Jane Bodehouse drifted into Merlotte's close to suppertime. She clambered onto her usual stool at the bar. I could feel my face get tight and angry when I looked at her. "You've got some nerve, Jane," I said baldly. "Why do you want to drink here, when you're so damaged by the firebomb incident? I can't believe you can endure coming in here, you suffered so much."
She was surprised for a second until the cogs in her brain turned enough to give up the memory that she'd hired a lawyer. She looked away, ostentatiously, trying to brazen it out.
The next time I passed her, she'd asked Sam to give her some more pretzels. He was reaching for the bowl. "Better hurry," I said bitchily. "We don't want Jane to get upset and call her lawyer." Sam looked at me in surprise. He hadn't seen the mail yet. "Jane's suing us, Sam," I said, and marched to the hatch to give the next order to Antoine. "For her hospital expenses and maybe for her mental distress," I threw over my shoulder.
"Jane," Sam said behind me, genuinely amazed. "Jane Bodehouse! Where are you gonna drink if you sue us? We're the only bar in the area that lets you in these days!" Sam was telling her no more than the truth. Over the years, most of the bars in the area had come to refuse to serve Jane, who was prone to make sloppy passes at any man in her immediate vicinity. Only the drunkest men responded, because Jane wasn't as careful with her personal hygiene as she had been even a year before.
"You can't stop serving me," she said indignantly. "Marvin says so. And that lawyer."
"I think we can," Sam said. "Starting now. You even know what that lawsuit says?" That was a shrewd bet.
As if he'd heard us, here came Marvin through the door, and he was mighty mad. "Mama!" he called. "What are you doing here? I told you, you can't come here no more." He caught my eye and glanced away, abashed. Everyone in Merlotte's stopped what they were doing to listen. It was almost as good as reality television.
"Marvin," I said, "I'm just hurt down to my toes that you would treat us like this. All these times I've called you instead of letting your mama drive home. All these times we've cleaned her up when she got sick, to say nothing of the night I stopped her from taking a guy into the ladies' room. Are you going to keep your mama at home every night? How are you going to cope?"
I wasn't saying anything that wasn't the truth. And Marvin Bodehouse knew it.
"Just half the emergency room bill, then?" he said, pathetically.
"I'll pay her bill," Sam said handsomely. Of course, he hadn't seen it. "But only after we get a letter from your lawyer saying you're not going to seek anything else."
Marvin glared down at his shoes for a second. Then he said, "I guess you can stay, Mama. Try not to drink too much, you hear?"
"Sure, honey," Jane said, tapping the bar in front of her. "A chaser for that beer," she told Sam, in a lady-of-the-manor voice.
"Putting that on your tab," Sam said. And suddenly the life of the bar was back to normal. Marvin shuffled out, and Jane drank. I felt sorry for both of them, but I was not in charge of their lives, and all I could do was try to keep Jane off the roads when she was drunk.
An and I worked hard. Since everyone who came in proved to be hungry (maybe they needed fuel to produce their gossip), Antoine was so busy he lost his temper a couple of times, an unusual occurrence. Sam tried to find time to smile and greet people, but he was hustling to keep up with bar orders. My feet hurt, and my hair needed to be released from its ponytail, brushed, and put back up. I was looking forward to a shower with a craving almost sexual in its intensity. I actually managed to forget my appointment - I wasn't going to call it a date - with Eric for later that night, but when it crossed my mind I realized I hadn't gotten a definite time or place from him.
"Screw it," I said to the plate of curly fries I was carrying to a table of auto-shop mechanics. "Here you go, fellas. And here's some hot sauce, if you want to live dangerously. Eat and enjoy."
Right on the heels of that thought, Karin glided through the front door. She looked around her as if she were in the monkey house at the zoo. Her eyebrows elevated slightly. Then she locked in on me, and she made her way toward me with a smoothness and economy of movement I envied.
"Sookie," she said quietly, "Eric needs you to come to him now." We were attracting no small amount of attention. Karin's beauty, her pallor, and her creepy glide were a combo that added up to Watch me, I'm beautiful and lethal.
"Karin, I'm working," I said, in that sort of hiss that comes out when you're pissed off but trying to keep your voice down. "See? Earning a living?"
She looked around her. "Here? Truly?" Her tiny white nose wrinkled.
I took hold of my temper with both hands. "Yes, here. This is my business."
Sam came up, trying hard to act casual. "Sookie, who's your friend?"
"Sam, this is Karin the - this is Karin Slaughter, my alibi for last night. She's here to tell me Eric needs me in Shreveport. Now."
Sam was trying to look genial, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Karin, nice to meet you. We're pretty busy. Can't Eric wait for an hour?"
"No." Karin didn't look stubborn or angry or impatient. She looked matter-of-fact.
We stood silently regarding each other for a long moment.
"All right, Sook, I'll take your tables," Sam said. "Don't worry about it. We'll manage."
"You're the boss, Sam." Karin's arctic eyes gave my boss - my partner - a laserlike examination.
"I'm the boss, Sam," he said agreeably. "Sook, I'll come if you need me . . ."
"I'll be fine," I said, though I knew that wasn't true. "Really, don't worry."
Sam looked torn. A group of thirtyish women who were celebrating a divorce began hollering for a refill on their pitcher of beer. They were the deciding factor. "Will you be responsible for her safety?" Sam said to Karin.
"With my existence," Karin said calmly.
"Let me get my purse," I told Karin, and hurried to the lockers at the back of the storeroom. I whipped off my apron, dropped it in the "dirty" barrel, and changed into a clean T-shirt from my locker. I brushed my hair in the ladies' room, though since it had a dent all around from the elastic band, I had to put it back up in its ponytail. At least it looked neater.
No shower, no fresh dress, no nice shoes. At least I had lipstick.
I stuck my tongue out at the mirror and slung my purse over my shoulder. Time to face the music, though I didn't know what tune would be playing.