Hell, Yeah (15 page)

“Where’d you learn to dance like that?” She panted.

“My grandma. We used to go there on Sundays and Grandma would get out her old vinyl records. My great-grandma could do the Charleston and the jitterbug. I grew up dancing.”

“You been holdin’ out on me cowboy,” she said.

“Got to keep a few surprises to keep you interested.”

Her last song was an old Elvis Presley song, “Can’t Help Falling in Love With You.” Travis drew her to his chest and barely moved as they listened to Elvis’s smooth voice.

“Am I supposed to be thinking about you or the words to this song? Did you choose this to send me a message?” Travis asked.

“I’m not sending messages,” she lied.

The last piano note echoed off the paneling on the Honky Tonk walls and still Travis held Cathy. He hummed the Elvis tune softly in her ear as he moved her around the floor a few more times. Finally, he leaned back and said, “I’ll put a dollar in if you’ll keep dancing with me.”

Cathy shook her head. “You’ve got to work tomorrow and it’s late. Let’s call it a night.”

He slipped an arm around her waist. “Let’s go out and look at the stars before we go to sleep.”

She kept in step with him, their boots and the beat of their hearts the only sound in the Honky Tonk. The cold night air hit her in the face when she unlocked and opened the door. A quarter moon hung in the midst of a million stars like a king surrounded by his subjects and she could have stood there forever with his arm around her waist.

“They are almost as beautiful as you are.” Travis softly kissed her one more time.

She leaned against a porch post. A movement in her peripheral vision made her turn to the left and watch a van slowly drive out of the parking lot. The windows were dark and the license plate muddy. She attributed the crazy prickly feeling on her neck to the feel of Travis’s arm when he slipped it around her and forgot all about it when he brushed another kiss across her forehead.

* * *

Cathy awoke at ten o’clock and sat straight up, planning to get the Honky Tonk put to straights and go to work at noon. When she realized it was Saturday and she didn’t have to open the office that day, she rolled over and picked up her cell phone. She hit the speed dial number for her cousin, Daisy.

“Daisy, I miss you,” she said when she heard the familiar voice on the other end.

“Hey, girl, come and see me. Guess what—I’m pregnant,” Daisy said.

“You rat. You beat me to the altar and now you get a baby before I do. Is this payback for totaling that old junky car of yours?” Cathy asked.

“I told you I’d get even, but it took me twelve years to do it.” Daisy laughed.

“Morning sickness?”

“Not a bit.”

“Now I am jealous. You get the handsome dark-haired cowboy, the ranch, the job you love, and a baby with no morning sickness. Have you been kissed by the good luck fairies?”

“I believe I have. Speaking of babies, Chigger called last night. She’s due any day. I’m coming down there when the baby is born.”

“Now that’s the best news I’ve heard,” Cathy shouted.

Daisy giggled. “Don’t bust my eardrum. It’ll be next week probably. I’m waiting until she calls to start that way. I’ve already got a whole basket full of cute little pink things I bought for the new baby.”

“I’ll make a trip to the baby store and get my present ready. There’s so much I’ve got to tell you but I’m not doing it over the phone if you are coming next week. Is Jarod coming with you?”

“Yes, and we’ll be staying out at the ranch with Garrett. Suppose you already know that he’s plumb smitten by Angel,” Daisy said.

“Yes I did. You could stay here. I’ll give you and Jarod my bed and I’ll sleep on the sofa,” Cathy said. Travis could stay at home a few nights. Lately he’d shown up at her door almost every night. It started with ice, no water, a tornado, and lately just to talk for an hour or two. They’d share what they’d been doing all day, kiss a couple of times, and then make out on the bed. But if Daisy was coming he could sleep in the trailer.

“Thanks, but Garrett has lots of room. Jarod and Garrett will be all involved with the ranch business so we’ll be free to spend the days together. Now get up, clean the Tonk up, and go shopping. I’m hearing through the grapevine that Travis Henry has his eye on you,” Daisy said.

“We’ll talk about that when you get here,” Cathy said.

“Yes, we definitely will. I sure miss that place. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, and tell Chigger I wouldn’t mind her havin’ that baby a few days early.” Cathy threw the covers off the bed and danced around the room like a sugared up six-year-old after a visit to Grandma’s house.

She made coffee and carried a cup into the Tonk with her. The place was messier than she’d ever seen it, but the stuffed cash register made up for the job of putting everything to rights. By noon she had it cleaned and her weekly bank deposit ready. That involved a quick drive to the bank in Stephenville and back.

