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USERS

by

Greg Rohloff

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

Greg Rohloff on Smashwords

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Copyright © 2010 by Gregory W. Rohloff

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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Donny Joe Snell hadn't worn a tie in twenty-one cursed months. To be exact, the twenty-one months and twelve days when he got married. The memory of that evening in late September when he stood before a preacher at the Baptized by Fire Fellowship of Lubbock, Texas, and pronounced his willingness to have and to hold, to love and to honor, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, till death did they part – it burned in him as he sat in the courthouse lobby watching men comfortable in suits, and women, who could walk without a flirtatious flip of their hips, pass him without looking his way. Lawyers, Donny Joe assumed. Vultures, he thought, wondering just how a divorce and custody hearing would go.

He realized that his soon-to-be ex-wife was the only vulture waiting to pick his bones, and he wished he hadn't shown up for that ceremony that he had never meant until it was too late, when he realized Sarah never intended to live up to those vows herself.

Donny Joe sat upright in the oak side chair outside the 187th District Court, squirming in its hard seat and with his head leaning against the granite wall. He looked up and down the hall, hoping that his attorney would arrive before Sarah and her attorney.

He tugged at the tie, loosening it a bit, but the memories of the pain of living with her would not let go. He needed a beer.

Twenty minutes after he first sat in that chair, with the chokehold necktie and a borrowed suit coat two sizes too large, he saw her coming. Sarah was dressed in a red sleeveless jumper as she walked side-by-side with her briefcase-wielding attorney. She looked good, Donny Joe thought; too damn good for what she had put him through for twenty-one months and twelve days. He was amazed at how she could mask the cocaine binges and liquor and look so good walking toward him.

Donny Joe rose as they approached. Where's Joe Don? Where's my little boy? Did you just leave him with one of your baby-sitters or did you leave him all alone?

The attorney stepped between Donny Joe and Sarah. Your son is being taken care of just fine. He's with Sarah's mother this afternoon. Now, if you want to press the matter further, I'd like to turn on a digital recorder just so we can play back for the judge that vicious tone in your voice.

Is Ardene sober; is Joe Don babysitting her?

Keep it up, Mister. Judge Thompson will be happy to set you straight about being verbally abusive to my client.

Donny Joe stepped back and slumped down in the chair.

You do have an attorney, don't you?

Yes. He and I have gone over the papers. He was supposed to have called you yesterday.

The sound of footsteps broke into Donny Joe's defense of himself and his attorney.

I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner. I had a will to review and the family was from out of town and needed to catch a flight back to Dallas. Donny Joe, I've looked at everything you've given me. We shouldn't be here more than twenty minutes. Let me talk to Joe over here and I'll let him know what we're willing to do. That will save us all a lot of time and grief.

You know this guy? Donny Joe asked.

His attorney nodded. Joe Foster and I worked together in the county attorney's office when we first got out of law school. He's a good man. He won't try to pull anything on us.

The two attorneys retreated down the hall, leaving Donny Joe alone with Sarah. The attorneys whispered as they discussed the matter, both occasionally breaking into grins that made Donny Joe nervous.

I can't believe you're doing this to me, Sarah. After I've gotten sober and have stayed clean, for our son and for you.

Sober, clean, for me? What about how you punched me around last week right there in front of Joe Don?

Punched you around? I didn't punch you around. You threatened to get a gun and shoot me if I didn't let you leave him with your drunk-ass mother and I pushed you. Yeah, I pushed you and you know damn well that I didn't punch you. So shut up.

Donny Joe turned his back to Sarah just to get her out of his sight. Don't even say anything to me. I'll let my attorney handle everything for me.

The two attorneys returned from their hallway conference. Donny Joe's attorney grabbed his arm and led him toward the courtroom. Inside they sat at a table in front of the bench.

Donny Joe. This sounds serious today and we could contest it, but without any witnesses, it's just your word against hers and who do you think that judge would believe?

So, I'm screwed. Donny Joe dropped his head into his hands and rested with his eyes closed.

That's not what I was leading to. Hear me out on this. Your wife is petitioning to keep you away from her for thirty days or until after your divorce hearing. Now that shouldn't be too hard to do, should it?

Donny Joe pursed his lips and nodded.

We'll tell the judge we won't contest this order and that all we want are visitation rights with Joe Don, two or three times a week where you could pick him up for the afternoon and bring him back that night or maybe even the next morning. I don't know what your situation is going to be, but if we ask for something simple like that, this judge will go along with that. And that's what we want, right?

