My stomach sinks to my butt. “That’s not what the email said,” I tell him.
“Well, that’s what I say,” he says.
Hannah pushes past Millie and Amanda. “Listen, we drove here from Clover City. Do you even know where that is?”
He grunts.
“That’s right,” she says. “Of course you don’t, because it’s a sad little town that no one’s ever heard of. We drove two hours to get away from that shitter and you can’t be telling us it was all for nothing.”
He licks his lips. I almost think she might have cracked him. I mean, look at us. Millie’s wearing a polyester pantsuit and Amanda’s in a pair of soccer shorts—I think they might even be the same ones she wore yesterday. We don’t look like the kind of girls who are capable of drinking the place dry. Well, Hannah might.
“Nope,” he says. “Sorry, kiddies. No can do.”
“But look at this email,” I tell him, like that will somehow make a difference.
He takes the paper from my hand and his gaze hovers at the top of the page before he says, “This isn’t your email address.”
I swallow. “It’s my aunt’s. Lucy.”
Carefully, he folds the paper and hands it back to me. He pulls four florescent orange wristbands from his vest pocket and fastens them around our wrists.
My mouth drops wide open.
“If any of you even look at the bar, you’re out.” He holds my elbow while the others file in. “Lucy was good people.”
I nod and silently thank her for this little bit of magic tonight.
Inside we find a small table off to the side of the stage and far, far away from the bar. The waiter walks by, glances at our wristbands, and brings back four waters.
Millie scoots her chair in close and smooths down her hair. “There a whole mess of men here, don’t y’all think?”
Hannah looks around for a moment, and the expression on her face shifts. “Give me that email.”
I lean away from her. “What? Why? No.”
She reaches for my pocket and despite me pushing at her hands, rips it out. Millie and Amanda are in their own world, absorbing their surroundings. Hannah takes a second to glance over the email. “Holy shit,” she says.
The lights begin to dim. “What?”
She shakes her head. “Oh my God. You don’t even know, do you?” She smacks her hand on the table, laughter spurting from her mouth. “Millie,” she says. “Your mama’s gonna make you wash your eyes out with soap when you get home tonight.”
Millie’s mouth forms an O, but that’s all I see before the club goes completely dark except for a few runner lights by the bar.
Over the speakers comes a low, sultry voice. “Tramps, vagabonds, ladies, and lords, welcome to Dolly Parton Night at the Hideaway!”
The crowd cheers.
“First to grace our stage tonight is the lovely Miss Candee Disch! Let’s make her feel welcome, y’all.”
A spotlight hits center stage on a tall woman with a huge blond wig. She wears a floor-length velvet gown in lime green. Her makeup is exaggerated and her lips are bubbly and drawn on. The music starts and I know the song within only a few notes. “Higher and Higher.”
“Your love has lifted me,” she sings. “Higher, higher, and higher.” Then the tempo speeds up and even though she’s straight and lean, her hips appear like magic and she’s shaking, working the stage with everything she’s got. I am totally taken. So much so that I don’t even think to watch for reactions from my friends. I sing along with the song, and not until she’s about to walk off the stage do I realize that Hannah is in absolute hysterics.
My eyes have adjusted to the darkness. Millie turns to me, her expression still in that same O shape it was in when the lights went down. “Willowdean,” she says. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that was a man. A very lovely man.”
I glance around. Men holding hands. Girls with their arms around each other.
“This is better than reality TV,” says Amanda.