2 - Sophie
2
Sophie
After passing out fliers to everyone at the rodeo camp, we drove the four miles north to Billy Bob’s. I was glad to be back there rather than the rodeo camp—Liz was right about the manure smell being annoying.
“Any takers?” asked Jessica, our manager.
I handed her the rest of the fliers. “A few dozen maybes. Most of them look tired. Where do you want me?”
“Bar number seven,” she said. “Liz, you’re at number twelve.”
At 100,000 square feet, Billy Bob’s was the largest honky tonk in the world. Walking from the entrance to my assigned bar took me across worn wooden floors, with neon lights glowing overhead and the constant hum of country music. It was full of rustic charm and lively energy, with chandeliers made from old wagon wheels above at least a dozen dance floors. There were thirty bars, multiple live music stages, and an activities area with billiards and ax throwing. And of course, there were several mechanical bulls for patrons to try their hand at being a real cowboy.
The best part about working at a place like this? It was so big that it was difficult for people to find me. Specifically all the guys I had handed out fliers to.
I clocked in at the register with my employee ID and relieved the previous bartender. Then I spent the first half hour of my shift tidying up the bar. I didn’t consider myself a neat freak, but I liked to keep my work space a lot cleaner than the rest of the bartenders. And the one I had just relieved was messier than most, leaving used glasses all over the place and liquor bottles scattered behind the bar.
I had been doing that without interruption when a sexy-smooth voice called out, “Hey there, Sky Eyes.”
I groaned internally, but put on a smile for the man from the rodeo camp. He looked exactly as he had earlier, including his tan leather cowboy hat. It was impossible not to appreciate just how attractive this man was, like someone had asked an AI program to design the perfect friendly cowboy. But the last thing I wanted was to entertain someone at the bar while I worked. I attracted enough of those types of customers as it was.
“Why hello there…”
“Johnny,” he said, tipping his hat. “Johnny Armstrong.”
I snickered. “Is that your real name?” Lots of cowboys had a rodeo name, which they used only when they were performing. And Johnny Armstrong sounded like the most cliché one I had ever heard.
But Johnny frowned at me. “That’s the name I was given at birth. At least, as far as I know.” He leaned forward on the bar, arms flexing in the neon lights overhead. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Because I didn’t give it. How’d you find me anyway?”
Johnny flashed a perfect white smile. “Saw your friend at one of the other bars. She waved and told me where you were.”
Ugh. I was going to give Liz an earful later.
“Listen, Johnny…” I said.
He raised his palms. “I get it. You don’t date rodeo guys.”
I gave a start. “That’s… yeah. That’s what I was going to say.”
“We come into town in a rush, perform at the rodeo, then leave town in the blink of an eye,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to date me either. Or, worse: one of the other cowboys here.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Then why did you seek me out at this bar, deep in the honky tonk?”
Johnny gestured at the tap. “Because I’d like a Cold Fort Worth Beer. The one from Cowtown Brewery.”
I grabbed a glass and began pouring. “There are thirty bars in this building. Why’d you come to this one?”
“Because,” he said with an easy smile, “I prefer your company to the other bartenders. There’s something about you. You’ve got a soothing spirit that calms my soul.”
Chuckling, I placed the beer in front of him. “I’ll admit, I’ve never heard that line before.”
“Not a line. Just the truth.” He raised his beer glass. “If you don’t want to tell me your name, I’ll keep calling you Sky Eyes.”
I grabbed a clean glass and began cleaning it with a rag, just to give myself something to do. “I’m Sophie.”
“Sophie.” He said the word slowly, like he was tasting it. “The pleasure’s mine, Sophie. Now, I’m going to leave you be. You look like a busy woman.”
He twisted around on the bar stool and leaned his elbows back on the bar, while gazing out over the dance floor where a few patrons were two-stepping.
Huh. I guess he was serious about not bothering me. That was a first.
A few other patrons came to the bar. I made them drinks, but my gaze kept slipping over to Johnny at the side. He was leaving me in peace. It was nice.
But part of me wanted him to flirt.
“Where in Colorado are you from, Johnny Armstrong?” I finally asked.
He twisted to look over his shoulder. “Little ranch outside Trinidad. Barely in Colorado at all.”
“My aunt lives in Denver. I’ve driven through that area a lot.”
“Not much to see,” he said.
I laughed and nodded. “Not much to see. Once you’re past the Rockies, everything looks flat and boring.”
“I like flat and boring,” Johnny said.
Across the bar, someone laughed. The voice belonged to a man who was making a beeline for my bar. I recognized him once he drew close.
