The Chattanooga Peppermint Twist

“Any plans for next weekend?” It was Bob, calling as he did most Sunday afternoons to check on his friend, Miles.

“Nope, no plans. Why?”

“Why don’t you come to Chattanooga? We can spray paint the town burgundy.”

“Not red?” Miles asked.

“Nah, we’re too old for red. Burgundy allows for some drinking, a couple of slow dances with women, who might not hate us at first sight,” Bob said, his tone conspiratorial.

“If you put it that way, It sounds like I should drive the two hours to Chattanooga tomorrow so I can rest up for Saturday night.”

“You mean Friday night. Don’t forget, you’ll need a full day’s rest before you drive home.”

The men were indeed older, but they were in excellent shape. Each had a zest for life. Miles played tennis and was a star in a local bowling league. Bob was still running marathons, although out of an abundance of caution, his last two efforts were half-marathons.

“Good point. There’s nothing special going on here this weekend. I’ll be there Thursday night.”

“Don’t forget your CPAP machine,” Bob said, knowing full well his friend didn’t need one.

Miles decided to have his car serviced before the trip. It was overdue anyway. He got a haircut, which in his case meant a buzz cut, using the number one-half blade attachment. He always wondered if his silver hair might be an asset had it not chosen to precede him to heaven.

Bob still had a full head of hair which wouldn’t have bothered Miles so much if it wasn’t still black. And Bob swore it was natural. He insisted it ran in his family, but when pressed for a photo of one of his grandfathers, he could never seem to find one.

The trip to Chattanooga was pleasant. Miles turned on his road trip playlist and ignored a call from his daughter. He knew what she wanted. It was usually about money. The poor kid was 40, divorced and raising twin teenaged boys alone. The tipoff was easy to spot. She called him ‘Daddy,’ when she needed cash. Otherwise, he was just Dad. 

Bob’s condo was a well-appointed two-bedroom, two bath, affair, that his former girlfriend, Cara, decorated in a conventional design with tasteful touches of Avante garde accessories. With her green eyes and natural red hair, she seemed to have an artistic flair about her. Bob appreciated her work. It lent a bit of class to what otherwise would have had a cheap motel motif.

Bob greeted Miles with a rock glass half-filled with Jack Daniels. “This should take the edge off and clear your palate of the road dust,” he said.

“It will also knock me out cold before dinner,” Miles said, eyeing the glass suspiciously.

Since it was a warm, end of April night, the men ate dinner on the patio. Bob handed two ribeye’s to his friend and put him to work. They talked late into the evening, reminiscing about their college experiences and their finances. A retired police captain, Bob loved to tell stories about his days with the Chattanooga Police Department. Miles had heard most of the stories before, but he still enjoyed them.  

“Bob, is there actually a place in this town that has both dancing and people who actually remember what the seventies, eighties and nineties were like?” Miles asked.

Bob shrugged. “There is a place. Cara told me about it. It’s called The Peppermint Lounge.”

Miles laughed so hard he started to cough. “You made that up. Did you ever go to the one in Manhattan?”

“Of course not. We weren’t old enough to drink when that place was around. Hell, we weren’t even old enough to drive.”

Miles nodded his head slowly. “You always looked a lot older than me, I thought maybe you were able to sneak into the place.”

“Yeah, right. I gave peppermint twist lessons.” He paused. “According to Cara, the lounge is upscale and draws a good crowd on weekends.”

“If we go, will Cara be there?” Miles was not a fan. She was an attractive woman until she started in on politics. A history professor at the local community college, she could be quite cutting if you disagreed with her. Bob had met Cara online about a year after his wife, Mandy had left him for the guy who took her to her high school prom. Bob took Mandy’s departure hard. He never let Cara get too close, but they saw each other at least once a week until about three months ago.  

Bob held up his hand like a school crossing guard. “I know how you feel about her. I wish I knew how I felt about her. I always enjoyed her company, but, you know, it took me a while to miss her when she wasn’t around. He stabbed an asparagus spear, inspected it and put it back on his plate. “Anyway, I took the liberty of asking her to see if one of her friends might join us.”

“Oh boy. Are you two back together?”

Bob cleared the dinner plates and put chocolate pudding on the table along with a can of Reddi-Wip. “Maybe. I took her out again last Saturday. First time in three months.” He exhaled. “I guess we’ve both been kind of lonely lately.”

Miles was about to say something, but it occurred to him that sometimes companionship, even if it wasn’t ideal, was worthwhile. He saw no point in discouraging his friend.

The men played golf Friday morning, something they rarely did. With good reason. They were both terrible golfers. While they were playing, Miles’s daughter called again. He managed to sink his third putt on a par three and called her.

“What’s up, honey?” His daughter lived in Denver. “Everything ok?”

“Hi Daddy. I miss you.” He waited. “I was rear ended last night by a guy who doesn’t have insurance. I need to get my car fixed. Can you lend me some money?”

