All My Exes Live in Texas

by Aimee Gilchrist

  Daisy beamed at me. "See, there we go. I knew we'd work something out."

  She was so sincerely praising, I almost felt like I really had done something good. She must have been a wiz at public relations. If I were her, I'd be envious of Glen, being as he was the only one not being forced to room with a Crowe.

  I wasn't sure I could trust them to stay out of trouble, but Daisy said she would handle them, and to her word she did. I watched them bring in more stuff than any one traveling party could actually need unless they were getting ready to launch an expedition to Greenland. Then, when they started trying to figure out how to order food in, I went to my bedroom and locked the door. Good luck with that one. No one would deliver one dang thing in Birdwell. Believe me, I'd tried. Extensively. I was working, and they were on their own for the rest of the day.

  Although the Vile Crowes hadn't given me too much grief as houseguests during the day, they were nightmare guests at night. Around 1:00 AM, Vi and Carl got into a screaming match I could hear even through the special sound barriers I'd given each room, at substantial extra cost. They were yelling so loudly that it was almost as though they were standing outside my door. Which, in retrospect, they might have been. I just put my pillow over my head and went back to sleep. Somewhere around 3:00, my room turned glacially cold, which woke me up again, and I realized that someone had been jacking around with the whole-house control system located in the kitchen pantry and had turned the individual temp in my room down to almost freezing.

  At 5:00, Glen Matson started yelling for coffee. Actually, it was more like begging. Loudly. Good luck there. At 6:00, someone was back at the control panel, and Beethoven blared into my room like it was a Metallica concert. I gave up and got out of bed. Today was the Spring Fest, and it was a big day. There was no point in trying to go to sleep again when my alarm was set for 7:00, which was beyond wrong on a Saturday, but in order to honor Penny's memory, I had to do what I had to do.

  At 7:00, Jackson arrived with a convertible he'd probably rented from Lubbock. I wondered what the rest of the Vile Crowes had given him to head out so early and pick it up. Or maybe he'd been gone all night. These people didn't appear to sleep.

  It was too early to eat. Or move. I sat in my room until I felt like I could be assured that the Crowes were either gone or would be gone very soon. Then I went to the kitchen and discovered they'd eaten all the food I wasn't actually capable of cooking and they'd drunk all my expensive imported coffee. They were the worst houseguests ever. Though to be fair, I was probably the worst host ever.

  Aodhagan showed up in his Caddy at 8:00. The cherry red, sleek fifties car was seriously the coolest thing I'd ever seen. I wanted it for my own, but I knew he'd never sell, no matter what I offered.

  When we got downtown, Grace Williams, the woman from the Tallatahola Chamber of Commerce, and Aodhagan took to the middle of the parade car crowd. It was almost creepy to see how easily he put on his mayor face. The majority of the Vile Crowes were missing, but Faith Crowe and Daisy were there, listening intently. I noticed Faith jerked her head slightly to the left repeatedly. A small, quick movement that made me wonder if perhaps she suffered from Tourette syndrome. If she did, I suspected it was an embarrassment to her hideous family, which might have explained how someone so wealthy and pretty could look so frail, awkward, and miserable.

  Grace reminded us all that we were representing the best Birdwell had to offer, which was kind of sad, and that everyone was already gathering to watch, which was true. The crowd was getting thick for Birdwell. I realized there were many people there I'd never met, which suggested they were either farmers who didn't make it into Birdwell very often, or they were visiting from another place, which struck me as completely absurd, but it was a possibility I supposed.

  Aodhagan reminded everyone that they had to drive under ten miles per hour and they were not to hit citizens with their parade cars. He actually said it like this was a warning people needed, and that was disconcerting. A man I didn't know raised his hand, and Aodhagan pointed at him but interjected before allowing the man to speak.

  "And yes, that still counts, even if they walk into the road, Davis."

  Jeez. I'd clearly been missing the fun all these years. How many people had these party animals plowed down in their five-mile-an-hour parade mobiles? Aodhagan and Grace laid out the order of events, which started with a parade and ended with a dance late in the afternoon. Excitement shimmered in the air, and I actually felt a little bit of why this was the most celebrated event all year.