Donny Joe nodded once more. The attorney slapped him on the shoulder.

Good. Now, I've set up some conferences with Foster about the divorce. An uncontested one is best for everybody around. Texas is a joint custody state and so you shouldn't have any problem seeing him.

If I can find him, once she moves out of her mother's place. She was always begging to get a baby-sitter so we could go out when we were married. And there were times she just wanted Joe Don to be gone, so she wouldn't be bothered while getting drunk or high. I can't let her just have him like that. Not now, after what I've been through and as far as I've come –

You don't have a whole lot of choice, Donny Joe. Now, if she shows she isn't a fit mother, we can come back later and petition to have her parental rights terminated through Child Protective Services. Then, you’d have permanent custody. But today, we just want to make a good impression with Judge Thompson. So when we come in, I will inform him that we are willing to comply with the terms of her request and that we can forego testimony today.

So we just give in without a fight.

You know, they don't call me 'Mac the Knife' for nothing. We aren't just giving in without a fight. But we aren't going to fight a fight we can't win. We can work out an uncontested divorce with joint custody and then if she screws up, we'll rip her to shreds.

Donny Joe slid back in the chair. How much longer, Mr. Stewart?

The attorney looked at his watch. Judge Thompson starts promptly so we have another ten minutes. And twenty minutes after that, we can be out of here.

Good, Donny Joe said, tugging at the tie.

Stewart flipped through his brief case for an appointment book. Can you come by this afternoon at two. I want to get everything straight about your life with Sarah. And I want to know everything, warts and all, about you. Can you be there?

Two o'clock? Yeah, I'll be at your office.

Donny Joe settled back into his chair with his eyes closed, wondering how he had ever gotten into this mess. Just how much does Stewart want to know? He's going to think I'm a dumbshit for ever getting messed up with her, he thought. He kept his eyes closed until he heard a bailiff call the courtroom to order.

Donny Joe stood with the others and took his seat as Judge Harlan George Thompson asked if everyone was ready for the hearing to begin. Donny Joe, though, focused his attention on Sarah, as she worked up her best dewy-eyed expression. Oh, she looked sweet, all right. But those innocent expressions, the way her lips curled down and puffed out, were lies, Donny Joe said to himself.

Your honor, before we get too deep into this, maybe we can go straight to the heart of the matter on this, Stewart said. We are not going to contest that some type of confrontation did occur on the date in question, but as to whether that was a fight or an attack, I don't think anyone can definitively say. My client is willing to stay away from his wife for the requested time. But he does want to maintain his parental rights by gaining visitation with his son. We would like a minimum of two days per week if not three.

Foster rose. Your honor, I hope we don't sweep domestic abuse aside this morning and pretend that all is well. We are prepared to testify to the attack on the day in question, an attack brought on by frustration. And in granting visitation rights, what if he becomes frustrated with his child?

Judge Thompson raised a hand to stop Foster's remark. Counselors, please approach the bench.

The two lawyers stepped forward.

Gentlemen, the judge began. In the interest of doing what's best for all parties involved, including the child, I am going to recommend that visitation be granted under temporary supervision if the plaintiff cannot show cause for denying visitation. Now, unless you have witnesses to describe the beating, then we are not going to get into a he-said, she-said debate. Given the nature of the complaint, I do not feel comfortable granting regular visitation privileges, but since anything can be fabricated, I cannot deny privileges, either. Mr. Stewart, please explain to your client that supervision is only temporary and will not necessarily be part of the final divorce decree.

Stewart nodded and both attorneys returned to their tables.

Donny Joe, Stewart whispered. We're getting what we want mostly. Now, when the judge grants you visitation, it will be supervised by child protective workers. They'll come to your house before the first visit and make sure it is safe and clean, and when you get Donny Joe, a worker will come with you.

Like I can't be a father without help? That's ridiculous. I don't want this.

Donny Joe, you don't have a whole lot of choice. Now we can sit here through a hearing, and maybe we'd win, maybe we'd lose. Remember, this is only for a month and just because it's part of this court proceeding, it doesn't mean that it will carry over later on.

Donny Joe slumped back in his chair. You don't even believe me.

Hey. Listen up, partner. I believe you, but I'm not your judge. I said we could make this quick. I didn't say it would be painless. Now, are you with me?

Donny Joe squirmed and nodded, looking down at the floor.

