A/N I'm sorry I haven't gotten you a new Merle story in a while. I hope this story, which is a little bit sexy, a little bit angsty, and a little bit fluffy - with a dash of arse kicking - makes up for that. Enjoy!
Note: It's Merle and Beth
00
Smithton, Georgia, 1960
It wasn't his kind of joint, not even close. It was one of those businessman's hangouts where they meet to wheel and deal. You know the kind, where a couple of suits go eat a steak sandwich and power down two or three martinis on their lunch hour.
It's not about the food or the drinks, what they're really there trying to do is strike a deal, and probably screw each other out of a lot of money. Merle prefers a straight, no-nonsense business deal. A shake of the hand, get the job done, get his check. Easy as one, two, three and everyone walks away happy.
As for having a couple of drinks, he's more the type to wait until the workday is done. He likes dropping by the corner bar, bellying up and ordering what's on tap, while munching on the free peanuts and scanning the room to see what's what. He enjoys trading good-natured lies with the other fellas at the bar who are out doing the same thing he is. They all proceed to tell each other half-baked stories about all the women they've been with and all the asses they've kicked. Nobody takes any of it too seriously, it's just bullshit and good times.
After a few beers most of the fellas go home to the Missus, begging her not to throw them out and promising to never go out drinking again. They mean what they say, they won't do it again. At least not until the next time.
Not Merle Dixon. He always goes home to an empty house, which is just how he likes it. No one's there expecting anything of him. No husbandly chores, no anger over the trash he forgot to take out or the money he spent down at Lucky's. It's his domain, his hideaway.
His life is good, so much better than anyone could have ever guessed it would be, especially him. He doesn't need some female version of a ball and chain upsetting his little world.
Yep, that's how Merle Dixon was living his life. Work and fun, no domestic obligations.
Then things took a turn at the beginning of October.
It was at that time Merle was drawing up some house plans. Figuring specs and getting estimates on materials cost. He was bidding a job for some fat cat who wanted a house built at the North end of the County - the Richie Rich end. The potential client was one of those guys who wants to be sure his house is the biggest one around, the kind of house with rooms no one will ever use and closets the size of most folks' entire home.
It's got to sit up the highest on the hill and have every kind of bell and whistle a house can have.
Merle sees it for what it is, a gigantic ego trip. Whatever the case, as long as the guy has the money to pay for that bullshit Merle will build him whatever the hell kind of overpriced and oversized extravaganza his heart desires.
So, on that particular Friday in October the fat cat potential client was all the sudden ready to make a deal, and in a hurry. He had plans to board a plane bound for Palm Springs where he was meeting up with some of his fat cat buddies at a private, and very high-priced golf resort. He wanted the contract finalized before he left town.
He called Merle Thursday night and gave him the rundown, then asked, "Can you meet me at the Cattle Rustlers at one o'clock tomorrow afternoon? Bring the building plans and the contract. We'll have a drink, eat a steak and talk turkey," he laughed hard at his attempt to make a joke so Merle laughed too. Then the fat cat continued, "You can show me what you've got. If I'm happy we might just make a deal and I'll pay you the first installment. I want to break ground on the place as soon as possible."
It so happened Merle wanted this particular contract in a very bad way. If the fat cat signed a deal with Dixon Custom Construction it would keep a whole crew of men working steady for months, most importantly right through the oftentimes lean winter. Merle didn't need to ponder, he answered immediately, "Sure, that sounds real good. I'll see ya there at one tomorrow."
Merle Dixon could never have suspected that the next day was the day his life would begin to change forever.
So, keeping in mind how important it was to him and his crew to land this job, Merle showed up 15 minutes ahead of the scheduled one o'clock lunch meeting. He was not dressed in his usual work attire. It was one of those fine line things. He still wanted to look like a man who wasn't afraid of a day's work, but he also wanted to look like he was the business owner, the boss.
It's a delicate balance for sure.
He wore a fresh pair of dark khakis, a starched white shirt and a sport coat. His shoes were polished to a spit shine, he was clean-shaven and his hair was neatly combed. He'd even gone so far as to put a fresh coat of shine on his work truck.
He walked in the place and it took his eyes a minute to adjust to the dim lighting. It wasn't just the lighting either, everything was dark. The walls, the carpet and the heavy wood furniture. The back bar was the only well-lit thing in the room. The light reflecting off the huge mirror made the bottles and crystal glasses seem to sparkle. He would agree it was a nice-looking place and all, just not the kind of place a guy like him goes for lunch and a drink. Still, business is business and when the client wants to meet up at The Cattle Rustlers, you meet up at Cattle Rustlers.
