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In the end, I didn't want to argue with them it was cold, exceedingly wet, and I was already going to be late for the concert. So CJ helped me load the mortally wounded conifer into my trunk. We groped around for the twine, but couldn't find it, so he battened down the lid with his girlfriend's belt. She had high-tailed it back into the Jeep to wait for him out of the rain.
I heard that warm tone come back into her voice and she embraced me. "You said we weren't going to have a tree this year..." "Changed my mind, honey," I replied. "Besides it was too cheap to pass up." I grabbed her viola case out of her hand. "Got it from mah ol' frenn CJ," I drawled. She looked at me like I was made of goat cheese. "What?"
"Look, mister," CJ drawled, propping up the tree with one hand. "We busted out yer headlight. Hell, the least I can do is give ya the tree." The woman tilted her head and shot out a hand to touch my arm. She had a horrified look in her wide eyes that I could see even through her dripping mascara. "You ain't already got one do ya, mister?" I glanced at my watch and tried to weasel out of it.
One look at him, and I almost turned around and left CJ could have been Paul Bunyan's twin brother. He had the shirt to prove it, too: red and black lumberjack style checks, with the top three buttons undone, and chest hair that was thicker than my beard. He also wore cowboy boots and wide red suspenders. "Holy moley, mister!" he yelled with a tone of real concern. "You alright?"
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