“Thank you!” Allistair said like she had just won first prize in a beauty pageant.
David turned his back on Allistair and said to Willy, “Here’s your character. You’re a cheap harlot from the hard streets of Philadelphia where you’ve been selling yourself since you were twelve. A gold miner named Otis brought you out this way and lost you in a poker game and you’ve been here ever since.” He picked up a white wig that had long sausage curls and sat it on top of her head.
“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me. Can’t I be a virgin?”
“Honey, from the looks of it you haven’t been a virgin for long time,” David said, and shoved her in the direction of the changing room.
“What’s my character?” Allistair asked.
“You’re the virgin,” David said. “Go change.”
***
Willy cursed and sweated in the cramped quarters of the dressing room. The bustle thing got caught in the doorway and she wrestled with it until she’d managed to free herself. She didn’t think she looked half bad for a whore. She had all her own teeth. That had to count for something.
By the time she came out, Allistair was prancing around the room and playing the part of a high-class society woman. She even had long gloves and a fan.
“I look stupid,” Willy said. She felt over-exposed. The tops of her breasts were seeing daylight for the first time ever, even though she had tried to cover them with the long wig curls.
David gasped.
Allistair gasped.
Willy almost cried. “Go ahead and say it. I look horrible.”
“You’re beautiful,” Allistair whispered.
“Fuck you,” Willy said. “I don’t need your sympathy.”
“Oh, honey,” David said, “She’s not lying. You are hubba-hubba. If I were a lesbian, I’d be all up in that bustle.”
Willy face reddened. Even her breasts blushed. She smiled shyly at Allistair. “You look real pretty, too.”
Allistair fanned herself and smiled coquettishly. She affected a thick Southern accent, saying, “Why, thank you kindly, Miss Willy.”
“Ah,” David said. “True love is in the air.”
Willy slugged him in the arm. But secretly… Secretly, way down deep inside, she was extremely pleased.
My Antonio
Allistair watched in amusement as Willy strode down the boardwalk like a bushwhacker on safari. Well, she didn’t know exactly how a bushwhacker walked or even if they went on safaris, but obviously Willy did not believe in walking like a lady. Even if that alleged lady was wearing a dress.
Allistair could barely keep up with Willy. She had to take two strides for Willy’s every one. “Don’t walk so fast, please,” she whined.
“This is like lesbian hell. First, I’m a fucking nun and now I’m a fucking whore. You know what nuns and whores have in common?” Willy asked.
“Um… Nothing?”
“They both wear dresses. They should have a lesbian Witness Protection Program,” Willy said, as she tromped toward the saloon. “What happened to equal rights? They let us get married now but they still make us wear dresses? That sucks big ones.”
“They’re not singling us out. They probably make straight women dress as lesbians. Give them mullets and make them wear Dockers and Doc Martens. It’s the ultimate disguise—to be something you really aren’t,” Allistair said.
“Well, we should have told them we were straight then,” Willy growled. Her heel caught in the boardwalk. She fell forward but managed to catch herself on the railing. Her wig was not so lucky. It sailed away like a kite with a broken string before nose-diving into the middle of the street. It narrowly missed flopping into a pile of steaming horse turds. Muttering curses, Willy stomped out into the street to retrieve the errant hairpiece.
Allistair giggled behind her fan. One good thing about Willy, she always made her laugh.
Willy was bending over to scoop up her wig when a man appeared. He was decked out entirely in black leather and was sitting astride a beautiful white horse. The man lifted a whip into the air, cracked it, and expertly snagged the wig with the tip of the whip, flipping it up to him. The man jumped off his horse, gallantly held the wig out to Willy, bending at the waist and saying, “Would this be yours, ma’am?” He flashed a smile, showing perfect, white teeth. Allistair could swear she saw his smile bling! just like in the toothpaste commercials.
“Yeah, thanks a ton,” Willy said. She snatched the wig out of his hand and plopped it back onto her head.
“May I inquire as to whom I have the honor of addressing?” the man asked.
“Huh?” Willy asked.
