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Grand Opening Ch. 01

By: JimBob44



Chapter 1 

In 1958, construction on Highway 27 began. Working its way North-northwest, it extended, on paper, from Jazz Beach, Louisiana to Elgee, Louisiana.

In January 1960, Union strikes halted the progress just as the two lane blacktop reached the north side of DeGarde, Louisiana, right as it entered Bender, Louisiana. The private contractor, under a deadline from the state, pulled in scab workers. 

The striking workers came armed with pick axes, sledge hammers, lead pipes.

Matt McElroy calmly walked over to his truck, pulled out his two Colt .45s and put a bullet between the eyes of the union leader. The union workers let construction continue that day.

The next morning, Matt McElroy started his truck. The explosion shattered every window in the home he and his wife and three children lived in, as well as the neighbor's home as well. 

There was no more work done on Highway 27 until September 1962, when the state of Louisiana reached an agreement with the union.

X.X.X

In July 1960, Jack Eastman was escaping an attempted homicide charge in New Orleans. Driving east on the Evangeline Throughway, he, on a whim, decided to turn north onto Highway 27. He was unable to stop in time when the road suddenly ceased to be, ripping the driveshaft from his automobile as he ran over a broad tree stump.

So Jack lay low in DeGarde, picking up menial jobs here and there, all cash. A widow of World War Two rented him a room in her home for ten dollars a week. This included breakfast and dinner. Jack quickly found reason to skip these two meals; Nettie Duvalier couldn't cook.

Nettie was loathe to let Jack use her telephone freely. He would have to contact the operator first, give the operator the telephone number he wished to contact, then at the conclusion of the phone call, had to get the charges from the operator, and then pay that amount to Nettie.Once a week, Jack would call his mother to see if there was still a warrant out for his arrest, and once a week, she would tell him there was still a warrant out for his arrest.

On Sundays, Nettie would make Jack rise, shower and shave, and put on his suit and accompany her to church. Then, she would make him eat her Sunday lunch. Afterward, they would sit in the living room and read aloud from her large Bible.

Jack was convinced that Nettie's husband didn't really die in battle; Mr. Duvalier had wisely decided not to come home.

Nettie and Mr. Duvalier (she never did refer to her deceased husband by his Christian name) had no children. His only living relative had died in an automobile accident in 1959, and Nettie had no living relatives. So, Jack became her 'son,' and had to pay ten dollars a week for that privilege.

X.X.X

Jack couldn't help but chuckle when he got hired by St. Elizabeth courthouse as a maintenance man. It was a good job, and it paid the handsome salary of twenty three dollars a week. Of course, they didn't know him as Jack Eastman; they knew him as Jack Duvalier and had Mr. Duvalier's Social Security Number on file.

"I can remember when didn't have no social number; hell, my daddy didn't even have no birth certificate," Herman Voision, his supervisor commented. "Had him a baptism recorded, so they figured his birthday had to been maybe a week earlier, so that's the day we said was his birthday. Nowadays, got to have this and that, hell can't even get you a pack of cigarettes don't have no paper, know what I'm saying?"

"Uh huh," Jack said and extinguished his cigarette in the urn.

"That's what I like about you, Jack," Herman said, putting his own cigarette out. "You don't talk much. Don't waste nobody's time all that yakked yack-yack. Had one little n*gger boy here, hell, don't even remember what that boy's name was, but damn, little n*gger could talk, never shut up, just yakked and yakked, damn near talked my ear off."

"Uh huh," Jack agreed.

X.X.X

In March of 1961, Nettie began to complain of being tired all the time, but also said that it would pass soon enough. But when Jack found her, on the floor of her bedroom, she couldn't object to him putting her into the back seat of her car and driving her to Doctor's Hospital in Baton Rouge.

"Now, who's got this kind of money, huh?" Nettie complained bitterly when the doctor insisted on admitting her to the hospital and insisted on running several tests. "Need to bring me down to the V.A. Hospital; know where that is? My husband, God rest his soul, he was in the service...."

Jack was concerned about his hostess's health, but he couldn't help but smile that he could finally get into her kitchen and make his own dinner that night. And his own breakfast in the morning. His only meal of the day was normally the lunch served in the cafeteria of the courthouse.

"Now why'd you bring me here?" Nettie complained bitterly when he picked her up five days later. "All they did was stick mall kind of needles in me, poke me and prod me and they still don't know what's going on with me, I swear."

"Told me it was leukemia," Jack corrected her.

"That's what they think it is but they don't know," she argued.

"Made three phone calls, wrote them down and here, here's a buck fifty," he said, handing her the money.

"A buck fifty?" she gasped. "Where'd you call? France?"

"No, Japan. France was too expensive," he said.

"And probably been driving my car all over the place too," she muttered to herself.

"No, just to Las Vegas, committed three bank robberies, and then high tailed it back here," Jack said.

He looked over and smiled as he saw the corners of Nettie's mouth quiver up into a little smile.

"Well, did you at least catch any of the shows they put on up there?" she asked.

"Nope; figured you'd want to use the car before too long so came on back," he shrugged.

X.X.X

He quit calling home to his mother. The last time Jack had called home, his mother informed him that there was no longer a warrant out for his arrest for attempted homicide. The man had died of his injuries so it was now second-degree murder. He told his mother that he loved her, and was sorry he had let her down. Then he hung up the telephone and never made another call home.

X.X.X

Jack drove Nettie to Lafayette, then to Houston Texas, but those doctors told her the same thing; it was Leukemia.

"Well," she sighed as he drove back to DeGarde, Louisiana. "I guess that's it. Guess it's time for me to go see Mr. Duvalier again."

"Tell him I said 'hi,'" Jack said.

"You're a good boy, Jack," she said.

A few people from her church came to the funeral but Jack was the only one shedding any tears. Annette Catherine Hale Duvalier had been a cold, aloof woman that had kept all at arm's length. The only reason Jack had gotten to know her was because of his little quip about taking the car to Las Vegas. Nettie had possessed a wicked sense of humor and had welcomed someone to trade barbs with.

A letter from the law office of Hebert, Leblanc & Roberts arrived, addressed to Jack Duvalier, so he drove to the dingy office, located on West Congress Street, Lafayette, Louisiana.

There, Samuel Leblanc informed Jack that he was the recipient of Annette's estate. The home, the automobile, and a savings account of fourteen thousand dollars were now his.

Jack thanked the bone thin man, got in his car and simply went back to work.

X.X.X

An overheard conversation between Gus Voision, the mayor of DeGarde (and Herman's brother, the only reason Herman had a job at all) and one of the union representatives alerted Jack of the real estate available at the dead end of Highway 27. Gus had bought up several acres but was watching the value of the land plummet and continue to plummet each day that the construction was halted.

Jack went home, looked at a map of the plot of land, made a few calculations, and then made a decision.

The next day, he approached Gus and boldly offered the man two thousand dollars for the twenty five acres Gus had on hand.

"It's worth at least..." Gus tried to bluff.

"It's worth nothing right now and in two weeks you're going to have to cough up another three hundred in taxes on it," Jack said. "Tell you what. Forget it. You just keep losing your shirt on it."

After the two men struck a deal, Jack began construction on a bar. St. Elizabeth was not a dry parish, but Gus Voision belonged to the local Baptist Church and frowned on alcohol consumption and would not grant a liquor license to anyone in the DeGarde proper.

Joseph Gemelli, the mayor of Bender, Louisiana, however, would happily give Jack the license, and give Gus the finger.

Jack named his new bar the 'Dead End Bar.'

Chapter 2

Jack patterned the Dead End Bar after the bars of the French Quarter, in New Orleans. The drinks were watered down and over-priced, the music was supplied by a tinny sounding juke-box, and a low stage had not so young women dancing and shimmying out of their clothes. 

Up front, the girls adhered to the letter of the law. Areola was discretely covered by pasties and pubic hair was covered by cloth. In the 'Hurricane Room' however, the only laws were dictated by the dancers. If they were okay with peeling the adhesive pasties off and letting their customer see their nipples, they would peel the pasties off and let their customers see their nipples. If they felt like peeling out of their panties and letting the customers see their pussies, they would peel off their sweaty panties. All of this, of course, came at a price above and beyond the twenty five dollar 'room fee.'

It was rumored that a few of the women would even have sex with customers, for exorbitant prices. It was only rumored, though. No one actually knew of anyone that would admit to paying the ridiculous price to have sex with a pudgy woman that looked tired and reeked of cigarette smoke. But they always 'heard of this guy that...'

When labor again began on Highway 27, Jack even took to opening at eleven thirty to provide hot meals at reasonable prices for the crews. He was also gentleman enough to allow the construction men to use his restroom and didn't charge them for the use of the facilities.

Jack made the money back, in spades every Friday, just as soon as the men got paid. The girls also made money, hand over fist, on Fridays.

"Eating steak on Friday, bologna sandwiches on Monday," he smirked as he counted out the tally.

X.X.X

"Honey, you even old enough to be standing here?" he smiled at the unattractive red-head.

"Just turned twenty one," she assured him and put an obviously forged ID on the bar.

"Well, um, Penelope," he said, squinting at the card.

"Everybody calls me Penny," she said.

"Uh huh, well um, Penny, come on, how old are you really?" he asked.

"Nineteen," she admitted.

"Honey, eighteen's the age limit; why'd you bring me this useless piece of paper?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Damn it!" the girl snapped, face an angry splotch of freckles. "My stupid cousin Tammy said I had to be twenty one!"

"Well, Tammy sounds like a real genius," Jack smiled and pulled out a standard application form.

The girl bent to the task of filling out the application and Jack walked down the bar to one of the construction men.

"You ain't hiring that, huh?" the man asked, jabbing a finger at the girl.

"She's old enough," Jack shrugged.

"Uh huh, men will be paying her put her clothes back on," he sneered. "Now, give me six of them specials today."

"Its pork chops," Jack said and bent to the task of preparing the plates.

"Don't matter. Ain't none of my guys Jewish," the man guffawed.

X.X.X

Penny could dance, could really dance, but didn't make much in tips. The gangly, slender girl had small breasts and almost no waist hour hips to speak of. Her face was mottled by freckles and her hair was kinky carrot orange and stuck out at odd angles. 

Only one customer, an extremely drunk man, had ever paid the twenty five dollars to have a private audience with Penny. He did leave with a large smile on his face and Penny looked extremely uncomfortable for the rest of that evening.

The other girls were pleasant enough; she was no real competition, but they didn't encourage her either.

"I must really be stinking up the place," Penny said dejectedly as she nursed a Dixie longneck.

"Don't know what to tell you," Jack shrugged. "Hell, I think you're pretty enough."

"Come on Jack; give it a rest, huh?" Penny said tiredly. "You don't even look at me twice."

"When you up there dancing? I'm looking, I'm looking plenty," Jack assured her. "Want another beer?"

"Nah," she said, wandered over to the juke-box and dropped a nickel in.

"Know how to cook?" he asked her when she sat back down.

"Yeah; my mom made me cook supper every night for my three brothers," she said. "Dad ran off so my mom had to get a job; works for Dr. Prentiss, the dentist. Isn't that funny? Prentiss the Dentist. Almost sounds like he should be on the Saturday morning cartoons, huh?"

"So, here's what we're going to do," Jack said.

X.X.X

One Saturday, Jack asked Penny if she'd like to get together and do something on Sunday.

"Like what?" she asked, scrubbing down the grill.

"Hell, I don't know, um, how about a picnic?" he stammered.

"Wait a minute, you mean, like you and me, out? On a date?" she asked, looking up from the hot grill.

"Well, yeah, what'd you think I meant?" Jack asked.

"I don't know, I just figured," she shrugged.

"Hey, I told you, I think you're plenty pretty," he said.

"Yeah, but I mean, you're what, thirty or something?" Penny asked, turning off the overhead fan.

"Twenty eight," he admitted.

