Chapter 5
It was Friday night in Hume and despite my protest, I was headed to The Tipsy Owl, a local bar with Oz. The Tipsy Owl was one of four bars in Hume. First you had The Crooked Dog where the older residents of town went to let their hair down with traditional country music and the coldest brews in town. The Drunken Zombie was just that, a place you went when you wanted to disappear. If you frequented that bar you were looking for discretion, which was in short supply in a small town like this. Then you had The Bar, it was hip and edgy. Well as hip and edgy as you could get when you’re hours away from the nearest major city.
The Tipsy Owl was the spot the young people in town went. It was the place where I had my first legal bottle of beer. The music was loud, a fusion of country, hip hop, and R&B. And the bartender had a heavy hand. At least he did when I was still a resident. If it was Friday night in Hume, you were liable to turn up at Tipsy.
I’d planned to watch sappy movies while feasting on a smorgasbord of sweet and savory treats. I wasn’t looking to make a scene. Coming home was more about hiding out, not showing out for me. Sure, I missed my high school friends and I planned on visiting them real soon, but I’d only been home for a few days. I needed some time to decompress. But Oz wasn’t having any of that. When he pulled up to the house and I greeted him in pajamas and a hair scarf, I thought he was going to bust a capillary.
So now we were speeding down the road with the sounds of XYZ Baby playing in the background. My phone dinged, alerting me of an incoming text message. Reaching into my purse, just big enough for my cell, lip gloss, and the key to the front door, I retrieved the phone. It was a text message from Chap. I’d been in Hume for several days and it had been radio silence from him the entire time.
If I’d broken my girlfriend’s heart, my fingertips would be bloody from the constant messages I’d be sending. Maybe he was glad I was gone. It gave him a chance to cheat in peace without the nuisance of a nosy girlfriend mucking up his game. The thought made me heated all over again. Was the lady on the bus a one time oopsie? And had he been sneaking around while I was working hard?
Chap: Fancy baby, I know you’re thinking the worst of me right now.
Fancy: I don’t have to think I saw with my own two eyes.
Chap: That wasn’t what it looked like.
Fancy: Oh really cause it looked like you were fucking another woman to me.
Chap: …
Fancy: You’re a liar and a cheat.
Chap: Come home.
Fancy: I’ve already been home.
Chap: Is that why our place looks like it’s been ransacked?
Fancy: Lose my number Chap.
Chap: I can’t do that. Because I love you too much. My mother didn’t raise a quitter and I plan on making things square.
Fancy: For us to be square I’d have to sleep with a random dude and have you walk in on us while he had me spread open like a buffet. THAT WOULD MAKE US EVEN. THAT WOULD BE SQUARE.
Chap: Where are you?
“Everything good over there fire fingers?” Oz asked, interrupting my argument.
I clutched my phone, tempted to chuck it out the window. “Yeah, it’s all good.” Shit, maybe I should tell Oz about Chap breaking my heart and he’d make a sharp uey and hightail it to Los Angeles. Dylan was strong but no match for Ozzie. Was that what I wanted, for Oz to punch Chap’s face a few good times while I egged him on? “Hit him again for me.”
“Was that Dylan?”
“Uh-huh … he was just checking in.”
“Normally when Dylan checks in, your face lights up and you get to twirling your hair.”
“Mind your business, Oz.”
“You’re blood. That makes you my business.”
“It’s nothing, just a minor hiccup. Dylan and I are fine. Everything’s fine.”
One thing I’ve learned in my twenty-nine years on this earth is don’t bad-mouth your boyfriend unless you’re prepared to make him your ex. Because if you did, when you took him back, everyone would know with one hundred percent confirmation how stupid you are. I was mad at Chap now. But maybe he could explain, maybe it was all an accident. Perhaps he slipped, tripped, and fell into rando pussy which was carelessly hanging around.
Granted it was a long shot, but maybe Chap could come up with a plausible lie I was willing to believe. Starting over was difficult, and our lives were so intermingled. We had a condo, bills, and a fucking dog. Were we going to be one of those couples who break up but co-parent their Cavalier King Charles Spaniel? How would we split the holidays? Knowing Chap he’d probably sue me for full custody.
Cheating was typically a relationship ender, but being an adult was realizing shit wasn’t always black and white. Chap was our manager. Could I just fire him? He was a staple in the country music industry, with connections he could use to advance or potentially stifle Whiskey Wild. And what about Darla? I mean I’m sure she’d back me up, but this was her career too.
