Southern Comfort Ch. 05

"I can't keep doing this. I can't keep on playing the games we've been playing, Cindy. Either, I never want to see you again, or I want to have some part in your life. Can you understand that?" he asked sounding more coherent than at any part of our conversation.

I nodded slowly at him. "Yeah, I think I can understand that now," I replied. I thought for several long minutes before I posed the question, "Have you got anything on your agenda for tomorrow?" Bob had put himself on the chopping block for me more than once. I felt like I owed him something for that.

"Do I look like I have anything planned?" he snorted in response. "Why? What did you have in mind?"

"Bob, you need to get out of here for a while. Take a break from all the madness. If I can arrange it, how would you feel about taking a little road-trip?" I asked.

"Where to?" he shrugged.

"Not far, only about an hour away. Are you game?" I asked. I was pretty sure Bob would be game for anything at that point.

"I guess. You may be right about getting out of here. I think I'll go crazy if I have to look at these four walls another day."

"Then, get up, and let's get you into a shower. I need to make a couple of phone calls. I may have to run out for a few minutes. Let's get the show on the road!" I said clapping my hands together to encourage him to move.

I directed him towards the shower first. While he was busy, I picked up the phone and dialed Jon. He answered on the first ring.

"Jon? Are you still up?" I asked as I ventured a glance to be sure Bob was indeed in the shower.

"Yeah. I was waiting for you to call. What's going on?" he asked. "Is Bob okay?"

"Well, yes and no. He's pretty fucked up, but I have him taking a shower right now so I could call you," I replied.

"Okay. I'm listening. What's it about?"

"I can't really explain it all right now. It's complicated. But, here's the deal. If I don't get him out of here, he's going to go Three-Mile-Island, if he hasn't already. You should have seen this place when I walked in. He said he threw the maid out. It must've been days ago because it's a mess."

"Did he tell you why?" he asked.

"Well, sort of," I replied sounding vague. "But, I'm just having a little trouble understanding some of it myself right now. You and I can talk about it later."

"So, what's your plan?" he asked. I thought it was odd that Jon wasn't pushing me for more details at the moment, but Jon could be like that. He was a patient man and he knew when to back off to give someone their personal space. I wondered if he was simply giving me space or just enough rope to hang myself.

"I want to take him over to the coast for a day. I need to go see my grandmother anyway. I could kill two birds with one stone," I explained. "The thing is, I don't have any clothes and I don't want to go back to my house because then I'm going to have to be doing a bunch of explaining I don't want to have to do right now."

"So, what are you asking me?"

"Can I come get some clothes from your house?" I asked. I could almost feel the noose around my neck get just a little bit tighter than usual.

"Well, they're your fucking clothes. I wasn't planning on wearing any of them," he snorted at me. "When did you want to come by?" His flippancy made me relax only slightly.

"In a few minutes, if that's okay."

"Sure. I'm up. Come on over. But, are you going to tell me the details of what this is all about?" he asked. "And, how long are you planning to be gone anyway?"

"I should be back in time for our dinner date tomorrow evening," I said.

"Oh, shit. I forgot about that. I can't do dinner tomorrow. There's a ball game tomorrow night and I promised to take my son. I totally forgot to tell you. Sorry about that. You could come over later though, after the game."

"Sounds perfect. So, I'll see you in a few minutes then?"

"I'll be here. See you soon," he replied before hanging up the phone.

I waited on the couch for Bob to come out of the shower again. It gave me a little time to think about how accommodating Jon was being. I wondered why.

I heard the bathroom door open at last. Bob was wearing one towel, while drying his hair with another when I stepped to the bedroom door. I dragged him to the living and insisted he sit back down on the couch.

"I have to go out for a few minutes," I informed him. He looked a little more sober now at least. "I have to run over to Jon's and get some clothes. Will you be alright while I'm gone?"

"Yeah. You talked to Jon?" he asked suspiciously. I nodded. "And, you're coming back?" he asked looking more than a little surprised.

"Well, we can't very well take a fucking road-trip if I don't, can we?" I asked. I was cautious in how I spoke to him. If Bob thought for one second that I was merely placating him, he would have thrown me out on my ass in a heartbeat. Who knows what might have happened from there?

