A Trashy Affair by Lynn Shurr Read Free Book Online Page B

masterfully she never made an error in footwork. She laughed as he spun her out and brought her back, looped his arms behind her and did a brief promenade before plastering her against his chest again. He let her have some space for a slow Cajun waltz with the triangle setting the beat, but gripped her tightly for the following country-western number. When the band called for a line dance to get the single women without partners out on the floor, he led her back to their booth.
    “I could use that rum and Diet Coke now, and a trip to the ladies room,” she said.
    “Fine. I’ll get that sissy drink for you. Don’t take too long. The band will start another set soon. I kinda forgot how much I like to dance with a pretty lady in my arms.”
    “Thanks, I guess.”
    Jane wove through the tightly packed tables to the restroom while Merlin hunkered up to the very busy bar. Hunkered, hunky, hunk, she could not stop herself from thinking. There was a line. There always is outside a ladies room, but she finally got in and out after repairing her lipstick and combing her hair. Passing back through the packed dance hall, she heard a shout.
    “Over here, Jane! Come sit a minute.”
    May Robin occupied a table with her sister-in-law, the one who made the cute lunch bags and bore the unfortunate name of Spring Robin. Even though the Cajuns pronounced her last name Ro-ban, they still teased her. Unlike red-haired May, Spring had “gone silver” with pride, actually more smoky blue, the color of her tightly-permed curls. With them sat Spring’s son, the cold-handed Waldo. Even though Jane knew what was coming, she could hardly ignore them. She took the sole empty chair for a hopefully short visit.
    “Miss May, Miss Spring, having a good time?”
    “We only just got here. Jethro is getting our drinks,” May answered, referring to her elderly brother. “The place is packed. I guess our waitress will get here eventually.”
    “Oh, I’m taking Mr. Jethro’s seat! I should go back to my own.”
    The band announced another song. Too late for her to flee.
    “Why don’t you and Waldo get out there and dance. He’s light on his feet, believe you me,” May touted for her nephew.
    Those cold hands moved across the table and captured hers. Waldo had a long face that looked as if it never smiled. Handy for an undertaker, Jane supposed. He possessed wings of silver at the sides of his shoe polish black hair, and she wondered how he managed that unless he’d gone completely gray and dyed the rest, a good bet. Morose brown eyes rested on gray bags of flesh. Did she detect the faintest whiff of formaldehyde under the scent of his overwhelming cologne?
    Waldo forced a thin-lipped smile more appropriate for the funeral parlor than a dance hall. “My aunt has told me so many good things about you, Jane. May I have the pleasure of this dance?”
    “Um, thank you, Waldo, but I’m here with someone.” Jane spied Merlin heading back to their booth with her sissy drink and a bottle of beer for himself. She waved frantically, and he nodded.
    May Robin’s mouth fell open revealing a little too much of her dentures. “You’re here with Blackie Tauzin? Don’t you know he’s—”
    “A war hero.” Spring finished her sentence. “He can put his dancing shoes under my bed any day.” Her light blue eyes twinkled behind a pair of wire-framed granny glasses. She ogled Merlin over the rims.
    “Please, Mother, he’s a psycho. All those veterans are. Before he went into the service, he was just another juvenile delinquent. Don’t you recall he stole my hearse the day after I bought out Armand Duchamp when the old man wanted to retire?” For Jane’s sake, he added, “I do own the business free and clear, but kept the Duchamp name. Somehow, Robin’s funeral home sounded too cheery and lacking in dignity.”
    “Oh, Waldo. Blackie only went for a joy ride. No one takes a hearse to a chop shop.” Spring fanned her hand in front of her face.