Chapter 7 Lucille
Chapter Seven
Lucille
“Hey, bartender! Another refill, please?” My long nail tapped the brim of the tall, empty glass.
A familiar scent suddenly flooded my nostrils as someone took the seat next to me. “Really think you oughta be drinking?” he asked, placing his dark, worn cowboy hat on top of the bar. “How’s your leg?”
The bartender replaced my empty glass with a new one, complete with a lemon slice.
I plucked it up and squeezed it all over the surface of my drink before using my straw to mix the juice.
“This is tea.” I took a sip. “And my leg is fine. Just a little bruised.” I reached down and pulled the skirt hem of my plaid dress up enough to show him my bare thigh.
“See? All good. At least over time, the bruising will go away. Unlike the scar.”
Forsythe reached out and gently touched my leg, faintly gliding his fingertips along the old scar.
It made my skin prickle all over. “Does it hurt to walk?” I nodded.
“Well, it might be easier if you stopped wearing clunky shoes like those.” He pointed to my platform boots with his other hand.
“Hell, I’m surprised you haven’t twisted your ankle walking around in them yet. ”
I pulled the hem of my dress back down, forcing his warm palm away.
“I get by just fine, thank you.” I stuck the flimsy lemon slice between my teeth, and rested my elbows on the bar.
Forsythe smirked. I noticed he was wearing his usual leather jacket and dark shirt, dressed as if he just came from the ranch.
“You here alone?” I asked with a mouthful of lemon.
His brow raised. “Would you be jealous if I said no?”
I nearly choked on the lemon slice, coughing as I spat it out onto the bar. Forsythe patted my back, laughing as I tried to breathe. “No!” I inhaled sharply. “Fuck—”
“Easy, little viper. I’m only messing with you.
” He ordered water from the bartender, specifically asking for a new lemon slice.
“Here.” He dropped the slice into my hand.
“No, I’m waiting for the others to show.
Torchy has been trying to force us all to get out more and ‘socialize’.
” He smiled while shaking his head. “Fucking kid.”
I took the lemon slice and squeezed it over my tea before taking a sip. “Torchy has always been a little different.” I smiled, biting the straw with my teeth. “He’s always kept things lively.” Forsythe watched me closely. “You know he’s a few years older than me, right?”
“And?”
I made a face. “And, if you’re calling him a kid, then what does that make me?” My head tilted as I sipped from the straw and looked up at him. His green eyes sparkled in the neon lights from the bar, mesmerizing me.
Your eyes are so green. Have they always been that bright?
Forsythe looked away and spoke as he took a sip of his water. “Little Lucille.”
I scoffed, slamming my cup down on the bar. “That’s not an answer. And I told you to stop calling me that.”
“I’m not sure what answer you’re looking for, but that’s mine. Yeah, you’re young, but you’re not some dumb kid stumbling through life making stupid choices.”
I stared at him. “Then what am I?”
Forsythe looked down at his drink. “You’re just…Lucille.” I rolled my eyes and groaned.
Why does his answer bum me out so much?
“I heard you went to see your brother yesterday.” I nodded. “How’d that go?”
My nail tapped against the tall glass. “I guess you heard what happened, huh?” He nodded.
“Yeah, I saw him. We talked about a few things, and I tried to open up to him about how therapy can be really helpful. I don’t think he really knows how much of a tool it can be when it comes to healing.
But, in the end, he said he’s going to resume it. ”
Forsythe seemed happy to hear that. “He asked you about your past, didn’t he?”
“He did. And I explained enough. Honestly, the topic came and went quicker than I expected, and we ended up talking about everything from Wimberly to peach cobbler to his damn ex.” I scoffed.
He chuckled lightly. “Priscilla, right? That blue-eyed woman we ran into the other day?”
He remembered her eye color.
“Yeah.” I tsked. “Same woman.” I was sure my voice gave away my disgust. “Boone’s still upset over the whole thing. Though I’m not sure what he ever saw in her.”
Forsythe removed his jacket and laid it across his hat on the bar, revealing the tight black t-shirt he wore underneath.
His smell smacked me in the face, reminding me of a spiced tea on a cold winter morning.
“I’m sure he saw a completely different side of her.
” I forced my eyes away from his thick, tatted arms. “I mean, she was his first love, right?”
“And?”
“And nothing. Someone’s first love tends to leave a heavier brand across one’s heart, more than any other relationship. No matter how much you try, you can never fully forget it. There will always be a tiny little piece of it left in the corner of your heart.”