Oz found a spot in the already packed lot and placed the truck in park.
“Is it always this crowded?” My stomach churned. I was interested in keeping things low key and the minute I walked through that door, it would be anything but.
“This ain’t even half as crowded as it’s going to get. You just wait, there’ll be cars lined up on the side of the road for a mile.”
Hopping out of the cab of the truck, we headed to the front door. Music was spilling out and so was the crowd with people drinking and mingling on the porch. The Tipsy Owl used to be a house owned by this sweet old couple who would give me candy. I know it sounds sketchy, but Bert and Erneil were the farthest thing from stranger danger. Even with the creepy similarity in name to stuffed puppets. They passed when I was still in elementary school and their place was gutted and converted into a bar. But the owners maintained some of the sweet touches like the wraparound porch with rocking chairs, the funkiest chandelier I’d ever seen, and a swing set out back framed by trees and an assortment of flowers.
When I crossed the threshold, I didn’t know where to look first. The bar was packed, the crowd was loud, and the music had me tapping my feet. I can tell you one thing, Los Angeles didn’t have places like this. All the bars and lounges in LA were overpriced and more of a spectacle. People were there to be seen, not for a good time.
At The Tipsy Owl patrons were here to let loose and hook up. The single customers were looking to not be for the night, and the couples were there to grind close while downing cold beers. I’d pick this place over any VIP section. Other than the occasional bar fights, this place was low key. The only designer brands in sight were the Stetson cowboy hats and Tecovas boots.
“You drinking?” Oz asked.
“Dumb question. I’ll take a Pilsner if they have it.”
While Oz went off to the bar, I slowly circled the outskirts of the room. My eyes pinging from one familiar face to the other. Closest to the door was Mac, we used to be in band class together. He was a beast on the drums. On the dance floor was Nancy. She was moving her hips in a sultry roll, capturing the attention of the man she was dancing with. And in my face was Margie Ford, with a smile as big as Texas.
“Francesca Palmer, are my eyes deceiving me?”
“I sure hope not. How’ve you been, Margie?”
“I’ve been busy working at my family’s real estate office. I’m an agent now. Can you believe that?”
“You hated real estate. You said no one wanted to sell old, dilapidated farmhouses.”
“I did say that, but it turns out I’m a nosy little goose and you can tell a lot about a person based off of their home.” Margie had always been a gossip, and it looked like she’d found a profession which enabled her interest in being the town crier. She continued, “I’d ask you how you’re doing, but we can’t escape you. You and Darla are always on the radio or television making our city proud. How long are you in town for?”
“Not quite sure?” I needed to come up with a good answer to that question. My current response made it sound like I was a drift at sea.
“Well if you’re looking to reestablish some roots, take my card.” She handed me a business card with succulents framing the bottom.
My eyebrow ticked up. Margie’s last name was no longer Ford. “Did you get married Margie?”
“Five years ago. I go by Leftfoot now.”
Where the hell had I been? Margie Ford was selling houses and married one of the Leftfoot brothers. “Congratulations”
Oz returned with my drink and I eagerly grabbed it from him, gulping half the bottle before taking a breath. My brain tuned out while Margie and my brother talked in excited tones about a bonfire. In Hume, bonfires, trips to the lake, and the annual parade were a big deal. There wasn’t shit to do in this town. We had one movie theater with three screens, a roller rink that was closed for renovations, and the Dairy Queen parking lot.
Oz turned his attention back to me. “I got us a table. Come on.”
I followed him closely, holding on to the tail of his shirt so we weren’t separated. We passed by the stage where Nancy Sparks was singing bad karaoke to a Tanner Adell song. Sliding into the booth, I took a deep breath. I don’t know how he wrangled this table for how packed this place was, but as long as I could remember, people were drawn to Oz and wanted to be in his good graces. Maybe it was because he was as big as a black bear and hit just as hard.
He took a long drag from his Heineken. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean. You, back in Hume holed up in your room. Your frantic text exchange with Dylan.”
My eyes were fixed on the table. “We’re just going through a transition.”
“Meaning?”
I was never good at being nonchalant. If I was bothered, you’d know it. Releasing a big huff, I confessed. “Dylan cheated.”
“How do you know?”
“I caught him.”
His eyes tightened in the corners. “So you’re in Hume for what?”
“To think.”
“What’s there to think about? If Dylan doesn’t appreciate you, he doesn’t deserve you.”
“People make mistakes.”