"I'll be back in fifteen minutes," I informed him as I poured him a fresh cup of coffee and placed it in his hands. "Drink this while I'm gone. No more smoke for the night. Understand?" I asked. He gave me a sullen look, but he nodded in agreement. I leaned down and brushed my lips against his cheek. "Be right back," I reassured him yet again.

When I got to Jon's, he met me at the door and followed me to the bedroom where I went through his drawers and closet to find a couple of changes of clothes. We talked briefly while I was gathering my things together. When he asked for details about Bob, I reported on his condition rather than dwelling on the reasons behind it. When I finished my report, he simply nodded with understanding.

"Bob's been a friend. I won't stand in your way. God knows he's helped us out of a few bad situations," he admitted. "When are you leaving?" Jon's loyalty to friendship was not out of character in the least. What was out of character was Jon letting me out of his sight with Bob. Things had happened recently that had changed our entire situation.

"I'm not sure. I'll see how sober he is when I get back over there. I left him drinking coffee. I'd like to go tonight if we can. We'll stay at my grandmother's house. If not, we'll just drive over in the morning and stay for the day. I can't go dragging him to Grandmother's in the condition he's in right now." I paused for a moment before I asked, "Did you know he was a Vietnam veteran?"

"No, I didn't. He never talks about his past," Jon shrugged. "Well, that makes some sense, I guess. Are you sure you can deal with him?" Jon appeared a little concerned but not overly so.

"I think so. I think he'll be fine once I get him away from here. Maybe he just needs to be around some family for a change. My grandmother will be good for him," I said with a laugh.

Jon nodded in agreement with my idea. "Could be, Kitten. Just don't get in over your head. If you run into any problems, you pick up the phone and call me. I'll see you tomorrow night and you can tell me all about it then," he said giving me a kiss on the forehead. He saw me out the door with that promise in mind.

When I returned to Bob's shortly thereafter, he was still sitting on the couch where I'd left him. The coffee in his cup was gone and he looked more alert than he previously had. He followed me and watched as I carried my clothes to the bedroom and tossed them down on the bed. I made a snap judgment and picked up the phone to call my grandmother.

She was surprised to hear from me and even more surprised when I informed her I was coming over that night. I let her know it was going to be late when we arrived and I also let her know I was bringing along a friend. She seemed thrilled by the prospect of having some company. When I hung up, Bob was staring at me like I had two heads.

"Where are we going?" he asked looking a bit dazed.

"I'm taking you home with me," I said without looking up as I began folding clothes and stacking them together. "Where's a suitcase?" I asked cheerfully.

"Top shelf of the closet," he muttered. "Home?"

"My grandmother's," I explained as I struggled with trying to retrieve a small case from the closet shelf. He pushed me aside and handed it down to me.

"Here, Shorty," he said as he thrust it in my arms and cocked his head at me. "I'm going home to meet your family? And, Jon doesn't have a problem with that?" he asked suspiciously.

"That's what I said. Well, you'll only get to meet Grandmother. The rest of them won't be there. Hurry up now and finish getting ready," I ordered. "Granny is waiting up for us."

Bob suddenly looked completely sober. Quite a turn around for someone who was in his previous condition less than an hour ago.

"I need to shave," he said running his hand over his chin and frowning. "I can't meet your grandmother looking like this. What am I going to wear?" he asked. His eyes were lit up with excitement. There's nothing like an adrenalin rush to ruin a perfectly good high. I laid his sudden sobriety to that cause and effect. He hurried away to the bathroom to begin his grooming process while I began flipping through his wardrobe.

I noted a couple of zippered bags hanging on the rack and I lowered the zippers on them to examine their contents. One was a military full dress uniform. The breast of it was loaded with small brightly colored patches and ribbons. I zipped it closed and shoved it back in place.

A few minutes later, I stepped to the door of the bathroom and held up several suits and shirts for his approval. He looked in the mirror and nodded at two of them. I laid the suits out on the bed and began rummaging for a pair of jeans. I found several pair hanging on hangers and neatly pressed with creases. I removed a pair and tossed them on top of my clothes. Another meticulous male who sends his jeans out to the cleaners rather than laundering them himself, I thought with a sigh.

I returned to the bathroom and had a seat on the toilet lid. I pulled my knees up, hugging them to me while I watched him shave.

