The day following the bacchanal at Rick's place on Fat Tuesday in Jackson Mississippi.
I was at the Oak Tree by 5:30, half an hour before the appointed time. The Oak Tree was an older building, maybe Victorian age, nice wood, dark and comfy inside.
I ordered a beer from the long-haired bartender, who looked, and sounded, like he came from an old Allman's Brothers' gig, and got a table by the window, which I kept peering through to see if I could spot Danni Raye coming down the street. I struggled to keep myself from getting up and pacing up and down.
A veritable cacophony of thoughts piled into each other in my brain. What was staying at Rick's like for her? Was he one of those old perverts? What sort of activities had they engaged in? In what ways had he taken liberties with my Danni Raye? Did he lick her crotch? Did she tongue his prick? What was sleeping with the old codger like?
More importantly, how could I spend as much time with Danni Raye as possible until I had to leave to go north, maybe until Sunday morning if I stretched things as far as they could possibly go?
A whole range of other thoughts dashed around too. What was Danni Raye like as a little girl, did she have brothers and sisters, what did her dad do, what it was like growing up down here, what did she want to do with her life, who were her friends, did she have a boyfriend? The DJ guy maybe?
This boyfriend question was not making its first appearance. Did she have a boyfriend or not? That made a huge difference as to what I might say or do next.
Was my life in danger if anyone saw the two of us walking around holding hands together in town? Up North the Southlands did not have a reputation for being exactly civilized, all kinds of violent things could happen down here.
I imagined that events at Rick's place would not stay secret. Would I get castrated by some jealous Jackson lout and my body tossed into the river?
But maybe Danni Raye was single and just dying to hitch up with a handsome sophisticated Northerner like me. As I got deeper into my pint, I found myself thinking about ways to chuck my college career and my grunt job at Kinko's that kept me out of debt in Chicago, and move down here and dig ditches during the day and see Danni Raye at night, where we would make wonderful music together with candles and soft sheets and on weekends she could show me the beautiful ins-and-outs of Jackson and the tree under which she kissed her first boyfriend and the creek where her dad took her fishing.
I knew my thoughts were crazy, outlandish, ridiculous, but I couldn't stop myself. Maybe I could tell her my truck was a goner and I was stuck in town forever, although that wouldn't have been true.
In fact I had gotten the damn Nissan that morning and it was back to working order, my wallet flattened to a depressing degree. But maybe I could convince her that I was going to have to stay in town and go on welfare relief and beg for alms in front of her place of residence (which I had no idea where it was in town, if it even was in town) until she relented and accepted me into her life quasi-permanently.
By five minutes after six I was ready to start a fight with the bartender.
"Where is she?" I was prepared to holler at him and leap the bar to throttle him if he didn't have a good answer. But I restrained myself, although I did end up pacing up and down a bit, drawing some strange looks from some of the regulars.
Finally, at 6:12, Danni Raye arrived, in jeans and a nice white front-buttoned blouse, her hair in a ponytail. I could see her nipples outlined, so she probably had done without a bra. She looked great and I made a fuss of telling her so.
We exchanged hugs, briefer than I wanted and she sat down.
"So, how'd it go last night?" I began breathlessly, "tell me all about it. This Rick guy, that sure was some party he held, what did you two do ..."
Danni held a hand up to stop me and smiled indulgently.
"Dave, slow down, slow down."
I had to take a deep breath and it was a struggle to just listen to her.
She said it was a fine night, nothing special, she slept until ten, she wished she could have seen me - my pulse quickened nicely with this piece of info - but they had had a good breakfast together and the rest of the day she had spent at home getting ready for her trip.
Her trip? What was this?
She laughed at my questions. "Jo Anne and I for the last couple years have always taken a trip to a country place her family has downriver, for the long weekend after Fat Tuesday. It gives us a chance to cool out, take a break, spend some quality time together."
"Sounds splendid!" I said, that word coming out of my mouth for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.
But she had detected something in my voice.
"It is just Jo Anne and I, Dave, no one else."
I tried. I lobbied, I asked about past years and whether their sweeties ever came along or visited or even just came over for an afternoon. I tried every angle until Danni Raye was looking at me like I was absolutely mad. Even then, it wasn't an unkind look. But I could see where this was going.
I'd finished my second beer, but Danni Raye said we should take a walk, we needed to get some things straightened out. I didn't like the sound of this but wasn't in a position to argue.
I paid up and as evening approached we took a long walk along one of the streams that ran by the town, all forested and park-like. My fears were pretty much confirmed.
She had a sweetie, it wasn't DJ, and looking back I now realize that she didn't even say the sex of her "steady" - maybe it could even have been Jo Anne! - although that thought did not occur to me then. No she would not permit me to move to Jackson and try to pursue her, she had had a great time with me and had hoped we might spend the night together.
Oh yes we would! I had no trouble agreeing to this.
But her main point was that far more of what had gone on in the last day and a half was because of Mardi Gras, and nothing else.