  Once the reminders were given and everyone was ready, I joined Aodhagan back in the Cadillac, and we took the front of the line. That alone didn't surprise me. In Birdwell, the world revolved around Mayor MacFarley like the earth around the sun. I'd realized very early on that if the president arrived in Birdwell for a parade, he'd be relegated to driving behind Aodhagan. I could hear the buzz in the crowd about the factory. People were a little suspicious but very excited about the possibility of additional jobs for Birdwell, a town that had once been thriving and successful and was now a piece-of-crap hole-in-the-wall thirty miles from the next gas station.

  The entire parade lasted only about ten minutes, on account of how small Birdwell was. We drove to the edge of town and back about a half a dozen times, constituting what had to be the most boring parade in the history of mankind. But it did serve a purpose, since after we parked and got out, I was approached by two different people about possibly receiving a grant from Penny's Money for a new business in Birdwell. Thus far, the only two grants I'd given were one to Marian to start an online bookstore and one to LeeRoy, the owner of Gas, to install another pump and get a sign that attempted to give the place a better identity than Gas. It now said Cheap Gas, which wasn't really what I'd intended when I'd given him the money.

  Aodhagan disappeared into the crowd, and I knew he'd be doing the mayor thing. I walked slowly, taking in the hundreds of people littering the town square, which was just a large square plot of grass in front of City Hall. Someone had set up a bandstand in front of City Hall, and Oh, Ohio was on it, warming up badly. I spotted the great organizer, Daisy, and Carl "Coffee Machine" (the only truly beautiful things on earth) Crowe between two old abandoned buildings, speaking urgently. I didn't know what their conversation was about, but it was clear it was private.

  And not very pleasant. It was the second person I'd noticed arguing with Carl in less than twelve hours. I was rather shocked when Daisy hauled back a hand and slapped Carl, hard. I stood in the crowd, blinking at the pair, when Daisy turned and ran into the mass of humanity, leaving an irritated Carl to rub his red cheek and scowl into the crowd. James and Jackson were working the crowd, probably looking for women to admire them. And plenty were.

  I skirted the crowd so I could move easily. When I noticed Aodhagan finishing a conversation with his deputy, Earl, I started in his direction. Aodhagan stepped forward and almost ran into the man I knew was Birdwell's heinous old physician, truly named Doc Holiday. I avoided him because I'd never heard anything good about him and he was a miserly ancient bear, tearing into anyone who crossed him. Frankly, the guy was a jerk, but I was surprised by Aodhagan's sudden transformation. I was aware from gossip that neither man was particularly fond of the other, but this was beyond what I'd envisioned. I'd never seen them together before. They eyed each other with unveiled antagonism. The air between them shimmered with hatred, and I was taken completely aback. This wasn't just two people who didn't like each other. This was loathing, fiery disgust.

  Next to me, I heard a small breath and turned to see Marian also watching the exchange. She shook her head. "Doc is too proud to admit he needs to give it up, and Aodhagan will never forgive him. Or himself." After shaking her head one more time, she nodded at me and disappeared into the crowd.

  Why would Aodhagan need to forgive himself? I crossed over to him. "What's the deal between you and Holiday?"

  He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I have to make a sp
eech."

  It wasn't that he had to make a speech, though I had no doubt he did. Aodhagan was always making a speech somewhere. He just didn't want to talk about the source of ill feelings between him and Doc Holiday. Marian had said he'd never forgive Holiday, or himself. That suggested far more than just a disagreement about bedside manners.

  After the speech, the crowd dispersed, and children headed for the carnival games, while adults went for ribs, beer, and corn. I watched, because watching was what I did. It was the thing that made me good at my job as a true crime writer. Watching, asking questions, and research. Three of my favorite things. I saw Carl get into another argument, this time with Tiny Feet Matson, and whatever it was about, there was clearly no resolution. Tiny Feet up and left in the middle of Carl's answer. These people were jacked up.

