Double Feature by Erika Almond Page B

near the appliance
store. Calvin told me I’d best watch myself as he took off.
    Well, what the fuck? I thought back to poker-and-porn night
to see if I could figure out what I’d done to shit in Calvin’s oatmeal. All I
could remember was putting in my two cents about how porn movies weren’t the
way to learn how to treat a woman right. Okay, maybe I bragged a bit about what
I knew and what my lady friends said they liked. I mean, hellfire, knowing how
to make love and get women happy was my best and only skill.
    I didn’t think I mentioned being with anyone Calvin might
have been dating. Which didn’t mean someone else hadn’t been whispering about
what Wanamaker Happy was up to. I always tried to keep my mouth shut but that
didn’t mean the ladies were as discreet.
    Roscoe gave a whine as I frowned. “Dang Calvin anyway,” I
said as I petted his worried brow. The interrogation was bad enough. What he
implied about my family was something I tried not to think about.
    Wasn’t my fault I’d been born in the poor part of Mayfield
County. Or that I’d been one of seven kids my daddy could barely keep track of
after Momma died. Hellfire, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if I
hadn’t gotten good-looking when I turned sixteen.
    Women started loving on me then and hadn’t let up since.
They said I had pretty eyes. They liked my smile and the way my hair wouldn’t
behave. And they liked my tall, muscular body. A lot. As I’d been blessed with
a big cock and what Josie called a pathological love for females, I considered
it my mission to make women happy. And hell if I didn’t.
    Damn generous I was with my knowledge of women too. Didn’t I
try to educate the men of Mayfield about how to make love so everybody could
smile a little bigger?
    Try to be a nice guy and in one morning I’d been shot at and
given shit. I was getting right tired of Mayfield. I’d always felt I was
destined for bigger anyway. That’s what Josie and me always talked about up in
my treehouse—her becoming an artist and me getting rich and famous. How exactly
I’d do that we hadn’t quite figured out. About the only career I could see
myself fit for was porn star. Josie was trying to keep that as a last resort
though I didn’t see much wrong with it myself.
    The thought made me smile. Mmm-mmm women—the cure for
what ailed me. I put the Mustang back in drive and felt my cock already in that
gear. I knew someone who could help me get my good mood back on.
     
    Trouble was I never knew what kind of welcome I’d get from
Lucille. Sometimes she gave me a look that said come on inside and we’d
fuck for hours with nary a word between us beyond yeah . Other times the
look said not now , especially if she had company—meaning one of her
other men got there before I did. Lucille was the female version of me. She was
what people around here called a “free spirit” when they were being polite.
    But Lucille didn’t care for the kind of talk that could go
around Hawthorne and people in this town sure did love to talk. Whispers about
a twenty-six-year-old man and a woman about fifteen years his senior might get
around. Most definitely would if that man was good ol’ Wandering Wanamaker.
    Trying to keep Lucille happy by minimizing chances of
gossip, I left my car down the hill a ways, even though it wasn’t likely anyone
would see me since her wood-framed home was nestled alone in a grove of trees.
Parking there also gave me a chance to gather up a bouquet of tiger lilies for
her as I walked up the path to her place. Roscoe snuffled along beside me, his
brow now smooth with contentment.
    Luck was smiling down on me. Lucille was on her porch in her
bathrobe, letting her long black hair dry in the breeze that ruffled through
the cedars. I never could get over how beautiful she was. Her skin had been
kissed by the sun to the color of a caramel. I could see the bright blue of her
eyes all the way from the path leading up to her ranch