not a little pocket knife.

"Um, miss. Can you put that away please? It makes me nervous."

"Huh? Oh shit, sorry." She stuffed the knife back in her purse.

"I didn't even know I did that. It happens sometimes."

I didn't know what to say, so I kept quiet.

"It's an Ontario Asek aircrew knife," she informed me. "It's the knife my buddy used that day. We were in an MRAP. You know what those are?"

"Yeah, sort of. It's a Mine Resistant... big truck."

"Right, mine resistant. Not mine proof. Some haji set off a 155 shell under us. When I woke up, we were on our side and taking fire. And my foot was crushed, broken and caught in some twisted metal."

She paused as her memories flowed over her.

"The noise, the sheer fucking violence of it all. Have you been in a war zone? No? Well, I can't ever forget it. Thompson is yelling at me to get outta the truck cuz the hajis are comin' hard. But I couldn't move. He looked at me, said we gotta go now."

A tear rolled down her cheek.

"I knew what he meant. We were taking heavy machine gun fire. I could see them advancing on us. We had a way out the back, except I was stuck. And we needed to move right fucking now!"

She wiped her cheeks with her hands.

"I yanked out this knife." She had it in her hands again. "I handed it to him and said get me the fuck out... and he did. He strapped on a tourniquet... and... got me the fuck out."

I reached over to open the glove compartment and get out the little Kleenex packet I kept in there for such occasions. I handed it to her, and asked her for one also.

"That's why Chuck won't fuck me. And he wouldn't even dance with me. And that's why... he was talking to that girl tonight..."

She turned her head away from me, and leaned against the window. Without a word she put the knife back in her purse. Normally, I never touch the passengers. Maybe a handshake at the end of the ride if the guy was cool or something. But I never touch the women. However, tonight, I put my hand on Cassidy's shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. Her right hand came over and rested on top of my hand.

The dark stores and houses flashed by in the night. All the regular people in the world were home in bed.

- - -

"Will you help me get my room? I don't feel so good."

Oh boy. Well it was almost three in the morning, so I thought why not.

After waking up the desk clerk and tolerating his leers and stares, I helped Cassidy to her room. She held onto my arm and limped pretty heavily to the second story room.

"Help me make sure it's safe?"

I wasn't born yesterday. In fact I was born many thousands of yesterdays ago. I knew what was going on. I couldn't do it, but I also couldn't stop.

"Yeah, sure. Mind if I take a leak? It's a long trip back home."

I dried my hands and came out of the bathroom to find Cassidy sitting on the bed, her back propped up by several pillows, and her cowgirl shirt hung on the chair. As I alluded to before, she wasn't wearing a bra, so that meant her generous breasts were on full display.

"Cassidy, I—"

"James, get over here...please. Don't make me beg."

I sighed, I had never been so torn in my life.

"Cassidy, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met."

"James, don't you dare say 'but.'"

"Cassidy..." I struggled to not say 'but.' "I don't just fuck. I make love. I want it to mean something."

"It would mean a lot to me, I guaran-fucking-tee you that."

"Cassidy, we don't know each other. If you want to get to know each other, I would love that. But we aren't going to start with just a fuck."

She crossed her arms over breasts and hung her head down, pouting.

"It's okay, just go. I'm not worth getting to know. I'm just a drunken, broken down woman. I'm not even a whole woman."

I looked at her, and after a few moments she looked up at me. I saw her sorrow and pain etched on her face. Tears formed in her eyes. I remembered what my wife said to me.

"James," she said. "You're a good man, do you know that? You always want to rescue people. You need to find someone who's worth rescuing. I want you to find someone like that, someone who needs you."

She told me that as I held her hand while she lay in her hospital bed, a few hours before she passed.

I picked up her shirt and helped her put it back on. Trust me, it saddened me to see such perfect breasts not being put to good use. Without a word, I unzipped her cowboy boots, easily slipping off the right one. The left one had the prosthesis in it, and I carefully removed the boot.

"Zippered cowboy boots, must be hard to find."

"Yeah, had to special order them. I couldn't get my new foot in or out of regular boots. Well, there it is. Whaddya think? Sexy, right?"

"Cassidy, I don't have a foot fetish, so I don't really give a shit what your foot looks like. Let's get these pants off, you can't sleep in those."

With some wiggling, we got her jeans off and she squirmed under the sheets and blanket, just wearing her checkered shirt and a yellow thong. I pretended not to notice how tight her ass looked, and that I didn't see a hint of pubic hair down there where I wasn't looking. I took off my dress shirt and chinos, so I was in my boxers and t-shirt. I got under the blanket, but not the sheets. She turned away from me, but immediately scooted back up to me. I spooned her firmly, the sheets blocking actual contact but we could feel each other's warm bodies.

She took my outside hand and clasped it between both of hers, holding it gently. My other hand slid under my own pillow, under my head. I whispered to her.

"Are you and Chuck the fuckless-wonder married? Kids?"

She laughed, "No, neither, thank God. But we are engaged. Were engaged. I'm not sure. I'm just happy to be away from him."

"He doesn't deserve you."

"I know. You've shown me more kindness than he ever has." She held my hand tighter, squeezing it to her breasts. "What about you? Why aren't you married?"