  Faith Crowe stayed in the corner, under the shade of a tree, and kept her eyes focused on the ground, the road, the horizon, everything but the crowd around her. The slight jerking of her head continued, and I was certain she had some kind of problem. Daisy had put on another happy face, as though the argument with Carl had never happened, and it struck me again that she and Aodhagan were two of a kind. I couldn't find Vi in the crowd, even though, of course, I was looking for her. "Coffee Machine" Crowe was working the crowd, talking to every group of clearly down on their luck Birdwellians that he came across. There were a lot of interested people in town, desperate for a job. I could see hope on their lined faces, squelched by the caution reality had taught them to apply to anything that might have been good luck.

  The Greek Gods were moving restlessly through the crowd, and they were the most interesting to me because they talked to many people they couldn't possibly know and it was clear to me that the people were directing them to other people. They were looking for something, though I couldn't imagine what it was. Tattoo parlor to fix that stupid thing on God One's wrist? Finally, as Oh, Ohio began to warm up for another hideous set, they found two men who were strangers to me next to the town square behind the abandoned building that apparently had once been a grainery.

  God Two pulled a wad of cash from the pocket of his cavernous pants and handed it to the man, who pulled something much smaller from his pocket and passed it back. I couldn't see what it was, but it didn't take a genius to know that some dudes had just sold something illegal—I was going with drugs—to a couple of kids. I was all for people having their freedom, but that was not okay. I scanned the crowd for Vi Crowe and found her molesting Aodhagan again. This time he was letting her, though his face didn't indicate he was particularly enjoying it.

  If I was going to break up her little touch fest by telling her about her addict sons, it wasn't my intention. If it were my kids—God forbid any poor child should be subjected to having me for a mother—I would want to know if they were into drugs. They were either about to make a big mistake for the first time or they already needed help. Either way, this required a mother's touch, not a total stranger like me.

  I approached Aodhagan and Vi. "Vi, can I speak with you a moment?"

  Aodhagan's eyebrows rose, but he didn't speak as Vi followed me a few feet away. "Look, I don't know you or your kids well, but I just saw a couple of sweaty dudes take a wad of cash from your boys and hand them something small from their pockets. You really should go check it out, because honestly, it didn't look good."

  I could see her searching my face, probably for any sign of malice or deception, but she wouldn't find any. I wasn't a huge fan of kids in general, but neither was I a fan of seeing them flush their lives down the crapper at, like, twelve and fifteen.

  Finally, she nodded. "Thanks."

  She was gone instantly, blending into the crowd, lost among the hard-partying Birdwellians, who were largely drunk by this point, and frankly I didn't blame them. Birdwell probably had that effect on a lot of people. Aodhagan excused himself to do another mayor thing, and I was left alone.

  I barely made it off the square before I was accosted by Cindy Lou, the pretty young waitress from the café. She was popular in town for her huge Dolly Parton hair, and her equally huge Dolly Parton bust. "Can you run the kissing booth for me? Bonnie was supposed to, but I don't know where she's got to, and I have to judge the beauty pageant."

  Well, sure, of course she did. If we were all very lucky, there would be no livestock involved in this pageant, but there was no way to be entirely sure. Bonnie was Sheriff Dwight Dooley's daughter. Dwight was the sheriff of Tallatahola County, and his divorced daughter Bonnie lived in Birdwell to avoid her ex. "I'm not positive I want to be a part of that," I admitted.

  Cindy Lou waved me off. "Don't worry yourself none. It's all in good fun. People made donations last week, but some might still come up and pay now. The money goes to charity. They're coming around to give you quick kisses. Usually on the cheek, but maybe just a peck. Honest, it ain't bad."

  I glanced around quickly for another single girl, but I didn't see one. Pickings were slim even outside of my line of sight. Sighing, I nodded. "Sure, yeah, I can do that. How long?"

  Cindy Lou shrugged. "I'm already late getting over there. Maybe fifteen minutes. Thirty at the most."

  I nodded. "Okay, yeah."

  The last thing I wanted to do was man the kissing booth. But someone had to fill in, and I'd been in Birdwell exactly long enough to make me feel guilty for not helping but not long enough to instill in me the inherent desire to actually help. I followed Cindy Lou back to the makeshift setup at the fringes of the party where vendors had set up sparse booths and took my space behind the counter, my ability to move around hindered by several extra kegs someone had resourcefully decided to store back there.

