The Girl from the Ouachita Ch. 08

He was concerned about their reaction to Jo, especially after he saw them frown when Donna introduced her as "Chris' fiancée, Jo Kennedy."

Donna and Jo held their ground, chatted the older women up, and before too long they were laughing and smiling with the girls. Chris continued running chores for his mother, but kept an eye on Jo, Donna, Granny Norma and Grandma Alma. They continued laughing and visiting amicably, so Chris sighed in relief and gave them a wide berth.

Tuesday night was 'on-your-own', unless you were staying in the house. If you were, the evening meal was mandatory. The younger cousins wanted Diane, Donna, and Chris to show them around Nashville's music scene, but they put them off until Wednesday night, when the elders were busy preparing Thursday's feast.

Jo and Chris were circumspect that night, which took about all of the self-discipline she and he had. Oh, they managed to make love in the spoon position, with Chris' long arms allowing him to reach around to diddle her noodle and paw her breasts. She ate one pillow trying to stifle hers noises, but no one said anything the next morning, so assumed they weren't heard.

They spent Wednesday with his sisters and two cousins from North Carolina, looking at places with meaning to the family, like Dad's business office and one of the huge yards where supplies and equipment were kept. They also drove by the Episcopal Church they attended, and then went out to the historic Civil War battleground and museum just outside Franklin.

Time flies when you're having fun, and too soon it was time to return home and prepare to serve as guides for the other six cousins who wanted to go listen to singers and dance in Nashville. Dressing western was de rigueur, and they certainly were. The five men were good-looking cowboys in their jeans with western belts and buckles, yoked western shirts, and boots; all but Chris wore hats.

The women, though, shown. All seven wore denim dresses, ranging from Cousin Renee's V-neck mini to Cousin Cathy's midi that stopped just above her boots. Donna, Diane, and Jo were in the middle, with knee-length dresses featuring matching over-size buttons, belts, and boots. All seven looked so good Chris began wondering if he needed to bring one of his daddy's clubs or guns.

They made a stop at a downtown music venue, but were disappointed at both the price of drinks and the hip-hop sounding band, so Diane suggested the Songwriter's Round at the Commodore's Grill across a street from Vanderbilt. That was more like it!

Reasonably priced beer, young talent that you just knew you'd see someday on TV, and nice appetizer plates. They clapped and cheered for all fifteen, and some of the cousins drank so much beer they wanted to keep going when the show ended. Donna and Jo were drinking sodas and water; Chris drank two beers before switching to water, and Diane did the same. They and Cousin Cathy were sober; the others were not, but they weren't falling-down drunk either.

Their begging carried the day, so Diane suggested a chain bar that was on the way back. Chris expressed his reservations when they drove up, saw the crowd, and he saw the name of the bar. The beggars got their way again, but he wouldn't let them go in until he had warned them to avoid fights because the bouncers had a bad reputation.

They waited in line until half were allowed inside; Cathy, Morris (one of the male cousins), the sisters, and Chris had to wait for more people to leave. They were in a small group, talking to each other, but Morris was near the path for those leaving, which got him yelled at by the mountain of a man acting as security at the door. Morris apologized and quickly moved way, but the bouncer continued to alternately glare at him and leer at the women. Chris took his measure, and saw that his friend Donnie was correct; Wes was a big SOB!

When they were allowed inside they discovered it was packed wall to wall, drinks were hard to come by, and the staff members were harried and bordering on rude. There was a small stage with a DJ, but it was much more a meat market than dancehall.

They found an out-of-the-way place to stand in a group, listened to the music, and/or tried to talk to each other above the din. Every girl got hit upon more than once by a drunk who staggered over, and Chris got his ass fondled by a redhead with big tits who put her chin on his shoulder and propositioned him. He told her no thanks, he was engaged; but feel free to ask one of the other men.

Jo was dancing with a couple of the female cousins, so she missed the proposition; Diane didn't, and she gave Chris hell after Red sashayed away.

Chris was already on his last nerve from the hodge-podge of loud music, being jostled, and having to step in when drunks hitting on the girls wouldn't take no for an answer, so when an obnoxious punk grabbed Jo by the waist and tried to pull her onto the tiny, overcrowded dancefloor, he might have overreacted. Or maybe not: he only grabbed him, escorted him a few feet away, and threatened his life. The punk beat a hasty retreat.

