by Riley Scott
Chloe jerked her head back. The words stung. “Well, isn’t what I do the same thing you’ve been doing the last several months?”
“Yeah, and maybe that’s why I need to get out of here. You see, for me, it’s something I’m doing. For you, it’s who you are. And I refuse to be that. I’m not going to be like you, alone and lost and looking for my next lay.”
“What are you going to do then? Marry the next guy who comes your way and live a lie? You and I both know what you like, what makes you come alive. We both know who you are. And you’re twenty-four. It’s about damn time you start accepting that you’re not going to be just like the rest of them. It’s about time you realize the difference in being a gem among the common stones. It’s time to take a stand. Stand out and be fucking proud of who you are.”
“No.” Amelia’s icy glare told Chloe she was pushing too hard. “There’s no way I’m going to stand on some street corner and picket. I’m not going to attend a rainbow Pride parade, and I’m sure as hell not going to hold your hand in public to make a point.”
“Wow,” Chloe said, leaning back in her chair as if she had been struck. “It’s amazing that holding my hand was the most damning of all the things you listed.”
“I’m not going to be your little gay protégé.”
“Stop.” Chloe held up her hands. “That wasn’t even the point of all of this. I wasn’t trying to go down that path. That’s just where we ended up. Can I start over?”
Amelia crossed her arms across her chest, looking every bit like a petulant child being forced to listen a lecture. “Go ahead,” she said after a moment, tapping her foot as though her time was being wasted.
“I was going to see if you’d like to come with me to Austin next month,” she said, her tone every bit as defeated as she felt. “I’m going to see a friend of mine for the weekend, and she said I could invite a friend. You remember Katy Denton?”
“A friend? Will she know me as a friend, or have you told Katy about us?”
“I’ve kept your deal,” Chloe said, rolling her eyes. “I wouldn’t out you like that. Also there is no label other than friend, so I don’t think you have to worry. And Katy doesn’t care. She got the hell out of Knell and hasn’t been back to visit since. She, unlike some people, accepts me for who I am and doesn’t give a damn who I sleep with. She’s my best friend in the world, and I suppose she can know whatever you’d like her to, since you clearly make all of the rules around here. I just thought it might give us a chance to have a little bit of time to ourselves, explore something other than the walls of my house, dance together, grab a drink in a bar, something, something more than this. I’m not asking you to parade around here and be out and proud. I’m asking you to take a trip with me to start out with and see if you feel comfortable with it. From there, we can assess whether or not you’re comfortable going to the diner and grabbing a burger with me. You don’t have to sort out whether you’re comfortable with the whispers and talking in this town just yet. As far as that goes, we don’t even have to do anything crazy there, just as long as we’re doing something together, something more than hiding out in my house.”
“You’ll never get more than this from me. I’m not you. I’m not the poster child for making a town accept who I am. I don’t need to engage in the ‘fight for equality,’ as you’ve called it. I don’t care if they don’t like who I am, because there’s no reason for them to know. I can live my life quietly and peacefully without their judgmental stares.”
“You just can’t handle any criticism, can you?” Chloe asked, her frustration mounting with every hate-filled word slipping out of the lips she had wanted to kiss only moments before.
“I don’t know what the hell that’s supposed to mean.” Amelia stood. The movement was not lost on Chloe. She needed to have the upper hand, to look down upon Chloe. Her hands trembled as she spoke, but her eyes never wavered with their piercing stare.
“It means that you’ve been everyone’s little princess for so long that you don’t know how to be the down and out one,” Chloe said. “It means that everything has been handed to you—from your daddy’s money to your name to your reputation. I know you’ve worked hard for your shop and you’ve made sure to keep it going no matter what. But I also know that you can’t handle it when there’s any sign of confrontation. I’m tired of seeing you brush things aside like they’re someone else’s problems. They’re your problems, too. You’re gay. Whether you ever want to admit that to anyone but me is your choice. But at some point you have to stop running scared or you’ll waste your life away.”
“I’m wasting my life away here with you,” Amelia shot back. “I’ve wasted the past few months, and I’m not going to do this. I’m not going to make anything public. I’m not going to jeopardize what I have. How dare you assume that the life I’ve built is all because of who my family is? I’m not doing this anymore. I’m done here. Enjoy your different life, and your fucking supper.”
Amelia stormed out the front door and slammed it behind her. Chloe sat in a stupor. She blinked and looked around the room in disbelief. Shaking her head, she brought her fingers up to massage her temples. She had just wanted to invite Amelia to go to Austin. She hadn’t wanted this, and even though she knew it was going to be short-lived, she hadn’t been ready for goodbye just yet. She stared at the apron Amelia had left hanging on one of the chairs and thought about chasing her down to make sure she had it. Instead, she figured she’d leave it with the slew of things others left behind when they decided they couldn’t do this anymore, when they decided they wanted to be “normal.”
The piece of brisket she had flung still lay on the tile, but Chloe didn’t care enough to clean it up just yet. Her breathing was shallow as she let the weight of it all come crashing down on her. Standing, still in a stupor, she picked up her tea glass and carried it to the kitchen. As she reached to set it on the counter, it slipped from her hands. Helpless, she watched it fall and shatter.
