The Last Virgin in Texas

by Jennifer Woodhull

  I mean, she’ll understand. I can’t very well ask her to move in with me, to follow me clear across the country, without having a decent place for her, and making enough money to take care of us. So I’m lining everything up the right way, so when she comes back with me, we’ll be able to make a real go of things.

  I love that girl, and even if she didn’t say it, she loves me back. I know she does.

  I’m gonna be more than her first. I’m gonna be her only. Her forever. I just have to show her she’s not making a mistake choosing me.

  I wanted to go back with Jared for his Mom’s party, but I couldn’t get out of work. I talked to my agent, Aaron, about it.

  Shit! That still sounds crazy to say. “My agent.”

  Anyway, if I had taken off from the restaurant to go back with Jared, they would’ve given my job to somebody else. Aaron’s convinced that I’m in the best possible job for networking and said I shouldn’t take the chance. Some guy came in the restaurant the other day, a celebrity chef buddy of the owner, and was asking me all about Texas. He’s filming some food show there and said he’d like me to audition as the local host. Besides, the tips where I’m waiting tables are crazy good, and if I want to make enough for her and me both to live on until she finds work once she’s out here, I gotta sock away every penny I can.

  Jared didn’t get the movie he thought he was going to, but with so many call-backs, he’s still feeling pretty optimistic. He and I both went out for some TV movie, and he got the call back for a second audition, so he’s pretty stoked about it.

  He doesn’t come right out and say it, but I’ve figured out that Jared doesn’t love the idea of my girl moving in after all. I mean, who wants to live with a couple when you’re a single guy, I guess, but he’s been cool about it. Since she hasn’t answered my calls or anything, he even offered to go talk to her while he’s back home. That’s mostly why I’m so glad to see him when he finally gets back.

  I get off work a little after midnight and head right to the airport to pick him up. When he texts me he’s walking out, I drive around from the cell phone waiting lot to passenger pickup, and he throws his duffle in the back and hops in the truck.

  “Whew, I’m tired as shit. Every relative we got's been at the house all week. Plus, I spent some time catchin’ up with everybody. We had a bonfire down at the Gaston place. Fun as shit. Hooked up with Tonya, finally. Guess she figured she’d get in on this before I get some big movie deal.” He tips his chin up and winks. “Wish you coulda made it, brother.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I hit the ten and head back toward our shoebox apartment in East Hollywood. “I thought you were gonna call me when you talked to Gretchen.”

  He furrows his brow and shakes his head. “Well, I was.”

  I turn to look at him, then check the road, and look at him again. “Well? What the hell happened?”

  “I wanted to wait and talk to you in person when I got back.”

  Shit. That’s not a good sign.

  “She’s not gonna call, Tuck. She says she doesn’t wanna talk to you. Actually…,” he looks up and blows out a deep breath. “She asked me to tell you to stop callin’.”

  “Fuck.” I punch the steering wheel with the heels of my palms in frustration. “Fuck!”

  “I’m sorry, man. And, I wasn’t sure if I should tell you this part because I heard it second-hand but…word is she’s gone out with Craig Geary a couple of times. I heard…well he’s tellin’ people they did it, too.”

  “What?! That can’t be right. It can’t be.” I shake my head slowly from side-to-side.

  She wouldn’t…would she?

  “I’m sorry, Tucker. I know you cared about her.” He looks out the window for a minute, then turns back to me.

  “Hey, my dad gave me some money while I was home. Said he didn’t want us goin’ hungry out here. What say you and me go out tonight and get wasted? A guy in my actin’ class told me how to get past the bouncer at Seraphim. Heard there’s a ton of actresses that hang there. We could both stand to get laid. Whaddya say?”

  The girl I love doesn’t love me back. She doesn’t want me and apparently gave it up to the first guy she went out with after not seeing me for a few weeks.

  I can’t believe I could’ve been so wrong about her…about everything.

  “I say, let’s do it.”

  Five

  Five Years Later

  “Come on, Gretchen. When you gonna say yes?”