“He wants to know your name,” Allistair butted in.
“Oh. I’m… Wanda. Who are you, Zorro?” Willy asked.
The man smiled even wider and bowed even lower. “Antonio is the name.” He straightened and took off his hat, holding it over his chest. “Did you just arrive in this fair town?”
“Yeah,” Willy said.
“Well, it’s been nice meeting you, but we have to go,” Allistair said. She didn’t trust any man who had such white teeth. Not to mention the leather outfit. She took Willy by the arm and tried to lead her away, but Willy didn’t budge.
“This is my friend, Alice,” Willy said. “She’s not usually so rude.”
Allistair snorted. She couldn’t believe Willy said that. She also couldn’t believe this man was flirting with Willy. Sure, Willy was kinda hot looking in her dress, but couldn’t he tell she was a lesbian?
Antonio flashed a hundred-watt smile in Allistair’s direction. She made sure not to smile back. No way was she going to let this smarmy creepazoid think she was flattered. Antonio took away his smile as suddenly as he gave it and said, “There is a dried-up creek outside of town named Alice Springs.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Allistair demanded. “Are you calling me dried-up?”
“Chill,” Willy said. “I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Of course I didn’t,” Antonio said. “I was simply commenting on the similar names.”
“Yeah, I bet,” Allistair muttered. She really didn’t like this guy now. She didn’t like his leather pants that looked like they were painted on. She didn’t like his broad shoulders. She didn’t like his muscular arms or his strong jaw line. And she really didn’t like the way he was flirting with Willy.
At least Willy didn’t seem to be flirting back with him, Allistair thought. Willy seemed more taken with Antonio’s horse. She was petting the horse’s neck and cooing in its ear. “I’ve always wanted to learn to ride a horse,” Willy said.
“Perhaps I could teach you,” Antonio said.
“Saw that one coming,” Allistair muttered.
Willy said, “Really? You’d do that?”
Antonio flashed his blinding smile. “Of course. Anything for a beautiful lady.”
“We really need to go now,” Allistair said to Willy.
Antonio said, “Where are you headed?”
Allistair interjected sarcastically, “To the dry goods store, you know, where all the dried goods are.”
Willy shot Allistair a warning look before answering Antonio. “We’re going to the saloon. We work there.”
“Aha. Working girls,” Antonio said with a not-very-well-disguised leer.
“We used to be nuns,” Willy said.
“But you have fallen, eh?” Antonio said. He took Willy’s arm and looped it through his own. “I shall escort you to your place of employment.”
“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” Allistair said. “We know the way.”
“Oh, no it would be my pleasure. I was going to the saloon anyway,” Antonio said. “I have traveled across the desert and am parched.”
Allistair had no choice but to tag along.
Willy glanced over her shoulder and watched the white horse follow along behind them with her reins trailing in the dust. She was obviously a very well trained horse. “What’s yo
ur horse’s name?”
Antonio shook his head. “She has no name.”
“You rode across the desert on a horse with no name?” Willy asked.
Antonio and Willy laughed, walking arm in arm toward the saloon. Allistair stared at their backs, fuming.
One-Eyed Jacks Are Wild
Willy didn’t like Antonio. As a matter of fact, she thought he was a complete fucktard. However, she did like his horse. And, yes, she wouldn’t mind learning to ride a horse. But the real reason she allowed Antonio to flirt with her? Because it made Allistair turn green.
Willy wasn’t proud of herself for playing such childish games. But, what the fuck, she thought, sometimes you didn’t know what you had till you lost it. And she was dead-set on showing Allistair what she was losing. If she couldn’t flirt with Antonio, she would flirt with Miss Kitty. And if Miss Kitty wasn’t around, she’d flirt with the damn horse.
Antonio had left the saloon a few moments ago with a bottle of rot-gut tucked under his arm and Willy was doing her very best to flirt with Miss Kitty. Allistair was sitting over by the piano looking forlorn and lost, pretending not to watch Willy and Miss Kitty.
