Good news.
“No, and quit asking. I’ll tell you when I do, just like I said I’d tell Olivia and half the damn town when I hear.”
I’m not exaggerating. Last night was busy, even for a Friday night, with everyone coming up to the bar to order their beers instead of letting Olivia wait on them. They’d been using their drinks as cover to oh-so-casually mention Bobby and inquire what I’d heard. Nothing, nothing, nothing, I’d said all night.
I’m expecting tonight to be more of the same, the Saturday night crowd wanting their piece of flesh and the latest gossip.
But the answer’s the same. I don’t know anything.
I’m not worried. Bobby said he had no idea what Jeremy’s plans were for this meet and greet, so he didn’t know when, or if, he’d get a minute to call or text. But he assured me he’d be thinking of me the whole time.
“Well, excuse me for giving a shit about the boy. You just make sure that when he gets that first Country Music Award, he mentions his start at Hank’s, the best honkytonk in Great Falls, y’hear?” Unc grins, but he’s dead serious.
“Come on, we’ve got orders piling up. Hit the taps and call out my mixers.”
He takes the cue that we need to focus. Or actually, that I need to focus on anything but Bobby for a few minutes. I’m a big ball of jangly nerves, bouncing around like jingle bells inside a maraca.
Please let this go well for him. If anyone deserves a dream coming true, it’s Bobby.
“Two Jack and Cokes and a Long Island Iced Tea—don’t mouth about how gross they are again—and a Girly Beer, table four. Three Girly Beers, table five.” One corner of Unc’s mouth tilts up in devilment as he looks across the room. “You feeling lucky tonight? Want to make bets on which of my pitchers of Coors Light are going home with your Girly Beers?”
I glance over, seeing three women out for a night on the town at a table next to three guys who are already calling dibs. I’ve seen it a thousand times, but I’ve also seen this go the other way.
“I’ll take that bet. My call is that the guys buy at least two rounds before they realize none of them are getting lucky tonight. The ladies are looking for a buzz and a spin around the floor, nothing else.”
Unc holds out his hand and we shake on it. Standard bet rules apply, loser pulls closing duty. Not that it matters, I’ll clean up either way, but fun stuff like this makes the time pass by quicker and adds some fun to the night. And it’s the much needed distraction I was hoping for, which Unc full-well knows.
An hour later, we still don’t know who’s won the bet. The guys are sitting with the ladies now, paired off evenly, which Unc thinks bodes well for him. But they’ve done two rounds and at least one spin around the floor. Until someone makes a move for the door, we’re at a stalemate.
A blonde comes up to the bar, all smiles. “Amaretto sour.”
“You want to start a tab?” I ask, already putting a glass on the bar.
“No thanks. You heard from Bobby yet?”
I sigh and look at her again. She looks familiar. I’ve definitely seen her in here before, but I don’t know her name. “About what?”
I’ve decided that playing dumb is more entertaining than giving nosy people informational fodder. Keeps things interesting, Unc told me, and so far, he has been right about that.
“The music deal, of course,” she snips. Her eyes widen, “Oh, unless you two aren’t dating anymore. Bless your heart, did he already ditch you for the big city?”
Instead of sorrow, her tone is one of evil glee. And loud enough so that people four stools down can hear her. She’s good at playing the rumor mill.
“Loretta, take your drink and sit down. Everybody in here knows that you’ve thrown yourself at Bobby Tannen’s feet more times than Ilene’s made biscuits and that he’s turned you down every single time. So don’t be starting trouble where there ain’t none to be had, ’specially when you ain’t ready to finish it. Because I am.”
“Hmmph,” Loretta snorts as she hair flips away with her drink.
“What was that all about?” I ask.
Unc sighs. “Just what I said. You got a man that a lot of people like, and a lot of people don’t. Both for no good damn reason I can see. And some people are sad sacks who want everyone to be as miserable as they are. Loretta’s all right. She just never had nobody tell her no, about anything, if you know what I’m saying, so it sticks in her craw a bit.”
I glance over at Loretta. She’s pretty, at least on the outside. Not so sure about her insides, though. They seem a bit sketchy.
