The Adventures of Slim & Howdy Read Online Free Page A

underneath his hat with a look he reserved for those who just tumbled off the turnip truck. “Slim,” he said, “there’s an arrow pointing right down the middle there, underneath where it says ‘Visitors Welcome.’”
    Slim took a closer look. “Not on both of them.”
    “No,” Howdy said. “You’re right. The other one’s with the Sisters of Mercy.”
    Actually not. Tammy, it turned out, had done a short stint one time for check kiting. Crystal, for felony shoplifting. In fact the two of them had met while taking advantage of the hospitality at the East Texas Correctional Institution for Women. But that was a few years back and neither had been caught doing anything lately. Didn’t even have a current parole officer.
    “These two look right up our alley,” Howdy said. “In fact, the one with that little turned-up nose has the potential to be my next broken heart. What do you say we buy ’em a round?”
    Slim looked like the idea had crossed his mind first and was about to weigh in on the subject. But that’s when the bartender delivered the pulled pork sandwiches, distracting Slim with the aroma. He was hungrier than he thought. “Lemme have another beer,” he said, turning around, belly to the bar.
    “Make it two.” When they got their bottles, Howdy held his up for a toast. “Here’s to gettin’ your guitar back.”
    The girls got a pitcher of beer and shot some pool while the boys ate. When Crystal went to the jukebox, Tammy hollered, “Play something country!” And she did. And for the next fifteen minutes there were lots of exchanged glances, coy smiles, and the occasional wink. At one point, as Tammy lined up the eight ball in the far corner pocket, Howdy ducked his head toward Slim and said, “Is it my imagination or do they both seem to take a lot of shots requiring them to bend over that way?” He shook his head and almost whispered, “Bless their hearts.”
    “I’ll say this.” Slim tipped his beer toward Tammy, making sure she saw him. “That girl there is wearing the hell outta those pants.”
    It came as a surprise to no one that Slim and Howdy soon bought a pitcher of beer, carried it over to the girls, and challenged them to a little bit of eight ball. Over the next two hours they fed the jukebox, shot pool, and drank beer. Even two-stepped once when somebody played something by the Derailers.
    Crystal let Howdy get the impression that he was picking her up. Like when he offered to show her how to hold her cue stick so she could put that funny spin on the ball the way he did. She just let him reach right around her and brush his hands up against any and everything while she wiggled herself in the general direction of his belt buckle.
    Tammy, who upon closer examination looked slightly harder than a federal tax form, came up behind Slim and slipped a hand into where he had the truck keys. His eyebrows sprang up as she lingered, like she was trying to find a small bit of lint or something. She was hard to resist, despite the rough edges. Or maybe because of them, Slim wasn’t sure which. But he was thinking he ought to examine her under a brighter light before making any decisions.
    A little bit later, when the girls disappeared to the ladies’ room, Howdy pulled Slim aside and said, “Whatcha thinking there, partner? Hotel, or see if they’ve got a two-bedroom?”
    “Hotel? You crazy?” Slim shook his head. “I spent enough on beer, pork, and the jukebox already. I ain’t springing for a damn hotel.”
    Howdy leaned on his pool cue, tipping his hat back with the chalky blue tip. He said, “Well, just for the sake of conversation, where were you planning to sleep if these two honeys hadn’t showed up?”
    Slim waved his hand toward the outskirts of town. “Hell, I don’t know, I figured we’d swing by the Wal-Mart, grab a couple sleeping bags, and head out to a state park or something.”
    Howdy seemed incredulous. “You wanna go
camping
?” He gave Slim a