I blew a raspberry. “Maybe for you, but not me.”
He watched me finish my tea. “You don’t remember your first love?”
I slammed the cup onto the bar as the ice clanked around within it. “Oh, I remember it. Way too well. Only there was no love there…only lies and deception. And in the end, I still cried over that cheating bastard.”
Forsythe ruptured into laughter and I jumped at how much it startled me.
“That is not love. Oh, little Lucille. You may have grown up, but you still have so much to learn. Love—real love—doesn’t hurt.
It doesn’t cheat and lie. It breathes life into your soul, shielding you from the darkness in this godforsaken world.
Nah, whatever you’re talking about, it ain’t love.
Infatuation or lust maybe, but not love. ” He took a drink of his water.
“From the way you’re talking, I’m assuming you’ve already experienced it firsthand.” I picked at my fingers.
Why did the thought bother me?
Forsythe’s gaze dropped to my hands. “In a way, I have. But no matter how much I try to reel her in, she prefers to hide from me.” He grinned. “I don’t blame her though, I’m not exactly a prize stallion.”
I didn’t know what to think. And I didn’t know what came over me to make me say the words that came out of my mouth next. “Yeah, okay, she must be blind then.” My eyes widened in shock from what I had just said.
What the hell did I just say?
Before he could even open his mouth, I chimed in. “I–I mean you’re not ugly or anything.”
He cleared his throat. “So, you’re saying I’m pretty.”
Shit.
“That’s not what I meant!” My cheeks burned with embarrassment as he smiled.
“What I meant was obviously you’re—” I motioned to him and froze, unsure of how to articulate whatever the fuck I was trying to say.
“My point is you’re not, not unattractive…
fuck.” I rubbed my neck as he tried not to laugh at how ridiculous I was being.
“What I’m trying to say is obviously you’re okay or else someone like Priscilla wouldn't have hit on you the other night. There.” I exhaled and slumped over on the bar in defeat.
Fuck. Why was that so hard?
Forsythe leaned over and brushed a strand of my hair from my face, clearing my vision enough for me to see him. “Stop hiding from me, little Lucille.”
I slowly tucked the hair behind my ear, rising as my spine straightened, keeping my eyes on him. As I went to open my mouth, a woman’s voice stopped me from speaking.
“Well, well, well.” She sucked her teeth.
Speak of the devil.
“Look what we have here.” Priscilla hopped into the seat next to me at the bar, tossing her wild black hair over her shoulder.
“Little Lucille.” Her piercing blue eyes glared back at me as her red lips raised into a devious smile.
I stared at her, wondering if Forsythe remembered her eyes because he liked them.
My eyes aren’t pretty like hers. They’re dull and boring. Ugh, why do I even fucking care?
I cleared my throat. “Don’t you have anything else better to do than bug me?”
Priscilla pushed me lightly. “Self-centered much?” She addressed the bartender and ordered her usual fruity drink before turning back to speak to me.
“I’m not here for you, little reject.” She poked me with her long nail.
“No, I’m here for him.” Her deadly eyes moved past me and landed on Forsythe with a sinister smile.
“Hey there, cowboy.” She wiggled her fingers at Forsythe, laying the charm on thick.
“I was wondering when I’d run into you again. ”
What the hell is even happening right now?
He smiled as if all was right and nodded to her. “Priscilla.”
She squealed, making me jump. “I love the way you say my name. But don’t you think it’s a little unfair that you know my name, but I don’t know yours?” The bartender handed her the fruity little cocktail which she immediately began to sip on.
“His name is Forsythe,” I spat the words out. “And he was having a conversation with me, so if you don’t mind—”
Priscilla laughed. “Well that must’ve been boring as hell!” She plucked the cherry from her drink, focusing so intensely on Forsythe, and biting it free from the stem. “How old are you, cowboy?” she asked.
I looked at him, waiting to see if he’d bother replying. If he did, it must mean he was interested in her…right?
“Forty-five.”
Fuck this.
“Bartender.” I flicked my fingers to get the man’s attention. “Three tequila shots.” He nodded, making them right away.
Forsythe leaned over and whispered along my ear, making me tingle. “You really think you oughta be drinking?”
“Pffft.”
The bartender placed the three shots in front of me.
Priscilla reached for one. “My. Three shots? I guess you want us all to party together. How generous of you, little Lucille—”
I slapped her hand away and grabbed the glass, shooting it back. “These aren’t for you.” I quickly shot the second one back, grabbing the third.
Forsythe grabbed my wrist. “Easy, viper.”