“Not a thing to worry about with that one, girl. Or anyone else. That Tannen boy ain’t never followed no one around the way he does you.” He nods like that’s that and goes back to pulling beers.
A little while later, the door creaks open and a group of women I do know come in. Shayanne, Sophie, Katelyn, Rix, and Allyson all walk directly to the bar and me.
“Hey, Willow!” Shayanne yells. “Round of Girly Beers, please!”
“Sure thing. Where you gonna sit? I’ll have Olivia bring them over.”
Rix points to a stool. “We’re sitting right here with you. Brody’s orders, Bobby’s too.”
The other girls laugh like she said something ridiculous. I don’t know what it was until Katelyn manages to huff out around her giggles, “Brody’s orders? As if you take orders from anyone, much less Brody.”
Rix’s grin says Katelyn might be on to something. “Well, I take his ideas into consideration, at least.” She shrugs, and I get the feeling nobody tells Rix what to do. Ever.
I set the beers onto cocktail napkins in front of each woman. “What was the part about Bobby’s orders?”
Shayanne jumps in. “Oh, he told us to check in on you since he was gonna be gone. Pretty sure he wanted to make sure you didn’t make a run for it while he was distracted. You’re lucky he didn’t tie you up and just leave enough water and sandwiches on the nightstand to last till Monday.”
“That is oddly specific and concerning that you’ve considered kidnapping enough to have a meal plan for it.” I couldn’t explain it if I tried, but her outrageousness makes her more endearing somehow. She says crazy things, but they come out more amusing than terrifying.
She frowns, feigning sadness. “Lessons learned the hard way. I always forget to feed and water the hostages.”
Unc appears at my shoulder. “Sophie, where the hell is Doc tonight? You leave him high and dry at the clinic?”
Sophie bites back defensively, “You know I didn’t. When I left, he was petting a new kitten and watching Andy Griffin reruns.” Her voice softens. “We had a mama cat birth four today. They were feeding okay, but Doc said he’d probably sleep over to make sure they didn’t need to be bottle fed.”
“Aw hell, you know he’ll be there every night for a week then. Never seen a man like cats as much as he does.”
Rix snorts first, then Shayanne, then the rest of us catch what Unc just alluded to accidentally. Unc grins big when he realizes why we’re laughing. “You ladies, and I use the term loosely, need to straighten up.”
We try. We make a truly valiant effort for about two seconds before we all bust out again.
God, I needed that. Silly giggles about a stupid, accidental joke. I feel like my whole body is bathed in champagne, bubbly and warm.
Unc rolls his eyes, fighting his own laughter to appear sternly authoritarian. “Actually, I got another plan. Shayanne, you go get that table right there,” he orders her, pointing across the bar to a round booth that just opened up.
She doesn’t question it, zig zagging her way over to flash a thumbs-up.
He dips his head in recognition then sticks two fingers in his mouth. The whistle is loud and unexpected, quieting the bar in an instant as all eyes turn to him.
“Y’all know my niece, Willow. She’s been in here putting up with your shit for a while now, without so much as a fuss.”
What is he doing? I hate being the center of
attention and this little speech of his has everyone in the room, and that’s a lot of people, looking from him to me. A few tip the necks of their bottles at me and several smile.
“More importantly, she puts up with my shit. So here’s what’s going to happen. I’m pulling beers and Willow’s got one batch of Girly Beer left for tonight. That’s all that’s on the drink menu. So if you want mixed drinks, go home and make ’em yourself because she’s taking the night off to hang out with her friends.”
Mouth agape, I blink. Finally finding words, I mouth at him, “What?”
Unc smiles wider. “Take the night off, girl. You deserve it. Hell, take Olivia with you. She deserves it even more than you. Poor thing’s been putting up with my grumpy ass since the dawn of time.”
“I ain’t that old, old man!” Olivia calls out, but I see her coming toward the bar and taking her apron off. “And neither are you.” Kinder and quieter, she asks, “You sure, Hank?”