"Yeah, I guess so," Penny shrugged. "What time?"

"Pick you up at eleven?" he asked.

"Okay," she said.

X.X.X

She wore a pale yellow sundress for their picnic. She even had her unkempt hair pulled back and clipped down with a single silver hairclip.

He drover her out to Baylor Lake, claimed an area for them, put a blanket out, then smiled as he pulled two kites out of the trunk of the car.

"You are kidding!" she laughed.

"Bet I can get mine up higher than yours," he challenged.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, she was the same height as he.

"So, what do I win if I get mine higher than yours?" she asked as the wind from the nearby Gulf of Mexico buffeted the two kites.

"A kiss," he decided.

"And if you win?" she asked.

"A kiss," he said.

"So either way, you win," she said.

"And you do too!" he protested.

"Nah, I'm kissing some old guy. You're the one kissing a sweet, innocent nineteen year old girl," she smiled.

"Right now, I'm not so sure about that 'sweet' bit," he groused.

"I can be very sweet when I want to be," she assured him, and kissed him on the cheek.

X.X.X

Jack and Penny married three weeks later. Of course there was much speculation that the two 'had' to get married. The speculation was wrong but Jack knew no amount of protestation would change that opinion, so he didn't try. For her part, Penny would just shrug whenever any of her mother's friends would ask the circumstances of their hurried wedding.

"He just couldn't wait one more minute to get to my hot pussy," Penny would say, and then smile sweetly at the scandalized expressions on their faces.

"Penny, really, must you?" her mother would huff.

"Mom, those bitches come up, all smiles and sweetness. All they want is some juicy gossip. Good church going women? I hardly think so," Penny would laugh.

"For me, all right, for me, stop saying 'pussy;' it's so vulgar," her mother demanded.

Mrs. Scandurro stopped mother and daughter in the butcher's shop and snidely asked about the hurried wedding.

"I promised my mother I'd quit telling you nosey bitches that Jack couldn't wait to fuck my hot pussy, so I'll just tell you he couldn't wait for me to suck his cock but knew I wouldn't put my mouth anywhere near it unless we were married," Penny said.

Mrs. Scandurro fainted. Penny's mother just looked at her daughter, shook her head, and walked out the shop, still clucking her tongue at her daughter's impertinence.

The butcher, however, was laying across his counter, laughing hysterically.

"Mrs. Duvalier, here, here's a rib eye, on me," he finally hooted. "You and your husband enjoy it; it's a wedding present from me, all right?" 

"Mr. Early; we won't buy our meat from anyone but you, hear?" she promised and took the free rib eye and the rest of the meat purchase for the Dead End Bar.

Chapter 3

November 23, 1963, America watched, stunned, as their President was slain. When the numbness wore off, the tears began.

In Lafayette General Hospital, Penny Duvalier sweated, cried, sobbed, and groaned and finally gave birth to Victoria Annette Duvalier. Because of the complications, the doctor performed an emergency hysterectomy on the young mother, but declared the child to be of fine spirits.

"It's a girl," the nurse told Jack and he sobbed with relief. 

Behind him, the television screen continued to show the horrible images from Dallas, Texas.

When he was allowed to see his wife and daughter, Penny tearfully told him that they'd have no more children.

"Who gives a fuck?" he said, shocking the nurse. "Damn it, Honey! You're alive! My little girl's alive! Yeah, we both wanted five or six brats but so what? You're alive!"

"I love you, Old Man," she said.

"And I love you, Sweet Bit," he said.

X.X.X

Vicky grew up behind the bar. She was potty trained by her mother and the five dancers. She learned to ride her bicycle in the asphalt parking lot. When she learned her 'ABCs' she learned to spell all the brands of whiskey, vodka, gin, and rum sold at the Dead End Bar.

Hot Dogs were added to the menu of the bar, as was macaroni and cheese and tater tots.

Vicky was heartbroken when she had to start attending school. At five years old, the skinny red head was already an old soul, and didn't fit in very well with the children of St. Richard's Elementary School.

The cafeteria workers thought it was a hoot when the kindergarten student asked for a 'Jack and cola,' and frowned when they handed her a small carton of milk.

"Cow juice?" she asked, wrinkling her face. "Who drinks this stuff?"

"You do," Sister Bernice snapped.

When she refused to eat the carrot salad, Sister Lucille snapped that there were children starving in Asia that would love to eat the food Vicky was so carelessly wasting.

"Then box it up and send it to them 'cause I'm not eating it," Vicky snapped back. 

X.X.X

The Vietnam War was a cauldron of mishaps and misfires. Many of the soldiers were returning to hostilities in the United States that were almost as vicious as the hostilities they'd endured in battle.

The Dead End Bar, however, welcomed the young men of DeGarde and Bender with a free meal and a free beer. Most of the dancers would welcome the battle weary and battle hardened men with a hug and a kiss.

"I salute you," Jack would say to them, and would indeed give them a sharp salute.

Because of the harsh welcome others would give them, however, many of the Vietnam veterans of DeGarde and Bender slipped out of society. The Dead End Bar was a refuge to them.

By 1970, the Dead End Bar was a biker hangout. Most of the bikers were Vietnam Vets. Some were into heavier things than watered down booze.

Because of the bikers, and some of the heavier things the bikers were interested in, the DeGarde and Bender Police Departments also took an interest in the Dead End Bar.

One of the officers, glancing at the wedding photograph that Jack and Penny so proudly displayed behind the bar studied the man's face carefully.

Charles Villeaux then went back to the office and looked over a file that had been sent to the DeGarde Police Department in 1961.

He found the police report in the rear of all the dispatches sent in from the New Orleans/Orleans Parish Courthouse.


Grand Opening Ch. 01



Jack David Eastman," Charles read out loud.

The accompanying mug shot left no doubt in Charles' mind; the young man in the wedding photograph was Jack David Eastman, not Jack Duvalier.

X.X.X

Charles Villeaux went to the courthouse, presented his evidence to the District Attorney, waited for the Assistant DA to finish with the phone calls, and then waited for the District Attorney to find a judge that was willing to sign the warrant for the arrest of Jack David Eastman.

Vickie was sitting at the bar, doing her homework, a dancer was tiredly gyrating to Bob Dylan's 'Lay Lady Lay,' and five bikers were playing a game of pool when Charles Villeaux strode in.

"Jack David Eastman, I have a warrant for your arrest," he said loudly.

"Who?" Penny asked, taking the ladle out of the steaming pot of navy beans.

"Lower your voice; my kid's sitting right over there," Jack whispered hoarsely to the young officer.

Two of the bikers sidled closer, clutching their pool cues.

"Who? Jack Eastman?" Penny asked.

"Hey, um, Sweet Bit? Kind of a funny story," Jack said.

"Then sock it to me; I could use a good laugh," Penny said, pale face drawn tight.

"Um, it kind of turns out, hey guys, y'all go on back to your pool game there," Jack said.

"This cop bothering you?" one of the bikers growled.

"No, y'all just go on back to your game," Jack said waving them away.

"I'm waiting," Penny said.

"Honey, um, see, um, before I came out here, I um, I was known as Jack Eastman, in New Orleans," Jack hemmed and hawed.

Charles kept an eye on the five bikers that watched the trio with great interest.

"And?" Penny asked. "What's that mean?"

"And Jack Eastman killed a man in New Orleans," Jack said.

"Thought you were from Houston," Penny said.

"Nope, New Orleans," Jack said tiredly.

"You going to come along or..." Charles asked, reaching for his handcuffs.

"You want to make it out of here alive, keep them handcuffs where they are," Jack whispered to the young police officer. "I'll walk out with you, make it look like it ain't no big deal, hear?" 

Charles looked into the mirror behind the bar again and nodded his head yes.

"I love you, Sweet Bit," Jack said and kissed his wife on her lips.

"You too, Old Man," she said, fighting the tears that threatened to spill over.

Vickie looked up from her Arithmetic homework as her father and the police officer walked toward her.

"Got to go with this nice policeman, but I'll be back as soon as I can, okay, Pumpkin?" Jack said softly.

"Yeah, okay," Vickie said and accepted her father's kiss, and rubbed her face where his unshaven face scratched it.

Jack smiled at that and made a point of grabbing her and forcibly rubbing his cheek against hers.

"Dad!" the girl squealed, bringing a smile to the policeman's face and a few chuckles from the bikers.

X.X.X

The trial, held in New Orleans, did not start until late November of 1971. Both sides presented their case, and then the jury took less than thirty minutes to find Jack David Eastman guilty of second-degree murder. The judge sentenced him to a term of no less than twenty five years.

Jack hugged his sobbing wife and wailing daughter before the bailiff removed him from the courtroom.

With a lurch, Jack remembered that it was Vickie's birthday that day.

*

*Author's Note: This is part one of a series of stories involving the Dead End Bar.

**Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. Thank you for reading my story. 



Grand Opening Ch. 02



Chapter 1

Penny Eastman wasn't a neglectful mother. She wasn't a domineering mother. She wasn't a permissive mother. She tried her best to raise her daughter, Vickie Eastman right, tried to raise her to be respectful of others, conscientious, and courteous. Penny tried to teach her daughter the same morals and principles that her own mother had taught her.

From the moment that Vickie watched her father led away to begin serving a twenty five year sentence for second degree murder, though, Vickie resisted any and all attempts her mother may have made.

The good Sisters of St. Richard's, and later, of St. Thomas Aquinas also tried.

By age twelve, Vickie was sneaking drinks from her parents' bar. By thirteen, she was smoking marijuana. By fifteen, she was shooting heroin. By sixteen, she was shooting a mixture of heroin and cocaine.

The bikers that frequented the Dead End Bar were the skinny red head's source for the drugs. To pay for her drugs, Vickie would steal from the cash register. When Penny took to locking the drawer after every single transaction, Vickie turned to turning tricks to pay for her drugs.

When that didn't make enough money, Vickie would steal from the modest home she and her mother shared and when that source dwindled, she took to stealing from the neighbors.

Words and threats fell on deaf ears. Attempts at punishments were laughed off.

Soon, Vickie began to amass a string of arrests; aggravated theft, breaking and entering, possession with intent to distribute, solicitation, prostitution, armed robbery.

"No," Penny finally told Sheriff Ronald Monroe of Bender, Louisiana. "Fuck, keep her. Y'all got her locked up; can't be sticking needles in her arms, can't be robbing no one, can't be turning no tricks. Just keep her. And tell her I'm not bailing her out this time."

"Will do," Sheriff Monroe agreed.

X.X.X

Judge Henry Mouton did not charge Vickie Eastman as an adult; feeling a wave of pity for the frightened face of the child. He saw no parent accompanying the scrawny, unattractive red head, saw her youth, and decided that time served was good enough to set the wayward child straight.

X.X.X

"Miss me, Mother?" Vickie sneered as she slammed the door of the bar open.

"Nope, can't say that I did," Penny said calmly. "First time I'd been able to sleep the whole night through 'cause I knew where you were."

"Aw boo hoo, Mother," Vickie spat. "Gee, being a mommy is so fucking hard, huh?"

"Nope, being a mommy was fun; had a little girl that was sweet and loving. Being a mother? Now that's hard," Penny shrugged.

"Give me some money," Vickie demanded.

"No," Penny said and turned the burner of the grill on.

"I said give me some money, fucking dried up old bitch!" Vickie screamed, charging her mother.

"Come one fucking step closer and I will gut you like the little pig you are," Penny hissed, wielding a large knife.

Even coming down as hard as she was, Vickie could see the serious intent in her mother's face.

"Fine, bitch, fine, fuck you, don't need your shit anyway," Vickie spat, then walked away.

When the door slammed shut, Penny sank down to the floor and sobbed. One of the dancers, in early hoping to get a free lunch, quietly held Penny, rocking side to side.

