by Stuart, Amie
“It was a good way to earn extra money when I was in college.”
Unable to hold back a sigh, he mentally scratched his head. “If you went to college, then why are you a bartender?”
“I only went for a year, and frankly, in Vegas, working for the casinos is the best as far as earning money goes.” She laughingly added, “You don’t exactly need a master’s degree to fix drinks or deal cards.”
She had a very valid point, and she wouldn’t be the first person to find the more lucrative way to earn a living without a degree. Take him, for instance. A high school diploma, and he earned a rather tidy living training horses. “And just how did a Creole Queen end up in Vegas?”
It took her so long to answer him, he thought maybe she hadn’t heard the question.
“By bus, of course,” she said with another throaty laugh.
“By bus,” he echoed with a chuckle of his own. He stole another look at her as they neared their exit.
She’d been worth waiting for, and he’d enjoyed watching her fix her hair. He’d forgotten how sexy watching a woman primp could be. Her long, dark curls fell over her shoulders, and her lips were pink tonight. A pale pink that came off looking more tempting then her usual red. Or maybe it was the dress, or maybe it was a combination of everything. Her lack of chatter, her complete calm left him nervous and scrambling for something to talk about. Most women he dated talked up a storm about themselves, their jobs, their kids, their exes, and all the other normal detritus that seemed to touch their daily lives, but Toni was no ordinary woman. “How long did you live in Vegas?”
“Long enough to adjust to the dry desert heat and curse the humidity here. How long have you lived in Texas?”
“I’m one of the rare natives left.” He took the exit and maneuvered the city’s streets, suddenly anxious to be out of the confining truck. At least on the Riverwalk, he could pretend interest in the things around them. Who would have thought such a beautiful woman could either be so boring or be so shy. Maybe that was it. Maybe she wasn’t so out of the ordinary. She was terminally shy. If so, it was gonna be a long night.
Over dinner she seemed to thaw and chatted, mostly asking him about his horses. And Rene. She asked a lot of questions about Rene, and told plenty of anecdotes about her time bartending in Vegas. After dinner, they walked the Riverwalk—she’d turned down his offer to take her dancing. Once they were back in the truck, the easy chatter between them slowed a bit; any time he asked anything too personal, she switched gears. He also noticed that, other than her inquisitiveness about Rene, she didn’t ask him much about his personal history either. Interesting. He was relieved more than curious, not ready to explain about his ex and her current whereabouts.
Tonight had turned out better than he’d expected, but the closer they got to her apartment, the quieter she became. He parked right outside her apartment, but by the time he’d parked, unhooked his seatbelt, and stepped out of the truck, she was already out of the truck and heading for her door. “Wait!”
He hurried to catch up with her, resting his hand at the small of her back. The silky material was warm to his touch as he walked quickly to keep up with her.
At her door, he tensed at the sound of a key sliding into the lock, since he’d never even seen her get them out. His window of opportunity was closing, but he knew instinctively he hadn’t done enough to get her where he wanted anyway. Before he could speak, stall for more time, she had stepped inside and whirled to face him, one hand braced on the worn doorframe, the other clutching the doorknob.
“I had a nice time.”
The pulse in her neck fluttered erratically, and even in the dim light, he could see something he didn’t like in her pale purple eyes. Nervous, she was very nervous. But why? He obviously wasn’t staying. He felt as if he were getting to know a new filly he’d picked up for a song, only to discover she’d been abused. “So did I.”
“It’s late. You should go.”
Despite a rough start filled with awkward silences, he wanted to see her again. “Are you busy Wednesday night?”
He reached for her hand, then thought better of it. Instead he fisted one hand at his side and rested the other on the doorframe, just inches from hers, and he never took his eyes off her. “Well?” he whispered.
Her eyes were dark pools half-hidden by the shadows and her thick dusky lashes, her lips full and soft-looking and slightly parted. The urge to lean in and press his lips to them, test their softness, taste them was overwhelming.
She slowly nodded, her tongue darting out to wet her lips and distract him even more.