He cut his eyes at me, frowning. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm watching you shave." His hands seemed to tremble a little and I could tell I made him anxious.

"Why? Ouch!" he hissed and pressed a finger against a red spot that appeared and spread through the white lather.

"Would you like some help?" I offered.

He let his hands drop to his sides and admitted, "I'm nervous."

"Why?" I asked as I stood up and stepped behind him peering over his shoulder at his image in the mirror. I couldn't resist running my hands over his back and shoulders. I hadn't been far off my mark when I described him as a marine in a silk suit. His body was amazing, both in and out of a suit.

"I'm not used to having anyone around watching me," he said still frowning into the mirror.

I took him by the shoulders and guided him to the toilet seat I had abandoned. "Give me that," I said reaching for the razor as I made him sit down. He looked more than a little distraught as I rinsed the blade under the running water and then lifted his chin with my fingertips. After I made a few swipes gently along his throat, he seemed to relax a little.

We didn't talk as I finished shaving him. A few minutes later, I pronounced myself finished and handed the razor back to him. He washed his face and peered at himself for a moment before he nodded in approval. "Where did you learn to do that?" he asked sounding casually interested.

"Well, I didn't get a formal education in it if that's what you're asking," I snipped sarcastically at him. "Hurry up! You have to get dressed," I ordered as I led the way back to the bedroom.

I sat on the edge of the bed and watched him dress. Before he slipped on his jacket, he put on the leather shoulder holster. I watched him check the gun he carried before he placed it in the leather pocket. I didn't comment, but I thought about Lee for a moment. Bob reminded me of Lee in some ways. They had the same orderly traits, the same grey-blue eyes, the same chiseled physique and the same level of self-confidence. The resemblance ended there.

By the time he finished dressing Bob looked like his old self again. He was reasonably sober and rational. He gave the suitcase a quick once over to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything. Then he gave me a worried look.

"Cindy, we're staying at your grandmother's right?" he asked cautiously. I nodded. "Uh, I don't own anything to sleep in. I sleep in the nude," he admitted sounding rather shy about it.

"So, do I. What's your point?" I asked with my hands on my hips.

"Well, I mean, I don't know what kind of sleeping arrangements you have in mind."

I let out an exasperated sigh. "It's fine, Bob. Just relax a little, okay? Are you ready?"

He nodded as he filled his pockets with keys, a wallet, a beeper, silver change and various other necessity items. We headed for the door with him toting the suitcase over one shoulder.

Bob insisted on driving his car. I was comfortable that he wasn't going to kill us both getting there, so I didn't argue. We made one stop at a convenience store to stock up on a few bottles of alcohol and some smokes before we headed east on the Interstate. **********

We arrived on my grandmother's doorstep around ten that night. She turned on the porch light the second she heard the car doors slam shut. She peered out the curtain over the side entrance door and then flung it open.

"Come on in, Cindy," she greeted me with enthusiasm. She cast a glance past me at Bob and she gave him a big smile. I was already kicking my shoes off as I leaned against the wall in the foyer for support.

Bob stepped inside behind me clutching the suitcase and he glanced down at the mats placed at the door for visitors to remove their shoes. He gave me a knowing look as he began to slip off his own shoes. I grinned at him over my shoulder.

"You don't have to take your shoes off," Grandmother insisted as she reached out and gave Bob's sleeve a tentative stroke. It was standard southern protocol to say that. What she really meant was, "Take you shoes off and stay awhile."

"I don't mind, Ma'am," he replied. "I don't wear my shoes in my house either," he explained.

Barefoot, I paused and leaned down to give my grandmother a warm hug. "Hey there, Granny. How have you been?" I asked as I gave her a squeeze.

"I'm doing good. How about you?" she asked. I nodded at her and gestured to Bob who had just slipped off the second shoe and now stood facing her expectantly.

"Grandmother, this is my friend, Bob. Bob, this is my grandmother, Mrs. Johnson," I said making introductions between them.

Bob extended his hand and gave her a timid smile. Granny grasped his hand lightly and gave it a feminine squeeze. Her eyes lit up when she gave him a more thorough examination. She turned her head to me and said, "Oh, my! He sure is a handsome looking something, Cindy."

She turned on her heel and waved for us to follow her from the foyer to the dining room and kitchen area. "Come on in. I have some coffee ready to make."