I couldn't help but nuzzle her neck a little. I mean, it was right there.

"She... died. Almost three years ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Was it... a sudden thing? Or an illness?"

"Drunk driver. She lived a couple days, we got to talk before she went."

She pulled my hand up to kiss it. It wasn't sexual, just comforting.

"That's why," I paused. I had never told this to anybody before. "You'll think it's crazy. But that's why I drive at night. So I can... save people... from drunks. And from becoming drunk drivers. I got some insurance money, the house is paid off. I don't really need the money, I just... have to do it."

She whispered to me, "That's not crazy, James. I'm glad you were out there. Maybe you saved me."

"I'm also maybe not quite as gallant as I seem. I uh... haven't been with anyone since then, so I'm pretty gun shy. I've dated a couple times but it didn't go well. I think maybe I'm ready, now, but I wanted it to mean something, you know? Not just a quick fuck. So don't take it wrong."

I nuzzled her neck some more, she cooed a little and scootched back up against me harder.

I fell asleep soon, comforted by her warm smell.

- - -

Bam Bam Bam!

Cassidy bolted from the bed as someone banged hard on our motel room door. I don't think I've ever seen anybody move that fast before. A loud obnoxious voice called from outside.

"Checkout in fifteen minutes or you pay another day!"

I could tell by the voice it was the same guy as last night. I slipped out of bed and grabbed my wallet. I passed my credit card through the partially opened door and told him to give me another day and a receipt. And I told him my girlfriend works in the fraud department at the bank and knows how to work with the cops in those kinds of cases. He glared at me, but he also accepted the ten-spot I gave him as a tip.

I turned to see Cassidy, shaking, hugging herself.

"I, um... I don't like loud noises all that much."

"Hey... hey come here." I crossed the room with my arms open, and wrapped her up in them. She snuggled up on me, her arms close to her body at first. Then, slowly, she relaxed and hugged me back. I held her quietly for a long time, until the door knocked again, much quieter this time. The clerk slid my card and the receipt under the door. I set those on the table and resumed my hug with Cass.

"Are you happy to see me? Or is that just morning wood."

I wiggled my pelvis a little, letting her get a good feel.

"Little bit of both, I think. You do feel pretty good."

Okay, this was getting out of control fast. I had to think of something.

"We got us a Waffle House across the street. Has he texted you? Chuck?"

She went to get her phone.

"Yeah, about 400 times." She scrolled through her texts. "He actually seems worried... no wait... now he's mad... now he's begging... mad again... name calling... and it looks like he's going to work tonight. and... let's see... oh, we're going to have words when he gets home."

She tossed the phone on the bed and looked at me, deflated.

"He called me hop-a-long three times in his texts. I had never heard of that before a few months ago. Hop-a-long Cassidy? It's some old movie actor or something. He thinks it's funny. He said that to me the first day I came back."

I cringed. It was pretty mean, really, to call her that. She didn't ask to have her foot blown off. Well, it was time to take some action.

"Get dressed, little missy. We'll get some coffee, get some grits, and we'll figure this motherfucker out." I threw the swear word in there for her benefit.

She laughed appropriately, and said, "Yeah, let's sort the shit out of this motherfucker."

We both laughed and put on last night's clothes.

- - -

We sat there at the Waffle House, eating our waffles and "all-the-way" hash browns like an old married couple. She buttered my toast, and I fussed at her to put her napkin on her lap and to chew with her mouth closed because she wasn't in the Corps anymore.

"How much money have you got?" I asked between bites.

"About $1,500, give or take."

I looked at her, she just shrugged. She had to have gotten some separation money from the corps, some compensation for getting permanently disfigured. Chuck probably spent it. Oh well.

"And your job?"

"I work at Angelo's Auto Body, just down the road apiece."

"Receptionist?" I asked, stuffing my mouth full of hash browns.

"Chauvinistic old bastard. I'm the number two auto body man there. I do about $950 a week, cash. You've got some potato on your chin." And she wiped it off with her finger and ate the little piece.

"Can you afford to move out, you think? I mean, you gotta leave this asshole."

"Yeah, he's just a historical footnote at this point. But... well shit. You know, they want a fucking security deposit and first and last up front. I've already looked into a place not too far from here"

I poured more syrup on my waffles, I like 'em wet and they had absorbed too much already.

"So, theoretically. You could probably get your own place in two or three weeks then."

"Yeah, I could maybe stay at the shop, I guess."

"I could loan you the money, but then I don't know if I can trust you so—"

"What?" she slammed her mug down on the table. People looked over for a moment. I shushed her and continued.

"—So you could stay at my place for a few weeks, till you get on your feet."

Wait, why did I say that? What the hell am I thinking.

"Why the hell would you do that, James?"

Yeah, why would I do that?

"I just... think you need a break. And I am in a position to give you a break. But you gotta work on the cussing. I'm not a big fan."

We looked at each other for several long moments. I was beginning to really like looking at her, and having her look at me.

"Maybe it's a dumb idea, I can just lend you the money."

I swear to God her eyes twinkled.

"Well now, hold on there, Tex. Let's back it up a little bit. What kind of place y'all got there? Cuz it will take me a long time to pay you back. Whereas a couple a three weeks rent-free, maybe, well that would be really helpful."