Native Affairs

She was no sooner seated than she was joined by a man so drunk she couldn’t believe he was standing on his feet He was tipping his drink, obviously the latest in a long line, to one side, and with every movement it sloshed onto his hand. He didn’t seem to notice.

Je

Je

As if in answer to her prayer, Marilyn emerged from the crowd, beaming. Her broad smile vanished when she saw Je

“Lee is here,” she said between her teeth, trying not to let George hear what she was saying.

Je

“Well, if he isn’t, his clone just came through the door.”

Je

The two women stared at one another, mutually horrified.

“Let’s get out of here,” Je

She got no argument from Marilyn, who added, “We’ll slip past him; with so many people here, he’ll never see you.”

This plan might have worked, except for the intervention of George, who divined their intentions and started creating a ruckus, still hanging onto Je

Je

“Whassa matter?” Romeo said querulously, breathing Scotch fumes in her face. “Whereya goin’?” He never relaxed his hold on her.

“Marilyn, get somebody,” Je

Marilyn, torn between leaving Je

He was wearing a fitted body shirt in very pale lavender, almost cream, and tight black jeans. He wore a glittering gold ornament which showed at his throat, at the opening of his shirt. He looked drawn, thi

Marilyn saw him at the same time and turned a stricken face to Je

“Hi, Jen,” Lee said in a dangerously calm voice. “This guy bothering you?”

“No, no,” Je

At this point, the drunk stuck his jaw out pugnaciously to interrupt. “Who’re you,” he asked blearily. “Her father?”

“I don’t think the lady wants your company, friend,” Lee said. “You’d better let go of her.”

Oh, God. Lee’s face was acquiring the same expression she’d seen at the Heart Fund picnic, and that was not good news.

“It really doesn’t matter,” Je

“Says who?” sneered Romeo, who had obviously seen too many John Wayne movies, and was also plastered enough to disregard Lee’s superior size and physical condition. He lunged wildly for Lee, who countered with a well-placed uppercut, and the fight began.

The rest of the patrons cleared a space for them, cheering them on. Several of the more enthusiastic onlookers jumped on chairs, chanting, “Fight, fight, fight” Je

Marilyn’s friend Jim, who appeared to be a bit slow on the uptake, slipped away from the group, and she knew he was phoning the police.

Lee, meanwhile, was having a great time. He was too much of a sportsman to take advantage of his opponent’s debilitated condition, but his Marquees of Queensberry conscience did not prevent him from dancing around and jabbing at George, who swung erratically in all directions, never even coming close to his target Je

It wasn’t long before two uniforms pushed their way through the crowd. Joe spotted them and darted forward, trying to pull Lee out of action before they reached the combatants, but to no avail. Lee shrugged his friend off like a pesky fly.

When the cops got closer, Je

The police separated the two men and asked for an account of what had happened. Joe acted as spokesman, and when Je

“Ms. Gardiner,” Harry said in surprise. “What are you doing here? You know these two gladiators?”

Je

Harry raised his eyebrows and pulled a note pad from his pocket. “Let me see here. We have disturbing the peace, inciting to riot, public drunke

“I’m not drunk,” Lee a

Harry paused to squint at Lee for a moment, and then he snapped his fingers.

“Wait a minute! Aren’t you that football player?”

Lee flashed his most dazzling grin and extended his hand like a candidate ru

Harry shook the proffered hand, looking awed. “Oh, well, Mr. Youngson, I’d like to hear your version of what happened here.”

Lee poured on his legendary charm, and by the time he was finished Officer Harry Desautell was eating out of his hand. The rookie with him was equally impressed, and Je

Harry agreed to let both men off with a warning, and the two cops got Lee’s autograph before they left, escorting a partially sobered George to the door.

Lee turned to Je

“It must be nice to get away with everything because you can catch a football,” Je

Lee glared at her, offended. “I was trying to help you!” He held his right hand up before his face and flexed the fingers. “I think my hand is broken,” he mourned, winking at Marilyn.

“I think your head is broken,” Je

Marilyn was watching this interchange with interest “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” she prompted Je

Je

Lee smiled charmingly. “It’s a pleasure, ma’am,” he drawled, doing his Montana cowboy routine. Je