Philip Dampier's Blog

Episode 5: And Then There Was Chuck

“It was hard work and hot work and I earned every dime I made. I carried the shingle bundles from the truck to the roof top and I had to keep ahead of the nailers. It was really hot work. Climbing ladders with eighty-pound bundles of shingles in south Alabama humidity was not for the weak. Well, at the end of my first week we knocked off early and the entire crew drove to a nearby bar. I was a duck out of water. They all ordered beer and I ordered an RC Cola and got a banana Moon Pie to wash down. They looked at me as if I was crazy. Turned out the boss was paying for two rounds for the crew, so I was wasting good beer money.

“That went on for a couple of weeks and I finally gave in to the teasing and jeering. Turned out, I liked the taste of beer.” That statement earned me another face.

“Anyway,” I continued, “that’s how it started. Not getting drunk but regular drinking.”

“So, last night was your first real drunk?”

“Yeah, it was. And, I think I told you, the last one as well.”

“You’ll need to change friends.”

“I already have,” I responded, and I stopped and looked at her. I mean, I really looked at her. The soberer I got, the better she looked. I thought I detected a slight blush. I just stood there like a dodo waiting to be embarrassed, but she saved me with that slight smile and a change of subject.

“I just love your southern drawl. I’ve never heard anyone talk so slow. I almost want to interrupt you and finish the sentence. I want to hear more. So what brought you to Idaho?”

“Two years on a roofing crew was enough to tell me I wasn’t cut out for that kind of work. Things with mom were going downhill ‘cause she wouldn’t leave me alone about anything. I didn’t have many friends left as they had gone off to college, or joined the service, or moved to a big city. None of those choices appealed to me but I had to get out of Dodge, if you know what I mean.”

“But, Idaho? From the deep south to the northwest? And why Boise?”

I was working on an answer when she stopped in front of an obviously new drive-in restaurant. Believe it or not, the concrete building was painted white with pink trim everywhere. A large neon sign over the door read, “Westside Drive-in.” The letters were a bright red even in the noonday light.

Sally steered us towards a group of tables covered with large blue umbrellas. I don’t know what she had in mind but I wasn’t about to sit outside. Turned out it was blocked off anyway but there was an entrance to the inside there. As we threaded through the tables, a sight on the left side of the building grabbed my attention. It was the first thing since breakfast that made me take my eyes off of Sally.

Sitting side by side were two beautiful hot rods. The bright yellow one was a five window Ford deuce coupe with the hood missing, no doubt to show off the flat head. Next to it was a shiny blue ‘46 sedan with baby moons.

I must have stopped and stared, because Sally had to come back and get me. She took my arm again but paused to see who or what I was staring at. Previously unnoticed by me was a young man in jeans and a leather jacket standing next to the coupe with a couple of other guys. He seemed vaguely familiar. He looked up and saw the two of us and immediately headed our way.

“Oh, no!” Sally exclaimed, and pulled me towards the door and into the interior of the drive-in. We quickly made our way to the rear and found an empty booth. Her smile had vanished and a worried look had taken its place. She was looking at the door rather than at me, so I looked at the door as well.

We both reacted to the young man from the coupe as he made his entrance into the drive-in’s interior. He paused, looked over the dining area, spied us and headed our way. He was about my height and build with sandy hair in a crew cut. My mind was working to place him when Sally spoke to me.

“Jack,” Sally said, her voice trembling somewhat, “don’t…” but she didn’t finish the sentence as the young man reached our table and interrupted her.

“What in blue blazes do you think you’re doing, Sally Day?” he blurted out.

“I’m fixing to have a cheeseburger and fries, Chuck, not that it’s any of your business.”

“What my girl does is my business and who’s this…” Chuck quit mid-sentence and turned towards me. “Hey, don’t I know you? Yeah, you are the new driver for Albertson’s, aren’t you? I’ve seen you in the warehouse.” Of course, it came to me then. I had seen him in the loading area, but we had never spoken that I recalled. Wish I had ‘cause he had a beautiful rod and I would have liked to seen it up close, maybe take a ride.

Sally had been trying to speak and finally got her words out, “Go away, Chuck. I am not your girl, and I never will be your girl. I’ve told you often and plainly, I don’t want anything to do with you. You’re an egotistical blowhard. Now leave me alone.”

“That’s the problem, Sally, you aren’t alone at the moment, are you?” Chuck blurted out.

I looked around. That outburst had quieted the interior crowd and every eye on that side of the drive-in was fixed on the three of us. Chuck moved closer to me. The next thing I knew there was an index finger in my face. Chuck’s neck had turned red and his nostrils were flared. I felt my pulse quicken and my blood pressure rose for sure. Not that I have a quick temper, but I wasn’t used to having fingers stuck in my face either. I was gathering my wits and muscles to stand up when he spoke again.

“Listen, delivery boy,” Chuck growled, “Sally is my girl…that’s right, my girl! You stay away from her. Far away from her. If I see you near her again, I’ll put your butt in a sling. We don’t cater to girl rustlers in Idaho. You hear me, you southern redneck?”

Sally came out of her seat as I was trying to get up from mine, but Chuck was blocking my exit. Before I could make it to my feet, there was a loud thud followed by a string of curses. Chuck moved back or rather Sally moved him back. I don’t know what was in her small purse, but it wasn’t feathers. The girl packed a wallop.