Tenure Track (43 page)

A lump immediately formed in Lewis’s throat. “You told your parents about me?” he asked, not hiding his shock.

“
Not my
parents,
” she emphasized. “My Daddy. Momma would totally spazz about this. Daddy’s known from the beginning. Well, he didn’t know you were a professor until a couple of weeks ago, but he knew about you.” She could see panic on his face. “It’s okay. Daddy’s cool with it. I think he just wants to check you out. His band is playing at this club tonight. He invited us to come out and see him.”

Lewis stared at his tea bottle. Meeting her father was not in the plans, however he
was
a bit curious to meet this person Mandy had told him so much about. He wondered if the reality matched the hype.

That night they drove out into the country, along an empty road dotted with farmhouses and double-wides. Lewis asked three times if they had the right directions, but Mandy assured him that she knew exactly where the place was. When they arrived, Lewis saw that the “club” was more of a rundown shack resembling a chicken house with a barely working neon sign bearing the name The Juke Joint
.
Lewis had read about such places in novels and magazines, but had never actually been in one himself. Mandy seemed excited to be there, as if returning home for a class reunion.

Lewis nervously fiddled with a button on his shirt as they entered the joint, whose insides were even more seedy-looking than its outsides. The bar area was very small and sparse, the walls covered with black tar paper, as if intentionally left incomplete to be more intimidating. They were met by a large bouncer with a shaved head, a lip full of snuff, and an imposing scar across his forehead that suggested either a knife fight or a lobotomy. The bouncer stared intently at Mandy’s fake I.D. For a moment, Lewis thought he might not let them in. After spitting into a Styrofoam coffee cup, the burly man asked in a thick drawl, “So, yew Darryl’s kid?” His face lit up when she confirmed her identity. In about two seconds the burly bouncer went from scary to Santa Claus, smiling wide to reveal a mouthful of tobacco-stained teeth with two silver ones in front. “Yer daddy’s waitin’ fer ya outside.”

They walked through the bar into the back, where most of the patrons were gathered at small tables in front of a large stage. The regulars spread out on blankets or camping chairs they had brought from home. Mandy spotted her father at a table with a very rotund African American man and a skinny woman with tanned, leathery skin who was wearing too much eye makeup. Darryl greeted his daughter with a tight hug, whirling her around like she was a small child. She then hugged the other man and the woman, whom she clearly knew well. Then came the moment of truth.

“
Daddy, this is Lewis. Lewis, this is my daddy.”

The two men shook hands firmly and assessed one another. Although Lewis had seen photographs of Mandy’s father, he was not quite prepared for the encounter. Darryl’s face revealed a friendly, warm countenance, but his body reflected the toll that years of hard living had taken. Even though Mandy’s father was only five years older than Lewis, he looked at least 25 years older. His long graying hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He wore bifocal glasses, a handlebar mustache surrounded by a couple of days worth of stubble across a craggy face, and a small loop in one ear. His attire of black jeans, T-shirt pulled tightly over a paunchy belly and black leather vest reflected his biker persona, made less threatening by the “Christian Motorcyclists of America” patch emblazoned over the breast pocket. Lewis noticed two prominent tattoos etched into Darryl’s arms. The left forearm was covered with a cross; the right bicep held a large rose, with a toddler’s face in the center, below which read the name “Amanda Rose.” Darryl had a thick western drawl and the vocabulary of someone with little formal schooling, but a lot of life experience.

From what Lewis knew of Mandy’s mother, it was hard to imagine her ever married to Darryl, much less him being the love of her life, as Mandy optimistically imagined. Father and daughter were a different story. Despite their differences in grammar, manners, and overall countenance, it was easy to believe that Mandy came from Darryl’s loins. Lewis noticed that, not only did they shared the same hair, eyes, and nose, but they also used many of the same mannerisms when speaking—a certain way each raised a hand, flicked a wrist. Lewis had noticed Mandy making such gestures hundreds of times before. Now he could see that they were traits she had inherited from her absentee father.
Evidence of nature over nurture,
he thought.
DNA is a curious thing.