  “I’m not your type, Dillon.” A faint scowl crosses my face.

  He leans one forearm on the counter, pulling a toothpick from the dispenser as I ring him up. “You could be.” His words are a low, sexy growl as he lays the toothpick between his lips.

  The radio clipped to his belt screeches. “Gotta go, darlin’. Keep the change.” He makes a beeline for the door, his finger and thumb briefly alighting on the front brim of his hat before he opens the front door and leaves.

  “You could do worse ya know,” Maisie says as she walks up beside me. “He’s very...enthusiastic.” She wriggles her brows.

  “He’s been married three times, and he’s barely thirty.” I laugh.

  Besides, he and my cousin hooked up a few years ago, between marriage number one and marriage number two.

  “Just sayin’... he’s a good-lookin’ man.” Maisie shrugs.

  “They used to call him the cherry bomb back in school. On account of... well, I prob’ly don’t need to spell it out for ya’ll.” Shane, the manager of the local grocery store says, grinning, as he sits at the counter, polishing off his Coke.

  I avoid Maisie’s eye which I know is burning a hole through me.

  Shane leaves a five on the counter and gives me a nod on his way out. “Have a good one, Gretchen.”

  “You too, Shane. tell Libby I said hey.”

  Maisie puts her palms on the counter behind me and hops up onto it. Dodger, comes out from the kitchen, unties his apron and fixes a Coke, then leans back on the counter next to Maisie.

  “What?” I ask, putting my hand on my hip as I look at the pair of them, my head cocked to the side.

  “We got an idea.” Maisie looks from Dodger back to me.

  “Well, this can’t be good.”

  “Hear me out! Sheesh.” She rolls her eyes. “We were thinking, what if we all took a road trip out to San Antonio for the weekend for your birthday? That could be fun, right?”

  “Who’s gonna watch the diner?”

  “It would just be for a couple of days. You could close up.” She casts Dodger a look that makes me suspicious.

  “I can’t afford to just close up while the whole staff goes on vacation, Maisie. What are you thinking?”

  “Mama would watch it for you. She’d love that. Mrs. K would probably help.” She slides off the counter and steps forward, putting one arm around me and clasping both my shoulders in her palms. She makes a sweeping gesture in front of us with her hand. “Picture it, Gretch! The three of us, margaritas, bars, nightclubs! We could go dancin’, maybe do some shopping...” She glances back at Dodger over her shoulder.

  Realizing it’s a cue, he stops drinking his Coke long enough to agree. “Yeah! All that shit.”

  “That would be fun, I suppose.” I consider it for a moment. I haven’t had a vacation in...well, ever, really.

  “It’s kinda perfect, really.” Dodger shrugs and refills his glass.

  “Perfect for what?”

  “Perfect place to get your v-card punched. City the size of San Antonio? You can hook up with anybody you want and nobody’s gonna know.” He shrugs nonchalantly and crosses his arms.

  “Seriously? That’s your big plan, Maisie? Take me to San Antonio, fill me with rum and send me off with some random stranger?” I shake my head. “With friends like ya’ll, who needs enemies?”

  “Nice goin’, blabber mouth!” She glares at Dodger.

  “Gretchen, you’re gonna be twenty-four in a few months. Twenty. Four. You gotta lose it, hon. It�
�s gettin’ weird.”

  “I’ll do it when I’m damn good and ready!” I snap back, grabbing up a glass and a dirty plate from the place where Shane was sitting earlier and tossing them in the dish cart.

  Maisie changes her tactics, going the supportive route. “I know you got some sorta sexual post-traumatic stress or some shit from that time you and—”

  “Nope! We do not speak of that man in this diner.” I cut her off. “Anyone who says that sorry, low-down piece of shit’s name in my presence will be summarily fired and banned for life. Got it?” I whip my gaze between them.

  They steal a glance at each other and look back to me. “Yeah,” they reply in unison.