That was the final straw; he went from person to person, yelled for them to finish their drinks and be at the cars in ten minutes, or find their own way home.

He then gathered the four girls and two boys that rode with him and started for the door. The discovered it was even more crowded with even more obnoxious drunks than when they arrived, and they had to fight their way through the crowd to get out. Two male cousins, Terry and Morris, were in the lead, forcing their way through the crowd and making room for the girls to follow.

Diane and Cathy closely followed the boys; Donna, Jo, and Chris brought up the rear, but Chris was temporarily cut off when two of the harried waiters, carrying trays of empty glasses, rudely cut in front of him to get to the bar, and by the crowd filling in behind them.

Chris could see the blonde heads of the girls as they got to the door; one paused in the doorway and looked back before suddenly lurching out the door, and the one behind her surging forward as if pulled.

Concerned that someone was manhandling them, Chris stopped being polite and pushed through the crowd, which included people at the bar trying to get drinks, as well as those trying to get in and those trying to get out through the same narrow hallway. The piss-poor design offended him, as a builder. He wondered what idiot dreamed this up, and how many people would get injured in an emergency, like a fire inside the overcrowded building.

When Chris made it to the door, he heard a commotion off to the left, toward the street on which their cars were parked. A crowd had developed around the commotion so he couldn't see what was going on, but he could hear several females screaming, "Leave him alone!" and "You're killing him!"

He quickly forced his way to the front of the crowd. The 6'5", 270-pound bouncer named Wes was holding the 5'9", 170-pound Morris on the ground; he was holding Morris' hair in a ham-sized hand: "Give me the fucking phone or I'm going to keep beating his head on the bricks!"

A terrified Cathy had a phone in her outstretched hand, offering it to the bouncer and begging him to stop hurting him!

Chris stepped forward and grabbed the phone out of her hand before Wes could. They faced one another -- the wild-eyed monster and his enraged nemesis. "You want the phone? Get your fat ass off the boy who's going to own it in a lawsuit, and come take it from me, Pussy!"

Wes screamed, "I'll break his fuckin' neck if you don't hand it to me right now!"

"Do that! There are several dozen people filming and twice that many witnesses to murder - you'll be getting a lethal injection about this time next year!"

As messed up as he was, Wes' brain processed 'murder' and 'lethal injection'. He turned Morris' bloody head loose and stared at Chris, who was holding the phone in front of himself tauntingly.

An irate Jo yelled, "He pushed Donna down and yanked me through the door for no reason! When Morris took his picture so we could file a complaint with his boss, he went psycho and started beating on him!"

"Oh, so you don't want your ass-ugly face seen in pictures? Here's the phone with your picture, Douche - come and get it!"

"Give me the phone, or you're gonna be on the ground beside him!" Wes yelled as he got up and stepped over the unconscious Morris' body.

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall, Sissy Boy. You want it? Come on -- take it from me!" Chris challenged.

By now everyone outside had a phone trained on the pissing contest, and the second bouncer was hurrying through the crowd yelling at the monster to get back to his station.

'Roid Monster was having trouble believing the little chickenshit was actually challenging him. "Do you not know who I am, mother fucker? I played defensive end for the Titans! I can crush you!"

"Sure you did, Tennessee State -- for about ten minutes! I recognized your lazy, slow ass when we came in. You got a roster spot for a week of preseason when their first four d-ends were hurt, but they cut your sorry ass as soon as one got well, and no one else will give you the time of day!

"Your football resume ain't shit, or you wouldn't be standing outside a barroom door bullying girls and boys half your size, would ya?

"Now, either put up, or shut up!"

The other bouncer was closer: he yelled "Wes, get back here and let these folk be!"

Wes should have listened, but he didn't.

With a crazed look, he drew back and swung a fist the size of a ham in a big, looping hook. Instead of retreating, Chris stepped closer hit him in the throat. Wes had a bull neck, but his air pipe was unprotected. His fist faltered as it passed behind Chris, who powered under his arm and stepped to his side.

