Excerpt

During late morning on the last Saturday of October, 2005, I stopped in at Newhouser’s Salvage and Pre-Owned Automobiles, and I found the proprietor in his office, diligently thumbing through a songbook.

“Hey, Coy,” I said. “I guess you’ll be modifying your business cards. After that GED graduation speech last week, you’ll probably want to add ‘public orations’ to the list of services you provide.”

“Morning, Butler,” Coy said, with a chuckle. “Yeah, I might just do that.”

“Everybody thought you and Gary did a great job.”

“Well, I could tell he was a little skeered, but he come through it fine. I guess I’m just used to bein’ in the public eye, so it wudn’t all that new a thing for me.”

“Where’s Al?” I asked, referring to the coal-black cat that was a fixture at the establishment.

“He’s out on patrol. He’ll be back, d’rectly.” Coy walked over to the desk and picked up a violin, which I had failed to notice. “When I brought this in this mornin’, Al excused himself and went out to make his rounds. He don’t care much for the fiddle. Somebody told him the strings was made outta cat gut. That’s why he prefers the banjer. He’s kinda sensitive that way.”

“Coy, I’ve known you for two years, and you never told me you played the fiddle.”

“I guess it just didn’t come up. I hadn’t played in quite a while, but Hazel asked me to bring it over and play for her, so I been practicin’ a little. I’m kinda rusty.”

Coy rubbed rosin on the bow and slowly pulled the bow across the strings, making a surprisingly pleasant sound.

“Can you play ‘Faded Love’?” I asked.

“I should be able to. I’ve had several of ‘em.”

With that, he played the requested song and then moved on to “The Tennessee Waltz” and “I Was Seeing Nellie Home.”

“That’s really good,” I said. “I’m impressed.”

“Well, like I said, I have been practicin’. I didn’t want to go over there and make myself look bad in front of Hazel. You know, every artist has a little pride in his craft.”

“Of course. So when is the big wedding?”

“You mean mine or Gary’s?”

“Now which proposal did Hazel finally accept, yours or Gary’s?”

“You really are pathetic. You know that? Well, it’s a possibility we might have a double ceremony, at the same time.”

“That sounds to me like a Yogi Berra statement.”

“Yeah, I guess it does,” he laughed. “We’re lookin’ at December 31.”

“That way you can count Hazel on your tax return, right?”

“Nah, the date don’t matter to me. Me and Gary are lettin’ the women work out the details. We figured we’d just do as we’re told.”

“That’ll be good practice for married life,” I said. “Rose and I are looking forward to the big event. I just hope your old girlfriend, Donna, doesn’t show up and cause a scene.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Coy said. “That could get ugly. She’ll just have to live with the fact that there’s just one of me.”

“We’re glad for that,” said Claude Wolfe, as he entered from the garage area.

“Mike Rogers and Preacher Haird are gonna hold the broomstick, I reckon,” Coy said, laying his hand on Claude’s shoulder. “Mr. Woof, here, has agreed to be my best man.”

“You couldn’t find a better one,” I said.

“He wanted a speakin’ part, but he had to settle for just standin’ there.”

“Who’s gonna be Gary’s best man?”

Coy and Claude exchanged looks.

“Ain’t he asked you yet?” Coy asked, cautiously.

“No, I haven’t seen him since graduation.”

“Well, we didn’t mean to steal his thunder about asking you,” Coy said, apologetically.

“That’s okay. I won’t say that you told me,” I said, looking out toward the garage area. “Where is Gary?”

“He’s gone to get us some dinner,” Coy said. “We’re eatin’ Chinese.”

“I’m not staying for that,” I said. “You know how I feel about cannibalism.”

“From time to time, I still gotta remind you that I make the jokes in my place. That’s the good thing about havin’ a mime workin’ for me,” he said, looking at Claude. “He don’t try to upstage me.” Coy paused and then continued, “Gary really don’t say much about the weddin’. I hope he don’t get cold feet.”

“I don’t think he will,” I said. Then changing the subject, I asked, “How did the World Series suit you all?”

“There wasn’t much to it.” answered Claude. “The White Sox just stomped Houston, didn’t they?”

“I couldn’t get into it,” Coy said. “I got bigger fish to fry right now, what with the weddin’ and all. Hazel told me her boys are comin’ in for Thanksgivin’, and she wants us all to get acquainted.”

“That’s good,” I said. “They’re probably eager to meet you.”

“I don’t know,” said Coy. “I’m a little uneasy about it.”

“Why?”

“Well, one’s a insurance guy, and the other’s a chiropractor.”

“So, what’s your point?”

“When they meet me, they might think I’m just some ignernt redneck junk dealer who needs adjustin’.”

“So, what’s your point?” echoed Claude.

“You’re a big help, Claudius,” Coy said, frowning.

“You’re probably worrying for nothing,” I offered. “Everything will work out okay. Since you have that old trick-knee problem, maybe that chiropractor will give you some free adjustments.”

“Yeah,” Claude said, “from the neck up.”