Darryl introduced his companions as Tiny (a misnomer if there ever was one), the band’s bass player, and Tammy, their lead singer/pianist and Darryl’s girlfriend. They had already completed the mike check and were just taking a quick break before their set began. All three band members focused the conversation on Mandy, asking all about school, her summer job, friends, etc. Lewis was happy to be ignored, but still felt relieved when the time came for the trio to take the stage.

Their band was pretty good. Tammy had a soulful, though not exceptional, voice that did a fair job of covering old tunes such as “Me and Bobbie McGee.” At one point when a few observers hopped up and started dancing, Mandy impulsively dragged Lewis to the center. He tried not to look too ridiculous as he shuffled around. He much preferred watching Mandy bounce around with loose joy, a self-confident ease. Lewis wished he could feel that comfortable in his own skin. She seemed to be able to move effortlessly between worlds, just as comfortable in a stuffy law firm or the state capitol as she was in a seedy biker bar. It was a gift Lewis wished he had.

Shortly before ending their set, Tammy turned the mike over to “her old man,” for a special performance. Darryl took center stage with an acoustic guitar. “I usually don’ bother gettin’ up har to sang. I like Tammy’s voice better’n mine. Dontchyall?” He continued amid applause for the lead singer. “But tonight I wanna sing ya’ll one of my favorite songs. Done first by the late, great Conway Twitty, it give me the name for my one and only baby girl. Well, at least the only baby I know’d of.” More laughter among most of the crowd as Mandy’s face registered a mixture of slight embarrassment combined with awe.

“
Anyways, my baby girl, Mandy Rose, is in the audience tonight, so I wanna dedicate this song ta her. Baby, this one’s fer yew.” Darryl then launched into a soulful, bluesy version of “Amanda,” that had several female members of the audience in tears, including Lewis’s date. No matter what mistakes Darryl Taylor had made in his life, everyone listening that night knew that he loved his daughter.

The performance seemed to put everyone more at ease. At least, Lewis felt more comfortable, complimenting the trio when they returned to the table. Tiny soon went off with the other musicians as Darryl and Tammy both rested their voices by lighting up menthol cigarettes. Loosened up by dancing and two beers, Lewis tried to engage Darryl in conversation. “So, Mandy tells me the band is just a part-time thing for you.”

“
Yep, kinda a hobby, ta blow off steam. ‘Minds me of my younger hell-raisin’ days. Me and Tiny gotta shop just outsidda town—motorcycle repair and tattoo parlor. I fix the bikes, and Tiny does the tats.” Lewis wondered if Tiny was the artist behind Mandy’s tattoo, but the thought made him a little uncomfortable. He tried to change his focus.

“
Did he do your tattoos?” he asked, admiring Darryl’s arms.

Darryl nodded, sipping on a cola. The professor thought a compliment might help. “They’re very good.” He turned to Mandy and pointed towards the image on Darryl’s right arm. “Is this one you?”

She blushed and nodded slightly.

Darryl raised his bicep, glancing at the rose. “Tiny done it when we was in prison. He used the only picture I hadda her. Wearin’ this made me thinka what I had ta live fer while I was gitten straight.”

Lewis fidgeted in his seat. With one statement, the father had managed to remind the boyfriend that he had been in prison and that his baby girl meant everything to him. All that was needed was a shotgun and Lewis could have been living a country and western song.

About that time, Tammy excused herself to go to the restroom. In typical female fashion, she asked Mandy to accompany her, no doubt to quiz her about Lewis. As the ladies shuffled off to find a restroom, Darryl’s expression changed as he switched from fun-loving biker musician to father alone with daughter’s boyfriend. He shot Lewis a skeptical stare. The professor took a large gulp of beer, then attempted to break the silence with small talk. He chose to go with, rather than against, the flow of the conversation.

“
So you and Tiny met in prison?” he asked.

Darryl leaned back in his seat, resting a hand on his waistband. “Yeah. He was in fer ag assault, but he’d done been saved. We got together over music and he helped me get my act together. That’s why we’s brothers of the soul. ‘Still kill anybody who hurt the other.” He darted his eyes menacingly.

Point taken.

Now Lewis tried to swim against the flow. “Tammy seems nice. How long have you two been together?”

“
Long enough. How long yew been with my daughter?” Darryl asked quickly.