She thought of how crime stories always said whether or not there appeared to be a struggle. Today her house screamed of a struggle, and it wasn’t wrong. There had certainly been a struggle—and it was ongoing. A struggle between her head and her heart.
Chloe couldn’t tell which was worse, the way her heart hurt, the blow to her pride, or the sheer anger she felt. Her hands shook as she looked around the kitchen. The broken glass symbolized all she felt inside.
It always ended this way. Small towns created small minds, and she just happened to continually fall in love with those scared, small minds.
She let out a scream, even though there was no one near enough to hear. Sliding down the wall, she collapsed into a defeated pile, giving way to the onslaught of emotions she felt.
She wanted to cry, to let it all out. She had seen the movies and read the books. It seems like that was the way breakups were supposed to go. To her dismay as she scrunched up her face, only a single tear slid down her cheek. Slapping the tile underneath her, she gritted her teeth and steeled her emotions. Pissed off was an emotion she could deal with, but this was too much. Even if she could have mustered up the tears she had been taught to hide, there was no need to cry over someone who couldn’t even speak up for her—who wouldn’t even give a damn if she disappeared and skipped town.
Sighing, she kicked the floor, letting the rest of her outburst subside. She rose, reminding herself that she would bounce back from this stronger than before. She always did. Crazy women in this town had made sure she knew how to bounce back. Regardless of the current situation, it was time for a beer.
She grabbed her keys and made a beeline for the door. Cranking her music loud enough that she wouldn’t have to hear the noise of her own thoughts, she barreled down the road, determined to make this a better night.
Chapter Two
Pulling into McCool’s, Chloe parked her truck and briefly checked her reflection before getting out. She wasn’t here to impress. She was only here to grab a cold beer and
listen to Louie the bartender’s outrageous stories in hopes of finding reasons to smile.
Neon lights littered the walls. She breathed in the scents of beer and liquor, mingled with too much perfume and cologne, a little straw, and a few patrons who probably hadn’t showered off the day’s work. The scent welcomed her, as did Louie’s wave from the bar. She walked up to her regular barstool.
“How are you doing today, sweetheart?” Louie asked, his belly bouncing as he laughed and gave her his half-toothless grin. The sheen on his cheeks and forehead told her what she already knew. The bar’s AC was subpar for the sizeable crowd that had gathered.
“Eh, next question,” she said with a shrug.
“All right, then,” he said. “What do you want?”
“Surprise me,” she said, feeling more at home and at peace in the warmth of his smile. “As long as it’s cold.”
“A cold one comin’ right up,” he said and poured beer from the tap.
She smiled and thanked him, grateful that he had other customers to wait on. She wasn’t sure she was up for a full conversation tonight, at least not with someone who knew her as well as he did and could read behind the bullshit to know something was wrong.
“Isn’t this a shocker?” The voice came from right behind her, so she turned slightly in her chair. “A dyke in a flannel shirt drinking a beer.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Chloe shot back, turning to face Trent Westwick.
He smiled at her, but it looked more like a predator assessing its prey. His perfectly groomed and styled blond hair spilled across his wide forehead. His square jaw was set as he raised an eyebrow at her. She glanced up at those, set right over his cool blue eyes, and noted they too were groomed and too well kept for most around this town.
“You just happened to be over here being a town disgrace, and rumor has it, it’s up to my family to clean up around here,” he continued.
“Tell that to your pastel polo shirt,” she said, shaking her head.
“How about you ditch your lezzy ways for just one night, and I’ll show you what it’s really like to enjoy a good time?”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.” She tightened the grip on her beer.
“You don’t know what you’re missing out on,” he said, leaning in close enough for her to smell the sharp sting of whiskey on his breath. “You just haven’t had the right dick yet,” he hissed. “And mine is the cure-all drug for your disgusting disease.”
“Nothing sounds quite as disgusting as that offer or that insinuation that I have an ailment,” she said, slamming her beer down on the counter and swinging around in her chair. “I’ll have you know that your small-minded douchebaggery won’t change a damn thing about who I am.”
“I’ve seen it before,” he challenged, staggering as he got in her face.
“Yeah, I know,” she said and shrugged. There was always a back-story with this level of exaggerated homophobia. “We all know why you hate the gays so damn much. We’ve all heard about your mama and how ‘wrecked’ you were as a kid,” she added, using air quotes. “But leave me be. I’ve had a rough enough day, and I don’t need you around ruining it.”
He backed up slightly, his eyes narrowing as he took in the weight of her words. “That bitch has nothing to do with this. This is all about you and the fact that you’re a fuckin’ joke.” He slurred over his drawl, his face reddening with every word. “Aside from all that, you’re alone, aren’t you? Maybe if you wanted to do something the right way, you’d have found a decent man by now.”
She cocked her head to the side, letting out a short laugh. Everyone thought she had “friends” in the neighboring towns—or that she went and visited them in Austin on one of her many trips. They weren’t wrong. But they all failed to realize she had been with her share right here in the village limits. Even with a limited population like 12,000, there had been plenty of women who wanted to give in to their curiosities.
