Dolph glanced up at the rear-view mirror.

“Is he back there again?” asked Eugene.

“It’s not the same vehicle, but he came out of the same spot behind the station,” replied Dolph. “I reckon he is either on the same team or he’s got a different set of wheels.”

The two-lane road into Hot Springs offered a lot of curves and a lot of ups and downs as it worked its way through the Ouachita Mountains. Dolph maintained a steady, safe speed as he drove the truck. He kept an eye on the mirror.

The car that had pulled from beside the Sinclair station at Cedar Creek Bridge stayed back a discreet distance. The headlights would disappear with a twist in the road, but they always reappeared when the road straightened out.

Eugene leaned forward to look in the side mirror. “Eugene, I’m watching him,” Dolph said.

The comment went right past Eugene. “Seems like he’s laying back further than usual. Maybe he’s not the guy who’s been tailing us.”

Dolph sighed. “Or maybe after following us into town several times, he knows where we are going.”

Eugene grunted and fell into silence for a mile or two. “Well,” he said presently, “we do make the same rendezvous right regular.”

“Yes, we do,” Dolph said. “Yes. We do.”

The next week Eugene scooted around in his seat like he had ants in his britches as they neared Cedar Creek. After they passed the Sinclair Station and crossed the bridge, Dolph checked the mirror.

Eugene looked at Dolph. Dolph drove on in silence. “Well,” Eugene half barked, “is he back there?”

“He is not,” Dolph said quietly.

“You don’t seem very pleased,” Eugene said with a condescending tone. Dolph just kept silently guiding the truck down the highway. “I just thought you’d be a little more pleased with being out of the woods on this deal,” he sulked.

Dolph glanced at Eugene. “Eugene, it’s not certain we are out of the woods,” he said. Eugene got a puzzled expression on his face. “He does not have to tail us, Eugene.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He knows where we are going. He’s there right now.”

Eugene didn’t say a word the rest of the way into town. Dolph pulled the old International into a spot across the street from their destination.

“Why are we parking over here?” Eugene asked.

“Just sit still,” said Dolph. “Have a smoke. Look around.”

Eugene was about halfway through his Camel when he leaned forward and squinted. “Sweet Honeycutt Blossom,” he said quietly. “There he is, Dolph. Do you see him? That car there with its nose sticking out between the jewelry store and the hat shop?”

“Yep, I see,” Dolph answered.

“We’ve seen that car before.”

“Oh, we have indeed,” said Dolph, and hauled himself out of the truck. Making their way across the street, Dolph pondered on why in the world anyone would be tailing them.

It wasn’t a week before Deanna and Joann called a meeting with their husbands.

“Our detective says the two of you are going to the Crystal Dance Academy down on Central Avenue every Tuesday night,” said Deanna sternly.

Eugene burst into a huge smile and sucked in a lung full of air to respond. His wife cut him off before he could speak. “Shut up, Eugene,” Joann said. “We want to hear from the brains of this outfit.” With that, both Joann and Deanna turned their withering gazes on Dolph.

“Me?” Dolph asked with feigned surprise.

Deanna cleared her throat and proceeded. “Dolph, we’ve been married for 17 years. This mess has your fingerprints all over it.”

And so Dolph was forced to explain the whole situation. It all started with wanting to surprise the ladies on their upcoming anniversaries and searching a long time for dance lessons. Then, it had devolved into lots of lying and covering up so that they both could get away for the considerable and regular time required. “It was supposed to be romantic,” he explained defensively, “something you ladies have frequently said we are not.”

Later that very night, dinner was as silent as a funeral. Dolph and Deanna moved out to the porch after the dishes were cleared. They did this every night. Usually there was congenial talk about the proceedings of the day. Not tonight. The crickets and the gentle squeaking of the porch swing were the only sounds.

Dolph wanted to compliment Deanna’s fried chicken, but he was afraid to. Being perceived as trying to suck up in the wake of this fiasco was not what he was hankering for. When he finally did speak, he left the chicken out of the conversation.

“I really did wrong, Deanna. The whole thing was just….”

“Wait,” Deanna cut in. “We need to be clear. Only part of the deal was stinky as fresh cow plop. The other part was sweet as roses.”

Dolph was confused but felt a glimmer of hope. “Can you sort that out for me?”

“Husband, it is the sweetest thing in the world that you boys want to take your wives out dancing proper.” Here, Dolph nodded cautiously, while Deanna continued. “And it is true that neither you nor Eugene have much skill on the dance floor. I have never danced with Eugene, but I believe Joann’s report regarding the danger his clomping around exposes to those close by. Going to the trouble and expense to get some professional instruction is going above and beyond the call of duty.”

She gave Dolph the smile that always melted his heart. “But here is the other part.” Dolph noted her smile faded. “You should not have hidden what you were doing,” Deanna said firmly. “You boys worried us grievously.”

Her tone softened. “Dolph,” she said, leaning towards him. “I thought I was losing you.”

“Losing me?!” Dolph was startled.

“Well, yes,” she said with a pained expression. “I thought you were slipping off to see some barfly down to Hot Springs.”

“Oh, Deanna….” Dolph said, pained now too. “I never thought such. There has never, ever, never been anyone but you.”

They looked at each other in silence. Then the smile began to spread slowly across Deanna’s face again. “I know, Dolph.”

Dolph scooted closer. “I’m gonna kiss you, girl.”

“You better,” Deanna replied.

© 2020 Carlos Declan Pharis