That just egged Willy on more. She was bound and determined to give Allistair a real eye-full. She’d show her exactly what she was missing out on. Childish? Yes. Immature? Yes. Did she care? Not so much.
***
“Now the first rule of saloon girls is that nothing is free. Girls outside the business give it away for free. We are professionals. We are not free,” Miss Kitty said.
Allistair couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was Miss Kitty actually giving Willy lessons on how to be a saloon girl? What was this, Whoring for Dummies?
Allistair surreptitiously studied Miss Kitty. Blue eye shadow, poofy hair, and a dress with a scoop neck that practically scooped her boobs right out of it. So very 1980’s. Of course this was the 1840’s, so did that make Miss Kitty ahead of her time? Whatever time period it was, it was repugnant.
Allistair wondered what 0699 was doing right now. Was she wondering where Allistair was? Was she missing their daily online chats? Was she kicking herself for not showing up at the restaurant?
Allistair hated it here. She wanted her old life back. Sure, there was a time when she thought it would be fun to have a different identity. You know, to be somebody else for a while. Kind of like a mulligan. She could move to a strange town where nobody knew her and start over. Be exactly who she wanted to be instead of who everybody else thought she should be. But now that she had the opportunity she was finding that all she wanted was to be her old self again.
What was her old self anyway? A lonely advice columnist who couldn’t even take her own advice. She didn’t even have a proper girlfriend. What a loser she had been. She had touted herself as an expert on everything from relationships to home decorating. The truth was she didn’t know a damn thing about anything.
And here she sat watching Willy flirt with Miss Kitty. They were laughing and having fun and she was crying in the dark all by her lonesome. God, could she get any more pathetic? She blotted a tear and sniffled. She was mess, all right, a regular old dried up mess.
Allistair tuned back into their conversation just in time to hear Miss Kitty say, “And that’s how a good-time girl can double her tips.”
“Being sexy comes naturally to you,” Willy said.
Miss Kitty batted her eyelashes. “Sexy is as sexy does.”
Allistair stifled a sob. Why didn’t anybody ever tell her she was sexy? What was she, chopped liver?
Allistair looked up as the batwing doors flapped open. Standing in the doorway was a short man with a big hat and bowed legs. He had two six-shooters strapped to his hips and wore a black eye patch over his right eye. He had a Fu Manchu mustache that was waxed hard and pointy. He tipped his hat. “Ladies.”
Miss Kitty bellowed, “C’mon in and join the party!” She turned to Willy and Allistair saying, “I took the liberty of inviting one of my gentleman callers to join us so we’d have a man to practice on. Girls, this is One-Eyed Jack. He’s the town bad guy.”
Allistair simply couldn’t stand it anymore. She stood, and like a teakettle that had reached its boiling point, she opened her mouth, wailed, and ran for the door.
One-Eyed Jack may have been the town tough guy, but when he saw the wailing and flustered woman running right at him, even he knew enough to step aside.
The doors slapped closed behind Allistair. One-Eyed Jack turned to Willy and Miss Kitty, saying, “What’d I do?”
***
Willy walked outside and spotted Allistair sitting on a wooden bench with her back against the saloon’s façade. Her face was buried in her hands and she was crying.
Willy felt like an asshole. She sat beside Allistair. She didn’t say anything for a long time. She figured it was better to let her cry it out. Get it out of her system. Once Allistair’s sobs quieted, Willy said softly, “I know how you feel.”
“No, you don’t,” Allistair said. “You fit in. I don’t. I’ve never fitted in. Everybody likes you.”
“Everybody likes you, too.”
“No, they don’t. Even the men love you. First David, then that Antonio. Then Miss Kitty can’t keep her hands off you. Even that horse is in love with you.”
Willy looked to where Allistair was pointing. Sure enough, Antonio’s white horse was standing in the street looking at her all moony-eyed. “Yeah,” Willy said, “I’m real good at attracting people I don’t want. The thing is… I never seem to get the ones I do want.”
Allistair looked at her from under her wet eyelashes. Willy thought about kissing her. Her lips were right there. No more than ten inches away. All she had to do was lean in a little. Just close her eyes and lean in.