For a moment, she thought about regaling him with the fact that she had been with sisters, friends, daughters—and even one wife, although she wasn’t proud of the fact—of many patrons in the bar tonight. Whether they wanted an experiment or they were taking their one chance at living the life they longed for with the security that she would protect their secrets, they flocked to her. They were her companions, lovers, friends, and sometimes more. Rarely more. But they all still mattered to her. She wouldn’t expose them. She never had and she wouldn’t start now—especially to a snake like Westwick.
“It’s a damn shame and a waste of a perfectly fuckable woman,” Trent spat the words at her.
“That’s enough,” Louie said, reaching across to take the glass of whiskey out of Trent’s hand. “Knock it off, kid.”
“You want a health code violation up in here?” Trent asked, reaching for his whiskey and slipping, only to catch himself on the stool adjacent Chloe’s. “I can make that happen.”
“I know you can.” Louie shrugged. “But your threats are empty here. I don’t care, and neither does anyone else who wants to get a drink in this place. Hell, you wouldn’t want it closed down either, or you’d have to drive twenty minutes to get this stumbling drunk somewhere else. Leave Chloe alone. She’s one of us.”
“Fuck you.” Trent narrowed his eyes at Louie. “And fuck this place.” He reached beside Chloe, grabbing the two open beer bottles left by a couple on the dance floor, took a swig out of one of them, and staggered back to the booth where his buddies waited.
Louie sighed and shook his head, replacing the beers with fresh ones. “I’ll kick ’em out myself if I have to. You really are one of us.” He leaned in closer, reaching across to grab her hand. “I mean that.”
The words warmed Chloe’s heart. No matter how rough and tumble she might be, how jagged around the edges, it still did her heart good to know she had allies in this place. “Thanks, Louie.”
“Least I could do,” he said. “Now that he’s cut off, I’m sure he won’t stick around. But you, your beers are on the house tonight. Even if he is the mayor’s kid, no one should have to deal with that kind of behavior.”
She nodded and let out another deep breath. “They sure do know how to grow ’em spoiled and entitled around here.”
“That they do, but you and me, we’ll always be the humble ones. We know what it is to have and to have not.”
She nodded and raised her glass in a mock cheers to her favorite bartender and one of her closest friends. Over the years, coming to see Louie had been more than grabbing a beer. It had also been about camaraderie with one who understood her way of life. Being children of modest cattle ranchers had meant that they had to fight tooth and nail for everything they had in their lives—unlike some people. Trent Westwick, for instance.
Watching out of the corner of her eye, she saw Trent back at his table of equally preppy friends. They stuck out like a sore thumb in this part of the world. In a place where everyone’s best was something that hadn’t gotten dirt on it for the day, they made every point to show off the brand names and slick logos that they had bought from a store in a bigger city—or when they were off studying at a fancy university, something people like her and Louie knew nothing about.
The class system was definitely still alive and well in Knell, Texas. She took a swig of her beer, wishing it would do something to help any of the problems she felt.
She saw as Trent pointed back to the bar. Using his hands, he spoke exaggeratedly, and she knew that whatever he was telling them, it was more than likely a stretched truth. He pointed in her direction, glaring with icy daggers for eyes. She heard the words “fucking queer” but nothing else. Shaking her head, she redirected her attention to something more positive. And when they finally all walked out without paying their tabs, she took a deep breath.
“Sorry about the lost business,” she said, giving Louie a sad grin.
“Oh it’s all right, ma’am,” he said, his smile growing. “I’m happy to be rid of th
e trash for one night, and don’t worry. I’ll get my money back. If they ever want a cold beer again, they’re going to have to answer for that tab—and I’m thinking their next drinks will be double the cost, just to make sure they walk the line a little more.”
She nodded and offered him a smile. “You’re the best.”
He winked at her and returned to wiping down the bar.
Growing up in this town, anyone different was an outcast. It had always been that way. Amelia’s words echoed in her mind, and she wanted to scream. With hatred like that splashed about at someone just trying to grab a beer after a rough day, it was no wonder Amelia—and all of the girls before her—cowered in the closet, kept there by fear and shame.
“I think I’m going to call it a night, Lou,” she said, letting out a sigh. What was supposed to have brought her normalcy and comfort had only served to ruin her night more. She waved at him, put enough cash to include a generous tip under her glass, and slipped back out into the night.
It was warm and humid, muggy even with the predicted rainstorm approaching, but she felt a chill as she walked. Somehow, the night was cold and unwelcoming. She shivered, wrapping her arms tight around her body and quickening her pace.
In the safety of her truck, she glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror and forced herself to breathe normally. Running her hands through her hair, she noted the lines around her eyes. Hard livin’. She heard her dad’s words play through her head. The worries she had accumulated, along with the stress of keeping the guys in line at work and the stress of keeping the secrets of every one of her lovers, had left her ragged.
Still, she admired what was left of her mother in her—the bright smile, the hazel eyes, the long eyelashes. She turned her mouth up into a smile and turned on the truck. It would do her no good to dwell on her problems or the crow’s feet forming from too much stress and too much sun.
