THR VOLUME 3: BETTER DAYS
Part One – With A Girl Like You
Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderful TSCC characters, I am merely borrowing them; however, the others are all mine.
A small town west of Lubbock, Texas; Friday, September 2nd 2016.
The single-story building sat in a side alley, just off of Main Street. It was small, maybe a hundred feet long by thirty wide. Its magnolia paintwork was sun-worn and cracked, flaking in many places. A metal sign hanging over the front door bore the carefully painted legend:
Roy Strauss Engineering
est. 1987
"We Repair Anything"
Out of the side door emerged two men and one woman. It was just after 5PM and the day had not yet begun to cool off. The older of the two men lingered behind to lock the door. The other headed towards Main Street, slinging his rucksack over his shoulder. He was aged around thirty, just under six feet tall; he wore his brown hair short but with no affectations. He made no attempt to disguise the flecks of gray that were beginning to appear, indicators of a hard and stressful life. His tanned face had not seen a razor for a couple of days.
The much younger, dark-haired woman linked an arm in his free one. "Hey, Frankie! Wanna buy me a drink?" she asked, looking up adoringly at him.
"Thanks Tanya, but I can't. Em an' me are doing something tonight; she don't like seeing me with other women neither, so you'd best keep your distance," Frank replied, trying to extricate himself from her grasp.
Tanya resisted his efforts. "So where is she, the mysterious Emily? None of us have ever seen her; I bet she don't exist: you just don't wanna admit you ain't got a girl!" she asserted.
Frank stopped and looked at her with a curious expression. You just don't know, he thought.
From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a dozen-year old Jeep Grand Cherokee, its faded pewter paintwork matching the aged, wind-blown look of the town perfectly. As he looked closer, its engine turned over and roared into life, a deep burble emanating from the V8 engine under the hood. The SUV launched forward, then came to a halt right beside him. The passenger window descended and Frank could see within the driver leaning over towards him.
"Want a ride? Looks like you could use one," the Texan-accented voice asked.
Frank perused the driver, a smiling woman in her mid-twenties with cheap-looking, bleached-blonde shoulder-length hair tied back into a loose pony-tail, an inch or so of dark roots showing; she was dressed in a tight-fitting dark blue spaghetti-strap top which sported the words Property of Cowboys in white, above a way-too short faded denim skirt. He couldn't see them, but knew she was wearing air-force blue Converse sneakers on her feet, the only sensible part of her attire. He knew, because it was the outfit she was wearing when he left home that morning.
"Em, this is Tanya, from work. Tanya, this is my wife, Emily," Frank introduced.
"Pleased to meetcha. At last," Tanya said, smiling uncertainly as she leaned over awkwardly to see the woman located within the Jeep's interior.
"Likewise, I'm sure," Emily replied, her smile still fixed in place.
"Well, I gotta go. See ya tomorrow, Frankie," said Tanya, who felt somewhat uncomfortable, but wasn't exactly sure why; usually nothing fazed her.
"Sure," said Frank, waving her off as he got into the Jeep.
Roy Strauss had finished locking up for the day and sauntered over to the car. "Hey guys, wanna come by Monday for a barbecue? It's a Labor Day tradition for us, and Stacey's dyin' to meet ya."
"That'd be just peachy, Mister Strauss," Emily replied cheerfully. "What time?"
Frank looked sideways at his wife, wondering when she got to be so sociable.
"Call me Roy, little lady. And noon seems about fine. That okay for you guys?"
"Sure is, Roy. We'll be there. Should I bring somethin'? Pie maybe?"
"Yeah, sounds good. We'll see you then. And see you tomorrow, Frank." Roy smiled at Emily, then nodded his head towards Frank. "Great guy you got here."
"Yeah, he's the best. Ain'tcha Frankie?" replied Emily, still smiling.
Frank said nothing as Emily shifted into Drive and pulled away. "You following me?" he inquired.
"Doin' a grocery run," his wife replied, jerking a thumb backwards to the trunk.
He turned to look, but couldn't see what lay beyond the rear seats.
The journey home was silent save for the country and western music coming from the radio, punctuated by adverts and inane chatter from the show's presenter. Emily kept time with one of the songs by tapping on the steering-wheel, which Frank pretended not to notice.
Emily parked the venerable Jeep in the shade under the lean-to alongside their small home in the Happy Trails trailer park. Frank waited in the cool of the air-conditioned car as his wife grabbed her purse from under her seat and got out, opened the tailgate, scooped up one of the three grocery bags and strolled to the door of their trailer. Having opened up, she entered then quickly returned empty-handed for the other two bags. She glanced at Frank, who took his cue to exit the vehicle with his rucksack. He closed the Jeep's tailgate after Emily had grabbed the bags therein, then followed her back inside their trailer.
The day was still warm and Frank could feel sweat trickle down into the small of his back under his plain green cotton shirt. The contrast from the chill of the car was great, but Frank didn't care. He had endured cold that penetrated down to the bone; a bit of honest-to-goodness heat was not something he took for granted. Besides, he told himself, Emily never complains if I work up a sweat.
Re-united in the kitchen area, the couple set about placing the contents of the grocery bags in the imitation pine storage units and their over-worked refrigerator.
Finally done, they looked at one another. Frank reached into his rucksack and pulled out a small gift-wrapped package and offered it to his wife.
"Happy Built-day," he said.