Bob gave me a sheepish look as he followed her. She flipped a light switch and the crystal chandelier over the table flooded the room with a couple dozen bright lights. I saw Bob wince slightly and I knew he was feeling the after effects of his binge.

I turned the adjustable switch and dimmed them a tad. She patted the back of the chair at the head of the table and invited him to have a seat. It was my grandfather's seat and she was giving Bob the honor of filling it. I took the suitcase from Bob and turned to my grandmother.

"Where do you want us to put this?" I asked. I didn't have to ask. I already knew the answer. "In the Spanish room?" I suggested. Every room had a descriptive name and the Spanish room was my old bedroom. Now, it served overnight guests. Bob gave me a puzzled look and I leaned and whispered to him, "The guestroom."

"Yeah, you know where it is," she said waving in the direction of the back of the house. She was already in the kitchen starting the coffee pot and chattering away about what all she had done in preparation of our visit. I put the suitcase in the bedroom and returned to hear her again offer Bob the seat at the head of the table. He was about to sit down when she placed one hand on his arm.

"Wait a minute, Bob. Let me look at you again," she said. He turned slightly in her direction and faced her. She stretched up on her tiptoes and peered closely at his face. "Take off those glasses," she demanded. Bob cleared his throat and removed his glasses. He tucked them into the breast pocket of his coat. He gave me a weak look over my grandmother's shoulder. I just grinned at him.

She placed a hand against his chest and studied his face for a long moment. "That's what I thought. Blue eyes!" she said firmly. She cast me a glance and nodded. Then she turned back to him and said, "You really are a handsome man. You know that, don't you?"

Bob opened his mouth slightly to speak, but nothing came out. He was blushing bright red. Grandmother had a funny little way of laughing. She held her breath when she laughed, and it made her turn red, too. Her blue eyes sparkled with amusement as she laughed at his reaction. She was tickled by the fact that she could make a man like Bob blush. I guess I inherited that trait, because it tickled me on more than one occasion as well.

She ran her hand over the lapel of his jacket and leaned close to him. Grandmother was a small woman. She was four-foot ten inches tall on a good day. She seemed impressed by Bob's stature. She patted his chest and she sniffed of him, and then nodded. "You smell good enough to eat!" she declared and began laughing again.

I burst into laughter too as Bob just stood there with his mouth hanging open. He looked completely helpless and at the mercy of my grandmother's brazen inspection of him. I think he was beginning to see from whom I inherited my personality.

"Let him alone now, Granny," I admonished her. "He knows how sexy he is," I added giving him a look he completely understood.

"I brought you something, Grandmother," I informed her as I crossed to the counter where I had set the bag of alcohol. I lifted a bottle of rum from the bag and held it up for her to see. Granny wasn't a drinking woman, but when her grandchildren came to visit, we always brought the ingredients for Pina Coladas. Grandmother was corruptible. "Want one?" I asked smiling at her.

She nodded eagerly and her blue eyes lit up. "Yeah, I'll have one. Have y'all eaten yet? I didn't have time to cook, but there's some leftovers I can heat up." It suddenly hit me that Bob probably had not eaten, possibly not for days.

"What have you got?" I asked. She was already removing bowls from the refrigerator while I went about making her a Pina Colada.

"Show Bob where to wrench his hands," she demanded as she went about preparing him a plate to warm in the microwave. He gave me a funny look that said he didn't understand what she expected him to do.

"She means 'wash your hands'. She says 'wrench' for rinse," I explained in a whisper as I led the way to the bathroom. "She also says 'over yonder', 'shut the light on' and 'pull the door to'. If you need a translator, let me know," I giggled quietly at him.

A few minutes later, we were all seated around the table with drinks and plates of food. Bob was inhaling a scotch on the rocks and Granny was sipping down her drink through a straw.

The food wasn't Bob's usual fare. He stared at his plate for moment as he pushed the food around with a fork. While my grandmother kept up a steady flow of family gossip, I reached over and forked up some speckled butter-beans. I began poking food in his mouth without giving him a chance to balk at it.

After the third bite, he began feeding himself while he listened to us chatting across the table. I noticed he was struggling with trying to saw off a piece of fried pork chop from the bone without much success. Granny always overcooked the chops and the microwave toughened them even more.