  “I mean, Jesus Christ, ya’ll. So I’m a virgin! So what?” I throw my arms in the air and exclaim to the diner that’s empty, save the three of us. “Maybe I should round up all the other virgins and we should start some sorta support group.” I laugh.

  Maisie quirks her lips to the side as she crosses her arms and juts a hip out. “Can’t. You’re the last one.” She smirks.

  I yank the dishtowel from the waistband of my apron and snap it at her, connecting with her hip with a satisfying thwap!

  “Ouch!” She exclaims, rubbing her side. “I’m pretty sure beatin’ the hired help is against the law in Texas, ya know. Don’t make me call Dillon back over here. He’ll put you in handcuffs.” Her eyes dance mischievously. “Maybe you’d like it.”

  When I walk in the house, Mr. Chips is going nuts. The yippy little Maltese mix was abandoned in the parking lot of the diner about a year ago. He was a puny little thing, dirty and sluggish. I gave him some water and offered him a piece of potato chip, which he gobbled up immediately. I took him to the vet and had him checked out, and after he spent the night at my place, I just couldn’t part with the little guy.

  He hops up on his back legs, turning in circles and barking like a fiend.

  “I hear ya, I hear ya. Come on in the kitchen and I’ll feed you.”

  He zips through the house ahead of me, running so fast it’s more of a series of leaps than steps. I fill his bowl with kibble and take one Vienna sausage from the tin in the refrigerator and crush it up on top. He eats like he’s never seen food before. Focused on his dinner, he completely ignores the fact that I leave the kitchen.

  When not otherwise occupied by food, he keeps such close tabs on me, it’s like Mama’s still here. I still can’t believe she’s gone, sometimes.

  She was like a new woman after the weight-loss surgery. When she and Aunt Helen took that cruise out of Galveston, the last thing I ever expected was her to come back and say she had met a man. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy for her when they got married and she moved with John to his ranch just outside Denver. It was just a shock is all.

  She begged me to come there, live close by, but I couldn’t do it. I’d never seen her happy—truly happy—before. I had to let her have room to have that for herself. She gave up so much for me for so many years, after all. So, she handed me the keys and the deeds to the diner and the house I grew up in. That was three years ago.

  My back and my brain are both exhausted tonight. I take a long, hot shower and slip into an oversized tee and a pair of clean panties. Not quite sleepy, even though my body is bone-tired, I sit down on the sofa and turn on the TV.

  I still can’t believe that Maisie had the damn nerve to almost say Tucker’s name. After I found out he was gone, I told her never to speak his name in my presence again.

  As if the humiliation of Mama walking in us when I was on the cusp of becoming a woman wasn’t enough, to find out he left…I mean just left, without saying a word was too much. He and Jared took off to California. That wasn’t something you do on a whim. That takes planning. That night I thought we were taking our relationship to the next level. I thought we were getting serious, but it ended up that his plan was to get me to give it up before he left forever.

  Except…that doesn’t explain the last thing he said to me.

  “I love you, Gretchen.” Those were the last words I ever heard from Tucker Kane.

  I rub my eye with the back of my hand, and determine myself to put him and his stupid, gorgeous face out of my mind.

  I turn my attention to the television looking for something to watch.

  When the TV blinks on, the scene zooms in over the gulf. The camera pans in on an oil rig. The words, Mineral Deep, flash across the screen before it cuts to a familiar face. Jared Berringer’s square jaw and dirty blonde hair fill the screen.

  Damn he looks so young. They were just kids then—they’d only been gone a year or so.

  He smirks, like he knows how handsome he is. I roll my eyes and yell at the TV. “I know you got a nose job, asshole!”

  Mr. Chips comes running in from the kitchen and looks at me with excitement gleaming in his eyes. He is consistently disappointed when he comes to my rescue and there’s no one to rescue me from. He wants desperately to bite someone—I can see it in his little brown eyes.

  I flip the channel before it cuts to the next scene, one which I know all too well introduces the best friend of Jared’s character. The actor playing the best friend also happens to be his real-life best friend, and my ex-boyfriend, Tucker Kane.

