This was true. Everyone I knew or even spoke to in Carnal was at the bar. Twyla even turned up. Apparently Neeta was a big draw. Also apparently I’d made some good friends.
At first Krystal, Bubba, Jim-Billy, Wendy (who was on with me) and Wood seemed a little stunned at this show of support. Then they all thought it was hilarious. Then they all talked about it, loudly, sometimes yelling about it across the bar. My “posse” as Wood started to refer to them, joined in the yelling conversation and everyone thought this was the height of comedy, especially the more liquor they got down them. Even Krystal joined in the fun, not only making acid comments about Neeta (who it didn’t take a psychologist to read she did not like) but also ending the night doing shots with Twyla. I’d stood at the bar waiting for Dalton to fill an order and stared at her like I’d never met her. Dalton was right there with me. Then he turned to me, smiled and put my drinks on my tray.
My mind came back into Tate’s living room when Wood started talking again. He was warming to his story and enjoying telling it if the massive grin on his face was anything to go by.
“Then this fuckin’ guy walks in… to Bubba’s…” Wood started choking because he was laughing so hard he was having trouble speaking but he forced out, “in a fuckin’ golf shirt. Man, I think he had girl shit in his hair.”
Wood lost his battle with his hilarity and burst out laughing.
I wondered if Tate was laughing or if he was looking for something to throw.
Wood controlled his mirth and, still chuckling, stated, “No wonder Laurie got in a car and fled suburbia. The prospect of that guy the rest of her life… Christ.”
I sighed and crossed my arms on my chest.
Wood kept talking. “Trouble? No man, he came in ready to bring it on but Laurie’s posse saw him walk in, eyes on her, they clocked him immediately and he didn’t make it within five feet of her. The whole lot of them closed in, except the hippies but they kept goin’ outside to their van so I think they were stoned outta their minds by this time. They were in their own world, they missed the whole thing. Anyway, he started to throw ‘tude and fuckin’ Jim-Billy, of all people, sucker punched him in the gut. Then that butch chick, the new waitress, she got him by the scruff and frog marched him out the door.” Wood shook his head. “Wish I had that shit on tape.
I didn’t. Experiencing it once was enough.
Though seeing Twyla frog march Brad out the door was kind of funny and Carrie and Mack would get a kick out of seeing it on tape.
“No, Tate, not a problem. Bubba jumped on his bike and followed him to the town line. The guy got frog marched out the door by a chick. She’s solid and her chick status is questionable but I’m pretty certain she’s still a chick. That kinda hit to his manhood? He ain’t comin’ back.”
Wood was wrong. Tate, Wood, Bubba, Jim-Billy, Dalton, they took that kind of hit to their manhood, they wouldn’t come back.
Brad was another story. Brad got something in his head, even Twyla delivering a hit to his manhood wouldn’t get it out.
Which meant I had the unpredictable Neeta and the stupid, stubborn, idiot Brad to worry about. Not to mention a night with me in Tate’s bed and Wood on Tate’s couch.
I was beginning to wish I was back in Horizon Summit, locked behind the gates.
Though I was wishing for the time when Brad was gone and I was there alone. I could have made it. I made good money. I’d have to fire Griselle, the cleaner and Juan-Carlos, the gardener and maybe forego my monthly pedicure and bi-monthly manicures but I could have eeked by.
“Yeah?” Wood asked. “Okay, I’ll hang until you get here.”
I stared at Wood and wondered if my luck was changing and realized it was when his eyes came to me and he said into the phone, “Yeah, she’s awake,” and then held it to me, “wants to talk to you, baby.”
I walked to him, took the phone and put it to my ear.
“Hi,” I said.
“You okay?” Tate asked and I heard in his tone that he wasn’t looking for something to throw but had found the whole story amusing.
“Yes,” I said shortly, not finding anything amusing.
“Goin’ to bed?”
“Yes.”
“Wearin’ my tee?”
“I haven’t changed yet.”
“Right, then change of plans. I’m in Denver. I’ll be home in less than two hours. Wear nothin’ to bed.”
I blinked at Wood’s feet on the couch.
Then I turned with a jerk and walked toward the kitchen.
“Tate –”
“Naked, babe.”
“Tate, I can’t –”
He cut me off. “Buck.”
I stopped in the kitchen.
“Sorry?”
“Buck naked.”
“Wood’s here,” I whispered.
“He’ll be gone in two hours and I’ll be there.”
“I just got done working the night shift,” I reminded him.
“And I just got done apprehending a man out on bail on a murder charge and drivin’ over six hundred miles.”
“So you’ll be tired and I’ll be tired –”
“You’re naked, I’ll find a way to revive you.”
“Captain –” I whispered.