No Sensible People Chapter Sixteen (part 3)

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I went back to my hotel and made a note of my upcoming date with Tami, and I remembered it was Jennie's birthday the same day. I had started writing her a letter, and I decided I would finish it before heading to bed.
The next day I didn't have to start working until 6:00 pm, so I looked in the paper and found some apartments to look at. I went to see one out in North Mankato that I liked-a two-bedroom duplex a little ways from the college bustle, only it wouldn't be ready until February. I would have to continue to stay in hotels or, if I could stand it, I could commute from my house in Leifton.

My date with Tami started off well. From the people I had picked up from the Tav on New Year's Eve, I assumed it was a casual place. I found one of my newer pale green button shirts and wore it over a gray T-shirt, along with blue jeans. I wished I had a better selection, but there hadn't been much of a need for it in Leifton.

Tami looked better. She wore jeans too, but hers were black, and she wore a soft pink sweater that fell off her shoulders, and a simple silver chain. I arrived a few minutes after seven, and Tami seated me on her davenport and went back in the bathroom to complete her "finishing touches."

It didn't take her long, and she passed through the kitchen on the way back to me and grabbed us both a beer out of the refrigerator. "The Tav" doesn't get hopping until a little later, and it can be a little loud. We might as well hang here for a bit, if you don't mind."

I didn't complain, but I reminded her I should watch what I was drinking. I was driving after all.

"One beer won't kill you," she said and she sat beside me and opened hers. She smelled incredible, and it occurred to me briefly that the evening might be as enjoyable spent in her apartment, as it would be if we headed out. She talked about her family in New Hampshire. She had a younger brother who would be graduating from high school, and an older one that worked in a bank in Concord. Her parents were still together, and I asked her
if she planned to go back once she finished school.

"I don't know," she said. "I suppose it will depend on how much reason I have to stay."

She asked me about my parents, and I told her I had never been very close to my father. He had moved to Chicago when my mother was ill, and I hadn't spoken to him since. Tami was very sympathetic to the losses I had experienced, and acknowledged again Nate's death that I'd told her about the week before.

"It's no wonder you wanted to leave," she told me. I hadn't even touched on my experiences with Lucy. I was extra careful to keep her out of our conversation as much as possible, referring to her only as Jennie's aunt.

We headed out around 8:00 and there was already a decent sized crowd when we arrived at the Tav. We walked in behind a group of six or seven, and the bouncer collected the five dollar cover for the band that was going to be playing and didn't bother checking I.D.s. Tami spotted a table, and made her way through the crowd to save it.

I asked her what she wanted, and I brought us both a Bacardi and Coke. Tami had been right, it was loud and difficult to talk, and once the band started we spent much of the time on the dance floor. I hadn't danced in ages, not since back in high school, when Lucy taught me to find my rhythm. I thought it ironic that she was the same person who made me lose it.

It was around ten when I ordered us a second drink and Tami took another sip and pulled me back onto the floor. She was fun to be around, if not a little exhausting. There was a fast song first, and remember being
relieved when the band switched gears and began playing a cover of "Groovy Kind of Love."

I drew her closer, and she lay her head on my shoulder as we swayed to the simple rhythm of the song. The smells of cigarette smoke and varied alcohols had not interfered with Tami's perfume, and she still smelled as
wonderful as she had when I first picked her up at her apartment. But as hard as I tried to let this attraction fester with Tami, my mind continued to wander toward Lucy, and I realized I still needed resolution.

The song had barely ended when I felt someone push me away from Tami, and the crowd backed away from the space around us.

"Rob, what are you doing?" Tami yelled at him.

It took me a minute, but I recognized this guy from the sport's page of the paper. He was a "star" of sorts, attending Mankato State on a football scholarship. I remembered Tami saying something about some men not
wanting women to know anyone else besides them, and I realized it must have been Rob Parker she had referred to.

I stood in front of him, feeling a little braver than I should. "Why don't you leave us alone, buddy," I said. "She's not doing anything wrong."

"Not doing anything wrong!" Rob yelled. "This is my girlfriend, Shithead!"

"She doesn't seem to think so," I said calmly. That's when he knocked me to the ground, and hit me a couple extra times as a bonus.

"You're pouring drinks down her throat too I bet. Check her drink,"
he said to one of the waitresses. "I bet anything you'll find something stronger than soda in there. I suppose Shithead here will try to claim he didn't realize she was underage."

I looked at Tami and she seemed to apologize with her eyes. The server checked both her drink and her ID, which revealed she wouldn't turn twenty-one until May. The bartender called the cops, and they took me in on
charges of contributing to the delinquency of a minor. Between her mentioning she was a senior, and handing me that beer in her apartment the possibility of her being a minor had not even occurred to me, but it was a
lesson, something I would have to watch for if I was going to live in a college town.

The officer asked me whom I wanted to call. I remembered Susie mentioning something about going to Iowa for an interview at the University. It was a formality, she was almost certain she'd get the job. There was only one other possibility of someone who might care enough to drop everything and bail me out of jail. I gave them Lucy's number.

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