Post by Johnny Reb on Apr 13, 2009 11:04:55 GMT -5
Sunday night. A crowded bar comes into focus. Recessed lighting casts a dim glow over the patrons as they gather around pool tables, or sit in booths sipping their drinks. Off to the left is a small stage, instruments set up, but the band is nowhere in sight. Johnny Reb sits alone at one end of the bar, keeping as far away from the other patrons as possible. He stares moodily at the shot in front of him before knocking it back. He doesn’t notice as a young woman, probably in her mid-20’s with skin the color of fine chocolate and the body of a goddess, sidles up next to him. She’s dressed in skin-tight jeans, a halter top, cowboy boots, and a straw Western style hat, the entire look coordinated to highlight her already notable features. When she speaks, her accent is undeniably Southern.
Woman:
Buy you a drink?
Startled, Johnny turns to regard her thoughtfully. His eyes travel the length of her form, settling at last on her intense gaze.
Woman:
SoCo, right?
Johnny Reb:
Uhhhh…..
The woman smiles dazzlingly and gives an order to the bartender for two shots of Southern Comfort. Johnny continues to stare at her in something approaching disbelief, but then, he’s had many drinks already this evening.
Johnny:
Are you an angel?
Laughter follows the query, like the tinkling of delicate silver bells.
Woman:
Hardly. I’m Dixie.
Johnny:
Dixie.
Recovering himself somewhat, he takes her hand and brushes the back of her knuckles with his lips.
Johnny:
More than a little pleased to meet you, Dixie. I’m –
Dixie:
I know who you are. You’re Johnny Reb. I’m actually a big fan.
Reb looks at her, surprised. He’s used to hearing any number of accusations, the most common of which is that he’s a racist who supports slavery. And yet…. He grins.
Johnny:
Nice to see a friendly face, anyway. Now, you’ll have to let me return the favor and buy you a drink.
Dixie smiles at him again.
Dixie:
Not tonight. I’m with the band; my drinks are on the house. Next time, though.
Johnny:
An’ here I thought you were bein’ generous.
Dixie mock-pouts at him. Then she downs her shot. Reb follows her example.
Dixie:
Anyway, as I was sayin’, I’m a huge fan. Just wanted to wish you luck personally.
Johnny’s lip curls in the barest hint of a sneer.
Johnny:
I appreciate that, Miss Dixie. But tomorrow night… Won’t need it. Y’see, my opponent might be a big guy, but it takes more than brute strength to get one over on me. The sentiment ain’t exactly lost on me, though.
The young lady cocks her head to one side, peering at him curiously. She edges closer, whispering something in his ear. Johnny’s eyes widen slightly.
Johnny:
Now that is a much more interestin’ sentiment.
Dixie:
I thought so. Stick around, Johnny. I gotta do one more set….
They exchange meaningful grins, and she hurries off toward the stage. Johnny watches with new interest as the band gathers on stage once more, and Dixie launches into a particularly heartfelt rendition of “Bad Company.” Fade.
Woman:
Buy you a drink?
Startled, Johnny turns to regard her thoughtfully. His eyes travel the length of her form, settling at last on her intense gaze.
Woman:
SoCo, right?
Johnny Reb:
Uhhhh…..
The woman smiles dazzlingly and gives an order to the bartender for two shots of Southern Comfort. Johnny continues to stare at her in something approaching disbelief, but then, he’s had many drinks already this evening.
Johnny:
Are you an angel?
Laughter follows the query, like the tinkling of delicate silver bells.
Woman:
Hardly. I’m Dixie.
Johnny:
Dixie.
Recovering himself somewhat, he takes her hand and brushes the back of her knuckles with his lips.
Johnny:
More than a little pleased to meet you, Dixie. I’m –
Dixie:
I know who you are. You’re Johnny Reb. I’m actually a big fan.
Reb looks at her, surprised. He’s used to hearing any number of accusations, the most common of which is that he’s a racist who supports slavery. And yet…. He grins.
Johnny:
Nice to see a friendly face, anyway. Now, you’ll have to let me return the favor and buy you a drink.
Dixie smiles at him again.
Dixie:
Not tonight. I’m with the band; my drinks are on the house. Next time, though.
Johnny:
An’ here I thought you were bein’ generous.
Dixie mock-pouts at him. Then she downs her shot. Reb follows her example.
Dixie:
Anyway, as I was sayin’, I’m a huge fan. Just wanted to wish you luck personally.
Johnny’s lip curls in the barest hint of a sneer.
Johnny:
I appreciate that, Miss Dixie. But tomorrow night… Won’t need it. Y’see, my opponent might be a big guy, but it takes more than brute strength to get one over on me. The sentiment ain’t exactly lost on me, though.
The young lady cocks her head to one side, peering at him curiously. She edges closer, whispering something in his ear. Johnny’s eyes widen slightly.
Johnny:
Now that is a much more interestin’ sentiment.
Dixie:
I thought so. Stick around, Johnny. I gotta do one more set….
They exchange meaningful grins, and she hurries off toward the stage. Johnny watches with new interest as the band gathers on stage once more, and Dixie launches into a particularly heartfelt rendition of “Bad Company.” Fade.
