'And jus' where do ya think yer gon'?'
Beer strong on his breath; a gag suppressed in my throat.
'I got other customers, darlin'. Ain't no harm.'
He laughed deep and proceeded to slap my bottom, hard and loud, yet no one in the dingy, dim lit bar seemed to notice.
'S'nough, brother.'
Well, except for one guy.
'Back off, Darylina. This here's my girl.'
'No, she ain't. She's a waitress. Ya know that.'
The Dixon brothers. It was the same every time Merle wasn't in hiding. Or wasn't in jail, for that matter. He'd come here, get drunk, and tell me how I was his 'girl'; how 'we was gon get married', or on some nights, how we were going to go for a 'lil drive in that there truck' he 'borrowed'. Then Daryl would butt in, get him to leave me be after a fuss, sometimes even a fight, and I wouldn't hear from either of them 'til the next time one them wanted a drink.
Daryl tried to pull Merle up, and Merle pushed him off. 'C'mon now, little brother, let's see whatcha got!'
'Get your damn ass outside, ya idiot!'
Daryl grabbed Merle and shoved him toward the exit.
He nodded his usual shy, silent apology, and muttered my name. 'Jolene.' Pushing a howling Merle to the door, I waved and headed back behind the counter.