Chapter 2

The six dancers were the girlfriends of the bikers that frequented the Dead End Bar. It was a very thinly disguised secret that the girls turned tricks in the Hurricane Room and quite often, drugs changed hands back there as well.

Up front, Penny tried to run a clean establishment, but her clientele seemed hell-bent to run the place, and run the place into the ground.

The lunch crowd was generally a quiet bunch. They came for the good, hot, reasonably priced meals and the cheap entertainment. But when that crowd left, the vermin would come crawling in.

Again, a raid shut the place down. Again, Penny had to pull together an exorbitant amount of money to pay all the fines.

She fired all of the dancers, closed the bar down for a week, gave the place a vigorous cleaning, inside and out, and even hired Scandurro Construction to resurface the parking lot.

Then, she hired four new dancers, explained the legalities to them, and held a grand Re-Opening.

Within three nights, two of the dancers quit, the other two were now girlfriends of two of the bikers, and Penny had to re-hire three of the old girls to dance.

X.X.X

Vickie showed up one morning, clutching an impossibly small infant to her bony chest.

"Roslyn," Vickie said in way of explanation, indicating the small red headed child.

"Oh my goodness; she's so tiny!" Penny gasped.

"Yeah; she's like three months premature or something," Vickie said. "Wouldn't let her leave the hospital until she was four pounds."

"When did you have her? Where have you been anyway?" Penny asked.

"Here, take her; I got to take a shit," Vickie said, thrusting the small baby at her mother.

Penny sat down on her couch, cooing and clucking over the infant.

Ten minutes later, she went looking for Vickie.

"You God damned little fucking bitch!" Penny screamed.

Her jewelry case lay on the floor of the bedroom, anything of value gone. The bedroom window was wide open.

With a heavy heart, Penny called the police and reported the crime.

"Fuck, Vickie; you're a mom now; when the fuck are you going to grow up?" Penny spat in bitterness.

X.X.X

Roslyn Penelope Eastman (Penny smirked at her daughter inserting her name into the child's name) went with Grandma to the bar.

Unlike when she raised Vickie, Penny did not have Jack there to help. Penny did not have the dancers to help. The dancers that had helped her with Vickie had been her friends, her confidantes. This fleet of dancers were strung out whores that had no morals, no alliances to her at all.

So, she would come in, prepare the meal of the day for the lunch crowd, take care of the infant until six o'clock. Then, at six o'clock, Mrs. Ortego would come and fetch Roslyn and bring the infant to Penny's home. In exchange for a bed to sleep in, the widowed Mrs. Ortego would care for Roslyn.

"Bye," Rosy," one of the dancers called out, obviously already stoned.

"Say 'bye, have a nice day,'" Mrs. Ortego said to the baby.

Chapter 3

Rosy was the very image of her mother. If you put Vickie's kindergarten class photograph next to Rosie's class photograph, the only difference was in the hairstyle of the teacher. Mrs. Johnson had sported an impressive bouffant and Miss Abernathy had jelly roll bangs.

"Well, how do those other poor little girls stand it?" Penny asked.

"Stand what, Grandma?" Rosy asked, looking up from her coloring book.

"You being the prettiest little girl in the world?" Penny asked.

"You're so silly," Rosy declared. "Becky Green's the prettiest girl there; everybody knows that."

"Who? Her?" Penny said, pointing to a smug looking little blonde girl.

"Yep, see?" Rosy nodded.

"Sugar Boo, she is not prettier than you, not by a mile," Penny smiled and pinched the girl's nose.

"Hi Rosy," one of the dancers said as she stumbled in.

"Hi Miss Gina," Rosy politely said.

"You ready?" Mrs. Ortego asked, still dressed in her nurse's uniform.

"Yes ma'am," Rosy agreed.

Grandma got a kiss and Rosy waved to the three dancers as she and Mrs. Ortego left the bar.

Three hours later, a frantic Mrs. Ortego called, screaming, "They grabbed Rosy!"

"Who?" Penny screamed into the telephone. "Who crabbed her?"

"Her Momma and three guys; smelled terrible, said they were here for her daughter," Mrs. Ortego sobbed.

"Call the police! I'm on my way!" Penny screamed.

X.X.X

Mrs. Ortego had a black eye, a fractured jaw, and two broken ribs; she had not willingly allowed Vickie and the three bikers take Rosy.

The van carrying a hysterical Rosy, a stoned, angry Vickie, and three men, all with outstanding warrant was stopped just outside of Lake Charles, Louisiana.

"Fucking bitch's my kid! I got a right to my own kid, mother fucker!" Vickie screamed at the police officer.

"Uh huh," the police officer said, looking at the bruises on the child's face and arms.

"Fucking brat wouldn't quit screaming, 'you're not my Grandma, and I want my Grandma'" Vickie said in way of explanation.

"Uh huh," the police officer said.

X.X.X

Penny bit back her retort as a judge, a man that did not know her, sneered down at her. The man declared that, as far as he was concerned, Roslyn Eastman would fare better being raised in the Foster Care System, than by a grandmother that ran an establishment with as seedy a reputation as the Dead End Bar.

Legal custody of Roslyn Penelope Eastman was granted to Penny, but the judge made sure to put in the caveat that if Penny were to be arrested one more time, he would have the minor child removed from the home and the child would be placed in the custody of Louisiana Child Protection Services.

X.X.X

Jack was up for parole, again. And again, the family of his victim, Richard Breaux, showed up to make sure that he was not paroled.

"He says he's a changed man? Well, so am I," Richard's father growled, angrily. "My whole life changed the day this punk murdered my son."

Both father and mother went on to talk about how loving and sweet and gentle their son had been, how he'd had a bright future ahead of him.

Jack kept his face bland. The last time these people had confronted him, he had smirked.

"If your son was so sweet and loving and gentle, as y'all say, then why did he pull that knife on me?" Jack wanted to ask. "Yeah, I was fucking his girlfriend but believe me, she wasn't worth pulling a knife over; she damned sure wasn't worth dying over."

His lawyer had argued self-defense, but there were witnesses that claimed that Jack had stated he would kill Richard if Richard came anywhere near him.

Again, his parole was denied.

Chapter 4

Penny tried to sell the bar but no one wanted to buy it. 

She knew if she 'cleaned house,' starting assisting the local and state police, the retaliation would be severe. The Kingsmen, the biker gang that frequented the bar were not the disillusioned, disenfranchised Vietnam veterans that had frequented the bar. The Kingsmen were ruthless thugs. If they even suspected that she was 'narcing' on them, they would not hesitate to kill her, Mrs. Ortego, and Roslyn.

One of the dancers had decided that she wanted out, out of dancing, out of doing drugs, out of selling drugs, out of turning tricks. She did not come into work one night, nor the next night, or the following night. Penny didn't report it; she was used to dancers pulling serious binges and disappearing for days on end.

Four days later, the dancer's body, or what was left of it was discovered, chained to a cypress stump. The Medical Examiner was sure she had been alive when the animals of the Atchafalaya Basin had begun to gnaw at her. 

Penny did not want that fate for herself, or for her little Roslyn.

However, because of the harsh sentence the dancer had suffered, the other dancers seemed to straighten up a little. The bikers also seemed to clean up their act a little; they did not want undue attention directed their way.

X.X.X

"You a cop?" Candy asked.

(Her name was really Hannah, but Candy sounded sexier, so Big Rick told her that her name was Candy.)

"Why? I look like a cop?" the man answered.

"No, not really," Candy giggled.

"So, um, what you do here in the Hurricane Room?" the man asked.

"What you want, sugar?" Candy asked, leaning close, blowing sugar free bubble gum in his face.

"Um, I don't know, you tell me," the man shrugged.

"Okay, fifty for a blow job, a hundred to fuck me, hundred and fifty for anal, all three holes? That's two hundred," Candy recited, shimmying out of her panties. "But you got to use condoms, all right?"

"And, you're under arrest, sugar," the man smiled, pulling out his badge.

"Aw fuck!" Candy complained, pulling her panties back on.

"Shutting you down, Grandma!" Officer Dick Davis announced loudly as more police officers began filing into the bar.

"God damn it, Candy! What the fuck you do this time?" Penny yelled as Candy was led out in handcuffs.

A search of the premises revealed a fair amount of cocaine and marijuana as well. Even though she had no knowledge of the drugs on the premises, Penny found herself behind bars alongside her five dancers, and four prostitutes that had been busted outside of Club Fantastic, the local competition to the Dead End Bar.

She was arraigned the next morning, as were the nine other women. All were able to bond out; the judge set the amount fairly low. The three bikers that had been arrested, however, had bail set particularly high. "Show Pony Bail,' the District Attorney called it.

"Show Pony?" Candy asked, scratching at her face.

"Means he set it so high even a show pony wouldn't be able to jump it," Penny grumbled and began the two and a half mile walk to her home.

"Um, where you going?" Candy asked.

"Home; I'm tired, I stink, I'm going to take a shower then I'm going to bed," Penny snapped.

"Um, where'm I supposed to go?" Candy asked.

"Hell, I don't know; where do you normally go when you're not at work?" Penny asked, exasperated.

"Um, with Big Rick, but he got show ponied, remember?" Candy whined.

"Candy, go home," Penny sighed.

X.X.X

"Mrs. Eastman, you were warned," the judge sneered as he banged the gavel.

"But, but, I didn't?" Penny wailed as a clerk from Louisiana Child Protection Services began to pull a screaming Roslyn out of the courtroom.

Her lawyer promised to file papers with the court that afternoon.

Because Penny was paying the tuition for Roslyn to attend St. Richard's, and because all charges had been dropped against her, the court did allow Penny supervised visitation with her granddaughter.

Over the next nineteen months, Penny never missed a visitation. After a while, she was even allowed to have the child overnight for Roslyn's birthday and for Christmas. She could see the scrawny red head become even skinnier and could see the quiet child become severely withdrawn and fearful.

X.X.X

"Mrs. Eastman?" the voice asked.

"Yes?" Penny said sleepily.

She looked at the clock; Five nineteen blinked at her.

"Mrs. Penny Eastman?" the voice persisted.

"Yes, this is she," Penny agreed.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry..." the voice continued.

Penny made the six hour drive to Little Rock, Arkansas to identify her daughter's remains. Her boyfriend/pimp/drug dealer had gotten tired of her, so he ran over her with his pick up truck, backed over her, and then ran over her again to make sure that the job was done.

Penny was dry eyed as she made the arrangements to have her daughter's body shipped to DeGarde, Louisiana, then drove back home.

X.X.X

Big Rick's fingerprints were discovered on the length of chain that had bound the dancer's body to the cypress stump, so he was not getting out any time soon.

Without their leader, the biker gang was easier to handle, easier to persuade to adhere to the letter of the law, and not quite as intimidating.

Penny was able to 'clean house' slightly and even had a few serious offers to buy the bar.

From his jail cell, though, Big Rick authorized a large shipment of cocaine. His cell mate was a plant and gave the information to Sheriff Ronald Monroe of Bender.

"God damn it!" Penny screamed as the police busted in the front door and rear door of the Dead End Bar.

She had just been given provisionary custody of the now eight year old Rosy; any kind of trouble at all would jeopardize her custody of her granddaughter.

It would also jeopardize the sale of the bar. She had a serious offer on the table. It was for seventy nine thousand, an amount she would have considered an insult two years earlier, but she was now desperate to get out from under the bar.

Penny could see both custody and sale flying out the busted front door as the police officer pulled a large plastic bag of white powder from behind the juke-box.

*Author's Note: This is Part 2 of a series of stories involving the Dead End Bar.

**Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure. I post them here for your enjoyment. Thank you for reading my story. 



Grand Opening Ch. 03



*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in consensual sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age. 

*

Rosy Eastman looked around the Dead End Bar one more time and nodded sadly. Grandma would have loved it.

