Free God Don't Play by Mary Monroe

threatened when I thought about some of his former lovers. One woman in particular stood out in my mind like a knife: Betty Jean Spool. She’d been two years behind us in school, but that had not stopped her from fucking her way through half of the boys in our senior class. She was as fast as she was pretty, and age had not slowed her down or diminished her beauty. She was a cross between a man-eating shark and a snake in the grass. No man was safe around a woman like Betty Jean.
    I couldn’t count the number of stories that I’d heard about Betty Jean chasing some other woman’s man—and catching him. I had some serious concerns now because I’d heard that she’d recently broken up with her husband and was on the prowl again. I couldn’t stop myself from wondering just how far she would go to get a man. Especially my man.
    With Richland being such a one-horse town, we didn’t have that many bars. The Red Rose was the most popular bar and the one closest to my house. It was also the one that catered to a mostly Black crowd.
    I spent a few nights a month drinking at the Red Rose with either Rhoda or Pee Wee. I didn’t care too much for the place, though, because it brought back some painful memories. Mr. Boatwright used to visit that bar on a regular basis. I couldn’t go there without thinking about him sitting at his favorite table, the one closest to the men’s room, with his peg leg propped up on a chair. Another major reason why I didn’t like the Red Rose that much was because Betty Jean Spool tended bar there three days a week, sometimes working a double shift, prancing around until closing time. When Rhoda wanted to go out for a drink, I always insisted that we go on one of the days or nights that Betty Jean had off. I had a hard time dealing with memories of Mr. Boatwright and her on the same night.
    It was a different story with Pee Wee. He usually wanted to go on the nights that Betty Jean worked because that was when most of his buddies went. It surprised me to know that he didn’t see how uncomfortable that woman made me. She flirted with him right in front of me! But then again, she flirted with all of the men, so when I complained to Pee Wee, he brought that up.
    “That’s just the way that woman is. She just do all that sashayin’ and grinnin’ so she can get bigger tips,” Pee Wee insisted.
    I didn’t make too much of a deal out of it, because I didn’t want my husband to know just how insecure I really was.
    I was happy that Pee Wee had returned from visiting his daddy’s grave in Pennsylvania. I was not happy that he had gone to the Red Rose for a drink right after I’d told him about the cookout I had planned for the evening. I was glad that I had invited company now. I knew that Pee Wee would want to climb on top of me when he returned from the bar, and with company at the house he would have to wait until we were alone.
    “Well?”
    He had just returned from the Red Rose, grabbing my tit-tie as soon as he closed the front door.
    “Well, what?” I pushed him to the side and turned away from him, dusting off my coffee table with the tail of my muumuu. I had put on a fresh muumuu, but I still had on the same flip-flops that I had worn to Rhoda’s house the night before. I had washed my hair as soon as I got home, and pinned it on top of my head. It hid whatever bald spots I had. A wide black headband covered my expanding hairline.
    “I asked you what happened while I was in Erie?”
    “Nothing happened while you were in Erie,” I said quickly. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it, pinching his palm. “Uh, our company is going to be here in a couple of hours. If you’re going to fix up some ribs in the oven, you better get started.”

    Rhoda, Jade, and Otis arrived two hours later. By that time I had showered and slipped into an even fresher muumuu, one with a more festive design, and the suede sandals that Jade had given to me for my birthday.
    I was pleased that Pee Wee had