“Wednesday then?” he whispered. He was hard as a rock beneath his khakis and was glad she was too distracted to notice.
She nodded again, and he gave into the urge, leaning down to press his lips to hers. She turned her head at the last minute, and his lips landed against her soft cheek. Near her ear. His lips found the lobe of her ear. He caught the sound of a tiny whimpery moan as his lips glanced against tender flesh and wandered lower, leaving a trail of kisses against her warm skin.
And then suddenly, somewhere someone was laughing. He found himself face-to-face with a closed apartment door and narrowly missed getting his fingers smashed. He slowly returned to the truck, climbed in, and headed home for a cold shower.
At least he had Wednesday to look forward to.
I’D WASTED A good chunk of my Sunday morning studying myself in the mirror. I had to admit that after Aunt Delaney’s torture session, my eyebrows looked pretty nice. Not that they’d looked like Skinner’s mono-brow to begin with, but they definitely looked tidier. I’d also missed most of the second movie while she gave me makeup lessons, which I’d barely paid any attention to. Then when I said her handiwork just looked alright, she looked a bit hurt. I decided I should make a big deal out of all her hard work and took another look, making a bigger fuss. She’d done a good job, and you could barely tell I was wearing makeup, but it was still difficult to get used to the feel of it on my face.
I mentally scratched my head, and frowned in the mirror. After forty-five minutes of fiddling with all the crap she bought me, my best efforts didn’t compare with hers. I stifled a groan at the thought of asking her for more makeup lessons. Admitting defeat, even to Aunt Dee, would hurt, and Gram would gloat for sure. She hated me all tomboyish.
After my abortive makeup experiment in the bathroom, I scrubbed my face clean and headed downstairs to make Daddy breakfast—one of the few things I could actually cook.
Over bacon, eggs, and toast he asked about my summer school homework. I’d completely forgotten, and the consequences were steep if it wasn’t finished. There was no way I was spending four more weeks in summer school with Skinner. Or Lightener, my hell-bitch, demon-spawn English teacher.
“I spent all day yesterday helping you clean house. When was I supposed to do homework?”
“Then I suppose that’s what you’ll spend today doing, won’t you?” He leaned back in his chair and pinned me to mine with a narrow-eyed gaze.
For some reason, I didn’t feel like arguing with him. Not today. I chalked it up to being tired after my day of cleaning and a wild night of eyebrow tweezing with Aunt Delaney.
“Yes, sir.” I mopped up the last of my eggs with a scrap of toast and tossed it in my mouth. Matter settled. Whether I liked it or not, he was right, and I just had to suck it up and get it done. I was supposed to be helping Poppy, not writing essays.
“I’ve got to go work with the yearlings this morning, and then catch up on some paperwork. If you’re hungry later, head over to your Grams for Sunday supper.”
The eggs I’d eaten sat like rocks in my stomach. I knew what that meant. Daddy didn’t normally go out on Sunday nights. I knew what that meant, too. The dancehall was closed on Sunday nights. He was going out with the Wicked Witch of the West.
Shit! I played dumb in my quest for knowledge. “Where you going?”
“I have a date.” He stood, the feet of his
wooden chair scraping on the freshly mopped floor, and picked up his plate.
“On a Sunday?”
He stood at the sink, his back to me, rinsing his plate. “Yes, Rene, on Sunday. Why? Did you have plans?” He turned and leaned against the counter, drying his hands on the dishrag. I couldn’t read his expression, but then, that was nothing new. I suppose that’s why I went to such extremes to rile him. He was so damned good at keeping it undercover.
Of course it was a problem. He was going out with her. “Hell, no!” I jumped up and scowled at the sound of my chair clattering on the linoleum. Plate in hand, I kept my eyes down and slid it across the counter as I made to exit the kitchen.
“Young lady, what have I told you about swearing?”
I stopped in the doorway, my hands on the frame, and turned to look at him. “Not to.”
Not even bothering to wait for his reply, I took off for the stairs and spent most of the day catching up on my homework, hiding in my room and writing in my journal once I was done. That was how Dad and I successfully ignored each other after our early morning spat. Or at least, until it was time for him to leave on his date.