After the bar burned during the gang riot that had nearly burned DeGarde and Bender to the ground, Grandma had suffered a stroke. Grandpa had decided that the bar just wasn't worth it, and was at home, taking care of his 'Sweet Bit.'

Rosy smiled as she looked at the framed photographs that adorned the wall behind the long black wood and chrome bar. In each photograph of Jack and Penny, she could see the love the two had for each other.

Rosy frowned as she heard the motorcycles rumble into the parking lot. The motorcycle gang, The Kingsmen, had very nearly destroyed the bar, had very nearly destroyed the Eastman family. 

One good thing about the fire was it forced the bikers to move on to Club Paradise. Just as they had done with the Dead End Bar, the Kingsmen had declared Club Paradise as their unofficial club, and within weeks, had denigrated the already quite seedy bar to a place that very few would patronize, unless they were looking for drugs or prostitutes, or both.

But now that Paul Robichaux had completed the renovations of the Dead End Bar, the Kingsmen had decided to reclaim it as their home, their turf.

She picked up the telephone and dialed a telephone number she knew all too well.

X.X.X

"God damn it, when in the hell is she going to learn?" Sheriff Dick Davis complained loudly when his step-daughter Elise again slipped up and called him 'Dad' over the radio.

"Oh boo fucking hoo," Deputy Orville Jackson spat, slamming a desk drawer shut.

"What?" Dick asked, looking at his deputy.

"Oh boo fucking hoo!" Orville repeated. "Oh, poor Sheriff Dick Davis, oh, poor man! Has a daughter that loves him and thinks his number one job is being her daddy and his number two job is being sheriff!"

"Damn it, it's important that people..." Dick argued.

"Bull shit!" Orville yelled. "Bull shit! Sheriff! Everyone knows you're the sheriff! Big fucking deal! One day, I might even be sheriff! But I will never, ever, ever have a little girl that loves me. So, just forgive me if my heart isn't just broken for you, selfish bastard."

Orville sat back down heavily.

"Mind telling me what's going on?" Dick asked quietly.

"Was over at Willie's house yesterday; I got three nieces," Orville said, blinking back the tears. They call me 'Uncle Orvy;' man I love that. But ass hole mother fucker beat my sister? Cheated on her with everything with a hole in it? Fuck, even drained the kids' college funds, stuck all that money in his veins? The girls call that bag of shit 'Dad' and it just burns my ass up."

"You know, all it takes is a good woman put up with your ugly ass," Dick offered.

"Fuck, like that's ever going to happen?" Orville asked, again standing up. "Look at me! I look like a pear! Itty bitty shoulders, no chest, big old gut and an ass got its own zip code!"

"And a heart big as Texas," Dick agreed.

"Last fucking date I had was just looking to get out of a shoplifting rap," Orville grumbled, sitting back down. "Turns out she was married anyway. Believe that shit?"

"Sheriff?" Officer Becky Yuma's voice crackled through the intercom.

"At least she knows who you are," Orville grumbled.

"Yes?" Dick asked, shooting Orville a perturbed look.

"There's a Rosy Eastman on the phone for you," Becky said. "Line three."

"Thank you," Dick said and picked up the telephone.

He listened for a moment, frowning.

"Okay, be right there," he said and hung up.

Need me come with you?" Orville asked, getting to his feet.

"No, no; I need you I'll call," Dick shrugged and left the office.

X.X.X

"Looks good," Librarian called out, giving his stamp of approval.

The Kingsmen called him Librarian because he liked to read.

"Grand opening's Monday," Rosy said, no enthusiasm in her voice.

"Oh, no beer on tap yet?" Librarian asked hopefully.

"Grand opening's on Monday," Rosy repeated.

"Okay," the rail thin man agreed then slapped a piece of paper on the bar. "Now, here's the girls you'll be hiring."

"I've already hired seven dancers," Rosy smiled.

"And you'll hire these too," Librarian ordered.

"Hi!" Rosy smiled over Librarian's shoulder as Sheriff Dick Davis sauntered in.

"Yes ma'am?" Dick asked.

Librarian slunk away, shooting murderous glances at both Rosy and Dick.

"I'm Rosy. Rosy Eastman. My Grandfather, Jack Eastman started this bar back in nineteen sixty two," Rosy said, shaking Dick's hand.

She put a single sheet of laminated paper in front of Dick.

"Here's our menu; as you can see, we have daily specials; Monday will always be red beans and rice with andouille sausage, Tuesdays meatloaf day, with red or brown gravy," Rosy cheerfully said, pointing to the menu.

"Just like Jack and Penny had it," Dick agreed, glancing at the menu.

"Uh huh, and we'll also have burgers; those you can get any day of the week," Rosy said.

"Mmm," Dick said, reading the description after some of the burgers. "Volcano burger, huh?"

"Grill it with jalapenos, pepper jack cheese, and my secret spicy spread," Rosy laughed. "Guaranteed to give you some of the best heartburn you ever had."

"Chili burger looks pretty good too," Dick agreed.

"If the volcano's a ten, the chili burgers about an eight on the butt burner scale," Rosy smiled.

"Okay, all of this looks good; why are you showing me this?" Dick asked.

"Cops eat free," Rosy said. "You come in here in uniform? You can have a daily special or a house burger and onion rings, or fries free, and a soda. You in uniform, though? No alcohol. You off-duty and you show me your badge? First beer's on the house. Second beer's on you, and third beer, I call a cab; I am not having any drunk driving cops on my property."

"Ma'am, we can't do that," Dick argued. "Some would consider it a bribe."

"It's not a bribe; it's a contribution," Rosy said, losing her cheerful demeanor.

"It's not a bribe," she repeated. "Sheriff, y'all give and give everything y'all got, trying to keep us safe. I'm just trying to give back. That's all."

"You know, words gets out that cops eat free, this is going to be a blue bar," Dick smiled.

"More than fine with me," Rosy laughed. "Ooh, I love me a man in uniform!"

"Been a while since I been in here; mind if I take a look around?" Dick asked.

"Be my guest,' Rosy said, sweeping a hand out, indicating the building. "Look anywhere you feel like."

Dick walked away, looking at the nooks and crannies of the room.

"You are playing with fire, bitch," Slick angrily hissed.

"Ain't worried about it either," Rosy sneered at the bald biker. "Ain't a fucking thing y'all pathetic little ass holes can do to me that the fucking Child Foster Care system ain't already done."

"See y'all added two more 'Hurricane' rooms," Dick said amiably, returning to the bar. "Like what you've done to the stage too. That looks nice."

"Twenty years ago?" Rosy spat at Slick. Judge Melancon takes me out of my Grandma's custody because of one of you ass holes stashing a bunch of drugs here. Sticks me in a foster home. Woman that runs it has a boyfriend ain't supposed to be on the premises but there he is. And he and his two brothers start raping me every fucking day and tell me ain't nobody going to believe me 'cause my grandma's running a whorehouse and selling drugs. Got that reputation because of vermin like you; she was trying to run a nice, clean French Quarter style bar here, but y'all got to go and fuck that all up. Well, I took a chance. There was a cop talking at our school, telling us about drugs and the dangers of doing them and I stand up and in front of the whole class tell him I'm being molested."

"Holy shit!" Dick said eyes wide. "I remember that!"

"I remember you too," Rosy said, tears streaming down her face. "You stopped the lecture right there and got me out of there."

"Damn, I'm sorry; I didn't recognize you," Dick apologized.

"That was twenty years and about two hundred pounds ago," Rosy smiled, wiping at the tears. "So, yeah, mother fucker, cops eat for free here. God a problem with that?"

Slick walked away, muttering curses under his breath. Librarian and the three other bikers joined Slick in walking out of the bar.

Dick looked at the woman. Her face was covered in countless freckles; her hair was carrot orange, long, hanging down to the middle of her wide back. Her eyes were large, brown orbs, and her smile, which he wasn't seeing now, had been a genuine and warm smile.

He guessed her height to be about five feet, nine inches, and guessed her weight to be close to two hundred, possibly two hundred and twenty five pounds.

She blushed under his scrutiny and looked away.

"Yeah, two of them went to Angola," Dick said.

"What about..." Rosy asked.

"Hung himself before we could bring him in," Dick said." Couldn't pin anything on Betty, though. Swore she didn't know what was going on."

"Bull shit!" Rosy yelled.

"Yeah, well, she lost her license and any state funding," Dick offered weakly.

.The rumble of the motorcycles drowned out any further conversation; it was obvious that the Kingsmen were letting their displeasure be known.

"I um, I don't want to leave you here by yourself," Dick said when the noise finally died down.

"I was about to lock up anyway," Rosy smiled.

Dick watched as she did a last minute check; for a large woman, she moved gracefully.

"Please quit looking at my big old butt," she said, voice an embarrassed whisper.

"I'm not," Dick smiled.

"Um, how is your grandma doing?" Dick asked as she armed the security system. "Nice woman; really hated having to bust her all them times."

"Stroke pretty much paralyzed her; can't move her left side at all, but Grandpa's taking good care of her," Rosy smiled sadly.

She locked the door then walked over to a battered old car.

"Car's seen better days," Rosy said, opening the car door. "But gets me from point A to point B."

"That's what they're there for," Dick agreed.

Chapter 2

Dick smiled when he let himself into the house; Carmen was cooking stir fry chicken. She'd bought a recipe book of low calorie meals and was bound and determined that he and Elise were going to eat healthy.

His step-daughter, Elise, was already at the dinner table, still dressed in her uniform. Elise wore her uniform with a pride that mirrored his own.

The twenty four year old woman had considered moving out, getting an apartment. She'd even pulled up the addresses on the police computer to see if there'd been any complaints about the complex she was considering moving into. But her mother had burst into tears and begged Elise to stay.

"You're the only one I got left," Carmen sobbed. "After Elaine got killed; and now you want to move out? I'll never know if you're okay!"

So, Elise still lived at home. She paid a hundred dollars a week for room and board. But she knew that Carmen wasn't doing anything but putting that money into a savings account for Elise.

"Hey Dad," Elise said, looking up from the Word Jumble puzzle she was working.

"That's 'Sheriff,'" Dick smiled and kissed the top of her head.

"Nuh uh! Not when we're home!" Elise argued.

"Hey Beautiful," Dick said, hugging Carmen from behind.

"Hey, Handsome," Carmen smiled and rubbed her rear end against him.

Over dinner, Dick told them of the re-opening of the Dead End Bar.

"And I suppose you'll be down there all the time now," Carmen grumbled.

"Hey, someone's got to make sure them dancers are doing their jobs right," Dick smiled.

"Gross," Elise shook her head. "And who in their right mind would pay to watch some girl jump all around? It's not like you can see anything anyway; they got to keep it all covered up."

"Those costumes don't really cover up a whole lot," Dick shrugged.

"And you would know this HOW?" Carmen asked.

"Done a couple of drug busts down there," Dick smiled. "But the new owner says she's going to run a tight ship. No more of that crap."

"The Kingsmen around there? I don't think they'll..." Elise asked.

"She's trying to keep them out," Dick said.

"So, let me guess; Monday night I don't need to fix dinner," Carmen said.

"Probably not," Dick said.

"Don't," Carmen said, digging her fingernails into Dick's arm. "Don't come home all hot and bothered from watching those girls flopping all over the place. Hear me?"

"Uh huh," Dick smiled.

Carmen was the one that got all hot and bothered; her sex drive was twice as hot as his. And he was no slouch when it came to his sex drive. He wasn't at the point of needing to take Viagra, but from time to time, he did consider it.

"I'm going to Shapes," Elise said after scraping the last bit of food from her plate.

"One of these days, I'm going to join that place too," Carmen agreed, gathering her and Elise's plates.

"Me too," Dick agreed.

"Dad, it's ladies only," Elise smirked.

"So? I don't mind," Dick shrugged.

"I bet you don't," Carmen said, lightly slapping him in the back of his head.