Twice she looked up in the rearview to see a van following her but when she slowed down or pulled over to one side, it sped past her. By the time she got to the bank she’d convinced herself that it was all her imagination anyway. Then on the way back to Mingus she noticed the same color van sitting on the side of the road with the windows down. Two men were inside. They didn’t appear to be talking but cigarette smoke was drifting out the driver’s side window. She’d have to remember to ask Tinker that evening if he’d seen the two shifty characters he’d mentioned again and if one of them smoked.

When she got back to the Smokestack in Thurber it was the middle of the afternoon and she was starved. She parked the red Caddy on the far reaches of the lot and wondered if she shouldn’t have parked closer since a sprinkle of wintry rain hit her in the face as she hurried inside out of the cold.

“Well, look who’s here,” Amos said from a table right inside the door to her left.

“Hi, Amos! You eatin’ alone today?”

He motioned toward the chair on the other side of the small table. “Not now. Come sit with me. Tell me everything you know while we have our dinner and supper combined.”

Her eyes twinkled. “Ordered yet?”

“We don’t even need a menu, do we?”

Amos held up two fingers to the well-known waitress.

“Coconut pie?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Amos said.

Cathy pulled her arms from her leather jacket and let it fall back on her chair. “What brings you to Thurber today?”

“Had to check on the well out at Jezzy’s place. It’s lookin’ promisin’,” Amos said.

“And if it comes in good, does that mean you’ll be buying mineral rights to other property?”

“Don’t know. Never count my chickens before they’re hatched. I’m still working on a deal up north. Depends on where I can make the most money. I been hearin’ things about Angel and Garrett. You got anything on that?”

She’d held her breath when he said he’d been hearing things, afraid he was about to ask for a report on her and Travis. “Ask Angel.”

“I will but first I’m askin’ you. If I take the crew to Alaska is she going with me or has Garrett McElroy stole her heart?”

“Angel is a damn fine engineer, Amos. If she decides to stay in Texas with him, put her in charge of the wells in this area. She can handle it even if she is young and green. She’s got a nose for oil and she’s not afraid to get her hands dirty,” Cathy said.

“That’s good advice. I wish you’d sell the Honky Tonk and come to work for me. You’ve got a nose for oil too, only in a different way, and you keep your fingers on the pulse of the staff. Name your price and I’ll double it,” he said.

“The Tonk is not for sale,” she said seriously.

“I’m not talking about that beer joint. I’m talking about salary.”

“No thanks. I left that line of work behind me. I’m just doing you a favor. Answer me a question. How did you get your hands on my resume?”

“I called Daisy. She knew where you worked so I called them and said I was interested in hiring you. They faxed the resume with enough letters of recommendation to make the President of the U.S. of A. sit up and take notice.”

“No thanks, still,” she said.

Amos waved at someone coming through the door. “Well, look who’s here. Hey, Travis, come on over here and join us. I’ll buy your dinner if you haven’t eaten yet.”

He pulled up a chair beside Amos right across from Cathy. “Haven’t had a bite since breakfast and that wasn’t anything but a doughnut on the run. I’ve been out at the site and came in to get cleaned up and grab a few hours sleep before I do my shift at the Honky Tonk.”

“What are you doing here then?” Amos asked.

“Coming back from a fast run to Stephenville. We looked everywhere for a V-belt and couldn’t find one so I ran into town and bought a dozen. Thought I’d grab a burger before I took them out there. They won’t need them today but we will the first of the week.” He didn’t admit that he’d spotted the red Caddy as he drove past, made an illegal U-turn in the middle of the road, and drove back.

“Don’t order a burger. Get the chicken fried steak,” Amos said.

Travis looked doubtful. “Any good? I hate a bad one.”

Amos leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell him, Cathy.”

“Best you’ll ever put in your mouth. Amos is paying so give it a try.”

“I’m a connoisseur of good chicken fry.”

“So am I,” Cathy said. “And this place makes them almost as good as my grandma’s, and honey, that’s a compliment worth havin’.”

Amos got the waitress’ attention and held up three fingers and nodded when she mouthed “coconut pie.” In a few minutes she brought their salads and garlic bread.

Amos dug into the salad. “We were just talking about Angel. What’s your take? You think she’ll go to Alaska when I move the crew up there?”

“Don’t know. Ask Angel. Don’t know if they raise Angus cattle in Alaska or if Garrett would want to relocate.”

“Pretty serious, is it?”

“They don’t know it yet, but it’s serious. Keep her in this area and give her a shitload of responsibility. She’s tough. She can handle it.”

Amos ate slowly, savoring every bite. “What about ranchin’, husbands, babies, and the oil business all combined?” he asked.