I was sprawled on my bed with my earbuds in, reading one of the books Aunt Delaney had gotten me, and minding my own business when the door flew open, scaring the bejesus out of me. People really needed to learn to knock.
“What the hell did you do that for? You scared the shit out of me!”
“I knocked, but you didn’t answer, and I wanted you to know I was leaving.”
“Fine.” I looked him over. Half the reason I didn’t have any friends was because I got tired of listening to them go on and on about how good-looking my dad was.
“Well, do I pass inspection?” He held up his hands.
He actually looked like he cared what I thought for once. “I suppose you’ll do. Where you goin’?” I leaned up on my elbows and waited for his reply, anxious to see where he was taking the witch.
“Boudros.”
I know my mouth dropped open, and some squeaky, snarly, choked sound came out. Boudros was my all-time favorite place to eat, and Dad took me there, like, almost never because—get this—he was too busy to drive all the way downtown just to eat. Apparently he wasn’t too busy to drive Aunt Susie’s new bartender down there though. “That’s the fuckin’ shits. You haven’t taken me there since my birthday last year. Fuck you, Dad.”
I rolled over, showing him my back and made to put my earbuds back in, determined to drown out anything he might say in the sounds of Miranda Lambert.
Before I could get the second one in good, he spoke. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“What the fuck ever.” With that final announcement, I turned my back to him and pulled my book out from under my pillow. Only to freeze at the feel of his weight on my mattress. I thought for sure he’d be long gone. I guess he’d decided to stay and yell at me for swearing. His face appeared next to mine, and I glared at him from the corner of my eye then kept pretending I was reading.
Dad pulled an earbud out of my ear. “I’ll make it up to you,” he said softly.
I kept my eyes on my book, and swallowed the angry tears that pricked my eyes. This wasn’t the first time I’d lost to a woman and it probably wouldn’t be the last. “It’s no big deal.” I reached for my earbud, but he grabbed my hand and gently pushed me over on my back, so he could look at me.
“Yes, it is a big deal. I suppose, since you’re all growing up and stuff, I should maybe take you out to dinner, so we can celebrate.”
“Jesus, no, Dad. Not that.” I honestly didn’t see what the big deal was. It wasn’t like I’d gotten a scholarship to A&M, or cured cancer. I could just see us at dinner and Dad ordering desert. A group of waiters and waitresses would come out chanting and clapping and singing some stupid song to celebrate my entry into womanhood. Period, period, period, she’s started her period. Period, period, period, let’s all sing along! I groaned at the mental image I’d painted. “Spare me the indignity of celebrating my period, okay. It’s bad enough Poppy knows. I’ll probably never be able to look him in the eyes again, not to mention Uncle Zack. Please, God, tell me you didn’t tell Uncle Rowdy.”
His lips twitched in a way that said I wouldn’t like whatever he said next. “I cannot tell a lie. Your Uncle Rowdy knows.”
“That is just the shits, Dad,” I sighed.
“Rene Linette Caldwell,” he sighed back and slowly shook his head. “That mouth of yours.”
I propped myself up on one elbow, so I could get a better look at him. “Well, Dad, how the hell would you like it if everyone around you was saying you were a man now and you were gonna have wet dreams and pubes? It’s just not fucking fair that everyone’s making such a big deal out of something so stupid and embarrassing.”
“You’re right.” He nodded thoughtfully, but didn’t speak for a minute. “You know, when we talked the other day, I said something I shouldn’t have. And I didn’t realize until after I said it, that it probably came out sounding nothing like how I meant it.” He leaned closer, close enough for me to count the sprinkle of little gray hairs at his temples, and said, “You are not a mistake. And I realized after I said what I said and then walked out just how bad it sounded.”
I grimaced and forced myself to keep my breathing steady. It was hard to look bored as he reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. My face even felt hot. It had hurt, but not that much. I’d known what he meant.