They waited while Elise stomped upstairs, got dressed in her work-out clothes, and then skipped out the house before starting their conversation.

"It's a real nice starter home," Carmen said, eyes beginning to water.

"Rather her in that, then paying rent," Dick agreed.

"But then she'll be..." Carmen almost began crying again.

"Two blocks away," dick assured her. "She'll have to drive right past here to go home."

He hugged her tightly.

"And as good as your cooking is? Compared to hers? We'll probably see her every day anyway," Dick tried to smile.

"God Dick, why do they have to grow up?" Carmen clung to him.

"At least we still have the grandkids," Dick offered.

X.X.X

Orville put the bar back on the rests and wiped the sweat from his face. Before he had a chance to get cold, he moved from the bench to the squat bar and hefted the one hundred and eighty pounds up.

"Son of a..." he grunted as his knees protested against the hard labor.

He completed twenty reps, then slapped ten more pounds on each side of the bench-press bar and did twenty reps.

"Damn, that's enough," he gasped and staggered down the hall to the small bathroom.

That was the main thing he hated about apartment dwelling. Everything was small. The hot water heater only held twenty gallons, hardly enough to wash dishes, much less take a good shower. The shower enclosure would be fine for someone as slim as Elise, but was cramped by Orville's bulk.

He wet himself down, and then shut the taps off. He lathered up his hair, scrubbed his body vigorously with his bargain brand soap, grimaced as he had to struggle to reach his feet, and then turned the taps on again.

He longed for a day when he could turn on the taps, and leave the water on.

After drying himself off, Orville dressed in a shapeless tee shirt and a pair of ruined boxer shorts. He turned on the television, found nothing to watch, but at least it was noise. He fell asleep on the couch, as he usually did.

X.X.X

"Rosy, you've heard that story a hundred times," Penny grunted in her horribly slurred speech.

"Don't care; I love it," Rosy smiled as she could see her grandma's mouth struggle to smile.

"Okay, it was our first date," Penny said.

Rosy smiled, imagining her Grandma as a nineteen year old girl, out on a picnic with a twenty eight year old Grandpa.

"And he brings along two kites," Penny went on.

On a first date, her grandfather had brought two kites. Penny had, of course, laughed at him. Then he challenged her that he could get his kite to go higher. He wanted a kiss if he won.

She had protested that either way, he was getting to kiss a sweet, innocent girl, while she had to kiss an old guy.

"And he said, 'I'm not so sure about the sweet bit,'" Penny said.

"But she assured me, she could be very sweet," Jack said, putting down Penny's cup of chamomile tea.

"And I kissed him, and I've been his 'Sweet Bit' ever since," Penny finished the tale.

"Good night," Rosy said, struggling to her feet.

Chapter 3

Rosy again checked the beans; they were simmering, filling the entire bar with the savory smell.

Two dancers stood near the small stage, waiting for the first customers to come in. A third girl waited to serve the food.

Rosy tightened her face as she heard the rumble of motorcycles approaching. She looked over at the three girls.

"Remember what I said about them," Rosy called out.

"Yes ma'am," Paula Lambert smiled.

Little John tried to slam the door open, but there was a hydraulic spring that prevented the door from slamming open. Rosy had installed the simple device to prevent anyone being struck by the door if they were exiting and someone was entering.

Little John glared hotly at Slick and Librarian as they snickered at him.

The six foot tall man waddled his three hundred and forty nine pounds over to the bar and hammered a meaty fist on the bar.

"Hear you don't want my girlfriend dancing here," he growled.

"Nope; running a classy place here," Rosy said calmly.

Inside, she was terrified but refused to let any of the Kingsmen see fear.

"You saying my girlfriend ain't classy?" Little John asked, face set in a menacing glare.

"Not classy enough for this place," Rosy said.

"Well them, maybe this place needs us to unclass it a bit," Little John smiled.

Librarian and Slick prepared to start smashing some of the tables and chairs.

"Hi Rosy, damn, that smells so good I thought I better get here before it's all gone," Sheriff Dick Davis said.

He nodded to Little John.

"How's it going, John?" he asked.

"Good, it's all good," Little John said.

"Good. Glad to hear it. Now, y'all need to place your orders, pay the lady for your food, and then go sit down. There's a hungry sheriff here. I'm being polite and waiting my turn, hear?" Dick said.

"Um, yeah, um, give me three of the specials," Little John said.

"Drink?" Rosy asked.

"Pitcher of draft," Little John said.

Dick took a seat on a bar stool where he could see the entire room.

"And what can I get you, Sheriff?" Rosy asked as Kirsten Ellis hefted the heavy tray with the biker's meals.

"Special of the day looks pretty good," Dick said. "But, only give me about half of what you gave them, hear? I need to be able to walk around afterward; don't need to be all weighed down." 

"You got it," Rosy smiled.

Kirsten plastered a smile on her face as she served the three bikers. She'd bought her meth from Slick and from Little John; wanted to buy some now. But she was on probation and Ms. Leblanc was known to demand piss tests.

That was the only reason she was even working; Ms. Leblanc had insisted that Kirsten be gainfully employed, or in school. School was out, and unfortunately, Rosy Eastman said she was willing to give almost anyone a second chance.

"Hey, how's it going?" Little John asked, recognizing the girl.

"All right. You?" Kirsten asked.

"Not bad, not bad. You um, you buying..." Little John asked.

"No!" Kirsten said, a little too loudly.

"Fuck, all right, damn, don't have to get all loud and shit," Little John said, looking over to see if Dick had overheard their conversation.

Dick's eyes bored into Little John's eyes and the large man looked over his shoulder at the girl dancing and gyrating on the small stage.

"Fuck, take it off, huh?" Little John demanded.

"Put something in the tip jar," the dancer smiled, indicating the heavy glass jar at the lip of the stage.

"Damn, this is good," Dick said as he dug into the red beans and rice.

"Thank you," Rosy smiled.

"Your husband must love this," he said, looking at the ring on her left hand.




Grand Opening Ch. 03



"My mom's ring," Rosy smiled, indicating the ring. "Only thing I have to remember her by. I'm not married."

She smiled sadly.

"I mean, really! Who would want me?" she asked.

"How you feel about kids?" Dick asked.

"Love them," she said. "When I was in foster care, whenever there were younger kids there, I took care of them," Rosy shrugged.

"No, I mean, can you have kids?" Dick asked.

"Yeah, I guess, but who would want..." Rosy asked.

"Cook up one of them volcano burgers, medium well and some onion rings," Dick said, pushing his empty plate away.

He touched his shoulder mounted radio.

"Yes, Sheriff?" Orville's voice crackled.

"Need you to pry your ass out of your chair and get down here to the Dead End," Dick ordered.

"Want the spread?" Rosy asked, already forming the meat patty, working the jalapeno pepper chunks into the ground beef.

"Double spread, on both buns," Dick smiled.

"Really going for the butt burn, Sheriff?" Rosy asked, laughing.

"Not for me, for my Deputy," Dick smiled.

"That's not very nice," Rosy laughed. "You don't even know what's in my secret spread."

"So tell me," Dick smiled.

"I take a habanera pepper, slice it in half, and then fry it in a cup of olive oil. Then I mix the oil with four cups of mayonnaise, for egg whites, and stir in a teaspoon of cayenne," Rosy said, showing him the container of light brown mayonnaise.

"Perfect," Dick smiled. "Can I?"

She dipped a French fry into the mixture and handed it to him.

"Hoo boy!" Dick gasped and then smiled. "Damn, Rosy that is some good stuff!"

"Yeah, Sheriff?" Orville asked, walking up.

"Sit here," Dick ordered.

"All right, eat this," Dick said as a smiling Rosy put the plate down.

"Then, after you eat it, you need to interrogate the suspect; her," Dick ordered.

"What? Why?" Orville asked, baffled.

"You need to find out if she likes hunting and fishing; you need to find out if she likes football; you need to find out what her idea of a romantic date is," Dick ordered. "One bite of that and you know she knows how to cook. Find out if she's as obsessive compulsive as you, if she is as a cheap ass like you, if she goes to church every Sunday or not."

Dick walked over to the tip jar on the stage and dropped a twenty dollar bill into it.

"Thanks Sheriff," the dancer smiled and shrugged out of her top, revealing a gauzy bra.

"Welcome, Sweetie; you're a great dancer," Dick smiled and walked to the door.

"Do not, I mean do not leave here until someone gets here to relieve you," Dick whispered to Orville. "This is now OUR bar, not those greasy ass bikers; you hear me?"

"I um, I love football," Rosy said, blushing hotly. "That big screen TV ain't for watching Lifetime, you know? And the most romantic date in the world would be to go out to Baylor Lake an fly a couple of kites."

"Son of a bitch!" Orville coughed out, clutching at his throat.

"What you want to drink?" Rosy asked.

"Diet Coke, please!" Orville gasped.

He gulped at the drink when Rosy put it down.

"Oh come on, Deputy!" Dick smiled. "I ate two of them, no problem."

"Sheriff!" Rosy laughed.

"I um, my um, my next day off is Thursday, um, you um, hey could I have some more diet coke?" Orville stammered, blushing profusely.

"I could get off Thursday," Rosy agreed.

"Supposed to be raining pretty bad on Thursday, though," Orville said.

Then take me to the skating rink in Flowers," Rosy smiled.

"I want three," Orville suddenly blurted.

"Three more burgers?" Rosy asked eyes wide.

"Um, no, no, three kids," Orville blushed hotly and looked away.

"Oh, um, okay," Rosy said, blushing hotly.

"How much?" Orville asked as he swallowed the last bite of his burger.

"Nothing," Rosy smiled, picking up the empty plate.

"Um, no, seriously," Orville said.

"Deputy, cops eat free," Rosy smiled and squeezed his hand.

"But you can tip the dancer," Cheryl Nguyen smiled.

Orville looked at the Asian girl, nodded his head and peeled a ten dollar bill off of his money clip an handed it to her.

"Thanks, Officer," Paula called out as Cheryl dropped the ten dollar bill into the tip jar.

"Welcome," Orville called back and watched as she unhooked her skirt and let it drop.

Paula danced for the remainder of the song, dressed in gauzy bra and panties. She then took the thirty dollars out of the tip jar, gathered her top and skirt, and disappeared behind the curtain.

With a curt nod, Little John ordered the two bikers to their feet and they lumbered to the door.

Kirsten sullenly greeted two businessmen as they took seats near the stage.

"You know what? Give me a big bacon blue, no tomato and onion rings," one man ordered.

"Give me the cheddar melt," fries," the other man ordered.

"Diet Coke," the first man said.

"Real coke," the second man said and dropped a five into the jar as Cheryl began to gyrate to 'Little By Little' by Robert Plant. 

"Damn, haven't heard that song in years!" the first man smiled and dropped a twenty into the jar.

Officer Mike Stevens entered and playfully nudged Orville, trying to push Orville off the bar stool.

"Can I get a big house salad?" Mike asked.

"Dressing?" Rosy asked.

"Ranch," Mike smiled.

"I um, okay, I um, I'll see you um, Thursday night, okay?" Orville said, blushing hotly.

"Pick me up right here, okay?" Rosy said, also blushing hotly.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute!" Mike laughed as Orville beat a hasty retreat.

"Officer, don't mess with the people handling your food," Paula smiled sweetly as she poured herself a diet coke.

"Yeah, but, HIM?" Mike asked as Rosy put a plate in front of him.

"Something wrong with him?" Rosy asked pleasantly.

"Know what?" Mike said, smiling widely. "Absolutely nothing. He's as good a man you'll ever find. Anywhere."

The heavy rumble of several motorcycles could be heard and Mike touched his shoulder radio.

"I'm on it," Dick's voice crackled. "Orville just called.

"And THAT'S why they eat free," Rosy said to a cowering Kirsten.

Cheryl smiled as she picked up her discarded clothing, scooped the twenty five dollars from the jar, and beat a hasty retreat off the stage.

