Page 5 of Hallow’s Eve
Bootsies, a divey place with some of the best musicians one would ever hear was in the historic part of lower Broad. Called Redneck Vegas for a reason with neon signs and the streets packed, Broadway consisted of a very long row of honky-tonks blaring out music from morning to night. All the bars were close together, people streaming in and out and back into another since there were no cover charges. Indeed, we all survived on tips, the musicians, and the ones like me who kept the Tennessee whiskey and beer a flowing. At only three in the afternoon, everyone was already hammered. Even the streets were made for it, Broadway had a barn’s dance, we called it. Like the one in Japan, a pedestrian scramble intersection stopped all the traffic and allowed everyone to cross the street in all directions at once. Great for the drunks.
Kid Rock’s place had to be the loudest. All kinds of famous folks had bars on Broadway, or at least their name on one. There was a rooftop rat race going. The new bars had multiple levels and rooftop bars with each level featuring a different band, a different genre. Usually on the first floor, there’d be Country music, giving our tourists the Nashville vibe they craved. On the second floor, there’d be some R&B, Rap, you name it. The third floor and the rooftops were wild cards. Older buildings like Bootsies only had one functioning floor but were scrambling to renovate their upstairs and rooftops to compete.
We weren’t the only ones going all out for Halloween. Jack-o-lanterns lined the streets and people were already in costume. When I reached Bootsies I heard our third act, the Hillbellas playing Lorrie Morgan’s “My Night to Howl”. Hillary the lead singer could be seen through the store front. She’d dressed up like a witch. Like most the bars, the stage was in the window to draw in the customers. Tonight would be filled with Halloweeny songs, anything with spooky references. I peered in but kept walking. Going around the corner, I passed the dumpsters and used the back-alley entrance.
“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice.” In her red wedding gown, Donette tried to make her mystery man appear while she rolled silverware in the dish room. I’d brought in a tray of limes to prep. Her Lydia Deetz was perfect.
“How’d you get your bangs like that?” I asked her.
“Hairspray. Lots of it. I’ve got to look good for my Beetlejuice.”
“Didn’t you go home with someone last night?” I’d known she had.
“No. He came to mine.” Donette lived nearby in a condo downtown.
“And?” I pressed because she didn’t go on.
“If you moved in with me, you’d know all about it already.”
I’d planned to move in, was on the lease and paid half the rent already. I had a new bed and some of my belongings moved in too, but I didn’t know how to break it to Gran. “Soon. After Thanksgiving, I promise.”
Donette groaned.
“You know my Gran needs me. So, what about him? Didn’t it work out?”
“He’s fine.” She waved off my question.
“Then why are you looking for another guy?”
“Let’s just say the guy I was with last night is kind of unavailable.”
“He’s with someone?”
“No. We’re just fuckbuddies.”
My face scrunched up.
“He’s not looking for a relationship,” Donette said as a matter of fact. “Well, actually, he’s in a few. Total Alpha male, I tell you. He still sees his ex and a few girls. I’m one of them.”
“How does that work?”
Donette rolled her eyes at me.
“What about love, Donette?”
“Girl, I love hard and fuck harder. You know that.” That was Donette’s catchphrase. “Eve, you need to get laid. At least once.”
“I know. But the right guy,” I started.
“If I waited for the right guy… At least get some practice in, girl.”
As bad as it sounded, Donette was right. I was hard up. I’d not been with a guy in almost two years, and we hadn’t done much of anything except heavy petting.
“Eve, you’ve got to stop letting fear rule your life. I know you have some issues from childhood, your dad killing your mom and all, but you’re way too sexy to be going home and dialing a rotary phone every night.”
It took me a minute to realize she meant masturbating. “I don’t go home and do that. And my dad, he didn’t. Just everyone thinks so.” I didn’t want to talk about my dad or about my mom’s murder.
“Whatever. You could snap your fingers and have anyone in here. You know that, right? Just like you could be singing anywhere in this town if you weren’t so fucking scared.”