“I’d like to take you shopping next week and get some new stuff for your room, and take you to dinner, just because we haven’t been in a while, if that’s okay with you. If you don’t mind being seen with your dad, that is.”
“Fine, whatever. You’re gonna be late for your date with her.” I cleared my throat after launching my pitiful zinger, hoping he wouldn’t notice he’d actually gotten to me with his apology. If he didn’t leave soon, I’d end up crying in front of him.
He frowned and leaned back, putting even more space between us. “What’s wrong with Toni?”
I picked up my book and tried to focus on the page. “Not a goddamn thing, if you like retired porn stars.”
He sighed and pushed himself upright. I’d hit a major nerve, ‘cause he didn’t like it when I did commentaries on his floozies. “You really know how to push my buttons, don’t you sweetheart? Her name is Toni, and she’s a very nice lady. Furthermore, she doesn’t resemble a retired porn star. And just where the hell did you learn to talk like a sewer rat?”
“What the hell do you care?”
I reached for my earbuds and shut him out for real this time. As far as I was concerned, our little father-daughter talk was over. I listened to the unmistakable slam of my bedroom door announcing his departure.
Maybe if Witchy-Poo didn’t put out, Daddy would give up on her and move on to easier, more spreadable pastures. But I wasn’t holding my breath.
BY MID-MORNING Monday, I was on Kellie’s doorstep in a panic. I couldn’t believe he’d actually asked me out again. I’d done my very best to bore him until even I was bored. And then he’d had the nerve to assault my hand. I wouldn’t even bother looking too closely at that. Or the kiss on my cheek that had left me with a sleepless night and dark circles under my eyes. The man had his own kind of voodoo. “Did I wake you?”
“No, not at all. Come on in.” She waved me inside her tiny apartment with a smile. It was identical to mine, but much homier, with a tall lamp in one corner and a flowery area rug covering most of the beige carpet. Three different framed, vintage posters with French themes hung on the walls. I settled in a corner of the couch.
“How was your date?” She settled on the floor and recapped a bottle of nail polish. I glanced at her feet. Apparently, I’d interrupted a toe-tweaking session. I’d never polished my toes. It just seemed like such a waste of time. Who the hell sees them, anyway?
“Well…that’s why I’m here.”
“Was it bad?” Her milk-chocolate eyes widened as she l
eaned forward, a frown wrinkling her forehead.
“No, no, he was a perfect gentleman, to tell the truth. But he asked me out again for Wednesday night. I have nothing to wear.”
“Where y’all going?”
I slumped against the couch with a frown and pursed my lips, thinking. “I have no clue.”
“He asked you out and didn’t tell you where he was taking you?”
I leaned forward on my knees, feeling as if I’d failed Womanhood 101. “Merde.”
“Huh?”
“Merde…shit,” I translated with a grin. “Maybe I should cancel,” I suggested, a part of me hoping she’d back me up.
She giggled and waved a hand in my direction. “Call him, silly. I’m sure he’s listed, and if not, we can get his number from Susie.” She stood and disappeared into the kitchen where I could hear the sounds of her rummaging around. She reappeared with a tiny computer and sat on the floor, typing into a web browser. In no time, she’d found his number and handed me her cell phone. “Call him.”
I took it from her and tapped in the numbers she read off was shaking fingers, then listened as it rang. I’d never called a man about a date before. When he didn’t answer, I left a message on his answering machine with Kellie’s phone number and hung up.
“When he calls back, I’ll come and get you. And once you know where he wants to take you, we can go shopping again.”
“I really appreciate this, Kellie.” Anything else I would have said was lost in the ringing of the phone in my hand. I was so startled, I dropped it and watched as it bounced off the toe of my canvas shoes. I looked at Kellie, and she looked at me. The thought flashed through my mind that we must make quite a comical pair, staring at each other like a couple of wide eyed high school girls.
She picked it up, her eyes never leaving mine, and punched the talk button. “Hello? Just a minute.” She held it out to me with a big grin on her face and wiggled her eyebrows.
I reached for the phone, startled to see my hand tremble. It was suddenly damp and slippery. “Oui?”