"See if those customers need a refill," Rosy pointed to the two business men.

"Now?" Kirsten squeaked as several bikers poured into the bar.

"Yeah, what are you waiting for?" Rosy asked, trying to display a bravery she did not feel.

"Miss Rosy, I..." Kirsten pleaded.

"I'll do it," Paula smiled and walked right past Little John and Wolf.

She understood what Rosy was trying to do; Rosy was trying to show these bikers that they would not intimidate the Dead End Bar, that they would not disrupt business.

"Hi; Kirsten's busy at the bar; anything else I can get for you?" she asked sweetly.

"Un, no, no, we're good," Steve Edwards smiled.

"But thanks, the other man said. "Tell the cook this is one of the best patty melts I've ever had.

"It's the onion," Paula smiled. "She uses Vidalia onions; they're a bit sweeter, you know?"

"That's got to be it," the man agreed.

"Can we have the check?" Steve asked, noticing that the bar was now full of bikers.

"Certainly," Paula smiled and calmly walked through the milling crowd.

Dick, Orville, and Becky strolled in, each with vests on. Becky walked over to Mike and handed him a vest.

"I'm eating," Mike said, unconcerned.

"Put it on," Becky whispered urgently.

"Fine, fine," Mike said and put the fork down.

"Like that dressing?" Rosy asked.

"Yes ma'am, I can tell it's homemade, ain't it?" Mike agreed and then resumed eating.

"Kirsten, customers," Rosy said.

"Miss Rosy," Kirsten begged.

"Fine, fine, come on," Rosy said.

Cheryl came out, dressed again in her short skirt and halter top. She grabbed a pad and pen and approached a table.

Paula brought Steve his change, and then took the order of the five bikers that crowded around a nearby table.

"See? Nothing to it," Rosy said to the shaken Kirsten as she lay the several tickets out on the counter next to the large grill.

"Think you could bring them their drinks?" Cheryl sneered.

X.X.X

Elise kept her eyes moving the whole time. She did concentrate on the road, but also kept scanning their surroundings.

Next to her, Jack Vogel complained that they were on the road, instead of down at the Dead End Bar.

"Uh huh," Elise said and slowed down; she could see an a small African-American boy playing with a puppy, dangerously close to the street.

She could also see, coming up behind her, a delivery truck, moving far too fast.

She slammed on the brakes, and braced herself as the delivery truck screeched to a stop.

"What the fuck," Jack yelled at her as the truck skidded to a stop, just inches away from their back bumper.

"You, go give Dale Earnhardt a ticket for speeding; we were doing forty, tell him he was doing fifty five in a thirty five mile an hour zone," Elise ordered, getting out of the cruiser.

"Hi Sweetie, is this your puppy?" Elise asked the small boy.

"Yes ma'am," the boy said. "But I'm not supposed to be talking to you; you're a stranger."

"That's right, I am," Elise smiled. "You're a very good boy. Is this your home?"

"Yes ma'am," the boy nodded.

"Is your mommy or daddy home?" Elise asked.

"My grand mom is," the boy said.

"Could you go in and tell her I want to talk with her?" Elise asked pleasantly.

"No ma'am, she's sleeping," the boy shook his head no.

"I know she is, sweetie, but it really is important," Elise cajoled the boy.

The puppy followed the boy, yapping loudly.

"Damn it Henry, I done told you..." Elise heard a woman yell. "A what? She what? Tell her I ain't got time for..."

"Ma'am, you better make time," Elise snapped standing close to the open door of the home.

"What?" the woman snapped, yanking the door open. "I don't let no white people up on my porch."

"Charming," Elise snapped. "Stick your racism in your pocket for a second and listen to me."

"Racism? I ain't no racist!" the woman screeched indignantly.

"Ma'am, if your grandson is going to be playing outside, you need to be outside with him, "Elise spoke over the woman's protestations.

"You don't be dragging your white ass up to my house telling me how to raise my grandson," the woman screeched.

"I see him outside by himself again, you won't have to worry about my white ass doing nothing; I'll make sure it's a black man comes to arrest you for child endangerment," Elise snapped. "Do I make myself clear?"

Elise got back into the cruiser and started the car. She shook her head as she saw the black woman give her the finger before slamming the door shut.

She saw a house next door, with one of her mother's real estate signs in front. Her mom's face beamed, with the word 'SOLD' underneath.

"Oh, that's a cute little house," Elise said, then braked for the stop sign.

"Can tell you're a girl," Jack sneered.

"How's that, Jack?" Elise asked.

"'Cute Little house,'" Jack sneered. "No guy would ever say 'cute little' like that."

"Unless you're talking about your penis," Elise said easily and checked both her mother's house and Charlie's house as she drove past.

Her brother's minivan was out front, but Elise knew that Charlie was at work. He drove his truck for the eighty mile round trip and let his housekeeper use the minivan.

Iris Gauchet might not have known it, but she had been given a thorough background check long before she had been hired. She might not know it now, but nearly every move she made was scrutinized by either Dick or Elise. Trey, Richard, and little Carmen were Dick's grandchildren and Elise's nephews and niece.

As if she could sense Elise's presence, Iris opened the door of the home. She had a tight grip on Carmen's small hand. The attractive woman looked down the street and Elise looked down the street as well, just in time to see the school bus grind to a halt.

Trey and Richard and a small girl got off of the bus. The girl carefully waited and looked both ways before crossing the street. Trey and Richard waved to their Aunt and walked to their house.

Elise watched the little girl, making sure that the child entered her house before she then turned onto Highway 52.

"You, um, you really got a thing for kids, huh?" Jack asked.

"What? What do you mean?" Elise asked.

""You, um, you just seem to go out of your way to make sure they're okay," Jack shrugged.

"Yeah, Jack, then yeah, I really got a thing for kids," Elise sighed.

They drove in silence for a few moments.

"Elaine, my big sister? Elaine wanted to have twenty kids," Elise suddenly said. "Me? I'll probably never have any, but Lala was just made to be a mom. Ever since she got... I can't help but look at kids and wonder, if she hadn't died, would this be one of hers?"

They drove for a few more moments in silence. Then Jack sat up a little more straight in his seat and looked at Elise.

"Why you not going to have any?" Jack asked.

He was sure that Elise was gay. Why else would she still be living at home? Why else would she be such a hard ass about rules and regulations? Why else would she be able to sit in a car with him for hours at a time and not succumb to his charms? Why else would she always be so condescending, so condemning to him?

"Not a whole lot of guys want anything to do with a cop," Elise shrugged and turned onto Highway 19. "Kind of intimidates them, you know?"

"Lot of girls love them some cops," Jack said smugly.

Elise stopped at the intersection of Highway 19 and Highway 27 and let a long stream of motorcycles roar past.

"It's a four way stop," Jack complained.

"Not a big deal," Elise shrugged. "Let them go; unless you in a hurry."

Chapter 4

The wind from the Gulf of Mexico was strong, but Orville and Rosy held onto their kites tightly.

"Bet I can get mine higher than yours," Rosy laughed as she let more string out.

"You're out of your mind too," Orville smiled. "I have the Super Sonic Batman kite. What you got, huh? Huh? What you got?"

She leaned against him and he switched his kite string to his left hand and put his right arm around her.

"Why you have to go to work today?" Rosy asked. "It's Sunday. You don't get Sundays off?"

"Honey, cops don't get Sundays off," Orville said.

"Next time I see that boss of yours..." Rosy threatened.

"Don't you dare," Orville laughed. "He's giving me a hard enough time as it is."

"I bet he's got today off," Rosy whined.

"Well yeah, but not really," Orville said. "He's helping his daughter move."

The kites fluttered and swooped in the strong breeze.

"But you got me until three; okay?" Orville said.

"Yeah, I guess," Rosy sighed.

"You know what I've never been able to do?" Orville asked.

"Beat a woman at kite-flying?" Rosy asked, smiling.

"No," Orville smiled. "I've never been able to play the harmonica. 

"Now where the hell did THAT come from?" Rosy asked, laughing.

"Wind blowing through them trees kind of sounds like a harmonica," Orville explained. "And I've always liked harmonicas. I mean, you see these guys take one and next thing you know, they're just wailing a way on it. I pick up one and it sounds like a dog having an asthma attack."

"You know, the other day, this poodle next door started having this asthma attack and my grandpa said 'my God, that sounds like Orville playing the harmonica,'" Rosy said.

"Smart ass," Orville smiled.

"You know, now would be a perfect time to kiss me," Rosy said.

"After that comment?" Orville asked. "I don't think so!"

"I can be very sweet when I want to be," Rosy said and puckered up.

"That's what you say," Orville said and did kiss her.

"My grandma and grandpa only dated a couple of weeks before they got married," Rosy said and began pulling her kite in.

"That's what he told me last Thursday," Orville said and also began winding his string.

X.X.X

Elise again looked around her home. Her new home. Her home.

"Of course, you don't have to spend the night here," Carmen said hopefully.

"Are you kidding?" Dick wheezed, coming out of Elise's bedroom. "I just spent thirty minutes putting her bed together!"

"And?" Carmen asked.

"Where's she going to sleep? The floor?" Dick asked, wiping his face with his handkerchief.

"Couch pulls out into a bed," Carmen suggested. "You can sleep on that; she and I will sleep in my bed."

"Bull shit too," Dick smiled. "My bed. Mine."

"Mom, I think I'll sleep here tonight," Elise smiled and looked around again at her home.

"Okay, Honey, anything else before I go home?" Dick asked.

"Nope, can't think of anything," Elise said.

After several tearful hugs, Carmen allowed Dick to drag her out of the small home and into the U-Haul truck.

"Going to have to put that lawnmower together for her," Dick muttered, looking at the grass.

"Now? I'll tell her," Carmen said, opening the door to the truck.

"No, not now, woman, get back in the truck," Dick laughed.

"But Dick, she's going to need to..." Carmen defended.

"Her next day off is Tuesday," Dick said, pulling out of the driveway. "I'll put it together Tuesday morning."

Elise pulled the rubber band out of her long blonde hair, releasing the pony-tail. She again looked around her home. 

Mom had taken the money Elise was paying for room and board and used it to put a down payment on the small house. For a single twenty four year old woman, the house was perfect. It had two bedrooms and one bathroom, and a small commode and sink in the utility room. And Dick had shown her how, with a partition, it could be quite private.

"Give Paul a call if you want to do that," Carmen had said. 

"Remind him that you're family," Dick said and pushed the washing machine into place.

Yapping from next door brought Elise out of her reverie and she looked through the window of her bedroom.

Henry was playing in the back yard, trying to teach the puppy to fetch a stick. He would throw the stick, but the dog would just bark excitedly, then Henry would go fetch the stick.

"Hi," Elise said, squatting down and putting her fingers through the chain link fence.

"Hi," Henry said.

"What's your dog's name?" Elise asked.

"Sam," Henry said.

"Sam?" Elise smiled. "Why'd you name him Sam?"

"Because he's a Sam," Henry explained.

"I see," Elise nodded.

"You going to live here?" Henry asked.

"Yes I am; just moved in today," Elise said.

"Do you have any kids?" Henry asked.

"No, I'm afraid I don't have any kids," Elise said.

"Oh," a disappointed Henry said.

Then Henry picked up the stick and turned away.

"Go get it, boy!" he cried out and threw the stick.

Sam did not; Sam was too busy trying to lick Elise's fingers through the chain link fence.

"I'm sure he'll get it sooner or later," Elise encouraged and walked back to her back door.

"Bye," Henry called out as he ran to get the stick.

X.X.X

"Alarm at one two one niner Highway 27," Becky called out.

"Shit," Orville said, recognizing the address of the Dead End Bar.

""Deputy Jackson responding," he said into the car radio.

