Or, a supper club is a cowboy bar where I’ll probably get my ass kicked.
This one looks weirdly like a little of both: dining seating on the far end, a bar in front of us.
I look for the hostess. “Dinner and an ass-kicking. Convenient.”
“What?” Todd looks up from his phone long enough to irritate the hell out of me.
I grit my teeth. “Engage, son. Lord, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but put down the damn phone. I’m not even that bad.”
Todd slips the phone into his front shirt pocket. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s get a drink.”
Andy points to the booths at the far end. “And dinner, we’re eating dinner. Work with me here, people.”
I will make this work for him, damn it. “Of course. Why else would we be here?”
“To get blinded drunk. That’s what most people are here for.” A voice speaks up behind me.
Macy.
I wheel around to face her. She’s on her way past me, to the bar. “Is that your plan?” Please let it be her plan. Wild Macy has to be amazing Macy. I’d like to see that.
She snorts. “I come for the dumbass-watching. You, for instance.”
“For a girl who’s trying not to swear, you sure do it a lot.”
She arches an eyebrow at my remark. “Touché, Mr. King.”
The hostess has menus in hand and is summoning us to follow her. She has rotten timing.
Macy nods in the hostess’s direction. “Looks like you’re eating. See you later.”
Damn. “I’ll buy you a drink after dinner if you’re still around.”
A tiny smile turns up the corners of her mouth. “That would be nice. Come find me.”
I follow Andy and that damn punctual hostess and Tucker and Todd to the booth that is absolutely the farthest away from the bar possible. I can’t even spy on her from way the hell over here.
“You’re going throw a disc out or something.” Tucker elbows me.
“Our river guide’s here.”
Andy smiles. “We saw you drooling over her up front. You should go buy her a drink.”
He’s giving me permission. It’s like having dinner with all of my Jewish aunties and grandmas. He’s always looking to set me up with someone nice. A nice girl. I appreciate his effort, but nice girls despise me, as a rule.
“I’ll go find her when we’re done.” It’s getting stifling, sitting here, but I’ll be damned if I look overeager to these guys.
Todd looks for our waitress. “I need a beer.”
I shoot him a look, one that hopefully shuts his trap up. Andy is surrounded by us, and all we’ve talked about since we’ve gotten here is drinking. I feel for him.
The waitress is scarcely at our table for twenty seconds before Todd speaks up again. “What’s on tap?”
“Jesus, Todd.” There’s a bite to my voice. Maybe I will punch his lights out on this trip.
He drops his chin. “Sorry. There’s just a lot going on.”
Andy, ever the counselor, probes. “What’s up? You want to talk?”
Todd waves a hand, dismissing the subject.
Still the waitress stands, watching us. I point to Todd. “He’ll have a Coors, and so will I.” It’s not often I’m the polite one. The waitress nods and leaves.
Todd looks at Andy. “Sorry.”
Andy waves him off. “This is the real world. Hell, this is a cowboy bar in the middle of nowhere in the real world. I’m a big boy. You’re allowed to drink in front of me. Jeremy here does it all the time.”
I roll my eyes. “I try not to. At least I apologize about it.”
Tucker interjects. “Most of the time.”
“Yeah, most of the time.” I agree with the biggest man in the room. It’s a good habit to have.
The hostess comes back to check on us, and I suspect it’s because she’s taken a shine to Tucker. He chats with her, and we’re all treated to a history of her husband’s livestock and his ranch and how her whole family moved to the other end of the state when her brother got a job with a huge agribusiness company in Boise.
I’m about to count the number of times she touches his gigantic forearm when the waitress comes back for our order.
We all order steak. Andy orders his, and he waffles about the sides.
“Andrew, just get the baked potato. No one orders mixed vegetables. Please.” Tucker razzes Andy about the carbs.
“Raise your hand if you have to stand in front of a camera in less than two weeks.” Andy holds his hand high and keeps talking. “Just me? Guess I can order the mixed vegetables since I’m the only one who’ll look like a whale if I don’t.” He nods at the waitress.
