“You’re not supposed to be doing that,” she said. “That’s my job. Unless you’ve decided to change our deal. Have you?”
Damn, she looked hopeful. I took my coffee and backed out of the kitchen, and watched her face fall.
We quickly fell into a comfortable routine. Having her in the house felt natural. I think she was trying to hide that she didn’t know how to cook or keep house. I walked into the living room one day and she was reading the label on a can of furniture polish, her brow furrowed in concentration. I realized she was trying to figure out how to use it.
My mom’s cookbooks appeared on a shelf in the kitchen. She would pull one out, then look through the freezer, refrigerator and cabinets checking to see if we had all the ingredients to make a recipe she had chosen. When the recipe in question was beef stew, it was hard to ignore her checking the book every fifteen minutes to make sure she did everything correctly. I found her in the kitchen at the bar several times, mostly just watching, but also questioning the cooks on how to do something or why they did something, or even, “What is that spoon with all the holes in it for?”
It seemed a bit strange that a girl who had never learned anything domestic would suddenly become Miss Suzy Homemaker. I wondered if she was trying to put on an act. After watching her, both at home and at the bar, I decided it was something very different.
She wanted to please people, to make them like her. She was almost desperate to please, like a dog that had been abused. If anyone spoke harshly, she flinched, even though it wasn’t directed at her. And it never was. Everyone loved her. She watched me constantly, gauging my reaction to everything she said. As I became aware of her behavior, I noticed she did the same thing with almost everyone.
I asked Kathy, trying to make it sound casual, what she thought of Cecily. In Kathy’s typical no-nonsense manner, she said, “Someone in that girl’s past deserves to be horse whipped. She’s been treated very badly. I don’t know if it was her parents, or a boyfriend. She treats any kind word like she did her food the day she walked in here. Like it’s precious.”
Occasionally, Cecily teased me about not wanting to sleep with her. But I could tell she had been in situations where she had grown used to giving men her body to survive. That’s not what I wanted, nor did I want her to sleep with me out of gratitude. Hell, I couldn’t decide if I wanted her to sleep with me at all, but I ached every morning when I saw her at breakfast. I wanted to touch her, to hold her, but I kept telling myself it wasn’t the right thing to do.
I had to wonder exactly what she was hiding. Was it only bad experiences, or something more? A drunk tried to hit on her one night, and she reacted as if he was assaulting her. He never touched her, or even came within three feet of her, but she backed away from him, her hand going to the leather thong around her neck, and practically ran in the other direction. Another night, when a sheriff’s deputy walked in the bar, I could have sworn her expression was one of pure terror. She quickly turned and headed for the ladies’ room and didn’t come out until he left.
I took her out to the garage one day and showed her my mom’s car. The dogs followed us. They minded her as well as they did me, and they loved her. She would run with them, play tug-of-war, and scratch their ears and bellies until they had doggie orgasms. I noticed that the box of treats seemed to be emptier than I remembered. I asked her if she grew up with dogs, and she told me her mother had a toy poodle. It was the only time she answered any of my questions about her past.
Pointing to the car, I said, “It’s just sitting there, Cecily. I can probably get it running again in a day or two. It needs an oil change, tune up, and a good checkup. It was running fine when Mom last drove it. Would you like to use it?”
“I don’t know how to drive, Jake. I don’t have a driver’s license. Thanks for the offer, though.” She stood looking at the car, and then she said, “How long ago did your mom die?”
I hated to think of that day, but it wasn’t as though it was a big dark secret. Everyone knew what had happened.
“Three years ago. I was in Afghanistan, and Jared was starting his master’s degree at the university in Boulder. My dad was a pilot, and he, Mom and Mary took off to fly to Aspen for the weekend. The plane went down in the mountains. It took them a few days to reach the wreckage, and it was too late.”
I took a deep breath. The pain was still very sharp.
