Love Songs: The Wrong Note - A Collection of Short Stories

2

Rouse could not believe his eyes when he saw the brand new Cadillac convertible drive onto the gravel lot where the septic trucks were parked. It had been a long day. He was hot and sweaty and conscious of the fact that he gave 'stinkin' to high heaven' new meaning.

The edges of his lips dropped into a deeper scowl, and a dark shadow seemed to fall over his eyes. Rouse watched as the thin frame of his now gray-haired brother got out of the car. A few moments later, the round gelatinous ball that Roosevelt called his wife rolled out onto the gravel lot.

Rouse, who hadn't laid eyes on Hedgia Harper in over twenty years, noted that Time had not improved her looks one whit.

"What's the matter, Rosie?" Rouse asked. "You down in the polls?"

"Rouse," Roosevelt said, "of course not."

"Umm," Rouse said, the faintest hint of a smile beginning to dance on his lips.

"Roosevelt," Hedgia said, "let's go. I told you this was a bad idea."

Rouse looked at his sister-in-law. Her eyes darted from his straight to the ground.

"For the last forty years," Rouse said, "you've been mayor. You've never needed me before. In fact, you two made it all too plain that I was too low down on the social ladder to interest you. So, I'm askin' you, Rosie, why now? How much do you need?"

***

Rouse knew he'd hit the nail on the head when Hedgia's face turned every shade of scarlet in the rainbow of livid anger.

"Now, Rouse Harper, you look here. How dare you talk to us in that tone, standin' there reekin' of swill and God knows what," Hedgia began. "We're your blood kin not two low-life beggars off the street."

Roosevelt, who had stood as mute as a bronze statue, suddenly came to life.

"Look here, Rouse, I'm only askin' for what's mine. My half of all this . . ."

"Hold on a minute little brother," Rouse said, "since when does one half of nuthin' add up to anything?"

Hedgia looked like she'd been sucking the end of one of the truck's hoses. Rouse looked around at the multitude of trucks lined up on the gravel lot.

"As I recall, you were too frail for this kind of business. Didn't have the nose to stomach it. Or you couldn't dirty your hands. You know this is all in my name, Rosie. Dad gave you your cut when he sold it all to me. And where were you last winter when the stuff freezes and bursts the pipes? Oh, yeah. Vacationing in the islands."

Rouse turned to Hedgia.

"And you so much as said you'd divorce Rosie if he got into business with me, remember? The hand that touches those hoses will never touch me, I think you said."

Roosevelt's lower lip began to tremble. The tall thin man dug the toe of his spit-shined black leather dress shoe into the rock and dirt.

"Seems to me," Rouse continued, "you ought to be passin' the collection plate among that country club set you hang out with. What you do, Rosie? Fudge a bit on the town's accounts. This chariot you're ridin' around in don't come cheap. How do you afford such luxury on your salary?"

Roosevelt looked at the ground, silently begging it to open up and swallow him whole.

"How much?"

Roosevelt signaled for Hedgia to get into the car. She opened her mouth to say something, but her husband firmly pointed in the direction of the automobile.

He quietly recited a figure to Rouse.

Rouse began chuckling. He shook his head. Roosevelt turned and started toward the car.

"I'll do it," Rouse said.

Roosevelt spun around so quickly he stirred up dust devils at his feet.

"What did you say?" Roosevelt asked.

"I said I'd do it," Rouse repeated. "On one condition."