“Looks like I’m late to the party,” said the man Johnny had been arguing with earlier.
“Elijah,” I said, feeling frisky. “Johnny was just telling me he was going to buy your first drink.”
Elijah leaned forward on the bar and gave me a goofy smile. “First of all, I told you to call me Eli.” He elbowed Johnny. “And second, I know you’re lying. This sumbitch would never buy me a drink.”
“Guilty as charged,” Johnny said in that easy drawl.
Eli slapped his palm down on the bar. “I’ll take a whiskey, please. Something local. With ice.” He jerked his thumb toward the other cowboy. “Is Johnny doing his hard-to-get schtick?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Johnny said, glaring sideways.
“That’s a yes!” Eli laughed. He leaned in close as if to tell me a secret, but he didn’t lower his voice. “Johnny does this at all the rodeos. Goes to a bar and tells the pretty little bartender that he’s not gonna bother her. He turns around just like he’s doing now, facing away from her. Then he ignores her all night until she flirts with him .”
I narrowed my eyes. “Is that so?”
Eli pointed at my face. “Judging by that expression, it was about to work.”
“It wasn’t going to work,” I replied.
“Can we help you with something?” Johnny asked him. “Because there are twenty-nine other bars in this place where I don’t have to listen to you.”
“You can’t help me with anything, Johnny boy.” Eli swung his big brown eyes my way. “But you can. I’d love to take you out to dinner, Sophie. That’s right. I did my research.”
“You asked her friend her name,” Johnny complained.
Eli’s eyes never left mine. “It’s called being straightforward. Try it sometime.” He raised his brow. “What do ya say, darlin’? Dinner tomorrow night?”
“We have the opening ceremonies tomorrow,” Johnny pointed out.
Eli still held my gaze. “I’d skip it. For you.”
My stomach was full of butterflies again. Eli was so open, so friendly, that I wanted to go out with him. I knew dating a rodeo cowboy was a bad idea, but his brown eyes were so kind that I was rethinking it.
“I’m not your darlin’, cowboy,” I told him with just a tinge of attitude. It was mostly playful, the kind of banter I was used to making as a bartender.
“Didn’t say you were,” Eli replied, gesturing to me. “But you’ve got darlin’ energy. And if you were my darlin’, I’d treat you right. Keep you away from guys like him.” He nudged Johnny.
“I have to work tomorrow,” I said. “First over at the rodeo, then here at Billy Bob’s. I’m working pretty much every night during the rodeo. It’s our busiest time of year.”
“Swing and a miss, Eli,” Johnny said.
Eli rolled his eyes. “You have to call me Elijah. Only my friends can call me Eli.” He glanced up at me. “Friends and extremely beautiful women.”
Johnny turned around to face me finally. “He’s not going to stop. Unless you hit him with a cattle prod.”
I smiled at Eli. “Good to know. I bet I can find one, too.”
Johnny chuckled.
“Don’t know what you’re laughing about,” Eli said. “You were striking out before I even got here.”
“I wasn’t striking out, because I wasn’t batting,” Johnny replied simply.
Eli looked at me and rolled his eyes. “I guess he’s going to continue his hard-to-get schtick.”
“I guess so.” I gave him a big smile, then went down to the other end of the bar to serve three new customers. They were all men, old enough to be my father, and took very long looks at the cleavage popping out of my flannel top. It was in stark contrast to the way Eli and Johnny had looked at me. With respect.
When I returned, the two men were arguing. It wasn’t as heated as the earlier argument at the rodeo camp, but they were still passionate about the topic.
“I’ll last so much longer than you,” Eli was insisting.
“You’re all talk, no ride,” Johnny replied.
“I outlasted you last year,” Eli shot back.
“And I won the other two events by a wide margin.”
“Are you two ready for another round,” I asked, “or are you too busy measuring dicks?”
Eli gave a carefree laugh. “I like her. She’s funny.”
“She’s not going out with you,” Johnny said.
Eli swung his brown eyes back to me. “Okay, Sophie, help us out here. Purely hypothetical. Who would you rather date?” He puffed himself up. “Me?” He then gestured at Johnny. “Or him?”
“Hmm.” I made a show of thinking about it. Even though I had no intentions with either of them, I was having fun stoking their playful rivalry. “I’d rather date the next cowboy to walk up to the bar.”
Just then, a deep, raspy voice called out from the other end of the bar. “Whiskey. Neat.”
I held my breath. I recognized that voice, and the bloodshot eyes beneath a midnight-black hat.
The other guy from the rodeo camp.