Red's Hot Honky-Tonk Bar (That Business Between Us Book 1)

by Pamela Morsi

  “Hey, guys! So, whatcha think about my school?”

  The two ran up to him as if he was actually somebody to them. Daniel was chattering in indecipherable Spanish and Olivia was giving her own rundown as she translated.

  Cam squatted to be on their eye level and listened with both interest and intent. Red envied his easy quality with them. “So, it’s all going to work out great, you’re thinking?” Daniel nodded, but Olivia had a caveat.

  “We need proof of residency before they can officially enroll us,” she explained gravely.

  He nodded. “I hear ya,” he answered. “Red and I are going to work this out with the folks here and you’re going to school on Monday, I promise. Now, have you seen my favorite part of the school?”

  They both shook their heads with questions in their eyes. “It’s down that sidewalk and around the corner,” Cam answered.

  “What’s down there?” Olivia asked.

  “The playground, of course.”

  The children giggled.

  “Why don’t you two run over there and check it out,” he suggested. “Olivia, you’ll have to watch out for your brother, but then you always do. Red and I will catch up with you in a couple of minutes.”

  The kids agreed and scampered off, excited.

  As he rose to a standing position, Ms. Sorenson voiced the same thought that was in Red’s mind.

  “Cam, I had no idea you are so good with kids,” she said. “You ought to get around to having some.”

  He gave her that gorgeous grin that always made Red weak in the knees.

  “Aw, you people with kids are always trying to lure the rest of us into your camp,” he said. “I’m going to leave all the procreation stuff up to you and Cody. You two are really good at it. For me, well, it’s much more fun to be a kid with the kids than be a parent to anyone.”

  His explanation sounded exactly like something he would say, but Red was beginning to have real doubts about the simple-cowboy explanations of himself that he was always throwing around.

  As if to quickly move on to a new subject, he reached out his hand to Ms. Kilheeny. “Excuse me, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  There was a flutter of hasty, embarrassed introductions. “Campbell Early? Are you Phyllis Early’s nephew?”

  His smile never wavered. “Yes, I am.”

  “I’ve heard wonderful things about you,” Ms. Kilheeny told him. “Phyllis and I are in DRT together.”

  When the woman caught sight of Red’s blank look, she quickly offered an explanation. “Daughters of the Republic of Texas. Phyllis Early and I are both part of the organization. Of course, I’m only an associate member.”

  This last was stated with a slight discomfiture that Red had no clue about, so she merely smiled and nodded.

  Ms. Kilheeny hurried on. “Phyllis tells me that you’re a musician. A violinist.”

  “I’m a fiddler,” Cam replied.

  “Oh, I’m sure you’re being too modest,” the woman insisted.

  Ms. Sorenson agreed. “He was first chair in the youth symphony for three years. Nobody ever does that.”

  Cam’s expression did not alter in the slightest, but he changed the subject abruptly.

  “So, what exactly do you need from me to establish residence for the children?”

  “Oh, a copy of the rental agreement should be fine.”

  “Truth is, there isn’t a rental agreement,” Cam answered. Red was very aware of her lover’s body language. He was loose and casual and comfortable and she knew he was going to say too much.

  “We...we should write one up,” she piped in immediately. “It’s something that we should have done earlier, but we can certainly do it now.”

  Cam was oblivious to her statement. “Oh, she’s not really renting,” he continued to explain. “While her daughter is deployed and she has the kids, we’ve just swapped houses. Her place doesn’t have a yard or even an extra bedroom.”

  Ms. Kilheeny took a startled intake of breath.

  “Cam, that is just so like you,” Ms. Sorenson said. “When we were kids, he was always the one we could count on to feed the strays and carry the injured birds to the vet.”

  “That is so generous,” Ms. Kilheeny agreed. “And patriotic, too, when you think about it. Phyllis is right, you are an exceptional young man.”

  Cam was shaking his head and opened his mouth to contradict her. Instead, Red jumped into the conversation again.