“Hell yeah, I’m sure. I used to run this place by myself and I can damn sure do it for a couple of hours.” Louder, to the crowd, he says, “In case you didn’t notice, your waitress is off duty and I don’t do that shit. If you want something to eat or drink, then you’d best get up and come to the bar and order it yourself, capiche?”
Heads nod, and from over by the pool table, a guy calls out sarcastically, “Yes sir, Hank.” His laughter can be heard across the bar and his buddies high-five him.
“Keep it up, Chuckles, and I’ll cut you off,” Unc threatens.
The table of guys sobers and eye their almost empty pitcher. I’m pretty sure they’ll be ordering another one any minute in case Unc decides not to serve them any more tonight.
“Glad we understand each other, gentlemen. As you were.”
Unc walks back to his perch, limping slightly, but he covers it by making it seem like he’s checking the stock along the bar. Lemons, limes, napkins, ice . . .
They’re all good, Unc. You know I got you covered.
Somehow, I find myself sitting at a table with all the Tannen and Bennett women, a frozen Girly Beer in front of me, Olivia at my side and apparently off work for the evening.
Still in shock, I ask Olivia, “Has he ever done anything like this?”
“Hell no. It’s like Ebenezer Scrooge woke up and understood the meaning of Christmas or something. But I’m not going to argue. Actually, what I’m going to do is shoot this beer, sneak out the back door, and go over to Hannah’s shop and surprise her. If I’m off tonight—no offense to you ladies—but I’d rather spend the evening with my lady.”
She’s challenging them too, the way she did me at first. But the whole group smiles, Shayanne encouraging her to ‘go getcha some.’
Rix tells Olivia, “If Hank says anything, you’re in the bathroom. If he questions it, we’ll say you got your period. Shuts men up every time.”
She’s an absolute evil genius and I love it.
Olivia shows her appreciation by swallowing her beer in one long gulp, waving goodbye, and skirting around the dance floor to disappear into the kitchen.
“You think she’s okay to drive?” I ask, suddenly realizing that though it was only one beer, she downed it quickly so it’ll hit her all at once.
Shayanne laughs. “One, she’s no lightweight. Two, Hannah’s shop is down the street so she’s probably walking over. And three, the way she opened up her throat and poured that beer down, that woman would probably give one mean blowjob.”
I blink in shock. So does everyone else. Silently.
“What? I’m just saying,” Shayanne replies with a shrug. “You know how long it took me to not choke? Maybe I can ask her how she learned to do that?” She looks off toward the kitchen, and Sophie lays a staying hand on her arm. “Right, not now. Probably not the best time. But later . . .” She trails off.
“Breathe through your nose,” Katelyn offers quietly, and all our heads swivel her way. She shrugs, but it starts another tidal wave of laughter.
“I cannot believe you just said that!” Allyson’s eyes are wide with shock.
Katelyn’s returning smile is coy and innocent.
“What about you?” Shayanne whirls on me, eyes boring into my soul.
I can feel the blood rush out of my face and know I must be as pale as a ghost. “Uh, what about me?”
She is not asking if I choke, surely not. Right? Because that is not a conversation I’m having with Bobby’s family. Scratch that, it’s not a conversation I’m having with anyone, period. Privacy is a good thing, and as someone who picks and chooses what parts of my life I share, I recognize that more than most.
Shay realizes the direction of my thoughts and waves her hands spastically. ‘No, no, not like that. I mean ‘what about you?’ like ‘tell us about you.’ I wouldn’t go straight for sex life questions. I save that stuff for meeting five, at least. Unless you’re feeling like there’s something you want to share with the class?” She swirls her straw in her glass, one brow raised in question.
Every pair of eyes around the table weighs on me.
“No, uh . . . nope. I’m fine,” I stammer out.
“Don’t scare her,” Sophie whispers out of the side of her mouth to Shayanne. “We’re supposed to make her want to stay, not run for the hills from the crazy hillbillies.” To me, Sophie says, “I swear you get used to it. I’m a city girl too. Used to be all designer clothes, mani-pedis, and nightclubs every weekend. Now, ‘fancy’ means it hasn’t had cow shit or placenta on it, James painting my toes, and Hank’s.” She looks around the bar, sounding wistful. “Came here for a summer internship with Doc and never left. One day, when he retires—which he never will—I’ll take over the whole practice. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”
“That’s mostly because of James, though,” Katelyn says.
