I Started Out Roasting A Pig

I knew this guy, and it went pretty much as it's written.

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I got new neighbors.

They bought the old Henderson place, on the next road over.

They were rumored to be Yankees, and no one knew much about them. Apparently they were pretty well off, the Henderson place was a two story farmhouse, barn, outbuildings, and two hundred twelve acres.

It was a going farm until Mr. Henderson got too old. His daughters had moved away, and there was no one else to run it, so he put it up for sale and moved even farther south.

This pissed the girls off no end, they were afraid he was going to spend their inheritance before he died. He was of sound mind and body, so they couldn't do a damn thing about it.

I thought it was funny, I never liked the girls. I secretly agreed with my aunt when she sniffed and said they put on too many 'airs' to be proper.

That's old time southern speech for being snobby.

I met them by accident. Her car, a Cadillac, was sitting on the side of the road with steam coming out from under the hood. I stopped. It was what neighbors did.

Apparently she had seen one too many redneck horror movie, because she wouldn't open the door or roll down the window, just looked at me with eyes bordering on panic. It was pouring rain and getting colder, so I got back in my truck and drove away.

When I got to the top of Henderson Hill, I called the sheriff's department and told them about her. Everybody knows that you have to get to the top of the hill to get reception. Until then you were in a dead zone. Well, the locals did, anyway.

"Well, doggone it Will, why didn't you help her?"

That was our county mounties all right, protect and serve, unless it was too hot, too cold, raining, or there was a game on. In other situations they were johnny on the spot.

"I tried . Wendel, she wouldn't open the door. I can't just leave her there, come on out here and do something."

"All right, let me find my slicker, did you notice it's raining?"

"Yeah, and it's cold. It's also getting dark, and she's probably scared to death, so get a move on. If you hurry, I got some leftover barbecue from the Democratic rally, you can take it back to the station. Got buns and slaw too, you can have that to go with it."

"Got any baked beans or potato salad?"

"Don't push it Wendel. If you hurry, I might be persuaded to give up a couple pieces of fat back cake."

"All right, all right, don't get touchy. I'll be there in about ten minutes. That kind of cake got icing?"

Twenty minutes later he met me, and we rode back down the hill. She was still there, crying.

Wendel identified himself, and she rolled the window down a little bit.

"Ma'am, do you need help?"

"Yes, please! It started blowing smoke out from under the hood, and just quit. I couldn't get anyone on the phone. Think goodness you found me."

"I didn't find you ma'am. Will did. Why don't you pop the latch and let him look under the hood? He used to be a pretty good mechanic."

I was still a pretty good mechanic, until everything got computerized. Now, you need a Phd from MIT, or you were SOL. I couldn't afford the new equipment, so I stopped. It was a hobby anyway, not how I made my living.

It took about two seconds to see the problem. Her bottom radiator hose was split. Damn it, it was always the bottom one.

"You need a new radiator hose, ma'am. Call AAA when Wendel takes you home, and they'll come and get it. It's easy to fix, they should be done before lunch."

"Not tonight she won't. Billy went out of town, remember? His daughter is getting married Sunday, he won't be back until Tuesday."

Wendel looked entirely too happy saying that. She was back to panic mode again.

"I can't just leave it here. My husband would kill me."

I looked at Wendel, watching the gears that power his tiny little brain turning. Don't say it, don't say it....damn, he said it.

"Hey, Will, why don't you go get one of your heavy duty trailers and haul it for her?"

It was late, it was cold, it was raining, and I was late to supper. But you don't leave neighbors, especially scared lady neighbors, in a bind.

"I guess I can, I reckon. I'll haul it back to my lot and keep it behind the fence for safety. That way whoever fixes it won't have to go get it to do it. Is that all right with you?"

"Thank you, we'll pay whatever you charge. Will you take me home, officer."

She said officer like it was the next best thing to God, and Wendel couldn't open his door fast enough. Then the radio crackled, wreck on route twelve, he was closest.

"Damn this rain. Sorry lady, Will gets to take you, I gotta go. Will, don't you eat that barbeque, I'll be by later."

"Sure, I'll put it in the fridge in the shop. You know where the keys are. Lock up behind yourself this time, I don't need another cat having kittens in there again."

"You ain't never gonna let me forget that, are you.?"