Someone had tossed a Molotov cocktail at the glass window of the bar. The polymer material resisted breakage and the incendiary device shattered and burned harmlessly against the cinderblock exterior of the building. So, several bullets were fired at the window. The vibrations had set off the alarm.

"Bulletproof window did its job," Orville commented.

The window itself was severely pockmarked, but had held together. With no fuel, other than its own gasoline, the Molotov cocktail had simply burned out. But Orville very carefully gathered all the pieces he could for fingerprint analysis.

He looked around, and then smiled. A small camera was visible. He pulled his cell phone out.




Grand Opening Ch. 03



"Hey, Honey, that camera you got outside; it works?" he asked when Rosy answered her cell phone.

"Yeah, recorder's in the stock room," Rosy said, voice shrill with worry. "Why?"

"Need to get today's tape. Nothing's wrong, everything's fine, don't worry," he tried to assure her.

It was almost comic, watching the silent tableau play out. Wolf, Slick, Librarian, and Redman pulled up to the bar. The four stood around for a few moments, looking around furtively. Then Wolf pulled the whiskey bottle out of his jacket, pulled a greasy looking bandanna out of his back pocket. Librarian seemed to be talking, giving instructions on how to perform the simple task.

The silent witness caught the action as Wolf hurled the bottle with all his might at the window. 

Orville smiled as Librarian, Slick, and Redman seemed to be laughing at a frustrated looking Wolf. Wolf was the first to pull a gun from his jacket. The other three followed suit and unloaded their guns on the window.

Even in the silence, Orville could tell that the alarm had begun to sound; the four bikers looked around quickly, then got onto their hogs and rode away.

A few moments later, Orville watched himself as he approached the building.

"Damn, but my ass is huge," Orville complained.

"You're a girl, you know that?" Mike said as he watched the video with Orville. "Only a girl would say that."

"Uh huh," Orville said. "Oh, by the way, how's your girlfriend doing? Oh, that's right, you don't have one. Bitch."

"No I don't. Bitch," Mike laughed. "I can leave the toilet seat up, hair all over the place, wear my drawers three days in a row; ain't got to hear no bitching or whining."

"Three days in a... Is that what that smell is?" Orville said and picked up his cup of coffee.

Chapter 5

Elise wished Elaine was here. It had always been her sister that had cut the grass at her mother's house, now Dick cut it.

Damn, a lot more work than it looks like," she thought as she pushed the lawn mower over a particularly high clump of weeds.

Finally, the front yard was finished. Elise almost talked herself into putting the back yard off until her next day off.

"No, don't you dare," she thought as she wearily pushed the machine through the small gate.

She smiled. Henry and Sam were busy running around the back yard. Ms. Givens, Henry's grandmother was also outside, but did not return Elise's friendly wave and greeting.

X.X.X

"Miss Rosy, I hate to say it, but that boy's the reason some people call the police 'Pigs,'" Cheryl whispered to Rosy.

Rosy looked over to where Jack Vogel was perched. Onstage, Amber was dancing, down to pasties and thong. Jack's attention was riveted to Amber, not on the bar itself.

"Tried to get my phone number, tried to get a date with me, tried to see if I'd give him a free run in the Hurricane Room," Cheryl complained.

"So, what'd you tell him?" Rosy asked and smiled as Dick Davis walked in.

"Told him the truth; my girlfriend's wouldn't like it and would put his puny ass in the hospital," Cheryl said and smiled sweetly at the Sheriff.

"See he's making sure that none of you dancers are breaking any laws," Dick said, twisting his dour expression into a faint smile.

"Made sure I was a good girl too," Cheryl offered.

"Sweetie, one look at you and I can tell, you're a good girl," Dick smiled.

"Anything for you today?" Rosy asked.

"Chef Salad; Mike says your Ranch dressing is home made?" Dick asked and started walking toward Jack.

"Yes sir it is," Rosy said with pride.

"Officer Vogel!" Dick bellowed from right behind Jack.

"Sir, yes sir!" Jack sputtered, leaping to his feet.

"Any trouble?" Dick asked.

"No sir," Jack sputtered.

"How would you know?" Amber asked. 

"Patrol," Dick ordered.

Jack beat a hasty retreat out of the bar.

"Thanks, Sheriff," Amber smiled and gathered up her clothing.

"Welcome Sweetie," Dick smiled and strolled back to the bar to take his usual seat. 

Rosy was slicing the purple onion while Kirsten watched.

"How you get it straight like that?" Kirsten finally asked.

"Watch," Rosy smiled. 

She put the tip of the knife not the cutting board, and then brought the blade down on the onion.

"I eyeball it, looks straight and..." Rosy said and forced the knife down to the cutting board.

"What you want to drink, Sheriff?" Kirsten asked.

"Iced tea, unsweetened," Dick smiled.

Kirsten poured the beverage, put it in front of the man, and then grabbed a couple of menus for some new arrivals. Dick watched as she scurried over to the table.

"Seems like she's coming along," Dick commented.

"Yeah she is," Rosy agreed. "Once she figured out that shitty little attitude wasn't going to fly with me, she buckled down."

"And seeing all of us stand up to those ass hole bikers," Cheryl reminded them.

"Here you are, Sheriff," Rosy smiled, putting a large platter in front of the man.

"Man, that is a work of art," Dick smiled.

He did a quick visual search of the premises, deduced that everything was fine, and then began eating.

"Got a brave one," Kirsten smiled. "Says he wants to try the volcano burger; woman wants the meatloaf, red gravy." 

"Okay, you said you want to know how to do it, right." Rosy asked, grabbing the bucket of ground beef.

Dick watched as the blonde woman carefully, almost too carefully, followed Rosie's instructions.

"And..." Rosy said, showing the girl how to flip the burger, and then put the slice of cheese on top of the sizzling patty.

Kirsten put the two plates onto a tray, poured two sodas, and then carried the tray to the table. Dick smiled as he saw the look of pride Kirsten had as she placed each plate in front of her customers. His smile widened as he saw her point to herself, obviously telling the customers that she had been the one to cook their food.

He chuckled as the guy suddenly grabbed his soda and took a huge gulp of the soda. The young lady with him laughed out loud at her companion's distress.

"You do know that it should be illegal, selling that burger to the public," Dick told Rosy.

"So arrest me," she smiled. "I got somebody who'll bail me out."

Kirsten came back, surveyed the tables, did not see anyone needing anything, and so put her tray down.

Onstage, Cheryl did a lively bump and grind to AC/DC's 'Back In Black.' Dick peeled a ten dollar bill off of his clip and handed it to Kirsten.

"Go drop this in her tip jar," he asked.

"Thank you, Sheriff," Cheryl called out, shrugging out of her leopard print halter top.

X.X.X

Elise finished raking the grass clippings and stuffed them into a large black plastic bag.

She was exhausted, but a quick look at her now neatly trimmed yard and she beamed with pride.

She dragged the bag to the curb, put the plastic tie on it, and then wearily dragged her body to her side door.

A flash of white from the street attracted Elise's attention and she looked up to see Jack Vogel driving past in his cruiser. She waved to him.

Elise did not like Jack, had not liked him when they were in school, did not like him now. 

But he was a brother in blue.

"Damn, but she is so hot!" Jack said as he returned her friendly wave.

Elise would have been shocked to hear his words. She did not consider herself 'Hot.' She considered herself fairly attractive; she shared her mother's blonde hair and deep brown eyes, as well as soft round face, small nose, and pouting lips.

She stood at five foot six inches, sported size thirty six C breasts, a twenty nine inch waist and thirty two inch hips, which she was always trying to slim down to twenty six inch waist and thirty inch hips. She believed her rear end to be too large. 

In her senior year of high school at St. Thomas Aquinas, Elise Simone had been crowned Homecoming Queen and Sweetheart Queen. (Homecoming Queen had been 'fixed' by Brother Dominick; Kaitlin Monroe had been the one voted Homecoming Queen by their peers, but Elise easily won Sweetheart Queen without any assistance from Brother Dominick.)

But in Elise's eyes, Elaine had been the 'hot' one; Elaine had been the real beauty of the family. 

Elise didn't see that the cut off shorts she wore displayed her long legs and heart shaped ass perfectly. To her, they were just cut off shorts. She didn't see how the tee shirt, wet with sweat, clung to her torso. To Elise, it was just a sweaty shirt that she needed desperately to get out of.

Once inside, she peeled out of her sodden clothing, dropped them all into the washing machine and poured the detergent in.

Nude, Elise padded to the bathroom, closed the door, and climbed into the tub.

She had to laugh at herself. It was her home; she lived by herself. No one was in the house with her. And she still found it necessary to close the door to the bathroom.

X.X.X

Dick shook his head. The customer had managed to finish the volcano burger (with the aid of three refills of his soda) as well as a slice of pecan pie and vanilla ice cream. The young man's companion was ready to go, had been ready to go, but the man was too busy watching Cheryl as the attractive Asian woman swiveled, gyrated, and swayed to 'Sugar Walls' by Sheena Easton.

Elizabeth Baggett tapped her fingers on the table, out of impatience, not in time to the tune that was playing. Her lunch companion may be one of the bigwigs of Young Insurance, sent down from Delaware, but she was coming very close to leaving him here.

Where do y'all get that weird ass music?" Dick asked Rosy. "Half that stuff I've never heard before."

"They bring their own," Rosy said. "We have a seven point one stereo back there but they're responsible for their own music."

"Most of them just buy it from Paula," Kirsten supplied. "They have to have thirty minutes worth of songs and she can make them a cd of songs that you can dance to. It's a lot easier than trying to figure it out by yourself."

If there's a way to make money off of it, Paula will find it," Rosy laughed.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, some of its pretty cool, but some of it, I'm sitting here wondering what the hell am I listening to?" Dick shrugged.

Finally, with a kiss blown in Bruce Pennington's direction, Cheryl scooped up her clothing and skipped off the stage.

"Man, could she move!" he said. "That girl ever comes with the check?"

"Yes. You paid it. Remember?" Elizabeth snapped, standing.

"Wonder what you get in the Hurricane Room?" Bruce asked her as Elizabeth grabbed her purse.

"I'm sure it depends on what you're willing to pay for," Elizabeth said, striding purposefully to the door.

"Thanks come again," Kirsten called out.

"Meatloaf was great," Elizabeth smiled.

"Thank you," both Rosy and Kirsten said.

"Shut up," Rosy teased Kirsten. "It's MY meatloaf."

"So, um, what you get in the Hurricane Room?" Bruce asked Rosy.

"Your companion's already left the building," Rosy reminded him.

"Uh huh; I'm the regional manager," Bruce said smugly. "She won't leave without me."

"Hundred and fifty, half hour, it's a private dance," Kirsten recited. "You cannot touch the girl; you do, private dance is over. Anything extra can be discussed in advance but the Dead End Bar is not responsible for any of the girls that work here; they are independent contractors."

"That little Oriental chick, one that was just up there, she give them private dances?" Bruce asked, pulling out an American Express card.

"Yes she does," Rosy agreed, taking the card. "Would you like to add a tip on the charge, sir?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure, that'd be great," Bruce said.

"Thank you, sir, and please sign here," Rosy said, putting his receipt in front of him.

Kirsten went to alert Cheryl that she was expected in Hurricane Room One. Rosy turned to Dick, a questioning look on her face.

"Hey, what two consenting adults do is none of my business," Dick said, stuffing the last bite of his salad into his mouth. "And anyway, everything I just heard was legal, by the book."

Dick smiled as he watched Elizabeth stride back into the bar, look around, throw her hands up in resignation, then stomp back out.

Thirty minutes later, a slightly disheveled looking Bruce came out. He waddled to the door and exited the bar. Then he came back in, looked around, and then let again.

"How long you think it'll take him to figure out, some people don't just sit around waiting on the regional manager?" Dick asked no one in particular.

An hour later, Orville came in to take his place at the bar. Dick dropped a ten dollar bill into the tip jar and Amber smiled sweetly.