  She thanked me again and disappeared across the grass, headed to judge a beauty pageant of undetermined design. Maybe toddlers. Maybe goats. Who really knew? I waited only a few minutes before my first customer arrived. Earl was one of Aodhagan's deputies and the husband of Earlene, who was part of the Ladies' Improvement Society. Earlene loved romance novels, the variety with man boobs on the cover. Word was, Earl had never been the same since standing too close to some fireworks in the late eighties, but I was pretty sure he came by his insanity much more honestly, just like everyone else in Birdwell, though his eyebrows had clearly been burned off.

  He nodded at me. James stepped into line behind him, which made me a bit uncomfortable. James didn't strike me as the type likely to understand Cindy Lou's just a peck rule. Earl handed me a receipt saying he'd donated thirty-two dollars, a number that struck me as really arbitrary, to the charity fund for a kiss. I leaned forward, and he pecked me on the cheek, his lips paper thin and his breath smelling of anise. Black licorice was one of my least favorite things in the world, and I held my breath until he was finished.

  "What's this, then?" The question came from Aodhagan, who'd appeared suddenly right next to the booth. "How'd you end up here?"

  I shrugged. "Cindy Lou had to judge some beauty pageant?"

  "Oh yeah, sure. The Miss Octogenarian Pageant."

  Earl held up his hands. "I just kissed her on the cheek, Aodhagan."

  The comment bothered me. It made it clear that people thought Aodhagan and I were an item. I'd never suspected people thought that. We never said anything about dating or acted like anything more than friends!

  Aodhagan grinned. "You know, Helen is real high strung, Earl. You should have kissed her on the lips. It might have helped."

  It might have helped him get punched in the face, and I was considering Aodhagan for the next punch after that. But he completely derailed me by handing me a slip like the one Earl had given me, reporting that Aodhagan had donated a thousand dollars and was entitled to a kiss. That was a huge amount of money for a kissing booth and likely money he would have given anyway because he seemed willing to give anything to Birdwell, even the best years of his life.

  I panicked. Even if it was just a kiss on the cheek, I didn't want it. "James was here first," I blurted out in a panic. In terms of my weakn
ess toward each man, James was considerably less of a threat, even though I didn't want to kiss him either. If I waited long enough, maybe Cindy Lou would come back and I wouldn't have to have Aodhagan's lips anywhere on my body.

  Aodhagan turned and glanced at James. He cocked his head and smiled. "James is a nice man. He'll wait, won't you, mate?"

  Mate was such a British thing to say it almost made me laugh. But the fact that James merely nodded and stepped back slightly was no laughing matter. I turned back to Aodhagan, who stepped around the counter and approached me with purpose that made my stomach twist violently.

  "Aodhagan, there's…"

  He didn't let me finish or even really start. He pulled me closer, hand around my waist, and planted a kiss firmly on my mouth. I just hung there, shocked, like the girl in the Kissing the War Goodbye photo, for several seconds. I might have stayed that way, limp and barely holding on to my control, if he hadn't helped me get more upright, pulled me flush with his body, and begun teasing at my mouth, nibbling at my lips, sipping at the tip of my tongue through the tiny crack left by my gasp. A breathy moan worked its way out of my throat, and I lost it. We melted together like ice cream on a sidewalk, and within seconds, my fingers were tangled in his hair, our mouths were fused, and he'd backed me against the counter, his body firm against mine in all the right places.

  He kissed just as I would have expected, with every ounce of his considerable attention directed into doing the job right. And he was succeeding. I forgot I wasn't dating anymore. I forgot Aodhagan was a threat to my emotional well-being and resolve. I forgot everything except the drugging scent of him, the burn of his mouth, the slide of his tongue, the nip of his teeth, the pressure of his hands against my skin. I forgot everything sensible.

  There was only Aodhagan.

  I don't know how long we stood there like that. Way too long. Not nearly long enough. His hands were pushing up my skirt, and I was scrambling to get mine into his shirt when suddenly something shoved us. Hard. I stumbled. Aodhagan caught me and helped to right me. We both turned to look at Thelma Sue, the owner of the local salon and the Home Cooking Café, who seemed wholly disgusted. Thelma Sue was usually a little bit embarrassing to even see, with her tremendous dyed red beehive and her questionably tight pink and red clothing, but this time I was only embarrassed for myself.