"Not as long as the smell lasts. Mrs. Hatfield, are you ready?"

She had finally told us her name, and I guess if a cop vouched for me I wasn't really a serial raping, homicidal maniac that preyed on older, attractive Yankees. She still sat just as far away from me as she could.

She was the owner of the Henderson place, along with her husband. When we pulled into the driveway, there were no lights on.

"Why aren't the lights on?"

"Because the power is out, haven't you noticed how dark it's been the last mile?"

"What am I going to do?"

"Do you have a flashlight, lanterns, that sort of thing?"

"Not that I know of."

"Well, Miz Hatfield, if you're gonna take up country living, they wouldn't be bad investments. Mr. Henderson used to have a generator in the shop, is it still there?"

"I don't know. We haven't had time to explore yet."

"Well, put your adventure hat on. If it's still there, it's got a tie into the power system."

She was lucky, it was still there and ran, just barely. A big diesel rig, it made a hell of a racket in the confines of the building. There was enough fuel for about four hours.

"If it don't quit, you should be all right until the power comes back on. It usually doesn't stay off long this time of year. If I were you, I'd get that thing tuned and invest in a drum of diesel, just in case."

She was nodding furiously, taking notes on her tablet.

"I'm going to get your car now. Here's my card with the numbers on it. You need anything before your husband gets home, call. Your car will be on my lot, the address is on the card. Good night, Miz Hatfield."

"I can't thank you enough."

"Don't worry about it. Good night."

After making sure she was safely inside, I took off, calling Sherry, knowing I was gonna get an earful.

"Where have you been? Why haven't you called?"

No are you all right, no I missed you.

I appealed to her finer senses.

"Sorry babe, got a call from the cops. Billy is gone for the weekend, and they wanted me to pick a car up off the side if the road. I'll be home in about an hour and a half."

"I hope you gouge the shit of them, making you work in this weather."

"I'll get my due, don't worry."

It was all about money with her. I didn't understand it, her parents were pretty well off, and I did all right. She never wanted for anything as far as I knew, but the way she acts make you think we were dirt poor. She hadn't been like that until about a year ago. I always wondered what sparked it off.

I got the trailer, got the car, and was home when I said I would be. She had already gone to bed, leaving me a note that dinner was in the microwave. A quick bite, a quick shower, and I was dead to the world until the alarm rang.

................................................

The next day was sunny and warm, making you forget the cold rain the night before. I didn't have much going on at the shop, so I walked down to Advance and got the hose, rolled the car down off the trailer, and fixed it.

Lunch time came and a man in his late forties, suit, tie, polished wingtips, and a harried look on his face walked in.

"I'm Bennett Hatfield. I came to make arrangements to have my wife's car towed to a garage. Can you tell me who the best mechanic in town is?"

He was talking to Charley, my assistant and general gofer. He, Bobby, and Myra were my employees and friends. I ran an equipment rental business, you know, backhoes, dozers, tractors, ditch digging machines, that sort of thing. It was a good business, nobody was going to give twenty nine thousand or more for a backhoe to do a few hours work when they could rent one for a few hundred. The tanked economy actually helped my business. More people were doing it themselves instead of hiring it done.

My equipment wasn't pretty, but they were all sound mechanically, and dirt don't care if you got new paint. I charged a little less than the chains, and did all right.

Charley pointed to me, and he came right over. He stuck out his hand.

"Bennett Hatfield."

I couldn't help grinning.

"Will McCoy."

Myra was standing behind us, she usually handled the suits, and she thought he was there to rent something from our party supply section. She burst out laughing.

He frowned.

"Sorry, Mr. Hatfield, we're not laughing at you, think about it, Hatfield and McCoy?"

He stood for a minute, then smiled back.

"Well, I hope we're not going to feud. I left my shootin' iron back in Philly."

"Good, I melted mine into a plowshare. What can I do for you?"

"I came to make arrangements to have my wife's car towed to a garage. I don't know anybody in town yet, could you recommend someone?"

"Don't bother. I had a little time on my hands this morning so I fixed it. All it needed was a new hose and a little antifreeze. Bring your wife by anytime before six and she can drive it home."

He seemed surprised.

"Well, okay. How much do I owe you?"