“She loves her job and she’s got enough energy to do it all.”

“And you?” Amos slipped the question in slyly and kept his eye on Cathy more than Travis.

“Give me an opportunity to move to Alaska and I’ll have my bags packed in ten minutes. Only I want to go permanently, not on a six-month turnaround. I want to buy a chunk of property and live there.”

The set of Cathy’s jaw told Amos that she had no notions of living in Alaska.

“Ever been up there?” Amos asked Travis.

“Oh, yeah. My first job as petroleum engineer back before I signed on with your company was mainly in that area. I did a six-month turnaround in the Prudhoe Bay area and said if anyone ever said I had to go back there I’d shoot myself first. Then I did a turnaround near Anchorage. Not right in the big city but on the outskirts. Fell in love with the place. That is where you are negotiating, isn’t it?”

Amos nodded. He didn’t want Cathy to move to Alaska and he wondered just how much Travis would like it there without her.

Travis had to push his way to the front of the line and listen to snide remarks about cutting when Tinker let him into the Honky Tonk on Saturday night. All the bar stools were filled, tables were claimed, games were going on at both pool tables with people waiting to play the winners, and the dance floor was so crowded he had to pick his way to the bar. “Come On In (The Whiskey’s Fine)” by Mark Chestnutt had line dancers and two-steppers taking up every square foot of room.

“Sorry I’m a little late.” He went right to work taking orders.

Cathy’s blond ponytail swung back and forth as she hurried from customer to customer. Sparkling rhinestones in the shape of a heart lit up every time the light hit her black T-shirt. Her hip slung jeans were tight and her boots scuffed and worn. His pulse was testimony that it was going to be a long, hot night and he’d be ready to sleep in the beer cooler by the time Tinker shut the place down.

Cathy pushed the button on the blender to make a pitcher of hurricanes and took time to look at him. He had rolled up the sleeves on a black T-shirt showing biceps that flexed every time he pulled the handle to fill another Mason jar. She sniffed and got a nose full of Stetson above the smoke and perfume. It would be so damned easy to fall for Travis or even just to fall in bed with him. She’d have to be very, very careful.

“The lot was full when I opened up. They were lined up halfway to the highway and have been coming in as fast as Tinker can check their IDs. I’m beginning to feel like we’re runnin’ one of those fancy joints in Dallas. I’ve never had to worry about the maximum load but tonight could be the first,” she said.

“What is the max?” Travis asked.

Cathy checked the plaque on the wall beside the mirror for an exact number. “Three hundred, but I’ve never seen that many.”

He set two buckets on the bar and filled them with bottles of Miller and ice. “It looked like you had more than that on New Year’s and twice that many last Monday night.”

She smiled. “We were just a little backwoods beer joint six months ago. What in the hell has happened?”

“Twitter, Facebook, email. It’s like a small band that finally gets their foot in the door and everyone wants to say that they were following them when they were nobody. Somebody has put out the word there’s a quaint little joint over in Palo Pinto County that’s rockin’ with oldies music.” Travis set four quarts of Coors on a tray and made change for a lady with a black lace skintight top held up by thin straps. Didn’t those women know it was cold outside? What would Cathy look like in a getup like that? How long would it take him to peel it off her body? Would she knock him cold on the floor if he tried?

A man snapped his fingers in front of Travis to get his attention. “I’m next. I want a bucket of Coors and two piña coladas.”

Travis jumped. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t hear you above the noise. What was that again?”

“Two piña coladas and a bucket of Coors,” he said.

“Comin’ right up. Cathy?” He looked over his shoulder.

“I heard him. Soon as I finish these tequila sunrises I’ll be right on it.”

Betsy, the lady who had been hitting on Rocky the past few nights, waved between two cowboys to get her attention. She’d traded her pink Spandex and lace in for fake black leather and satin that night. Her blond hair had come straight out of a bottle but didn’t look bad in the dim lighting.

“We heard we could get the vintage songs and even at the old prices. Think we could get some of that? We can hear the new stuff any old time on the radio.”

“This is Saturday night. The new bands play tonight. Old stars are up on Monday,” she said.

“Please,” Betsy whined.

“I’d like to hear some old Hank or Merle Haggard,” one of the cowboys said.

“Put it to a vote. Those who want the vintage can stay. Anyone who doesn’t like it can go up to The Trio or the Boar’s Nest,” Travis suggested.

Cathy unplugged it just as Gretchen Wilson finished asking for the last “hell yeah.”

“Hey, what’re you doin’? We can’t dance without music,” Bart said.