The rest of the hearing sailed past him as he was lost in his thoughts. He looked at Sarah once more, and this time, she returned the glance. She squinted and grinned, like she knew that the judge's order was more than he could stand.

Donny Joe snapped back to attention as the courtroom started to break up. The hearing was over, and according to his attorney, he had gotten what he had wanted.

Remember, be my office at two. I'm going to be free most of the afternoon, and I want to hear the whole story of you and Sarah.

Donny Joe arose from the table and headed out the door, ripping at the tie that reminded him of his sacred vows to love, honor and cherish a woman who had dragged his life over an edge that he had been on for so long he failed to realize it was there until he was below it looking up.

He stopped about ten feet from the elevators. Sarah was pressing the down button and he'd be damned if he'd ride down with her. He started to turn away from the elevator when she spoke out.

You chicken to ride in an elevator with me for twenty seconds?

I stay away from rabid cats.

He kept walking but the hurried click of Sarah's heels told him it was no use to try to make the stairs. He stopped and she caught up with him.

You son-of-a-bitch. I wanted to make you pay for what you done to me. I wanted to make you pay and your chickenshit attorney said you'd agree to giving me custody of my baby.

Our baby, Donny Joe interrupted. The bell of the elevator stopped him short. Donny Joe broke into a run, for the elevator's down light was shining. He was a good ten feet ahead of her when he punched the 'Close' button. As she pulled back from the narrowing doors, he grinned out at her. See ya'.

Outside, he pulled the loosened tie from around his neck and rolled it into his coat pocket. He had a morning to kill before he could unload his tale. No, he thought, he wouldn't dwell on Sarah at all, because deep down, he knew that he had done it to himself just as much as she had done it to him.

If nothing else, he would go home, write down details for the meeting with Stewart and rehearse what he would say and then put it out of his mind. And that would be that.

******

Mama, you've got to take this screaming baby off my hands. I can't handle this today.

Don't come running to me, girl. He just needs changing and he'll stop squalling.

Sarah peeled off the wet diaper, rolled it into a ball and dropped it on the floor. She put another disposable diaper on Joe Don and within moments he was cooing.

She set him on the floor next to his toys. Here, play, sweetie.

You aren't going to leave that there, Ardene thundered in a graveled voice at the diaper laying on the floor.

I was going to pick it up. Sarah tossed the soggy diaper into a trash pail. Jeez. Can you watch him this morning? I need to go over to Susan's.

No, I can't watch him. What were you going to be doing that you can't take him along?

It's not what you think. I was –

That's what you always say when I question what you're doing when you leave. The last time, you were gone for two days.

She's taking me to the employment agency so I can look for a job.

I can take you.

Who's going to watch him?

Joe Don can go along. He'll be fine.

No. Sarah hurried for the door. I'll be back this afternoon. Bye, sweetie. Mama loves you.

Sarah! I said I will drop you off. Pack Joe Don's diaper bag and he'll be just fine.

Sarah stopped short of the door. OK, but if there's long lines and the place is hot and dirty, I'm not staying.

Her mother paced up to her slowly. Just what were you expecting? People are out looking for work. Summer's coming. There'll be kids and people looking for part-time jobs. You think you're going to waltz right in and get handed the keys to a Rolls Royce to take you to who-knows-where?

Sarah turned and picked up the diaper bag from the dining room floor. Come on sweetie. You're going with mama. Her voice turned cutesy coy and Joe Don smiled back.

Sarah's mother lifted Joe Don from the floor. What kind of a job are you looking for?

Waitressing, I guess. Or I could go back to work in a department store. Anything that will get me back on track to being a model.

Girl! Get that out of your head.

I can dream, can't I? Who knows, Sarah said, her voice swelling in anger. Maybe my dreams will come true and I won't live a life like yours.

That hurts, Sarah. That really hurts. But let's get back to those dreams. The last time, you went traipsing off to Dallas and a year later you come back pregnant and engaged to that dope-dealing carpenter. What's it going to be this time?

Sarah stared hard at her mother. Her rage was building, but she did not want a fight, at least not now, now that she needed her to watch little Joe Don for the next month.

Never mind. Let's go. I don't want to be there all day.

******

Donny Joe sat in Mac Stewart's outer office, waiting for two o'clock. The receptionist was talking on the telephone, so he waited with his eye on the clock. Stewart came out from behind an oak door and motioned toward Donny Joe.

Let's get this over with. I've got a new client at four.

I won't need that long.

I want to hear everything, including your rehab plan. Is it just for alcohol or drugs and alcohol?