“The Marines let me out early, before my tour was up. Jared dropped out of school. We came home, sold off all the cattle and most of the horses, and took over the bar. Neither of us wanted to be a rancher. I guess we would have stayed home if that were the case. Mary loved it, though. Dad figured that maybe she’d marry a man who wanted to ranch and they’d keep the place going.”
“How old was Mary?” Cecily’s voice was almost a whisper.
“Nineteen. I think I miss her most of all. You always expect your parents to go during your lifetime, but she had her whole life ahead of her.”
“The same age I am,” Cecily said. “Three years ago, I was nineteen. She’d be twenty-two now. I’m so sorry, Jake.”
I had thought Cecily might be even younger than that. But she had the same enthusiasm for life as Mary. Neither of them ever walked up or down the stairs. It always sounded as though they were in a race.
It helped to think of her as Mary’s age. Mary was only thirteen when I shipped overseas the first time. A little girl. She had been eighteen the last time I saw her, at her high school graduation, so proud of her new smile with her braces off. The problem was that Cecily didn’t look like a little girl. She looked like someone I wanted to undress.
But the problem of transportation remained. The ranch was twenty miles out in the country. Someone had to take her out there, or take her into town. I was dragging her around with me on all my errands, even to get a haircut.
“I can teach you to drive. It’s not hard,” I said.
Shaking her head, she said, “I really don’t want to. I guess it’s kind of a pain for you, though. As soon as I can get some money together, I’ll get an apartment in town.”
“Even in town, Greeley isn’t New York. You need a car to get around. Don’t you get tired of having to go everywhere with me? It can’t be fun waiting for me all the time.”
“I don’t mind,” she said. “I like being with you. But if you want to go someplace and don’t want to take me, I understand. Just leave me here, or at the bar, or dump me at a coffee shop or something. If I can get to a main road, I can always get to the bar on time to sing. It must feel sometimes as if you’re married, without any of the benefits. I’m sorry.”
So was I. There was no doubt in my mind that I could have the benefits any time I asked. But it did feel good to hear her say she enjoyed being with me. It felt very good. Unfortunately, I had a feeling as to how she would get to the bar if Jared or I didn’t take her. I had no intention of putting her in a position where she felt she needed to hitchhike.
And God help me, every time she mentioned getting an apartment, it felt like a knife through my heart. A wee bit fickle there, Jake? Want to eat your cake and have it too? We had only known each other a month, but I was convinced at times that if I asked her to marry me, she would only ask, how soon can we do it? My problem was that I caught myself daydreaming about a future with her. I hadn’t felt lonely before she showed up.
If only I could get over the feeling that she was attracted to me because I was the only man who ever treated her like a human being. The way she looked at me sometimes was embarrassing. I’d seen that same look on the face of a teenaged girl meeting her rock star idol, and on the face of a nun praying to a crucifix. I was sure I was reading more into it than it deserved. Surely, it was impossible for me to be an object of worship. And the fact that I could even think that made me feel ashamed of myself.
It wasn’t just my imagination that she was interested in crawling into my bed. I took her out riding, and it was obvious from the beginning that she had no idea how
to ride a horse. But she liked it and was willing to work at it. The first day, we rode down by the creek. I took it easy, and Lightning wasn’t too happy about it. Maggie, however, was a perfect lady, until we got close to the creek and she could smell the water.
Lightning broke into a trot, and Maggie followed him. I looked back and saw Cecily bouncing around in the saddle like a sack of flour. I winced. When we reached the water, cool and lined by willows on both sides, she was flushed and laughing.
“I need to teach you how to post,” I said. “There’s a way to ride a trotting horse that doesn’t bounce you around like that.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said. Then she giggled. “Now I understand why girls like horses so much.” She leaned down and patted Maggie’s neck. “I never expected that I’d get my first orgasm at the Top Hat Ranch from another girl.”
She gave me a pointed look, and I felt my own face flush.
