Slapped Upside the Head
Part 1 - Starting over
Chase moved into shade under the table, put his head on my boot, and watched the traffic coming around the square. We were sitting at a sidewalk table in the sixty-seven-degree coolness with the late afternoon March sun providing just enough warmth. Watching the traffic intersecting at a four-way stop on our left, like old men will do.
Chase is my best bud, a two-year-old male Weimaraner I raised from a pup, and about the best companion a man can have. He weighs close to 150, has huge fangs, and can run like a deer, so he's hell on wheels in a fight, too. And we've had a few.
Instead of a red light, this tiny Texas Hill Country town had a four way stop at the intersection and convergence of two decent-sized highways and a busy FM road. As I had been every hunting season since I began coming here, I was impressed by acceptance of the procedure that required locals and travelers to cooperate. Truckers, kids in pickups and sports cars, impatient BMW/ Mercedes/ Lexus/ Accura drivers who frequently committed road rage on the expressway back home, and little old ladies in their Buick SUVs all yielded to the 'his turn - her turn - my turn' protocol for which the intersection called.
I wondered if this would work instead of the 'drive a block and stop' red lights that plagued traffic back home in Plano during the day, and stupidly ran all night, even with no traffic! Or was the patient and polite 'wait-for-their-turn' because they were in a clean and picturesque old town that evoked the politeness of our grandparents rather than the rudeness of hardened metropolitan-area dwellers.
Probably the setting, I decided. Kind of like on the way down this morning, when a rancher hauling a load of square bales pulled over on the shoulder to let me whiz me by. Good country folk, if a bit set in their ways and backward-looking, sometimes. His actions inspired me to pull onto the shoulder when a hotshot in an Escalade roared up behind me in a no-passing zone.
Might be the air, but I believe it's the granite hills and Highland Lakes you start seeing when you drive west from Burnet, and you realize you aren't in Kansas - or on I-35/45 - anymore.
The Llano Uplift I drove across is a remnant granite formation from ancient volcanic activity. Though the area as a whole is a geographic 'low spot,' the granite has maintained its height well.
You're driving along a winding road with granite below and on either side, and then you encounter and cross the Colorado River/ Inks Lake, which cut through the granite just below Buchanan Dam.
You proceed on past the dam a couple of miles, and begin to follow the Llano River valley, with granite hills to your right and the river on your left. Llano doesn't appear to have much granite in town, unless you drive down and look at the riverbed, but if you take any road out of town you are surrounded by the hard igneous extrusions.
Chase and I were headed for my 43' motorhome, which is set up on our hunting lease, but we stopped at this café on the square for one of their gigantic double-meat burgers with onion rings, and an order of chicken strips for Chase. I know, dogs aren't humans and shouldn't eat human food, but he eats high-end dog food twice a day - a little junk food won't hurt his long, sleek silver body, but it might slow him down enough that I can keep up on our daily run. Or not. Well, certainly not, but he does love fried food.
The pretty dark-haired waitress returned with our food and my beer. She looked 14 but was most likely a high school senior with an after-school job, given that she had to be 18 to serve beer. Or maybe they don't worry about such-like out here in the cedar breaks and hills.
After setting our heaping plates on the table, she delicately asked, "Can I pet your dog?" with a shy smile.
"He would love that!" I assured her and scooted my chair over a few inches to give her better access. Chase raised his head, looked at me for permission, and sat up so she could stroke him and say nice things to him, like all humans do. Well, almost all humans.
I almost let myself think a negative thought then, but quickly recovered; that part of our life is behind us - me and Chase. We had cashed out, packed up, and headed out! Fuck the rat race, and the predatory cunt I stupidly married three years ago!
Rapacious Rita was scheduled to return tomorrow from her two weeks stay in Oklahoma City, 'taking care of mom,' although she'd put her return off twice due to her sister 'not being available to help yet'. Sure, Rita! Three cheating, lying sluts, and I had the video and audio to prove it!
Sexually, she wouldn't much give a shit that I was gone; after all the cock she'd swallowed and had planted in her holes in OKC, she'd be just fine for several weeks without mine! What she might give a shit about is the process server and documents that would be delivered as soon as she arrived back in Plano. You'd think me setting her free to swallow/ride all the cock she wants in OKC, or wherever she wants whenever she wants, with whoever she wants, would be a good thing, but I suspect she will squawk and argue that it meant nothing and I should forgive her this one mistake - or some such shit!
A few seconds later, I chastised myself. 'Okay, dumbass cuck, clear your mind and look around! You didn't come down here to ruminate on your old life! You came to make a new one, so don't lose focus!'.