She shrugs her shoulders, makes sure we’re all taken care of, and leaves the table to go put in our order. She must really think we’re all crazy. She probably can’t stand out-of-towners.
Tucker looks at me. “So, where is she now?”
“Who?” I try to sound nonchalant.
I know exactly who. Macy stands with her back to me. About a minute after the waitress came to get our order, she edged back into my line of sight. I caught her looking in my direction for one millisecond, but she looked away with a toss of her head. Since then she’s purposely had her back to me.
“Fine. We’ll all pretend along with you that you’re not staring at her.” Tucker can tease me, partly because he’s not invested in the girl game at all and teases all in good fun, and partly because he’s a pretty good sport when I tease him about being massive.
Andy’s phone buzzes. He makes a move to get up, but Tucker tugs him back into his seat. “If it’s Kelly, I want to say hi.”
Andy hands the phone to Tucker. “Here. You’re shameless.”
Tucker smiles. “Kelly Jo! How’re you?”
Andy turns to me. “I think I’m jealous.”
A loud pop shocks all of us out of our conversations. Tucker puts the phone down, and I can see him scan the restaurant for threats.
My eyes land on Macy at the same time his do. She steps back from the bar, hands to the front of her outfit, drenched in beer. A glass is broken at her feet, and there’s a guy in a ball cap, Wranglers, and boots trying to get a hold of her by the elbow.
“Hold up.” It’s out of my mouth, and I’m out of my seat before I really can think, and I cross the distance to the bar.
“I don’t think—” I come up behind Macy.
And catch the back of her fist straight in the mouth.
“Damn!” I reel backwards. I taste blood.
The guy Macy was about to punch, before the wind-up of her fist connected with my face, looks at the two of us and backs up about five paces. “No harm done. It’s just a little beer.”
I point at him. “Back off. You don’t put your hands on a woman. Time to leave.”
Macy turns and glares at me. “I’ve got this, Mr. King,” she hisses through clenched teeth.
The guy in the ball cap is on his way out of the place. I hear him mutter under his breath something about an uppity bitch.
“Excuse me?” Macy steps to go after him, and I put an arm up.
“Don’t take his bait.” I’m careful not to touch her. I don’t want another fist to the mouth. The first one stung plenty, and that was just on the backswing.
She snorts. “You should stay out of a stranger’s business. I told you I had it handled.”
“I guess I ended up getting the short end of the fist, didn’t I?” I smile at her.
She frowns. “Not finding you funny or charming right now.” She grabs her purse off the bar and looks at the ruined front of her outfit. “This is just great.”
I’m working up to some pithy line when she pushes past me.
“Good night, Mr. King. See you on the river in the morning.” She walks out of the bar.
I stand there, stunned, rubbing my sore lip. Tucker comes up behind me.
“I guess you got told.” He puts an arm on my shoulder.
I sigh. “Not how I
thought that would play out.”
He points to the waitress, bringing plates of food to the table. “C’mon, you can split your lip back open on your steak.”
“I think my ego took the brunt of the blow.” She’s a puzzle, this girl.
Tucker nods in agreement. “Tomorrow’s another day, Mr. King. For now, come eat with your brothers-in-arms.”
We sit and have dinner, and I chew on how all of that went sideways.
Miss Macy Summerlin, fisherwoman, bare-knuckle brawler, and tangle of a mystery.
I’m starting to think that I’d like to try to unravel her.
We enjoy a big dinner and drive back to the lodge.
As we get out, I look around. I don’t know what she’s driving yet, so I don’t know if she’s here. Does she stay here? Do the employees have a bunk house? That sure would be convenient.
The thunderstorm has cleared, as Andy predicted. The air cools around us, and Andy strolls to our lodge. I hear him take in a deep breath.
“I wish Hunter and Beau were here. They would love this.” He looks up at the deepening purplish sky, fishes out his phone to take a picture. “I’ve got to text them—it’s so purple, they’ll love it.”