Then Allistair turned her head, taking her luscious lips with her, and Willy lost her chance.
“I hate my life,” Allistair said.
“That’s a little extreme.”
“Is it?”
“Listen, I know that all this is a bit much. But it’s not forever and we can get through it,” Willy said. She silently berated herself, “Do you have to sound so stupid? Every word that comes out of your mouth sounds like some insipid inspirational poster.” Damn, she was horrible at this girlie-feelie stuff. That had been Afton’s major complaint about her. That she was unemotional and detached.
Allistair wiped the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I don’t think I can do this. I feel like I’m on an emotional rollercoaster. Who am I?”
“Well, right now, you’re a prostitute and you were a nun and then sometimes you’re an advice column writer. And you’re my only friend,” Willy said. And I want to kiss you and hold you in my arms, she thought, but wisely did not say.
Allistair sniffled. Willy pulled a hankie from between her breasts. “Here,” she handed it to Allistair who giggled.
“What?”
“You’re storing stuff in your boobs now?”
“Well, I don’t have pockets.”
“What all do you have down there?” Allistair teased.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Willy said.
Allistair grinned. “Your crown of feminine beauty is listing.”
“The damn thing slides around a lot,” Willy said. She yanked on her wig. Now it was listing to the other side. “It’s not easy being a lady.”
Allistair said, “Let me.” She leaned in to Willy and straightened the wig. Then she did something that shocked Willy to the bone. She kissed her lightly on the lips.
“Thank you,” Allistair said. “Thank you for being nice to me.” She walked back into the saloon.
Willy sat very still. She couldn’t believe Allistair had just kissed her. And they weren’t even being chased by mobsters this time. That was progress, right? True, it was only a short kiss. A kiss that could easily be mistaken for friendship. But if it was only a friendly kiss, why were her lips still tingling?
The horse nickered and p
awed the ground, jerking Willy out of her reverie. She looked the horse in the eye and said, “What’re you staring at?”
Poker Lessons
Miss Kitty and One-Eyed Jack were sitting at a round table playing cards when Willy walked back in to the saloon. Allistair hovered nearby, watching intently.
“Playing poker?” Willy asked.
“Poker? You brought her, you poke ‘er,” One-Eyed Jack said.
“Old joke,” Willy said, cracking a smile.
“You play?” One-Eyed Jack asked.
“Not much,” Willy said. “But I have watched the World Series of Poker on ESPN.”
One-Eyed Jack laughed. “Rank amateurs.”
Miss Kitty pointed at a chair across the table from her. “Have a seat, darlin’. One-Eyed Jack will teach you how to play.”
Willy grabbed the chair, flipped it around, hefted her skirt up to her thighs and sat on the chair backwards. “Deal me in. But I got to warn you. I can count cards. Just like Rain Man.”
Miss Kitty dealt the cards.
“Rain Man?” One-Eyed Jack said. “He that Pawnee son-of-a-bitchin’ Injun?”
Willy shook her head. “Different Rain Man.”
One-Eyed Jack opened his jacket and withdrew a cigar from his inside pocket. He offered it to Willy.
“Thanks,” Willy said. She bit off the end of the cigar and spat it on the floor. She opened One-Eyed Jack’s box of matches. She struck a match on the bottom of her shoe and lit the cigar. She moved the cigar to the side of her mouth, squinted through the smoke and picked up her cards. She fanned them out in her hand and glared at them.
“Can I play?” Allistair asked.
“’Fraid not,” Miss Kitty said.
“Why?” Allistair asked in a whiny voice.
“Because you’re much too much of a lady to play poker. Your job is more important,” One-Eyed Jack said.
“It is?” Allistair asked breathlessly.
“You’re the spy who’s in cahoots with Miss Wanda,” he said pointing at Willy. “As you make the rounds, flirting with all the people and getting them to buy you drinks, you’ll look at our cards. Then using a discreet set of signals, you’ll let Miss Wanda know what kinda cards we hold.”
Kiss & Tell Page 16