Donny Joe stepped inside the office and sank down into a leather-covered chair. Both.

Stewart fumbled with a pen and pad as Donny Joe tried to get comfortable in the chair. Go on. Don't hold nothing back or we'll need more than two hours.

Donny Joe shook his head and a grin stole across his face. Everything? We'll need more than two hours if I tell you everything.

Go ahead and start from the beginning. Tell me how you met Sarah?

Donny Joe shook his head as he thought about the details of that summer night two years ago. He closed his eyes as he started to talk and he could feel the heat that lingered past dark and the smells of stale cigarette smoke and beer and the flash of lights were fresh in his mind. Now he was no longer sitting in a leather chair but he was weaving his way through the club, smiling at two women who were vaguely familiar as he headed for a restroom door. And the smells were alive again; the stink of pee and cigarettes blending together in the rotting side of the manufactured glamour outside the door, where dim lights and soft carpet and dark colors and pulsating music formed a barroom hunting ground of loneliness and self-absorption.

But when you are drunk, those smells are the smells of having fun and being in the chase. That's what Donny Joe Snell thought as he staggered across the damp floor littered with paper towels, cigarette butts and gum wrappers.

A half-dozen bourbon and Cokes were his marker for taking a break from the action. Tonight was ladies night at Electricity and Donny Joe was out to get one, any one that was young and close to pretty. As he washed his hands and patted his face he listened to the muffled tones of the disc jockey on the P.A call out for the wet T-shirt contestants register and pick up their shirts.

As he headed for the door, he glanced in the mirror. You're so good looking, if you were a broad, I'd fuck you myself.

He pushed through the door, adjusted his shirt collar and looked around. A half-dozen women stood in front of the women's restroom waiting to change into the white T-shirts.

Instead of a hundred dollars, first prize tonight is me, Donny Joe called out to the line, grinning.

Piss off! A woman's voice rose over the din of the others as they all looked at him.

That's what you'll do if you don't go home with me tonight. Donny Joe laughed out loud and turned for the bar. One more bourbon and Coke, and then he swayed to his table on the second row from the stage.

The disc jockey, a bearded man, chubby and short, warmed up the crowd with a patter about how Electricity was the place to be in Dallas every night of the week.

Now, gentlemen, if you haven't bought your ticket for the drawing, it's too late, the disc jockey said, and he reached into a fish bowl and pulled out a slip of paper. Number one hundred forty seven, come on up. One-forty-seven, you are the lucky one tonight.

A whoop erupted from the back of the tables and a man, barely in his twenties, tall, thin, dressed in a cowboy shirt, boots and tight-fitting jeans, danced around the tables toward the stage. He squinted as he stepped into the glare of the stage lights and pumped his fists in front of his chest as he grinned wildly.

Now, sir, as our winner tonight, you will have the honors of assisting the contestants get wet, the disc jockey said, thrusting an empty beer pitcher into the gangly man's hands. Do you know how to pour a glass of water?

The man's grin grew wider as he nodded and pumped his free hand into the air once more.

Well, the disc jockey continued, this is nothing like pouring a glass of water. Because this crowd wants to see these girls really wet. So get a full pitcher, and pour slowly until you can see heaven.

The crowd roared and Donny Joe cut loose with a whistle.

Can you handle it? the D.J. asked the man. He had barely started to nod, when the D.J. turned back to the microphone and called for the half-dozen contestants.

Come on up ladies, and give us a thrill that can kill.

As the women lined up, dressed in identical T-shirts thin enough that the glare of the lights revealed flesh tones, the disc jockey returned to his booth and started the music. We're going to warm up with a little 'Van Halen' for contestant Number One.

The woman stepped into a vinyl wading pool and the man in the cowboy shirt dipped a full pitcher of water, and poured slowly across her chest, until the shirt stuck to her body. She jerked back as the cold water splashed down her, and then, grabbing the bottom of the shirt, she pulled it tight and spun around in front of the hooting crowd.

The cowboy started to dip another pitcherful of water, but the disc jockey stopped him. She's as wet as she's going to get, partner. Contestant Number One, please step over to the mat at the front of the stage and we'll look at the applause-meter in our booth and see what kind of reaction your talents get.

The crowd roared as the woman pranced on the mat, spinning, bending forward, tugging the shirt tighter. Some on the front row tossed dollar bills onto the stage and others whistled and called out, creating an unintelligible din.