  “He truly is,” she agreed. “And for that very reason, I must have a lawyer draw up some kind of paper for damage or liability at least.”

  “Yes, absolutely,” Ms. Kilheeny concurred. “Although I don’t know where you could find a lawyer to do that this afternoon.”

  “We don’t need a lawyer,” Cam assured them both with a laugh. He reached out and took Red’s hand, pulling her close beside him, before wrapping his arm around her waist. “You’ve got the wrong idea about this. I’m not doing some favor for a stranger because her daughter is overseas. Red is my girlfriend. We’re a couple.”

  Ms. Sorenson’s reaction was to burst out laughing, assuming it was a joke. But then slowly, as the punch line never arrived, her slack-jawed, poleaxed expression of horror mirrored Ms. Kilheeny’s.

  Less than ten minutes later, having conducted the rest of their business in a very quiet, professional manner, Cam and Red were outside the school and walking down the sidewalk toward the playground.

  “I can’t believe you did that!”

  “What?” Cam’s expression was genuinely puzzled.

  “You blathered about our...our hookup in front of those women.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s a small town, so everybody would have figured it out. But it’s also in a big city, so nobody is going to be scandalized. We might as well get it out there, so those who worry about that kind of thing can start getting over it.”

  “Those who worry about that kind of thing would more than likely have never guessed,” Red said angrily. “I’m old enough to be your mother and those women would have never even suspected. Now you’ve blown them away with your confession and they won’t be able to shut up about it for weeks.”

  “Since when do you care what people think or talk about? You’ve been giving the Bronx salute to that stuff since I’ve known you,” Cam said. “And you’re not old enough to be my mother.”

  “I most certainly am. I have a daughter who is twenty-nine.”

  “So? I’m thirty-one, thirty-one and a half really.”

  Red stopped abruptly and turned to face him, her expression a mix of humor and incredulity.

  “Thirty-one and a half? ”

  Cam didn’t reply, but his face reddened.

  “I was fifteen years old the day you were born,” Red pointed out. “Do you think that I wasn’t sexually active at fifteen?”

  Cam’s brow furrowed and his jaw set angrily. “I don’t know,” he answered with even-toned honesty. “How could I know? You don’t share anything about yourself. You didn’t even tell me about your daughter.”

  “You don’t tell much, either,” Red retorted. “I’m finding out all kinds of things about you.”

  “There’s a difference,” he answered. “You don’t know about me because you were never interested enough to ask.”

  He glanced ahead at the playground and waved at the kids, then looked back at his van sitting at the curb.

  “I’ve got to go,” he said. “I should have been on the road to Schroeder an hour ago. Tell the kids I’ll come by to see them this weekend.”

  “Okay,” Red answered, wondering if he would be coming by to see her, too.

  “Try not to worry about these people so much,” he advised. “They’re just people, Red. Just like all the other people you know.”

  She shook her head to disagree, but she didn’t comment. He began walking away and then turned back for one more comment.

  “And what is with your hair?” he asked. “You look lik
e you’re taking styling tips from those polygamous wives.”

  10

  Saturday night, Red stood on her usual perch behind the cash register. But the smile on her face was as fake as the bosoms on the obnoxious drunk currently making a fool of herself with the guys around the billiard table.

  Red was dead tired, but she tried hard not to let it show. The place was very crowded tonight and the band, a group of aging Merle Haggard wannabes called Twice-Baked Taters, wasn’t quite good enough at their music to keep the audience engaged. She’d be as glad as Olivia when school started on Monday. Then maybe she could get back to getting a few decent hours of sleep. For the last few weeks she was getting to bed at her usual 2:30 to 3:00 a.m., only to wake up when the kids started moving around at seven. She was foggy and cranky, but she couldn’t show it. It was her job to be cheerful, but it wasn’t easy.

  “Do you want me to show her the door?”

  “Huh?”

