“You okay?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Five thirty?” he asked.
I nodded again.
That was when he grinned.
Oh yes. Definitely worth it.
“Glad his shit kept you in town, dollface,” he whispered.
I nodded again. I was glad too. Very glad.
He lifted a hand and cupped my jaw.
I held my breath.
Please kiss me, please kiss me. Please, please, please kiss me, my mind chanted.
“See you at five thirty,” he muttered, his fingers at my jaw tensed a second then he let me go.
I shifted woodenly and watched him walk to his truck parked on the square.
Then I licked my lips, turned back and headed to the hotel.
* * * * *
One hour later…
I had a dilemma.
No connections. Play it safe. No roots. Traveling. Hotels. Bars. No one but Casey and me.
This meant I didn’t know what I was doing.
I’d never been on a date.
I didn’t even know what a VFW was.
I just knew steak was a fancy meal. Casey and I splurged on our birthdays, on Christmas and on Thanksgiving. We saved up (or I did) and made it so. No gifts. Just togetherness, a good meal and a toast that we made it that far and another toast to the hope that our futures would be that we’d keep on making it.
But now, I had a looming date.
With Grayson Cody.
And even though I figured it would only be this one, not for me, but for him, I didn’t want to mess it up.
But I had no idea what I was doing.
Casey was staring at the TV, waiting for his dream girl to get off work and ignoring me. When he wanted to hold a grudge, he held it as long as he wanted and he did this by giving me the silent treatment.
But even if he wasn’t holding a grudge, I could hardly ask him what to do on a date.
When we’d run he’d been seventeen. He’d only had a handful of dates by then. And since then, his dates included getting some woman in a bar drunk then getting in her pants either in his car or while I made myself scarce and he had fun in our hotel room.
I didn’t suspect this was the same kind of date Grayson Cody gave a woman.
My brother couldn’t help me.
And I needed help.
And I knew who not only could help, but would.
I just didn’t know if I could find her.
But I was going to try.
I flipped closed the semi-stolen/mostly-borrowed library book I was not reading but still was holding close to my face, dropped it on the bed and rolled off.
Then I grabbed my jacket, scarf and purse, shrugging, wrapping and strapping them on.
Then I hit the door, muttering, “Be back.”
Casey didn’t even tear his eyes from the TV.
Really, he could hold a serious grudge.
I left him to it, ducked out of the room and hurried through the cold, late afternoon sidewalks of Mustang to the square.
Let her be there, let her be there, let her be there, my mind chanted as, head down, shoulders hunched, I walked through the cold.
I pushed through the door of The Rambler and looked right to the bar.
She was there.
Thank you, I whispered in my head.
Her eyes came to me as I headed to the bar, not the opposite end with my back to the wall, the near end with my back to the door.
“Hey,” she said, jerking up her chin. “Early tonight,” she remarked.
Another go at friendly. That door was still open.
Thank you, I repeated in a whisper in my head.
“Yeah, can I have a diet pop?”
She nodded, grabbed a glass, dunked it in the big ice bin and put it on the counter. Then she shot it with the soda gun.
“Heard Bud and his boys gave you trouble last night,” she said softly, curiously and carefully. She expected to be shut down.
I didn’t shut her down. I lifted my eyes from the glass to hers.
“Gray knew there’d be trouble, he was looking out for me.”
She took in a slight breath and replied, “Gray’s that way.”
More Gray intrigue.
I didn’t have time for Gray intrigue, alas.
I had a date with him that night.
“Anyway, a cop named Lenny showed up and Manny heard the commotion so Gray got backup and it all turned out okay,” I finished.
“Len’s a good man. And Manny doesn’t like trouble at his hotel. Bud, he’s a dick. He’s no stranger to trouble and Manny, or Len for that matter, especially Len, are no strangers to Bud’s brand of trouble.”
There it was. Bud spread his jerk cheer all through Mustang. Not a surprise.
“I shouldn’t have made that bet,” I muttered.
“Don’t know, girl,” she grinned. “Fifteen minutes to earn five hundred dollars? I’da made it.”
I held her gaze. Then, slowly, I grinned back.
She caught it, interpreted it correctly as the opening it was and leaned in instantly. “Where’d you learn how to play pool like that?” she asked then didn’t wait for me to answer. “Seriously, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Everyone’s talkin’ about it.”
Oh no. That was not good.
She kept speaking.
“You can’t be more than twenty-one.”
“I’m twenty-two,” I told her.
“Okay,” she grinned again, “you can’t be more than twenty-two. So, your age, how’d you learn to play pool like that?”
I wasn’t used to this. Sharing. I didn’t know how to do it. I just knew how not to.
So I told her the truth.
“I didn’t. It came naturally. I just picked up a pool cue one day and went for it. My brother flipped out. I can’t say I played then like I play now but…” I shrugged, “it just happened. It’s just something I can do.”
“Cool,” she whispered on a bigger grin.
I liked this, talking to her. It felt nice. Nice enough I could do it awhile. Nice enough, I might even be able to do it for hours.
But I had a mission.
And on that mission, I blurted, “What’s a VFW?”
Her head tilted sharply to the side and her brows drew together.
Then her head straightened, her brows drifted apart and she flat out smiled.
“Veterans of Foreign Wars,” she answered.
What on earth?
Janie kept talking.
“They got a lodge here. Veterans commune, they do shit, make money, give it to charity, have picnics, I don’t know, shit like that. And they make a mean steak. Do it as a fundraiser every Friday but also so they’ll have more reason to commune, eat meat and drink beer.”
“So, is it fancy?” I asked carefully.