On our way back to the house, I broached a topic that had been on my mind. “Would you be interested in playing more?” I asked. “Kathy and Jared and I have been talking, and one idea we’ve considered is having you start on Thursday and Friday at five. We’ve noticed people coming in after work just to have a drink and hear you sing.”
It would be a long pull for a performer. As it was, I felt guilty. She was supposed to sing from six to eight, but she often played until eight-thirty, and as late as nine on the weeknights. People would keep asking for one more song, and she always obliged them. And sometimes, especially when Jared played, she’d get up and sing with the band. It seemed she never got tired of being on that stage.
“I could pay you another fifty a night on those nights.”
“Sure,” she said, her face lighting up. “I like to play.”
I gave her an old hat of my Dad’s to use for her tips. Kathy checked it a couple of times, and said on weekends Cecily was making as much on tips as we were paying her.
One night, an old girlfriend of mine came into the bar. Jeri and I had been a hot item, and we’d given our virginity to each other. Even after we went away to college in different states, we still got together when we came home for holidays. But six years away playing soldier was a bit too much, and she had gotten married. And divorced. Since I came back, we had gotten together a few times, but it just didn’t seem right to me. I didn’t love her anymore, and as good as the sex was, Jeri wanted more than I could give her.
Jeri was physically almost the opposite of Cecily, tall and busty with dark hair and eyes, she drew stares everywhere she went. Cecily ended to fade into the background unless she was playing, and I think she did it on purpose. Jeri was an extrovert, almost to the point of being an exhibitionist.
She came into the bar right after Cecily finished playing. I was on the floor, taking a tray of drinks to one of the waitress’s tables. As per usual when Cecily was playing, the place was packed. Jeri walked up to me, threw her arms around me, and gave me a kiss.
“Damn, I swear you get better looking every day,” Jeri said. “How the hell have you been doing?”
I laughed. “My mother warned me about women like you.”
“No she didn’t,” Jeri said, “she warned you about me. There aren’t any other women like me, only pale imitations.”
Wrapping her arm around my waist and laying her head against my shoulder, she walked with me back to the bar. “I hear you got a new girlfriend,” she said. “I’m devastated. You should at least give me a chance to arm wrestle her for you, or something.”
Cecily swiveled toward us. “That’s probably me,” she said with a smile. “But I’m not his girlfriend. I just want to be.”
I cringed.
Jeri laughed and walked over to her, extending her hand. “Me, too. I’m Jeri.”
Cecily shook her hand, and Jeri sat next to her at the bar.
A large hand fell on my shoulder. “You are so screwed,” Jared said in my ear. “What in the world were you thinking letting Jeri in here?”
“I couldn’t get to the door fast enough to lock it when I saw her coming across the parking lot,” I said.
“I’d consider whether you should find somewhere else for Cecily to be. You don’t want Jeri sinking her claws into her. If Jeri decides to get nasty, I don’t think Cecily can stand up to her.”
Remembering Cecily sleeping with that damned knife clutched in her hand, I said, “Don’t sell Cecily short. I have a suspicion her claws are bigger than you think. Jared, if anyone ever gets physical with her, step in quickly, but do it carefully. And if you ever decide to spend a night at home, be careful. The girl sleeps with a big-ass knife in her hand.”
He gave me a shocked look.
“As a matter of fact, I think she’s wearing it right now, on a thong around her neck.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“No, I’m not. Have you noticed that she never wears low-cut dresses or anything without a collar? When she’s asleep, treat her like a combat vet. I don’t know where she’s been, but wherever it was, she didn’t feel safe.”
He watched the two women chatting as if they were old friends.
“So instead of the cougar and the lamb ...”
“I think you’re looking at the cougar and the lynx. I may be wrong. Cecily might crumple in a confrontation, but I don’t think so. She’s smart, and although we haven’t seen it, I have a feeling she could shred someone with her tongue.”
I watched Jeri and Cecily. They sat there and talked almost all night. When Jeri got ready to leave, she walked over to me, put her arms around my neck, and kissed me again.