  “The cougar,” Karl said as he stepped closer, making himself heard over the noise of the crowd and the band out back.

  “I’d be happy to show her out and she’ll thank you in the morning. Nothing more humiliating than having a couple of beers too many and thinking you’re just as young as the fellows that look good to you.”

  Red was immediately defensive. Although she was no regular, there was something about the woman that seemed familiar. Red assumed it was because she was not so different from Red herself.

  “Give her a break,” she defended. “She’s just having a good time. I don’t see anything wrong with a gal enjoying herself on a Saturday night.”

  Karl shrugged. “Except when she’s annoying the other customers,” he answered. “But it’s your call.”

  It was Red’s call and she should have made it right then, because less than fifteen minutes later, the woman began to turn sullen and angry. She threw a beer mug at one of the boys and the glass shattered against the wall. It was a miracle that nobody was hurt. Customers immediately headed for the door. Red put her arm around the woman and half led, half dragged her outside.

  “Let me go!” the gal demanded. “Get your hands off me!” Her complaints were punctuated by lavish amounts of coarse language and every epithet imaginable. She finally pulled free of Red, but the force of her action threw her off balance and she fell to the sidewalk.

  The woman began to cry and Red helped her up. Once back on her feet, she tried to make her way up the street.

  “My car’s up that way,” she said.

  “You’re not going to be able to drive,” Red told her. “Karl’s called you a cab. We’ll get you a ride home and you can come back and get your car tomorrow.”

  “It’s my car, and I can damn well drive it if I want to,” the woman insisted.

  “You can drive it tomorrow. Tonight, you’re going to let somebody drive you.”

  “Don’t you be telling me what to do!” the woman snarled. “You think you’re better than me, but you’re not.”

  “Believe me, I don’t think I’m better than anybody.”

  “You think you’re so high and mighty, telling me what I can and can’t do. Throwing me out of that trashy place like I’m not good enough. But I know who you are!”

  The woman’s anger had her reeling and she would have fallen to the sidewalk again if Red hadn’t grabbed for her.

  “Don’t touch me!” the drunk screamed, and aimed an angry slap that Red managed to dodge easily.

  “Let’s just get you in a cab and get you home,” Red answered, wishing that she’d let Karl handle this.

  “I know who you are,” the woman yelled again. “Do you think you’re that far from Piney Woods?”

  Red froze.

  “You think you’re something, but you’re just a cheap barmaid in a cheaper honky-tonk. I know who you are. I know all about you. You’re just a slutty piece of small-town trash. Did Grayson buy you this place? Hell, at least I did him for free. Of course, he wasn’t my brother.”

  In one motion of anger, adrenaline and self-preservation, Red hurled herself at the woman, slamming her against the wall of the building. She shoved her forearm against the woman’s throat, effectively cutting off her ability to speak and most of her ability to breathe. The woman’s eyes were wide now, her expression terrified.

  “Kenny Grayson was not my brother,” Red told the woman through clenched teeth. “He is nothing to me. And he never gave me anything. This place, my life, everything I have I got for myself. Do you understand that?”

  The woman made a gasping sound as she tried to speak. Fading that, she nodded in agreement.

  “Now, there’s a cab coming to get you. You’re going to get in it and go home. Tomorrow, you’re coming back here to get your car. And then you will never come to this bar again. You won’t even drive down this street again. You’re not going to mention my name to anybody. You’re not even going to say it aloud to yourself. Do you understand me?”

  The woman nodded furiously.

  “You’ve got me all wrong,” Red assured her. “I am not some fragile East Texas flower. I can take care of myself and my own. If you give me one more word of trouble, I’ll sure take care of you. Do you understand my meaning?”

  The woman’s eyes were huge as she nodded again. This time Red let her go. They stood on the sidewalk together for a couple of minutes without a word passing between them. Red didn’t even look in her direction.

  When the taxi came around the corner, Red said matter-of-factly, “Here’s your ride.”

  She walked back into the bar without even making sure that the woman managed to get in the car.