"Hi Handsome," Rosy said, looking up from the grill.

"Hi Gorgeous," Orville responded. "Chef Salad, ranch, please."

"No more volcano burgers?" Dick asked, returning from a trip to the men's room.

"Love it but my ass doesn't," Orville admitted.

"Now, why you call me 'Gorgeous?'" Rosy smiled.

"I want to do it," Kirsten demanded as Rosy got out the purple onion.

"Okay, just make sure no fingers in the salad, okay?" Rosy teased, sliding the cutting board over to Kirsten.

"Because you are gorgeous," Orville said.

"Like this?" Kirsten asked, poising the heavy knife.

"Shut up, I am not," Rosy laughed, then turned to look at the cutting board and Kirsten's hands.

"Exactly like that," Rosy said.

"Now her?" Rosy said, pointing to Amber as the twenty one year old danced to a club mix of 'You Are' by Hungry Lucy. "She's gorgeous."

"Naw; she's cute. Ten years from now, when she's your age? She'll wish she looked like you," Orville said.

"You're insane," Rosy smiled but leaned across the bar for a quick kiss.

With a genuine pride she had rarely felt before, Kirsten finished the salad, drizzled the dressing on top, then placed the heavy platter in front of the police officer.

"Kirsten, that's almost as fine a job as Rosy would do," Orville complimented the young woman.

Kirsten didn't respond; it wasn't cool to let anyone see you cry. She just nodded her head, grabbed a menu and walked out to greet a new arrival.

X.X.X

Amber finished dancing and got off the stage. Moments later, she came out, dressed in faux leather skirt and leather vest.

"Hi Deputy," she said and cocked a questioning look at Rosy.

"Kind of early, ain't it?" Rosy asked.

Amber huffed, and then faced the Deputy.

"Hey, by the way, the other day, I was followed by a bunch of them bikers when I left here," she announced.

"What? What'd you do?" Orville asked.

"Drove to the DeGarde police station; they beat it out of there," Amber shrugged.

"Smart thinking," Orville said.

"Hey Sheriff?" Orville said, pressing his shoulder radio.

"Uh huh?" Dick's voice asked.

"One of the girls? Said she was followed out of here the other day," Orville said.

"Was afraid of that," Dick sighed. "Let me make a few phone calls.

Charles Villeaux of the DeGarde Police Department didn't have anyone he could spare, but Kimble, Flowers, and Elgee were able to loan dick five additional officers. The three from Elgee were motorcycle cops, Dick was happy to hear that.

When he called Orville back, Orville laughed.

"You do know that now both Mike and Jack will be wanting their own, don't you?" Orville said.

"It's not a bad idea," Dick mused aloud.

He pulled the budget up on his computer, looked at it, though about it for a long moment, and then placed a call to the parish courthouse.

Thirty minutes later, Dick had approval to purchase three second hand motorcycles; two coming from Baton Rouge and one coming from Shreveport.

Chapter 6

That was so sweet of you," Rosy smiled as she let some more string out.

Orville looked at where Jack and Penny lay on the blanket. 

"I figured your grandparents would like a day out here; it's a beautiful day," Orville shrugged.

"Need to let out some more string," Jack encouraged.

"He's right, you need to let out more string," Orville agreed.

"Shut up; how would you know? I'm much better at flying a kite than you, anyway," Rosy teased.

But she did let out more string, watching her kite climb higher. It was a new kite; Orville had gotten her a box kite, a bright red against the dazzling blue sky.

She felt something knotted in the string and looked down at the spool of string.

A ring glittered, tied to the string.

"What's this?" she asked, confused.

"What's it look like?" Jack called out.

"Looks like an engagement ring, huh?" Orville asked.

"Now, why would... What? Orville, are you..." Rosy sputtered.

"I'm asking if you'll be my wife," Orville said, steadily staring up at his kite, afraid to look at her. "I love you; I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you, don't ever want to take my eyes off of you."

"Church wedding or..?" Rosy asked.

"Church," Orville said. "In front of God and everybody. Marriage is forever, you know?"

"Did she say 'Yes?'?" Penny slurred.

"I think so," Jack said. "Hard to tell; they're all crying and stuff."

"Now they're kissing," Penny announced.

"Oops and there go their kites," Jack laughed.

"Oh no! The ring!" Orville cried out, lunging for the spool of string.

"I got yours!" Rosy laughed.

"Got it!" Orville yelled out after a frantic three minute scramble.

X.X.X

"She said yes," Dick smiled after hanging up the telephone.

"Oh! That's so wonderful!" Elise sighed.

"She said yes?" Mike asked, swaggering into the office.

"Yeah, she said yes," Dick smirked.

Ever since getting the motorcycle, Officer Mike Stevens had adopted a swaggering style of walking.

Jack Vogel had adopted the same strutting manner of walking. Dick briefly wondered if he now walked like Mike and Jack, but knew that Carmen or Elise would have given him shit about it.

As it was, Carmen had given him all kind of grief over acquiring the motorcycle in the first place. She absolutely, one hundred percent forbade him giving any of the grandchildren rides on the powerful machine. That sentiment was forcefully echoed by their father Charlie.

"I see enough of them kids in my ER," Charlie said. "Dad thought it'd be cool to give their kid a ride, lost control and them I got to tell him their kid's dead. No sir! Not just no, but HELL no!"

"And YOU!" Carmen hissed, grabbing a hold of Elise's arm and gripping it tightly. "Don't you even think about getting on that bike, you hear me?"

"No ma'am," Elise smiled reassuringly. "I like my cruiser just fine."

"Officer Jack Vogel," Jack intoned into his radio.

"Rosy said yes," Elise told her former partner.

"Copy that," Jack intoned, never losing his 'tough guy' persona.

"What a shit head," Elise smirked.

Becky cheerfully whooped when Elise radioed her the news.

The four other officers were enthusiastic in their responses, as were the five officers that were on loan from Flowers, Kimble, and Elgee.

"Ooh, I wonder if the girls know." Elise asked.

"What girls?" Dick asked."

You know, the girls," Elise said. "Those dancers they got."

"I'll tell them," Mike offered, grabbing his helmet.

"Hell you will; let Rosy tell them," Dick smiled.

"You can tell Cheryl," Elise smiled.

(Cheryl did not make any secret of her homosexuality. She did not flaunt it, did not thrust it in anyone's face, but did not hide it either.

Her girlfriend, Peggy Morrison, however, was very militant about her homosexuality, was quite vocal about her homosexuality, and was equally vocal about her hatred for the male of the species.

"I understand she was a real beauty when she was in high school," Orville had said once when the six foot tall, three hundred pound Peggy lumbered into the Dead End Bar to watch her girlfriend dance.)

"You're right; Rosy can tell them," Mike smiled, not rising to Elise's bait.

X.X.X

"Where you going?" Henry asked as Elise opened the door of her cruiser.




Grand Opening Ch. 03



"A wedding," Elise smiled at the precocious four year old boy.

"You're getting married?" Henry asked brown eyes wide.

"No, no, Sweetie," Elise smiled. "No one's asked me yet. No, one of the policemen I work with? He's getting married today."

"I went to a wedding once, a loooong time ago," Henry said. "They had the best cake ever there."

"Tell you what, I'll bring you a piece," Elise promised.

Lately, as the weather grew warmer, Elise had taken to wearing her uniform skirts, and enjoyed it. The skirt made her feel feminine enough without detracting from the authority of the uniform. But driving with a dress, with the layers of crinoline underneath was a bit of a chore.

Elise had put her uniform in the back seat of the cruiser; the wedding was at two o'clock and Elise went on duty at five o'clock.

X.X.X

Dick and Orville stood, ramrod straight, in their dress blues.

In his electric wheelchair, Officer Eric Greene was also in his dress uniform. To his side, a slightly haggard looking Ann Greene stood.

"All right, on three; is she supposed to be in this picture, ma'am, yes you, please step back, thank you," Connie Edwards said and snapped a few shots.

The young woman made a few adjustments, snapped a few more, and then asked Ann to set back in.

"Would like a few of you and your husband; I did your wedding; I don't know if you remember me but..." Connie said and shot a few photographs.

"The bride here? She is? Okay, thank you; you've been great; see you in a few minutes," Connie said and bustled off to do her job.

"Damn, I am worn out just listening to her talk!" Dick laughed.

"She had a nose job," Ann said to Eric. "Remember? At our wedding? You said you didn't know how she could get her face near the camera to focus it?"

"Oh yeah," Eric smiled. "Looked like Toucan Sam!"

"Okay, Orville, a few more; are these two in the wedding party too?" Connie rattled, herding Jack and Mike, also in their dress blues.

"Yes, and one more; anyone seen Steve?" Orville asked.

"Outside, taking a smoke break," Jack said, preening and posturing for Connie's benefit, for Ann's benefit.

"Um, Ann! Ann, be a sweetie and go get Steve for me please? I'd send Terri but she's still trying to find the ring bearer and the flower girls; I think it's so sweet that you're using your three nieces; they're such darling little girls too," Connie rattled, again setting the cameras up.

"I'm here, I'm here," Steve said and walked over to the group.

"Okay, Dick, you and Kirsten are leading the procession, then Mike, you and Paula, Jack you and Cheryl, Eric's got Amber, and Steve, you're bringing up the rear with Elise," Orville said, again checking the sheet of paper Rosy had scribbled for him.

"Man, I ought to be with Elise! We were partners!" Jack complained.

X.X.X

"I done told you, I don't let no white people up on my porch," Ms. Givens screeched at Elise.

"Yes ma'am, I'm aware of that, but I promised Henry I'd bring him some wedding cake," Elise said, holding up the piece of cake.

"Oh, I uh, well, I don't like you giving him nothing sweet," the hostile woman blared.

"I understand," Elise said and turned to go.

"But you don't give it to him, he'll just drive me out of my cotton picking mind whining about it," Ms. Givens snapped, yanking the cake out of Elise's hand.

Elise smiled to herself as she got back into her cruiser. It was going to be a long night, working until one thirty, then running whatever girl home from the Dead End Bar before she could go home and collapse. 

But at least she had tomorrow off.

"And then I got to cut that grass again," Elise thought as she looked at her own yard.

X.X.X

Orville looked around the dingy hotel room. Jack and Penny had booked them a room at the Royal Sonesta Hotel, the same hotel they had stayed in when they'd married.

It was obvious to Orville that the overpriced hotel was long on history and short on charm or comfort.

"Hey, um, hi Handsome," Rosy stammered.

Orville turned to see his bride, standing in the doorway, nude.

Her legs were meaty, thick tree trunks. Her hips were wide, her waist nipped in slightly, her belly had a small bit of paunch to it, her breasts were actually small, when compared to the rest of her, but they were capped with large, red nipples, nipples that stood out, excited.

Framed as she was by the dark doorjamb, she appeared to be a work of art, a painting by Peter Paul Reubens.

Wow, you are gorgeous," Orville breathed.

"Shut up; I am not," she denied, turning away in embarrassment.

"Yes," Orville said, taking her hands, pulling her to him. "Yes, you are."

"God, Orville, I really hope you think so," she admitted, burying her head in his chest.

All of her experience with sex had been brutal, savage. Orville's lovemaking was clumsy, but it was lovemaking. She orgasmed as he slid himself into her.

"Wow," she gasped after a second and third orgasm rippled through her.

"Uh, oh, damn!" Orville grunted and spewed into her.

"Wow, Mister Jackson!" Rosy said as they lay together. "That was something!"

"Yeah it was!" he agreed, trying to catch his breath.

"Thank you," she murmured as they were slipping into sleep.

"Thank... for what?" Orville asked.

"For loving me," Rosy said.

*

**Author's Note: This is part 3 of a series of stories involving the Dead End Bar.

***Author's Note: I write these stories for my enjoyment; I post them here for your enjoyment.

Thank you for reading my stories.