"Forty bucks. The receipt for the hose and antifreeze are in the dash."

"That's not right!"

"Yes it is, check the receipt."

"No, what I meant is, how much for your trouble?"

"Oh, I couldn't charge you. I don't make my living as a mechanic, and it wouldn't be right. We're neighbors, I live on Howell Road, you live on Henderson Road, our houses practically back up to each other. Down here, you don't charge your neighbors for a kindness, it just isn't done."

He looked confused so I tried to explain.

"Now, if you wanted to rent a backhoe, I'd charge you. Your wife told me you were a lawyer, so if I went to you for legal advice I'd expect you to charge me. But if I asked you it I could borrow a tool, or if you needed a ride somewhere, if money was offered somebody would get offended. Understand?"

He nodded.

"I think so, it's just going to take a little used to. Well, I can't thank you enough."

He was back in forty five minutes with his wife. She was more attractive than I realized, and younger too, but not enough to be a trophy wife. Maybe forty, she looked early thirties. I guess a life of luxury doesn't wear you down as hard as working for a living.

Her husband just dropped her off, too busy with lawyer stuff, I guess.

She thanked me repeatedly for helping her, until I finally told her to stop.

"That's enough, Miz Hatfield, it was nothing really."

"Maybe down here, but where I come from it's pretty outstanding. And since we're neighbors, call me Angie."

She held out her hand.

"Will, and this is Myra and Charlie."

They were practically breathing down my neck trying to find out about her. She smiled, shook their hands, and instead of leaving she had Myra take her on a tour, stopping to look at various pieces of equipment, asking a million questions.

She was particularly appreciative of the party supplies and rentals, especially the castle.

The castle was a circus size tent, complete with turrets and flags. It could be divided into different size rooms as necessary. It was very popular for weddings. At one time it had been an actual circus tent, but the circus folded and I got it for next to nothing at an auction.

With it and some of the smaller tents, I could convert a field into a fairy tale in twenty four hours.

................................................

Sherry was on one of her binges again. She wanted a new car, a Cadillac like the one our new neighbor drove.

Her Chevrolet Impala, that she just had to have two years ago, just wasn't good enough anymore. I tried to remind her if we got it for her she couldn't trade for four years. That was the only way I'd agree to get it.

She scoffed.

"That thing is nearly worn out[it had 39,000 on it], I NEED a new car. Why are your fighting me on this?"

"Because you don't need a new car, you just want one. We can't keep up with the neighbors, Sherry, he's a lawyer for goodness sakes. Your car will do just fine for right now. If you don't think so, you're welcome to get one on your own, as long as my name isn't anywhere the paperwork.

I had her there. Her credit score was terrible. She had defaulted on a car loan and some credit card debt while we were dating. I helped her get her car back, but wouldn't help with the credit card. She refused to pay it.

"Something you need to understand before the wedding, I don't believe in credit cards. They're a trap, and wasteful."

"But you have two."

"That's right, and they're both business related. I only use the American Express when I have to, and use the other twice a year just to keep it active. I use them if I find a good deal on a piece of equipment, and that's about it."

I had her sign a pre-nup to except my house and business from community property. The house had belonged to my parents, and when they retired they went to see my sister in California, fell in love with it, and moved, leaving me the house. We hadn't even done the transfer of ownership yet, couldn't see the hurry. Sherry thought we had and I never thought to bring it up. The paperwork was all filled out, just in case.

I kind of fell into my business. I was subcontracting work for builders, site prep mostly, and was tired of going forty five miles away to get the equipment I needed.

I had some money saved, my parents loaned me a little more, and I was in business. I plowed almost all the profits for the first three years back into the business, gaining new equipment. I paid my parents back the fourth year. By the time I met and married Sherry I was pretty proud of what I had accomplished in such a short amount of time, and didn't want to lose it.

We met at a Christmas party given by one of the contractors I did a lot of business with. I usually avoided affairs like that, people trying to impress themselves and each other held no thrill for me. But that night I was bored, so I went.

Of course all the women were dressed to kill. There were some really pretty ones there, and I am a guy, so I danced, flirted, had a good time. Sherry was there with someone else, but I did get a dance with her.

The spark was there, we both felt it, but she was with someone so I didn't pursue it. As I was leaving, the hostess slipped something in my hand.

