Tilly.

It was in a bar somewhere in Mississippi when he let the devil out again, he had taken a room in a motel, paid for the night then headed for a local bar and was slowly descending into drunkenness. A big boned blonde across the bar smiled at him and he wasn't shy to reciprocate, asking the barkeep to hand the lady a drink of her likening and the man evidently knew her poison.
Once put down in front of her, he leant over pointing backwards where Blane was sat who could see her eyes follow the fellows pointer before she nodded and threw him a delicious smile. Somewhat encouraged he abandoned his chair and moved around the bar taking advantage of an empty seat right next to her.
'Blane', he introduce himself to the woman who reminded him of Jayne Mansfield, if a little bigger and somehow rougher around the edges, but then he had never met Jayne Mansfield.
'Tilly', she introduced herself and it was apparent that she too had had more than just one drink, her voice somewhat dark and laced with potential adventure.
'Nice to meet you Tilly,' he continued, 'you from here, I take it.'
'I am', she oozes, 'and I know for a fact that you are not.'
'No just driving through, after so many nights in a motel room by myself I thought I check out the local nightlife.'
'Well, this is it.'
She turned on her chair to point at the two guys by the pool table, he had figured for father and son earlier, then swerved around taking the rest of the room into account, somehow still pointing although in a more general direction.
'Hope you are impressed.'
He finished another beer and motioned for a new bottle then nodded.
'I didn't expect this to be Manhattan, just wanted someone to have a drink with.'
'I guess that would be me,' she replied then carefully slid of the chair, 'excuse me for a moment.'
She staggered to the dark back of the bar, where he presumed the toilets to be, her sizable behind had that casual swing that makes men turn heads, perhaps more though because he was sat in a car all day.
He watched the going on while waiting for her return, naming and inventing lifelines for those around.
'Lance and Bruce playing pool. On jukebox Dolores, her man Bobby at the table by the window, another couple on the next one down, then three blokes in heated discussion, dungarees, lumberjack shirts, one baseball hat and two straw Stetsons all of which well worn each holding a bottle of beer, five younger guys and three girls on the other side by the door just hanging, nothing much to do and that is it ' the local nightlife.
As he watched her return to the bar he realised the need to dig for her name and find it before she reached.
'So,' she started slurring a little, 'what brings you here, you planning on buying the town?'
'No, just passing through, going west.'
'Oh yes, you said, got a job there hm?'
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. 'Yeah, a job, and adventure,' he looked into her eyes, smiled and did this half hearted wink that needed perfecting.
'Is that your idea of flirting? Even the boys around here can do better.'
'I'm out of practice,' he shrugged and felt his ears getting hot.
'So you think you can practice on me cause this is a little place and I wouldn't know any better hm?'
He remembered his first impression, Jayne Mansfield, and knew if he wanted the evening to continue he had to free Jayne from memory and place her into the room.
'You reminded me of Jayne Mansfield, the way you were sat over here and I am an avid admirer.'
'Oh, it's been a while someone said that, I didn't know I still had it.'
'Oh you do, would you like another drink?'
They sat and drank, eventually switching to tequila shots which sobered him briefly then sent him somewhere else, their laughter too, was growing in volume to the point were the barkeep, decided they had enough and was helpful in pointing them towards the door. He was trying to reason with Tilly till her continues giggle shut him up, and they eventually carried each other from the premises.
They walked towards the parking lot where she leant against a car while he tried to undo her shirt and bra, she stood and giggled, then, almost drooling, he felt her heavy breasts in his hands. That was when it went wrong. Suddenly she pushed him away and a mans voice was heard from behind, cursing loudly calling the two of them names, she scrambled away, he was laughing.
He stopped when pushed to the ground and kicked in the ribs, started running the moment he got on his feet, got to the car and fumbled for the keys and that was when he heard the shot go of and felt a pain in his lower left leg. The pain sobered him and he pulled the door open and jumped inside, in a panic now getting the motor going and leaving the car park with screeching tyres, spitting gravel, swerved onto the street, then steadied and drove.
The pain returned a few miles on, a throbbing pain in his calf. 'I've been shot', went through his mind over and over, 'I'm gonna die.' But it got clear quick that he wasn't, blood was running down his leg into his shoe, soaking his socks and he could feel how sticky it was getting, just that he didn't want to stop, cause there might be more bullets behind. He drove, turning into smaller and smaller roads till coming to a halt at a deserted mall. There was a first aid kit in the trunk somewhere, but he felt to weak to search for it, all he wanted was to sleep.
Sweat was pouring from his head half of it from the stagnant heat the other produced by the adrenalin caused by the shock of being shot. Eventually he opened the door let in air which miraculously felt cooler, thanks to a hint of breeze which quickly died down. There was noise of birds and cicadas, like the pain in his leg the noise welled up and ebbed away, welled up again to great volume then ebbed away. He got out and dropped to the ground sat and exhaled, the sweat was the thick feverish sort, although the weather had to play part in it. He passed out right there on the ground missing out on the soft bed he had paid for in a motel some forty miles away.

© Marcus Bastel