I look at him for a minute. I’ve never had that. Never. Never since maybe I was a kid—I remember missing my mom like crazy when I was at sleep away camp. But since then? I can’t say there’s been someone I miss like that.
He looks at me. “You’re staring at me because?”
I shake myself out of it. “I was just waiting for the next poetic thing out of your mouth. I might start taking notes.”
He tilts his head, grins a little. “One day, J. The love thing, it’ll catch you.”
“Yeah, but the mushiness for the kids even? I don’t know.”
He catches me on the shoulder with a playful cuff. “I’ll give you that. I don’t know about you and small people. There’s a reason Kelly doesn’t like you to babysit Quincy.”
I smile, happy to have moved on from the subject. “Q loves me. She’s the exception to my rule.”
We come through the front door.
Tucker’s already clearing the centerpiece off of the dining table. “It’s time for me to clean all of you out, gentlemen. Hope you brought your wallets!”
I crack my knuckles and clear my throat. This is an arena I do know a lot about—money. “Ante up, friends—Tucker’s gonna lose his sizable wallet and his sizable shirt.”
Todd even sits at the table, and I take the opportunity to snatch up his cell.
Todd throws his hands up in protest. “What the hell, Jeremy?”
“We’re entering into the bro zone, and it’s cell free. Whatever LA ‘I’m-with-the-band’ bullshit has got you distracted, leave it out of our evening of poker.” I pull my cell phone out as a peace offering. “If I can set mine over on the top of the fridge, then you damn well can too.”
I put both phones up on the fridge and come back to the table.
Tucker raises an eyebrow as he deals. “Bro zone’s a little cheesy, Jeremy. You’re not our camp counselor.”
Andy laughs, and Todd does, too, even though he shoots me a pissed-off look.
I have to smile. “We’re here to have fun, and I’m goal-oriented, damn it.”
Tucker nods. “You heard the man. Time to ante up.”
The morning light streams in through my windows, and I can see it even through my eyelids. Mornings here are so damn persistent.
I drag myself into the shower.
I’m not going to lie, I spend a minute contemplating being, you know, in the shower, and thinking about Macy. But then the water goes cold. Empty-water-heater cold.
“Jesus!” I can’t help but yell—I’m mid-lather, and I’m going to have to suck it up and rinse off in the icy stream before I can retreat.
I manage to get clean at least, but I’m shivering when I get out.
Andy knocks on my bedroom door. “Did I hear a cry for help?”
I pull on my jeans and open the door. “Which asshat used up all the hot water?”
Andy purses his lips. I can tell he doesn’t want to answer. “Four guys should be fine all taking showers. I don’t know why you’d run out of hot water. I can say something to the manager.”
“You didn’t answer my question, which means it was Todd. I swear to God.”
Andy shakes his head. “Listen, can you give the blatant loathing a rest? I know you’re not a big fan of his, but can the whole trip not be about you versus him?”
I take a deep breath, pull a long sleeve shirt over my head. Andy doesn’t ask much of me, he really doesn’t. And he truly is the nice guy. He does care about his friends, and he wants all of us happy. All at the same time. I decide to hold my tongue about my real beef with Todd. I should let go of it, anyway, and I don’t like reminding Andy about his tough days leading up to rehab.
I nod. “Fine. I’ll stop being a dick. He just, I don’t know Andy, he’s just always rubbed me the wrong way.”
“You don’t say? I couldn’t tell. You two, you’re just different kind of people. But you’re both my friends. I appreciate it, J.” He checks his phone. “Tucker’s making breakfast. We have time to eat something. Then you can spend the day wooing the fishing guide.”
“Macy.” I feel my mood lifting, just saying her name.
Andy points at my face. “The lip seems to be none the worse for wear.”
I smile. “I’m a fast healer. That was quite the scene at the Double A.”
“I don’t think she’s one to be trifled with.” Andy gets his serious face on, looks me in the eyes. “Proceed with caution.”