  I flip the channel only to face the very pair of sexy blue eyes I am trying so hard to avoid.

  Are you fucking kidding me right now?

  “Sorry, Max,” the sinfully sexy priest, Father Devine, says on-screen. “You won’t find salvation here.”

  Hmpf! I cross my arms and slump back on the sofa, wanting desperately to flip the channel. I don’t want to look at his chiseled jaw and thick, dark locks that I’ve run my fingers through. I don’t want to stare at the sapphire blue eyes that dance when he hears something funny and deepen in color when he’s thinking something dirty. I don’t want to, but his crushingly handsome face is fifty inches high on my TV screen, in full HD, and I can’t seem to turn away.

  The cops burst in and carry off the bad guy. Tucker’s stunning co-star, Marissa Benoit, shows up on-screen and my gut churns. The tabloids have speculated on their relationship status off-screen in recent months. Last week there were pictures of them on some yacht together.

  Not that I read the tabloids in the checkout line. Or care. I mean, out of the six major gossip magazines at Wal-Mart, only four of them ran the story, so it’s probably not even true.

  “You seem to have saved us the trouble of solving the crime, Father Devine,” Marissa’s character coos, glancing over her shoulder to ensure privacy. “But after all, you’re not really a priest, are you?”

  “No one can know that, Julia!” He says, grasping her shoulders with big, strong hands that have explored every inch of my body.

  They kiss, and the credits roll. The voiceover comes on as the picture fades to black. “We’re celebrating another Emmy nomination for Tucker Kane all week long with a Sins of the Father marathon! Stay tuned for more of America’s sexiest spy, up next!”

  “Argh!” I grab a throw pillow from the sofa and scream into it, then hurl it across the room toward the TV.

  Mr. Chips looks up at me, then furrows his brows and lays his ears back. He takes a few tentative steps then starts barking furiously at the television.

  “Thanks for having my back, Mr. Chips. I promise, if he ever sets foot back in Shiner, you can chew his stupid face off.” I shut off the television and briefly consider dropping my cable subscription.

  Six

  Aaron Green may be good people, but he’s a genuinely terrible liar. It makes me kinda wonder how he can be so damn good at his job. He’s more than good, actually. He’s the best agent in the business. He made sure I didn’t get screwed when I signed on with my first TV show. I was just a kid back then, three weeks in the big city when I was spotted waiting tables. The restaurant owner’s buddy, a celebrity chef, was looking for a co-host for the Texas episode of the show, Bro Anywhere.

  He liked me, for some reason, and just about hired me o
n the spot. Aaron made sure I didn’t get screwed over in the deal, and when the calls started coming in after that episode aired, he landed Jared and me top bill on an indie movie that turned into a runaway hit. That led to more movie roles, and three years ago, a starring role on the number one drama on television, Sins of the Father.

  Now, he’s trying to convince me that we need to stop by a hotel in Hollywood so he can pick up a signed contract from another client. I’ve spent more time with Aaron in the past five years than I have with anybody besides Jared, and I know when he’s lying like he is right now.

  He means well, though. It

  my birthday, after all, and me saying about a thousand times that I didn’t want a party was no deterrent for Jared. It’s apparently Aaron’s job to lure me to the big surprise, so, I’ll play along.

  “I think he’s said he’s out here in the Veranda Ballroom,” Aaron says walking down the hall. “Maybe he stepped out for a smoke…I’ll go this way. Can you check to see if anyone’s outside?”

  “Sure, Aaron.” I chuckle as I open the French doors to the balcony, and right on cue, everyone jumps out to surprise me.

  Jared is right at the front of the pack. I shake my head, feigning shock, actor that I am, and walk forward, arms open. Jared steps up to meet me, and claps both hands on my back.

  “Happy birthday, shithead.” He hands me a drink.

  “Thanks, fat bastard,” I reply throwing an arm around his shoulder.

  Over the next few hours, I hear well wishes and congratulations from hundreds of people, most of whose names I can’t remember, or more likely, I’ve never actually met.