“Can I borrow your chair for half a minute?” Cathy asked.

He dragged it across the floor. She stood on it and clapped her hands twice. The place went silent. “We’re takin’ a vote. Usually Friday and Saturday nights this new jukebox is what we listen to. But some of the customers have asked us to use the old one tonight so they can listen to vintage country music. How many of you want to listen to the old music like we have on Monday and how many want the new songs? Vote by a show of hands, please,” Cathy said. “New?”

A dozen hands went up.

“Old?”

The place looked like a wave at a Cowboy’s football game. The whoops and hollers were louder than Gretchen Wilson’s hell yeahs had been.

“The customers have spoken. Anyone who hates this kind of music is welcome to leave and let some of the folks outside in.” She hopped down and plugged in the old jukebox, took a quarter out of her pocket, and got the night started with Tammy Wynette’s “Your Good Girl’s Gonna Go Bad.”

“That surprised me,” Cathy told Travis when she was back behind the bar.

“Not me. It’s a new novelty. Kind of like going back in a time machine. Remember when Barbara Mandrell sang about being country when country wasn’t cool?”

“She was talking about me. Were you country when it wasn’t cool?”

“Oh, yeah. From my hat down to my boots. How about you?”

“From birth. Cut my teeth on Hank Williams, Porter Wagner, and Dolly Parton.”

He filled another bucket with bottles of beer and shoveled ice in on top of them. “Me too. Grandma and Grandpa loved those old artists. I bet if my grandpa was still alive and he found out there was a jukebox like that still around he’d be your best customer.”

Cathy took an order for three margaritas. “Then how come you’d never heard of Marie Laveau?”

He ran a hand down her rib cage. “Don’t have any idea but if you’d like to dance to it again, I’m game.”

She shivered. “I believe that’s harassment.”

“It wasn’t last night.”

“After hours plays by different rules,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am. Then save me a dance after hours.”

“You askin’ or demandin’?”

Luther claimed a vacated bar stool. “Askin’ what? Did you say you’d go out with him? Did he end up being more than your good friend after all? The Hag didn’t do this one first, did he? Seems like I remember Ray Price singing ‘Silver Wings’ when I was a kid.”

“I didn’t say I’d go out with Travis yet. And I think you are right about Ray singing that song. So you listened to the old guys too?” Cathy asked.

“You bet I did. Granny and Grandpa, Momma and Daddy, and even my big brother loved country. Still do.”

“Big brother. Surely you mean in age?” Cathy said.

“Both age and size. I’m a midget compared to Harlin. He’s six foot seven and outweighs me by fifty pounds.”

“What does he do for a livin’? Wrestle or pro ball?”

“He’s a football coach up in northern Oklahoma. He’s got a good team that usually goes to state,” Luther said. “Y’all seen Rissa? I want to dance and can’t find her out there in that can of wigglin’ worms.”

“She’s usually here on Saturday night. Go shoot some pool with Merle. She looks like she could use some competition,” Cathy said.

“Will you send her over there when she gets here?” Luther asked.

Travis nodded. “Want a beer while you wait?”

“Quart of Coors,” Luther said.

At midnight a few people left and Larissa was one of the dozen that Tinker let inside. She went straight to the bar, got Cathy’s attention, and ordered a martini. Her black lace blouse had flowing sleeves with ruffles at the cuffs and white pearl buttons down the front.

“Luther’s been waiting for you,” Travis said.

“What happened to this place? There’s fifty people out there just waiting for someone to leave so they can come inside. They’re dancin’ in between the cars in the parking lot to the music that’s coming out through the cracks. If they could get a bucket of beers they’d probably be as happy out there in the cold as in here,” she said.

Cathy set the drink in front of her. “It’s a fad. Next week we’ll be lucky to draw in a hundred on weekend nights.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Larissa waved as she weaved her way through the noisy crowd to the pool tables. She said something to Merle who nodded and pointed at the edge of the pool table. Larissa set her martini beside Merle’s beer and Luther waltzed her out onto the dance floor to a couple of old tunes by Charley Pride followed by a Bill Anderson ballad.

Someone must have been tired of slow songs because the next one out of the jukebox started off with “Great Balls of Fire,” by Jerry Lee. That put everyone on the floor in a line dance. Luther showed Larissa the dance steps and the second time everyone crooked their leg, slapped their boot behind them, and shuffled forward two steps, she had it down.

“She’s a natural,” Cathy said.

Travis looked up from the beer section and asked, “Who?”

“Larissa. She’s only been coming in here a few weeks and she’s already got two-stepping down and look at her on that line dance. She’s as good as Luther.”