'A new life.' What would a new life look like? My old life looked like me working mostly twelve-hour days to grow a business while the housekeeper kept things clean, the landscaper kept the grass, flowers, and shrubbery nice, and the pool boy kept the landscaped pool and hot tub clean... and probably kept Rita's pipes clean. When she wasn't out spending my money or giving it to the charities she supported with her time and my money, or deciding we needed a bigger/ better car/ house/ pool/ whatever!
'No negative thoughts! Only positive thoughts, about life here in the Northwestern Hill Country! I had money - money she couldn't touch, though she would try. Bitch came from money: she had an eight figure trust fund, and yet I needed to work harder to make more money she could blow!'
'That's not positive, Danny! Dammit, look around - what do you see? What do you want to do now? Do any of these buildings look interesting? Or do you still want to take a few months to relax and unwind before you go back to work?'
What do I see? Wide, concrete sidewalks fronting the stores and offices along Main Street, all covered by roofs, and most with tin ceiling tiles as old as the buildings. Buildings made from sandy red sandstone quarried locally and hauled 9 miles on rocky paths by wagons more than 120 years ago. Some of the stones even came from the long-abandoned calvary fort situated on a high point on the southern edge of town, or the stables, situated along the spring-fed creek that ran through town in those days. It was dry most of the time now, but the towering pecan trees that attracted Comanche and Apache tribes remained.
A local project to restore the square led to removal of the ugly "modern" facades that had been added over the years, the restoration of the original storefronts, and the loud, glossy modern paint colors being painted over with more sedate colors from the proper eras. Those paints were usually mixed onsite, using pigment from organic materials and linseed oil or distemper. About the only bright colors around the square were posters of the high school extracurricular and athletic teams, and every storefront seemed to display several, including schedules of games and calendars of events.
The whole square was impressive, but two things stood out. One was the 1920s neon signage at the old movie theater - still operating after all these years, with seats going for $4 and popcorn for $1. During deer season in the fall and turkey season in the spring, my buddies and I always made a movie, or maybe one of the concerts, if we bought our tickets early enough - they always sold out.
The other sight dominated the downtown: the sandstone with limestone trim courthouse set in the middle of the square (actually rectangle, since it was two blocks long and one block wide, but the locals called it 'the square' so...). The three-story building with a large belltower atop is surrounded by towering pecan trees, and the grounds are covered in a thick layer of grass. There is a three-foot high, native rock fence along the boundaries. The courthouse was beyond impressive, standing as a grand sentinel of justice beside the junction of two highways.
My pickup and trailer were parked on the west side of the square, alongside that rock fence. That was designated truck and trailer parking, being a location where trucks with trailers didn't obstruct the view of the edifice, which drew photographers and gawkers all day, every day.
I wasn't here to obstruct; I was here to blend in. And me and Chase were doing a good job of it! Until a gaggle of giggling beauties left the wine bar to my left and began traipsing up the sidewalk toward the shops further west. Their giggles and laughter were music to Chase's ears, so he raised his head off my boot, draped his ears, and gave them his best Magnificent Male Weimaraner pose; alert, curious, with ears draped to backdrop his aristocratic face.
The first to reach us was a 5'2" brunette cutie. She spotted him and made a beeline to our table. Without asking or by your leave, she squatted down in her miniskirt and began baby-talking the showoff. He first gave her an imperious look, but relented when she continued baby-talking him in her high little voice, and gave her a slurpy lick on the lips that were only inches from his.
She was definitely a 'dog person' because she just laughed, offered him a cheek, and kept ruffling his fur, while sing songing what a pretty boy and good boy he is. The others gathered around watching and laughing at her, or leaning down to pet the good boy!
I was watching the cutie until one of the others, a statuesque sandy blonde with legs that went from the ground to my eye level, leaned over beside me. She patted Chase's muzzle and then looked into my eyes. The lightly freckled nose and cheeks, sparkling green eyes, and very kissable lips only inches away froze me for a few seconds, and then I saw the face frown in puzzlement and the lips ask "Danny, is that you?"
I leaned back to take her in, and as she straightened up, asked, "Gina? What the heck are you doing out here?"
She was obviously as surprised as I was, but recovered to merrily announce, "I'm on a spring break girls' trip to wine country! What the heck are you doing here? Don't you live north of Dallas somewhere?"
That question stung, though I thought I covered it well. Or maybe not; the faces of Gina, the cutie squatting at my feet, and the other four 20-somethings arrayed around Chase all developed either sympathetic or empathetic looks. The former included the cutie and Gina, who, the last time I heard, was a married teacher and coach living in College Station.
"Yeah, about that..." I began, but the cutie laid her hand on my leg, squeezed, and said, "Don't answer; Gina didn't mean to pry, and the rest of us don't know you, but we recognize that look. I'm Danielle, and your dog and I are falling for each other! You don't mind, do you?"
"I can't imagine him finding a lovelier female companion of the human kind, although you need to know he's as fickle as they come. One whiff, and he's off to the chase - thus his name: Chase."