As soon as his eyes adjusted he took a seat at a table near the fireplace. It was one of those fake fireplaces with the lava rocks, but it did add a nice feel to the room. It also put out a little much-needed light. After all, they'd be looking at house plans.
He got comfortable as he took another look around, but his eyes stopped cold when they landed on her. She was walking right toward him.
She wore a short black skirt, far shorter than what was in style but not so short as to be overly suggestive. Just exactly short enough to make a guy take a long look. It was full with white ruffled petticoats underneath that were designed to show. Her blouse was white and starched crisp, and she wore a thin black tie. It was all topped off by a tight red vest. Her slim and toned legs almost seemed to shine from the stockings she wore, and her black heels made those shapely legs look even sexier.
She had the prettiest blonde hair he could ever recall seeing. It looked like silk and never had he felt such a strong urge to touch a woman's hair. She carried a small round tray in one hand, up about shoulder height. And her smile was big, bright and it lit up her pretty face.
He worried he might be drooling.
It wasn't until she got close to the table that he could see how young she was, she barely looked old enough to walk in a drinking establishment. He himself was well-passed being old enough.
Her name was embroidered on her vest, "Beth," and in the sweetest voice he'd ever heard she asked, "Hello and welcome to Cattle Rustlers, can I get you a drink?"
He would have liked to tell her to sit her pretty self right down and he'd run over to the bar and get them both one, but he couldn't. He tried to take a little of the gravel out of his voice when he responded, "Thank you Beth, I think I'm gonna stick with water til the rest of the group arrives. Then we'll see how it goes."
If he was there on his own he'd be buying her drinks and making promises.
Her smile was definitely the brightest thing in the whole joint when she responded, "Alright, how about I bring water for everyone? How many will be joining you?"
He was so entranced it took him a moment to answer, "Two more, and thank you." The only negative thing about watching her walk away was that she was leaving him.
No sooner had the pretty waitress walked away than the fat cat showed up with a hot young gal. Merle recognized what that was all about right away. She was his arm candy. She dressed the part too. Her titties fought against the buttons of her silk blouse and her hair was piled high. Her skirt was far shorter than the waitresses, and she appeared to have been well compensated with expensive jewelry. As for her age, she looked more like the guy's loose daughter than his loose lady friend.
They sat and it was clear from the start, she knew exactly what her job description included. She situated herself as close to the fat cat as she could get, lovingly holding onto his arm and looking only at him, practically purring while under the table his open palm rubbed her inner thigh. All the way up.
Even Merle wouldn't get that handsy with a woman in public, no woman. But especially not one he was supposed to care about. But he did his best to ignore it. For him this lunch is strictly about business, he doesn't have to like the guy to take his money.
What Merle would prefer is if they could just talk about house plans and he could leave. Then that sweet waitress, Beth, walks back to the table and the fat cat doesn't even ask Merle or the gal, he just orders, "A Harvey Wallbanger for the lady, and us boys will have a couple of double Maker's Marks, and put those on the rocks Doll Baby."
Merle feels the hair stand up on the back of his neck, "Doll Baby?" If anyone ever calls her that it should be him. Wait, no, what is he thinking? Besides this is business and all. Still he gave her an apologetic look and she acknowledged that look with the slightest nod of her head.
Once the drinks came and the steak sandwiches were ordered for the men, and a salad with no dressing for the lady, Merle pulled the blueprint from its protective case. He looked around and since it was well after lunch and the place was nearly deserted, he saw there was room to spread it open on the table right next to where they were seated.
The trouble was, it was a little too dark to see. He was about to suggest they step outside when it was as if the waitress anticipated his need. Here came pretty Beth with a flashlight. She smiled at him and asked, "Will this help?"
Before Merle could answer the son of a bitch of a fat cat said, "You bet Doll Baby, good girl," and his hand lingered a little too long on her back. Down low on her back. If they'd been at Lucky's, and there wouldn't have been a large enough amount of money at stake to feed his crew and their families for the winter, Merle would have kicked the guy's ass to Florida.
Being in business had forced him to develop some self-control.
For now there was a deal to be made. He'd make this bullshit up to Beth later. Wait, make it up to the waitress? What the hell is wrong with him? Anyway, for the moment him and the fat cat were scanning the plans, taking notes and agreeing on specs. Then the sandwiches came.
As far as the deal went, it all ended up going Merle's way. The fat cat declared, "Let's sign on the dotted line." They did it, they shook hands, and the guy handed Merle a nice fat deposit check.