“Are you worried I’m going to be left broken-hearted?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of broken-nosed, but sure, that’ll do.”
I nod. “I’ve dealt with some tigresses before, you know.” I point at the coat hook behind him. “Hand me my fleece.”
He pulls it off the hook and tosses it to me. “You almost dated Amanda Walters. You have no sense about you.” He shakes his head. “But I don’t know, J. This girl, she’s not from where we’re from, you know?”
“Where is that exactly?”
“You know, middle-class, suburban, white-bread world. I’m a pretty good judge of people, and I think she’s used to a tougher life than we are.”
I can feel my jaw tighten a little. “You’re calling me soft?”
“I’m calling both of us coddled. I just know from experience that some people see us, and they can smell the privilege coming off of our candy-assed hides, and it just—”
He leaves off. I know where he was going with this. “People resent that we’ve had a good turn of it. But we both worked damn hard, really damn hard.”
“With some people it’s not resentment, it’s a swindle. Getting something from someone who’s got more than you do.”
“Wow. That’s a lot to assume about someone you’ve traded maybe six words with.”
“I know. I’m probably full of shit.”
I smile and clap a hand on his shoulder. “You read people well, though. I’ll keep it in mind. Macy could potentially be jealous or want to con me, and she’s a woman who smells really good—”
“And has a nice ass, don’t forget you said that about her.”
“Yes, yes, I did. In her presence, no less.”
“Let’s go eat. And then you can stand next to her and sniff her all day.”
We make our way down to breakfast. I wonder about Andy’s intuition. Macy’s tough, that’s a fact. But the other stuff? Is she from some wrong-side-of-the-tracks situation? Maybe she’s just a country girl. Andy is right, though, where she’s from is definitely not where I’m from. Moose never swam around my neighborhood where I grew up.
I grew up in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, the son of a salesman for a sporting goods company and a bookkeeper. My dad is Jewish; my mom is a lapsed Catholic. I’m an only child. School was fine. I was really short until about the end of 9
th grade, which wasn’t great, but most of the time, I just floated along, kind of a middle-of-the-road, forgettable kid. I got middle-of-the-road grades. We weren’t rich, but we weren’t struggling, either. I played soccer, had a brief stint in Boy Scouts. Nothing memorable to report about that. I worked for what I wanted—I was so proud of my first car in high school, an old piece-of-crap Buick Skylark. When I went off to college, my parents helped to pay for school. My dad and mom got along fine, and I think they raised me pretty well. I was just like everybody else.
In my sophomore year of college, my dad got laid off. He and my mom sat me down, told me I’d have to take out more student loans. The look on my dad’s face killed me. Killed me. He’d worked for those pricks for twenty-five years, and the best they could do was give him three months of severance when they “right-sized”? That’s bullshit. That’s when I decided I wasn’t going to just sit back and be average. Average, good guys like my dad? He got screwed, royally. So I decided to chart a different course. Enough of being normal, middle-of-the-road, forgettable. Jeremy King was going to be a name no one would forget. I took a look around and asked myself what I wanted. And I decided I wanted it all.
When a young man’s interested in conquering the world, Hollywood makes a lot of sense. I wanted to be noticed, respected, maybe even envied. Who said “attention must be paid”? Willy Loman in Death of a Salesman, I think? That’s me, people. Except I’m not going to wrap my car around a tree as a forgotten, chewed-up, and spit-out husk of a man. Maybe I’ll wrap my Tesla around a tree trunk, but at least it’ll be on the PCH going a hundred miles an hour with my hair on fire. More James Dean than Willy Loman.
After breakfast we get to the river, and to say that things have changed overnight is an understatement.
“What in the hell?” Todd says this as soon as we round the corner of the house and face the river. He must’ve gotten the memo, because he stands on the opposite side of Tucker and Andy from me, avoiding my wrath and irritation.
“Flows are up.” Tucker states it flatly.
The river is swollen, muddy, and running fast. Where we stood in the riffles and fished yesterday is under water.
Use Somebody Page 5