“I miss you too” He grimaced. “Are you ok?”

“My neck hurts but I got checked out in the ER. Nothing serious.”

How much do you need?”

“I need $4,000. I’m sorry. I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m in Chattanooga for the weekend. I’ll send you a check on Monday.”

“Thanks Daddy.” He shook his head; glad he could help and sorry he had to. 

“Problem? Bob asked?”

“Yeah, I just three putted.” He jammed his putter into his bag. Back in the golf cart, he explained the situation.

“Maybe you should go out there and see her. How long has it been?

“I flew out there for Thanksgiving,” Miles said.

“At least your kid stays in touch. Mine is too busy. He’s making his fortune on Wall Street.”

“Maybe you’re right. I should go.”

“So, head home tomorrow and get the ball rolling. You want me to come?”

“Why not? Our golf game would definitely improve in the Rocky Mountain altitude.”

That night, Bob drove his Bronco to the lounge. They met Cara and her friend Tania at the Peppermint Lounge. Cara, who had just leased a Tesla, wanted to show off her new sedan. The place had a retro vibe, but it wasn’t tacky. It had some high-tech touches that fully acknowledged the 21st century.

Tania was a successful realtor. She was wearing a flower-filled blouse and black slacks, which complimented her chestnut brown hair. A widow with three sons, she was lively but not wired. She had tried dating for a while, but the men she saw couldn’t hold her attention for long. It occurred to her that she might be the problem. When Cara asked her to meet Miles, she refused, but her friend was persistent. Tania suspected that Cara had doubts about whether she should give Bob a second chance. Maybe she wanted a second opinion. Reluctantly, she agreed to go.

Miles felt comfortable with Tania right away. He had spent his career working in municipal government, which, for some reason, she found fascinating. The four of them took turns making silly observations about the other patrons. Miles noticed that Tania was quick-witted and charming. He asked her to dance and while he had been a decent dancer when he was young, she was extremely skilled. She wasn’t flamboyant, but, obviously, this wasn’t the first time she did the twist.

The song ended and a ballad started playing. They continued to dance. “Your friend, Bob, seems to like his old fashioned’s,” she said. “Not that it’s any of my business but he is driving tonight.”

“I’ll drive him home. Did you or Cara drive?” He asked.

“She did. I know she’s been keeping up with him. “I’m getting worried.”

“Yeah, they’ve both had too much to drink tonight. I’ll drive you and Cara home and then get Bob home. He isn’t a heavy drinker, by the way.”

“Cara isn’t either. You think they’re nervous about seeing each other again?”

Miles laughed. “They’re probably worried that we won’t get along. Fixing people up always feels like a roll of the dice.”

“Well, how are we doing?” Tania asked.

“Hmm, would you like to exchange contact information? Just in case I decide to sell my house.”

She laughed and squeezed his hand.

Bob sat in the front seat with Miles on the way to Cara’s place. He wasn’t bombed exactly, meaning he wasn’t slurring his words, but his speech was slow and flat. “You girls going to invite us in for coffee?” He asked.

When there was no response, Miles spoke up. “I have to get home tomorrow to pack for my trip to Denver. We’ll have to take a rain check.”

“Yes, a rain check,” Cara said, eager to confirm she wouldn’t be serving coffee.

The men slept in Saturday morning and had a late breakfast of bagels and coffee. “What did you think of Tania?’ Bob asked.

“I like her,” Miles said, “but the geography would be a challenge.”

“Right. Will you ask her out?”

“Maybe.”

“Take her to Denver,” Bob said. “That would make an impression.”

Miles looked at his friend. “Did you have a couple more old fashioneds while I was in the shower this morning?”

Bob took a bite of his bagel and chewed thoughtfully. “When did life get so complicated?”

“When Gina died. Everything since then has been hard. God, I just figured out last week why my washing machine talks to me.” He poured another cup of coffee. An hour later he got in his car and headed for the Interstate. As soon as he reached the other side of the mountains, he called Tania.

“I wondered if you’d call,” she said. She sounded pleased.

“Bob thinks I should invite you to go to Denver with me.”

She was quiet for a moment, not sure how to respond. “I thought you said Bob doesn’t have a drinking problem.”

In Miles’s view, it was the perfect response. “He doesn’t. Maybe he smokes weed.” He hesitated. “Listen, I like you and I’d like to see you again. The Chattanooga Symphony has a concert next Saturday. Would you like to go?”

“Are they playing in Denver?”

“No, I think it’s Albuquerque.”

“Perfect! What time will you pick me up?”

They were enjoying the banter between them. It allowed them to avoid discussing any serious topics too soon.   

Miles thoroughly enjoyed their long conversation. By the time he got to Nashville, he wished he could turn around and return to Chattanooga. The thought had occurred to Tania too. As much as she fought the notion, she knew she wouldn’t mind if he did.