Wes grabbed his throat with both hands, turning white with pain and fear as he tried to inhale and couldn't. He spun away; Chris hit him in the ribs with his right fist, and then kicked him in the butt, propelling him into a low brick wall around a tree, which he impacted with his shoulder. He screamed, gasped for air, and toppled to the ground, where he rolled onto his side and made gurgling noises.

The other bouncer was now close to the alert, adrenalized, and ready-for-more Chris; he read the look and the body language, stopped, and amiably asked, "Did you crush it?"

The question lowered the level of rage Chris felt; he shook his head and answered, "No, but I should have! He's pulled this shit on patrons of this overpriced gyp joint for at least two years, including one of my friends who he put in the hospital for a month! You people should have fired his sorry ass long ago -- if Morris is hurt as bad as he looks, you're gonna be working for him and Donnie after the lawsuit!"

"I know what you're saying, but the owner is friends with his dad, and Wes isn't exactly skilled in his chosen occupation, or any other for that matter. He's supposed to stand here and intimidate people to keep the chances of fights breaking out down, but sometimes he's steroided up and starts shit, which I'm expected to fix! If they didn't pay me so well I'd quit, but they do, so I put up with him. Most of the time he's not like this, but sometimes the steroids and his frustration cause him to lose it, like he did just now.

"But I won't lie for him, or for the owner. I saw him deck the kid and then the crowd got between us, but then I saw him get up and swing at you, so I'll testify what you did was self-defense, and what he did to the kid was unprovoked assault.

"By the way, I'm Sam." They shook hand and he told Chris he would handle the cops when they showed up, so not to worry.

Chris replied, "Okay, but I'm getting a few of the videos, and the names of witnesses."

He turned to the crowd and loudly said, "I need video; if you caught his assault on my cousin Morris or that guy throwing the punch at me, I'd greatly appreciate it if you would air drop it to me. I'll set my phone to accept from anyone for the next few minutes.

"Also, we need the names and contact information for any of you that are witnesses. All you need to do is let me video you giving me your name, address, and phone number. I know no one wants to be a witness in a trial, but if we don't stop this maniac, he's going to kill someone, and it could be you or someone you love!"

He had more than a dozen videos in his possession within two minutes, and a line of witnesses waiting to provide their contact information.

The crowd had grown as people coming or going stopped to see what was happening, but they stepped back when a police car pulled up and two officers got out. Sam knew them; he met them as they came onto the property and they began talking. He gestured at Morris, who was still lying face down on the ground, and at Wes, who was still lying on his side; then he gestured at Chris.

When he saw the LEOs walking toward him, Chris gave his phone to Terry and asked him to keep getting names and contact information from the witnesses.

The girls had been huddled around Morris, weeping and begging him to wake up, but when Diane heard the police ask Chris what happened, she stormed over and gave them a full recounting, in a loud, angry voice. They took copious notes, and then asked for her name and contact information.

When she finished, Chris knew what had happened before he got outside. He was proud of Morris for his action in taking the picture, but was even more pissed at the bouncer. Had he known the whole mess was precipitated by Wes throwing the girls around, he would have hurt him a lot worse before he pushed him!

****

It was close to dawn when they made if back to the house. After giving statements to the police officers, they had called Morris' parents, and then proceeded to the hospital where he had been taken by ambulance. He was in the ER for a long time, and then moved to critical care with a severe concussion and what the staff neurologist called, "Traumatic Brain Injury due to closed head trauma."

The bedraggled group was ordered to go home about 4 am by Morris' parents and brother, who had driven over from their hotel on the south side of Nashville.

They slept until mid-morning, went downstairs, and got an update on Morris, whose condition had not changed. Chris called his friend Donnie, told him the story, said he and the two girls he assaulted had filed charges against Wes, and that Morris would as soon as he awoke. When he asked if Morris could join his lawsuit against Wes and the owner of the nightclub, he assured Chris his attorney would be in touch Friday.

By the time the Thanksgiving meal was served, the story had spread through the assembled family members and was reaching legendary proportions. According to the developing legend, Wes the bouncer was a giant: an all-pro linebacker who weighed 400 pound and was at least 7' tall! He cold-cocked Morris without warning and started beating his head on the bricks, but then Chris appeared and called him out. He swung at Chris, but it was a two-blow fight -- Chris hit him and he hit the ground! Like David and Goliath, but without the slingshot!'