Lewis knew better than to respond with the same vague answer. “Uh, since May, I guess. A couple of months.” He would not press further for a definition of “been with.” He didn’t have to.

“
So, yew fuck a lotta yer students?” Darryl asked.

Lewis choked down a swig of beer. “Uh, e-excuse me?” he sputtered. Apparently Darryl’s level of salvation still allowed for a colorful tongue.

“
Yew heard me.” The older man’s stare bore a hole through the professor. “Yew make a habit a this?”

Lewis regained his composure. “Uh, no. No, sir. Mandy’s the first student I’ve ever dated. She’s really special.”

The father’s face remained stone cold as he assessed whether his daughter’s suitor was being sincere. Years of experience working with addicts had perfected Darryl’s internal bullshit meter. He was pretty good at differentiating between someone who was telling the truth, lying, or just lying to themselves. He was still trying to figure out which category fit Lewis when he fired the next question. “Yew love ‘er?”

Lewis felt the blood rush from his head. “Excuse me, Sir?”

The hardnosed biker was getting tired of the professor’s same response to every question.

“
Yew heard me. Do. Yew. Love. Her?”

“
I-I don’t know,” Lewis gulped. “We’re still getting to know one another.”

Darryl harrumphed from his chest. “From what I understand, yew’ve known ‘er almost a year. ‘Met when yew was still married.”

A drop of sweat fell from the nape of Lewis’s neck all the way down his back. “Yeah, yeah. Well, w-we were just friends for a long time. Colleagues. I mean, nothing was going on when I was married. We didn’t start dating until after my divorce was final. I promise.” He raised his hand as if taking an oath in court.

Darryl now rocked back and forth in his chair, folding his muscular arms across his belly. “So yer not gitten back with yer wife or nuthin’?”

“
No, no sir. We are
divorced.
”
Lewis assured him. “Totally clean and clear. I hope I never see that woman again.”

“
So watcha doin’ hangin’ ‘roun’ with a buncha kids fer? Why dontcha go find yerself a nice gal yer own age?” Darryl pressed.

That was the same question Lewis had been asking himself ever since his visit with Ben, but still could not articulate an answer. The fact was, he knew he probably should be looking for someone closer to his own age, someone who was not a student at his college. Perhaps he really was making a fool out of himself by hanging around Mandy and her friends so much, but it made him happy.

“
I enjoy Mandy’s company,” he admitted to the imposing father. “And I like her friends, even if they are a bit younger than me. Maturity-wise I think they’re probably older.”

Now Darryl reared back in laughter, agreeing that was true of most male-female relationships. “Good!” he declared, slapping Lewis on the back. “But I hope yew ain’t jus’ usin’ mah girl to git over that other gal. I know ‘bout that stuff. I hurt a lotta people in mah time, ‘specially Mandy’s momma. She hates mah guts and I don’ blame ‘er. I don’ ever want nobody ta hurt mah baby like that. She still has a sparkle to ‘er. Ya know? I don’ wan’ no boy ta take that away by breakin’ her heart. Yew been around awhile, yew know how it goes. Yew do right by ‘er, ya hear? She’s jus’ a girl.”

Lewis nodded. Although he disagreed with the description of Mandy as “just a girl,” he agreed with the sentiment that he did not wish her to get hurt. At this point, however, it almost seemed inevitable.

Lighting another cigarette, Darryl tipped back in his chair and squinted his eyes at the professor. “Yah, know, the best thing I ever did in mah life was ta make Mandy. And the second best thing I ever did was ta leave her and her momma.”

Lewis looked at him quizzically, interrupting his beer sipping.

“
Yah see,” Darryl said, leaning in closer to his prey, “I was just a messed up kid back then. I didn’t know nuthin’ about nuthin’. All I ever done was get loaded and imagine I was gonna be some kinda rock star. Kathy had it goin’ on, ya know? I’s scared shitless when she tole’ me ‘bout Mandy, but I wanted ta do right by ‘er. I didn’t have no money, so I stole one a my Daddy’s shotguns and sold it to buy the ring and license. We run off ta get married over Christmas break. Ya know what my Daddy done when we got back and told him we wuz married ‘n’ havin’ a baby?”