  Red went to her perch, but didn’t get up on it. “Cover for me,” she told Karl.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. “Did she give you trouble?”

  “I just need to wash the stink of her off my hands,” Red answered.

  She made her way through the bar, not bothering to smile or talk to anyone. Outside, she went up the stairs without even a glance toward the crowd or the band.

  Once in the apartment, she went straight to the bathroom and vomited into the toilet. Then, dropping to her knees on the cold tiles, she began to cry.

  In the harsh, unflattering light of the tiny bathroom, her brain begged her, Don’t think about it! Don’t think about it! But the onslaught of memories would not be held back.

  Don’t think about it! Don’t think about it!

  Red couldn’t think of anything else.

  “The whole town knows what a little tramp you are,” her mother had screamed at her. “There are men all over town now bragging about doing you.”

  “It’s not true. I haven’t done it with anyone but him.”

  “Oh, well, that’s okay, then,” she had snarled sarcastically. “You’re not the town whore, just an everyday, ordinary slut. You are trash. Dirty, worthless trash. He used you like a snot rag, just something to wipe his nose. Now he’s thrown you away and laughing about it. The whole town is laughing about it. I will not be dragged down to your level. Let them laugh at you, I won’t allow them to laugh at me.”

  Hundreds of miles and a lifetime away, the words still cut her to the quick. She sobbed fresh pain, not just from the memory of it.

  “You are just like your father,” her mother had spewed with distaste. “Too low class to ever be a credit to me. I’m better off just cutting my losses.”

  Red’s tears were not for the mother who’d turned her back on her or the private shame and public humiliation she’d suffered. She wasn’t crying from the loss of a happy life that might have been so different. Her tears were for Emmaline Cullens, that clever, inquisitive farm girl who’d been the apple of her daddy’s eye.

  “Red? Are you sick?”

  Red gave a startled shriek at the unexpected sight of Cam in the doorway. She sat up straight and scooted herself back against the wall.

  “What are you doing here?” Her statement was so accusatory that his tone turned immediately from concerned to defensi
ve.

  “I live here, remember,” he answered.

  Then, clearly deciding action would be better than words, he grabbed a washcloth from the cabinet and dampened it under the hot-water tap. Wringing it out, he knelt on the floor as he handed it to her.

  “Wash your face.”

  “I’ve got on makeup,” she protested.

  “What’s left of it is nothing to brag about,” he answered. “Wash, you’ll feel better.”

  She did and he was right.

  Cam got up, rinsed and wrung out the rag again and then seated himself next to her. Red leaned back against the wall and laid the wet cloth across her forehead, heaving a great sigh of relief.

  The two of them sat in welcome silence as Red regained her composure.

  “Did you get some bad food or do you think you’ve caught a stomach bug?” he asked finally.

  Red opened one eye to glance over at him. His face showed no anxiety, only concern.

  “Maybe I’m pregnant,” she suggested.

  He laughed. “Nope, that’s not it.”

  “You think I’m too old to get pregnant?”

  “No. I just know I won’t get you pregnant and I trust you not to two-time me.”

  “Accidents happen.”

  His grin widened. “I even trust you not to accidentally two-time me.”

  His humor wasn’t that funny, but she appreciated levity. That, at least, would keep the subject far from things she never wanted to discuss with anyone.

  “I didn’t think you were home,” she said. “I thought you were playing the Cove tonight.”

  “I did. We were the warm-up act,” he said. “As soon as we finished, I came on back here. I’ve got to get up early in the morning. I’m going fishing.”

  “Fishing?”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  “I didn’t know you were a fishing guy.”

  “All guys are fishing guys,” he answered. “Just some of us are less drawn to water than others.”

  “Ah.”

  “The truth is, Daniel told me that he’d never been. And I don’t think you can have a childhood without it.”

  Red’s thoughts flashed back to a creek bank from long ago, her father at her side. Despite herself, she smiled.