"Call her."

She kissed my cheek, I shook hands all round, and left. I looked at the paper when I got in my truck. It was Sherry.

I put it in my dash, really meaning to call, but Christmas was a busy time for the party supply side of my business, so I kind of let it slide.

A week before Christmas, she came into the store, talked to Myra, and she pointed to me. Myra giggled and wrote her a receipt.

She came over.

"I'd like to pick up my rental."

"Sure, what is it?"

She handed me the paperwork.

"Man, good looking, as escort to a Christmas party. Term: five hours. Responsibilities: pleasant conversationalist, reasonable dancer, kissing ability to be determined. Inability to dial a phone, overlooked if willing to be trained. To be delivered at address provided."

What could I say, she was about five eight, great ass, pretty face, and breasts that seemed to defy gravity.

"Miss, I'll personally see to your rental. Also we offer a money back guarantee if the services aren't acceptable. Fair enough?"

She offered her hand.

"Deal, but I warn you, I expect to be satisfied, or I want my money back."

She finally broke down laughing, we went for coffee and discussed further terms and conditions.

Myra insisted I get a new suit, and not trusting me, made me take her with me to the mall. Her husband went to, saying entertainment like this was impossible to pass up.

"Just want to be able to see her make a man miserable that isn't me."

Four hours, I mean come on, I would have taken the first one, but it just wouldn't do. Eight suits later she declared it 'the one'. I breathed a sign of relief but her husband just laughed.

"You don't think you're done, do you?"

Hell no we weren't done. The perfect shirt and tie, even the socks had to stand inspection. It took another forty minutes to pick out the shoes.

"You're not going to pick out my underwear, are you?"

Myra didn't blink.

"Navy blue boxers, silk. You want to feel as good as you look, and I already took care of it. You're welcome."

"Remind me to fire you sometime soon."

"Only if my severance pay includes you modeling the suit, and I expect to see those drawers, too."

"You're rehired. If I beg you on my knees at the food court, will you let us go home?"

"Maybe, if you give me your word you'll get your hair cut tomorrow."

Her husband just laughed as we got into the car.

................................................

I figured what the heck, I was dressed to the nines, might as well ride in style, so I rented a Cadillac Escalade for the weekend.

I felt pretty snazzy when I arrived to pick her up, but when I saw her I knew I was over matched.

I would have loved to been the artist that painted that dress on her. Shimmering green, slit almost high enough on the side to see the top of her seamed hose, neckline plunging almost to her navel, I had no idea how she kept those puppies restrained[double sided tape, I discovered later], and despite the daring of her attire, she looked elegant. I did get a glimpse of her garters when I helped her into the car.

I'm pretty sure we held a conversation on the way, but to this day I can't remember a word.

We danced, we mingled. I was introduced to people who I forgot instantly. She was the hit of the party, and was asked to dance constantly. She always looked askance, but it was up to her. She did dance a slow number with a guy who was getting a little grabby, and I was halfway across the floor when the song ended. She grabbed my hand and left Mr. Octopus standing.

"No more slow dances with anyone but you." She hissed in my ear as we went back to the table. It worked for me.

She snuggled to me as close as she could on the way home, Nibbling my ear. Every time we hit a stoplight I kissed her until cars honked.

We actually steamed the windows before we got out at her house. After about twenty minutes, she asked me to escort her to the door, offering coffee.

I sat on the sofa while she fixed the pot, then excused herself to get out of her dress.

I had almost dozed off she had been gone so long, and I heard someone clearing their throat.

I literally fell off the couch.

When she said get out of her dress, she meant get out of it and not put anything else on. She was standing there in just her hose and garter belt. I thought I would go blind.

She really did have boobs that defied gravity, with a really great set of nipples, big, puffy, standing straight out.

Tight tummy, neatly trimmed bush. He lips were swollen and glistening. I couldn't speak.

She got nervous when I didn't say anything.

"Here's the deal. I really like you. Normally, I would have sent you home tonight with blue balls and then try my best to kill the batteries in my vibrator. We would have dated maybe a dozen times, me letting you go farther a bit every date, maybe show you my oral talents around the ninth or tenth date. Then we would have had the big event, candlelight, soft music, maybe whipped cream and melted chocolate."