Mom was not pleased with her son for engaging in yet another fight, especially with a giant, yet she couldn't say what he should have done instead. The "grandmothers", however, praised the girls for helping Morris, and praised Chris for saving his cousin. Dad just shook his head as the story grew with each retelling.

Alone with his son just before lunch, he advised, "You better hope this doesn't make you Philo Beddoe, with people coming from all over to take you on."

Chris reminded him that he didn't start it, he finished it -- but not before giving Wes multiple chances to walk away.

"So no provocation, Son? You didn't question his manhood, or his football skills, or maybe tell him to put up or shut up, did you?"

"He still could have walked away. Look, Dad, he beat the crap out of my friend Donnie last year, for no reason that anyone could discern! When I saw Morris, I knew he was badly injured, but if I just knock the bastard off him, or knocked him out, I'd have been the one committing assault.

"Have you heard of steroid rage? That's Wes: he's irrational most of the time and always dangerous. There are plenty of films of his behavior on my phone, and I'll be glad to show them to you and mom. Hopefully, then you'll understand why I did what I did.

"Donnie is suing his worthless ass and the owner of the dive, but the lawsuit isn't going to repair the distorted vision in his left eye, or the PTSD he suffers from after Wes pounded his head on the brick sidewalk, causing a 'closed-head traumatic brain injury' and severe concussion. Morris' injury and diagnoses are the same, and I'm sure he'll be fighting the symptoms for years, like Donnie.

"I didn't start it -- I just called him out; he swung, and I punched him in the throat. End of story. Don't think I'm gonna feel bad about it -- he's had it coming for a long time! Even, Sam, the other bouncer, said so."

Dad patted his shoulder, said "Okay, but you don't have to be the one to right every wrong; bullies get theirs in the end."

"And he did" Chris replied as they walked back to the living room.

Dan said grace over the food, and then they all prayed for Morris' complete recovery and for justice for the one who injured him, before praying that the perpetrator sees the light and saves his mortal soul.

It was a happy occasion, but there was an element of concern that overshadowed their family time.

Mom kept the topic on the food during the Thanksgiving feast, mentioning by name the person who brought each dish, and asking her or him to take a bow. There were lots people seated around the kitchen and dining room tables, plus the folding wooden tables they brought out from storage and set up in the living room. Still, there was far too much food for the group, so Mom insisted each family take some of the leftovers with them.

As always, the family insisted on helping with the cleanup, washing and drying the dishes, and putting the wooden tables and chairs back in storage.

Jo had been in awe of the swarm of family since they arrived. She had no idea that "family" could include four generations, or that they would want to fly or drive in from distant locations just to renew acquaintances and eat a meal together. At first she was a bit intimidated, but her ebullient personality soon had her in the midst of the amorphous groups that were 'catching up' with one another.

She patiently and proudly explained her role, showed off her ring, answered questions about how they met, and sluffed off question about when they were getting married; in turn, she asked questions designed to learn more about each family member.

By the time the exodus began, she was a full-fledged member of the Alexander-Petty clan.

The "grandmothers" were staying for the Saturday evening party, in which Jo would make her debut before their friends and societal peers. Chris expected her to be nervous -- intimidated, even -- but with the support of his mother, sisters, and grandmothers, she was almost giddy with excitement.

Friday morning they slept late -- no 'Black Friday sales' for this group. After a "brunch" of leftovers, they planned to watch a college football game, go see Morris during visiting hours, and Chris hoped to take Jo for a ride around some more of his old haunts, including his high school.

That all changed when Donnie's attorney called. Chris sat with his dad, phone on speaker, to hear attorney Mike Ayers' proposal. Chris took notes, and Ayers said he would send the proposal for them to review and to present to Morris and his parents.

As soon as the conversation ended, Dan called his cousin at the hospital and told him they wanted to talk to them and Morris as soon as possible. They told him to come when they were ready, as Morris was conscious and lucid, albeit with a bad headache, and could see visitors at any time.