“Cheating isn’t a mistake, it’s a choice.” Oz was a straight shooter, and he wasn’t one to mince words. Which is exactly why I didn’t want to share this with him. “Look I can take some time off and we could fly back to LA and pack up your stuff.”
I stiffened my gaze. “Why do I have to move?”
“We can pack up his shit if you prefer. I don’t really care.”
“I don’t know if I want to do that. I need to think it through.”
“What is there to think about? He lost the privilege of continued access to you.”
“I don’t know Oz, maybe I love him.”
He let out a thunderous belly laugh. “Right … an arrogant, two-timer is just so fucking lovable.”
“You don’t like Chap?”
“No, he’s an asshole.”
What was it with everyone disliking my boyfriend? Sure, he could be a bit abrasive, but he got shit done. That sandpaper personality is what secured most of our deals. And Chap wasn’t all thorns. He could be soft and sweet when he wanted to.
“Momma agrees with you.”
“I know she does. We’ve talked about it.”
“You two were talking about me behind my back?”
“Yes, I don’t know why you’re surprised. She and I have a standing brunch date once a month where we gossip and drink mimosas.”
“During your bitchfest, do you two talk about you and Dial?”
Oz leaned into the booth. “There is no me and Dial.”
“But you’d like there to be.”
“We all make choices Fancy and Dial made hers.”
“I’m just going to say this. I know she’s your baby momma, but she’s a lot to deal with.”
“Dial’s always been a lot. That’s what I love about her. She’s like a cat. One minute she’s sweetly purring and the next she’s trying to claw your eyes out.”
My brows climbed my forehead. “And you like that?”
“Damn skippy.” He tipped his cowboy hat.
“So you’re not dating anyone right now?”
“Nope, too busy with work and Maple.”
“You’re never too busy for love.”
Oz snapped his finger. “That sounds like a country song.”
The music changed to a Teddy Swims’ song and a familiar deep voice started singing along. I turned in my seat to witness Edison behind the microphone. This was no surprise. Edison had one of the most harmonious voices in Hume, shit in all of Tennessee. Remember what I said about talent and luck? There were hundreds of regular, everyday citizens that could sing circles around your favorite artist. They were just unlucky or unwilling to take a chance.
Edison’s voice was the sexiest thing about him and that was saying a lot because he was so fine, he had good looks to spare. And the patrons in The Tipsy Owl agreed. The loud voices from moments ago were now faint whispers. I could listen to his voice for hours and at one point in time, I did.
“Earth to Fancy?”
“What?” I swung back around to find Ozzie smiling at me. “If you don’t wipe that grin off your face.”
“I think he’s single.”
I sputtered, “What … why would I care about something like that?”
“You are an amazing singer, but when it comes to lying, you suck.”
“Edison’s my friend.”
“Oh yeah when’s the last time you called, texted, or emailed your friend?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Edison Birch is the simplest creature on this planet. He loves his momma, plants, and God.”
“What am I supposed to call him and discuss the goings on in Hollywood? He doesn’t give a shit about that.” The crowd cheered as Edison exited the stage and I practically branded him with my eyes only turning away when I lost sight of him.
Ozzie drummed his fingers on the table. “I could go for another round. How about you?”
“That would be great.”
Oz made his way to the bar while I tried to disappear in my booth. Hume would always be home, but on nights like this I felt like an outsider. My friends had gone on living and making memories without me. I’d missed weddings, baby showers, and housewarming parties. There were inside jokes I wasn’t a part of. They say you can always come home again, but maybe sometimes you can be away for too long. I sorted through the bowl of Chex Mix, selecting only rye crackers and popping them in my mouth.
“One ice cold Pilsner.” I looked up to find Edison towering over me. “Oz asked me to run this over to you.”
“Thank you. So I see you’re still the karaoke king.”
He dipped his head. “I don’t know about all that.” Edison had always been modest, but he had cause to brag. His flawless skin, enviable smile, and his deep raspy voice which was slightly lighter when he sung. And then there were the countless other reasons that made him top contender for God’s favorite child.
“You should sit. Catch up.” Oz wasn’t the smartest tool in the shed, but this move was one of a master wingman. He knew how to set up the play and move out of the way. I would have to buy him a tall stack at the Sunny Side Kitchen.
“You’re not in this back corner because you were interested in company.”
“You’re not company. You’re my friend. It’s different.”
Edison’s brown eyes locked with mine and the corners of his mouth kicked into a smile. “Yes ma’am, I can sit for a while.”