The guy also paid the lunch tab, which insulted Merle. He was the seller, it should have been him playing the role. But again, he couldn't jeopardize a big deal and the guy obviously liked to strut.
Shortly after the bill was settled the fat cat and his arm candy left. Merle had just rolled up the plans so he could split too when there she was again. Beth. This time clearing up the table. He smiled and said, "Thanks Beth."
She smiled back and said, "Thank you Mister…"
"Dixon, Merle Dixon."
"Thank you Mister Dixon, and have a wonderful day."
He'd be having a more wonderful day if she was leaving with him, "You too Beth, see ya soon."
See her soon? That was unlikely, he'd never be in this joint again.
Except he was.
The very next week he ask his younger brother to hold things down at the job site and he slip over to Cattle Rustlers for a late lunch, but mostly to see her. He thought he was just flirting around, getting to know her a little bit. Having some fun. He had no idea what was happening to him.
That first Friday back at Cattle Rustlers after his meeting with fat cat, he found out she paid her own rent, that had to mean she lived alone and that sounded good to him. He preferred to spend his intimate time with ladies in their home rather than at his place. It tended to be less complicated later when things ended. Anyway, he didn't find out because she told him. He just happened to overhear her talking to another gal who worked there. The two of them were crying the blues about the high cost of rent.
He ordered a 7Up and an overpriced burger and got to visit with her a little. He enjoyed getting to know her some and it turned out she was every bit as sweet as she looked. Man how he'd hated having to leave her and get back to the job.
The next Friday he didn't arrive at Cattle Rustlers until almost three o'clock, the place was damn near empty. She walked up to his table with that pretty smile on her face and asked what he'd like to drink. They made a little small talk. The usual stuff, the weather, the high price of everything, and they even touched on the more personal, but still tame stuff. How have you been all week? What have you been doing? Innocent flirtation.
It was after his meal, when he handed her the cash to pay his check that he jumped in with both feet, "Whaddya say you let me take you out for a nice dinner tomorrow night Beth? Anywhere you'd like to go."
She smiled and her cheeks turned all rosy and he thought it was going to happen, but instead she apologized, "I'm sorry Merle. It's very nice of you to ask, but I'm busy tomorrow night."
Well shit.
He was disappointed but it was a legitimate excuse, a pretty girl like her ought to have a Saturday night date. He damn sure wasn't going to give up that easy, he'd try again.
When he went back the next Friday he didn't ask her out. He didn't want to seem desperate, or even worse, annoying. He just smiled and chatted and left her a fat tip.
The Friday after that though, that Friday he asked her again. He was careful, he'd been thinking about the things he'd heard folks say about him his whole life. Things like he looked mean, rough and sounded ornery. Maybe that was it, maybe she was scared of him. Shit, he wasn't going to do anything to her she didn't want him to do. He didn't think he could ever be anything but a gentleman with Beth.
He had himself convinced that if he just got to spend some time with her they'd get along, things could happen. He asked her out again and he also tried to make his point, he wasn't such a bad fellow, "Beth, I'd like ta take you out for a nice dinner. I promise I'll be a gentleman. I'd just like ta show you a nice time."
Again she smiled and again she turned all pink, and again she said, "I'm sorry Merle. It's nice of you to ask, but I'm afraid I just can't."
That made him question, was he too old, too ugly, too dumb? Or did he look too poor? He figured it was probably all those things.
But dammit, those things weren't his biggest problem. He realized he had worse trouble. He genuinely liked her. He missed her when he didn't go around the place and it hurt that she wouldn't let him take her out. Any other woman he wouldn't give two shits, he'd just move on. Beth though, she wasn't just any woman.
His head was all screwed around. He wished she knew that he wasn't a bad guy, he could be real good to her. Shit, and he may not be the prettiest S.O.B. in the joint, but he wasn't the ugliest either.
Still, if nothing else the life Merle Dixon had lived made him a realist. Reality is reality and he'd pretty much decided that as much as he wanted to be with her, he was wasting his time. He was no one special to her. Shit, just because she smiled at him all the time that didn't mean she liked him. It was her job to smile.
It was over.
Until it wasn't.
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A/N There's our start. Please leave a comment and let me know your thoughts. The chapter photo is on my tumblr blogs, gneebee and bethylmethbrick, please check it out. I hope you'll be back next Saturday for another chapter of Let Me Help when we'll find out what Beth's thinking. Until then remember, I love ya large! xo gneebee