“You know, Jake, I think you’re a fool for not wanting me in your bed tonight. I’m really not as crazy as you think I am.”
Stepping away from me, she said, “But you’re not only a fool, but a damned fool and a mean one for keeping that little girl around and not giving her what she wants. Either send her packing, or tell her you love her. Don’t torture her. The Jake I know would never be as cruel as you’re being to her.”
Then she walked out and didn’t look back.
I remembered that conversation with Jared a couple of weeks later when a drunk started heckling Cecily on stage. I was hurrying toward him when she stopped singing.
“Oh, my,” she said. “You must be the guy people have been telling me about. Are you the guy who fell in the pig trough and got his balls chewed off? Is that why you want to pick on a girl?”
The audience laughed him out of the bar. I only had to steer a little bit.
“I’m terribly sorry about that,” I heard Cecily say as I shoved the drunk out of the door. “Some people can’t hold their liquor very well. And you know what happens then, don’t you? They open their mouths and let everyone know how smart they are. It’s usually a disappointment. Does anyone have a request?”
~~~
Chapter 6
Cecily
I had a conversation with one of Jared’s girlfriends at the bar one night. Jake told me that Jared and Karen had been on and off for about two years. I went to get a glass of fruit juice on my break and sat down next to her at the bar. Kathy took my order and brought my juice.
“How’s it going?” I asked Karen. She looked kind of down.
“Hell, Cecily, I don’t know.”
“What’s the matter?” I was still somewhat surprised that women here liked me. I never had girlfriends, but Jeri, Karen, and a couple of other regulars at the bar, along with Kathy and the waitresses, seemed to accept me and treat me like I belonged in Greeley, Colorado. I never felt that people treated me like an outsider.
“I’m just getting tired of Jared treating me like an afterthought,” she said. “I know he’s allergic to commitment, but sometimes, I think I should stop being a fool and move on.”
“Do you love him?” To me, the question wasn’t a formality. A woman might stay with a man for a lot of reasons.
“Yeah, I do. I know I’m a damned fool, because he obviously isn’t in love with me, but every time I b
reak it off, I end up running back to him.”
I asked what to me was the most important question, and I watched her face carefully, “How does he treat you?”
“He treats me like a queen when he’s with me. He never forgets my birthday. Even when I broke up with him, he still bought me a Christmas present. But he’s not with me enough, and every time I turn around, he’s screwing someone else. I’m just tired of it.”
“Well, I guess that’s something you have to decide,” I said. “For me, I’d rather have a man who treats me well and makes me feel loved one day a week, than one who abuses me seven days a week.”
I wasn’t sure what I said wrong, but both Karen and Kathy looked a bit shocked.
“You wouldn’t mind being part of a harem?” she asked. “How would you feel if Jake had a harem of women?”
“I wouldn’t care,” I said, “as long as I was part of the harem.”
I got up to go back to the stage and play my next set.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that with Jake,” Karen said. “He’s the kind of man who doesn’t screw around. All he wants is one special girl.”
My breath hitched in my throat. Maybe that was the problem. I just wasn’t that girl. “You think so?”
There must have been something in my voice, because Karen shot me a look. “Of course,” she said. “Everyone knows he’s head over heels about you.”
It was suddenly hard to breathe, and my eyes filled to where I couldn’t see very well. “Everyone except me,” I managed to say, and then fled to the restroom.
I leaned against the wall next to the sink, holding my stomach and sobbing. I thought I had it so well together, but I couldn’t deny how much it hurt.
Kathy came in and stood in front of me. “Are you okay?” she asked. “What did Karen say?”
“She didn’t say anything. She was just complaining about Jared,” I said, trying to get myself together. I pushed off from the wall and started drying my eyes with a paper towel.
“I told her that I would rather have a man who treated me like a queen one day a week than a man who was around all the time and treated me badly.”
I'll Sing for my Dinner Page 4