Gentlemen, show the lady your appreciation. That money is hers to keep. She's registering a 'nine' on the applause-meter. Miss, if you'll step to the back of the stage on the other mat, we'll move on to our next contestant.

Donny Joe slurped at his bourbon and Coke and clapped his hands. Come on baby, show us what you've got. He tapped a passing waitress on the arm, Give me another one, please, and handed her a five-dollar bill.

One by one, the women passed through the wading pool, into the lights and in front of the crowd, drunker and more uncontrolled with each contestant. The first five fidgeted at the back of the stage as the last woman, a tall blonde, stepped into the pool.

Gentlemen, this has been a pleasure tonight. But this is only Round One. Before we start the finals, our pourer for the first round looks like he needs a little help. The first three to the bar with twenty dollar bills can rent a squirt bottle to refresh our contestants for the finals. But don't rush, because I see the bartender waving that the three bottles have already been taken. So Contestant Number Six, are you ready to get wet?

A grin stole across the woman's face as she wiggled in the pool. The cowboy started to pour, but she grabbed his free hand and pulled closer to him until she could rest the hand on her rear. The crowd stomped and cheered and as the cowboy poured, the woman stretched the shirt hem halfway to her knees. She held the shirt like that as she spun once in the pool and then turned her back to the crowd for a moment.

Holding the shirt with one hand, she reached toward her breasts with the other and dug into the fabric with her thumbnail to create a tiny rip.

Then she stepped from the pool and faced the crowd again. Like the others, she twisted and danced, and those in front rewarded her by tossing money onto the stage. Smiling, she waited until the D.J.'s song was nearing a chorus until she stepped closer to the front of the stage, stuck a finger from each hand into the tiny tear and ripped open the shirt.

Dropping the remnants to the floor, she continued to dance.

Gentlemen, we have a rules violation! the disc jockey shrieked. Contestant Number Six is out of the finals for destroying her shirt, so if you want to show your appreciation, you better do it now.

The crowd, roaring approval now, tossed handfuls of money onto the stage. Donny Joe pulled out a ten and scribbled Donny Joe Black El Camino by front door across its front and raced for the stage. He dropped it at her feet as others crowded around.

A waitress with a towel came up from the back of the stage and draped it across the blonde woman's shoulders and helped her scoop up the money.

Donny Joe edged toward the restrooms and waited for the woman.

The waitress pushed her through the crowd, pressing the towel against her shoulders.

That's quite a show, Donny Joe said, stepping between the woman and the restroom door.

More than you'll ever get. The blond woman pushed past him into the restroom, where she pulled her bra and blouse from a gym bag and dressed.

The waitress came in with the rest of the money that had been thrown on the stage. Looks like you did pretty good tonight.

How much is there? the blond woman asked.

At least four hundred.

Those jerks will never learn. Who's that guy outside the restroom?

The waitress pulled Donny Joe's ten from the stack of bills. Him, she said, waving it at the blonde. He works construction and comes in all the time. He's always trying to meet girls.

Well, maybe Donny Joe will buy me a drink, the blond woman said. She brushed her hair, freshened her makeup and stepped out with the waitress.

Hi, are you Donny Joe?

Sure am, darling. Can I get you a drink?

Margarita on the rocks.

Donny Joe steered her toward the back of the bar, ordered the drinks and then pressed close to her. You know my name but I don't know yours.

The blonde woman smiled. Sarah – Sarah Corham. I'm a model. I just moved here from Lubbock but I haven't signed on with any agencies yet. Until I do, I'm working at Nordstroms at the Preston Manor Mall. Cosmetics. She sipped the margarita. Tell me about you.

Well, I'm from Tyler and moved to Dallas about six years ago to work construction, building houses in Plano mostly, and I live over in Mesquite.

Both finished their drinks in silence as they stood at the bar.

You want to go somewhere else? Donny Joe asked.

Well, I'm kind of drunk now, so maybe I'd better go home.

Hey, we don't need any more drinks to feel good. Come with me to my truck.

Sarah hesitated. I really shouldn't...

Oh, come on. I got something out there that will make you forget about feeling drunk.

No.

The waitress took their empty glasses. Need another one?

Donny Joe shook his head. We're going outside. He grabbed Sarah's arm and started for the door. But she pulled free, and stopped.

Tell me what you want to do out there.

Just come on. You'll like it. Donny Joe smiled and looked into Sarah's eyes. He pumped up his best little-boy look and tucked his chin toward his chest. I promise.

He took her arm again and led her to the