“How’d you two meet? Not to gossip, but I heard he used to be a professional bull rider?” I ask. The grapevine works well around here, and I guess I don’t mind it so much when it’s not about me. At dinner, they’d obviously been deeply in love, with each other and their little girl, but I didn’t exactly get everyone’s life story.
Sophie’s smile is wide and her eyes grow bright at the memory. “I delivered a colt at the ranch. He yelled at me and called me a bitch, and I hated him on sight and put him in his place. So your basic love at first sight story.”
All the girls smile a little.
Katelyn holds a hand up. “Mark and I were friends. Poor guy didn’t even know the meaning of the word. Literally.”
Shayanne pipes up, grinning. “Threw myself at Luke.”
I have no problem believing that. Shay is a see it, want it, get it sort.
Allyson adds, “Bruce and I were high school sweethearts. We broke up for a long time, but we got back to where we were supposed to be all along.” That sounds like a story if I’ve ever heard one.
“Fuck buddies who caught feelings,” Rix says on a sigh.
Last but not least, I say, “Saw each other from across a crowded room.”
Rix doesn’t leave it at that, though. “But you made him work hard for it. Good job, Willow.” She holds up a hand, and I high-five her, feeling like part of the group.
Actually, I don’t know that I’ve ever felt accepted like this. A whole group of women who, from the outside looking in, don’t seem to have all that much in common. Loud and brash, soft-spoken and sweet, sharp and witty—all so many different facets, but somehow, they’ve blended together into a family. I’m barely on the edge of their group, but their warm welcome is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I was always the quiet, shy weirdo on the outskirts of what was going on, the one nobody noticed, the oddball. But these women don’t care that I’m weird, or quiet, or sometimes still a bit awkward.
Come to think of it, nobody in Great Falls has made me feel like an outsider. I’m sure some of that has to do with my relation to Unc, but even beyond that, they wave when I drive down Main Street, they greet me by name at the coffee
shop, and they comment on the photos on my blog. I think the largest demographic of my new followers is the people of Great Falls. They’ve accepted me as one of their own.
My eyes burn hot with unshed tears, happy ones. But I blink them away and join back in on the conversation where the girls are talking about . . . stinky guys?
“I’m telling you, make a whole line marketed toward men. Make it smell like wood campfires, pine trees, leather, and diesel. Do one of your pun things with a goat logo saying, Don’t smell like goat ass. I’d buy a Christmas basket for every guy I know.” Rix leans back in the booth, and I see the toe of her black boot peek out where she’s got her feet propped up on the bench across from her.
She’s the picture of the cool, don’t fuck with me attitude. I’d love to take a picture, but my camera is at home. My brain still takes the frame. Click.
“Good idea, bad execution,” Katelyn corrects. “If you do a male line, don’t do anything crass. If it’s classy, I could use them as part of my bride and groom kits at the resort.”
The light over the table shines on her blonde hair and big, blue eyes giving her an All-American, Barbie doll look. Click.
I look around the table again. Each woman is so different and so beautiful in her own way.
“Uh, guys . . .”
My mouth opens before my brain can stop it, and everyone’s attention is on me. I almost say ‘never mind’ and forget about the stupid idea I just had. But somewhere inside, a tiny spark of ‘what if’ grows brighter.
“Can I ask you a crazy question?”
Shay snorts. “Considering we started the night by discussing blowjobs, I think we’ve made it quite clear that we’re up for anything. Whatcha wanna know? I can’t exactly offer everything I know about Bobby, but if you were to ask, I could maybe . . . blink once for yes and twice for no?” Her smile says she thinks that’s brilliant.
“No, I . . . uh . . . this is going to sound weird, but . . .” I don’t know why this is hard for me to ask. I’ve done it before, but not with people who mattered this much.
Rough Country (Tannen Boys Book 3) Page 26