“Wonder what she did before she moved here? Maybe she ran a dance studio that taught ballroom dancin’,” Travis said.

“I have no idea what she did. She just showed up here one night. I thought she was one of Hayes Radner’s henchmen,” she said.

“Who’s that?” Travis asked.

A woman reached across the bar and touched Travis on the arm. “Hey, good-lookin’, I’m Randa. I need two buckets of Millers and two pitchers of piña coladas. We just got in and we got to make up for lost time.”

Travis grabbed two buckets from under the counter and loaded them with bottles and ice while Cathy blended and filled two pitchers and put them on trays with empty pint jars.

“I love this music. How long have you been here? What’s your name? How come y’all ain’t got name tags? Y’all open any other nights?” Randa asked Travis.

“The Honky Tonk has been here more than forty years. I’m Travis and this is Cathy and we don’t need name tags,” he said.

“Well, hot damn. We thought it was brand new and only open on Friday and Saturday. Wait ’til we get back home and tell everyone what we done found. We love the old country music,” she said. “Hey Brenda, come help carry this stuff. I only got two hands. Guess what—this place is forty years old. Can you believe it?”

Larissa breezed through the swinging doors into the bar area. “Luther is making the rounds gathering up trays. I’ll wipe them down and stack ’em up. You are getting low.”

Luther set a three-foot stack of trays on the end of the bar. “Busy night, ain’t it?”

“Keepin’ me on my toes for sure. Thanks,” Cathy said. “If the fad doesn’t die out I’ll have to hire some extra help.”

Travis grabbed a clean tray and filled four quarts with Budweiser. “I’m your hired help. Don’t be givin’ my job away.”

“Honey, I’ll let you help yourself to anything you want if you’ll quit your job and work for me,” Randa said.

“Rule is the hired help can’t dance or drink with the customers,” he said.

“I’ll pay you big bucks.” She winked. “If you change your mind, there’s six of us over there in the back corner that you can help all night long.”

“I’ll remember that.” Travis grinned.

Cathy slapped him on the butt with a wet bar rag. “Stop flirting.”

“Why? I can’t flirt with you. That’s harassment during working hours. And I do believe if I checked the handbook that touching my butt is considered harassment too.”

“I’ll harass you, darlin’, anytime of the night or day,” another woman flirted from the space Randa left.

“Sorry, boss says I can’t,” Travis said.

“Tell the boss to go to hell. Honey, if I could take you home with me, I’d chain you up and never let you out of my sight.”

“Other than that, what can I get you?”

“I guess a bucket of Coors. I can use the ice to cool off my hot little body,” she said.

Travis filled up a bucket and the woman handed him a fifty dollar bill.

The woman leaned over on the bar and let a piece of ice sliver down four inches of cleavage. “Get that out for me and you can keep the change.”

“That’s a lot of money,” Travis said.

“It’s melting fast and it’s a long way down there,” she teased.

“Gotta pass. Here’s your change.” He laid the money on the table and looked down the bar at the next customer.

“I’d have paid her to let me get that ice,” the man said.

“If you hurry, you might catch her before it’s all melted,” Cathy said.

“That tone was colder than the ice in the woman’s boobs.” Travis laughed.

Cathy shot him a dirty look.

“I can’t help it if they flirt. This is a different crowd than you usually have,” he said.

“If you’d have gone for the ice I planned on breaking your fingers, so keep that in mind.”

“Broke fingers couldn’t draw beer. You keep that in mind. Don’t you just love this sound?” He changed the subject.

The guitar music, drums, and steel were definitely old country. From the first guitar lick to the last note it had an unmistakably county beat. Cathy was reminded of the song that Alan Jackson sang about murder on music row that said in today’s world the old singers wouldn’t have a chance. Looking out over that crowd of hooting and whooping people, she wondered if it wasn’t making a comeback. Maybe it hadn’t been murdered on music row but just shot in the leg.

Luther kept Larissa on the floor through Buck Owens, Dolly Parton, and Johnny Cash. When Bobby Bare started singing about Marie Laveau, Travis grinned at Cathy.

He held out his hand. “Could I have this dance?”

She took his hand and did a couple of sexy bumps and grinds against his side. He looked as if he’d been pole axed.

“Shocked you, did I?” She laughed.

“You broke the rule,” he teased.

“Yep, I did. Some rules just have to go out the window. Get ready for the next wave. That song sucked the sweat out of them. They’ve got to have beer or we’ll be sweeping up dead bodies when we clean up in the morning,” she said.

“Where’d you get that we business, woman?” Travis’s eyes glittered.