25. Darcy
TWENTY-FIVE
DARCY
It may not be a castle inside, but I see why Becca loves the Legion Hall all the same.
The scene inside Legion is jumping, full of jostling bodies on the dance floor, people scattered among tables, and a few bellying up to the bar. It smells vaguely of water damage, but the decor is fun enough: twinkle lights strung over the dancefloor, old beer signs lit up behind the bar, a set of barflies hanging around the edges of the bar.
“Hi, baby!” Becca shouts. A short, rail thin, heavily tattooed man behind the bar lights up like a Christmas tree in a very subtle, cool guy way. She loops her arms through mine and Bri’s and pulls us close. “That’s my boyfriend. That’s Stone. Isn’t he cute?”
Stone wears an enamored smirk as he approaches us, his expression and scruff indeed making him cute. “Hey.”
“This is Darcy and this is Brianna. Watch their purses,” she commands him, taking our purses from our hands and slapping them down on the bar top. “We’re going to dance.”
My phone buzzes in my hand with a call from Rob. Bri gives me a wary glance and I lay it facedown on the bar. There’s a pit in my stomach as I say, “Let’s dance.”
She squeezes my hand. “Let’s forget him.”
And dance we do. Becca gives us a refresher on line dancing with the “Watermelon Crawl” and “Any Man of Mine,” and it’s the most fun I’ve had in a while. Brianna pushes a Coors Light into my hand at some point and well, one more beer won’t hurt.
“No more after this. I can’t be sad drunk girl,” I say.
“Fair,” Bri says. “When’s your man getting here?”
I shrug before spinning in a circle with my beer bottle in hand. As I turn, I spot Caleb talking to a couple and looking miserable. He’s got a smile on, but he’s so clearly in pain.
Caleb’s only ever been good to me, so I need to go on a rescue mission.
I yell over Tim McGraw to get Bri and Becca’s attention. “Hey, will you be okay if I go dance with Caleb?”
Becca leans a little harder on Bri, locking their thighs together. “We’ll be fine,” Bri says.
I put my arm around her shoulder so I can speak just to her. “Are you . . . thinking of fulfilling Stone’s fantasies?”
Bri’s eyes dance and she smirks. “He’s pretty cute. She is too.”
“Is it something you want?” I ask.
“Uh, yeah,” she says like it’s obvious. “When else would I get to, no strings?”
“Fair,” I say. “I’ve got your back if anything goes south, okay? If you change your mind, anything. I’ll pick you up from wherever. If I don’t answer my cell, call the house.”
“Did you say I’m cute?” Becca interrupts. Guess we weren’t as secretive as I thought.
“You are,” Bri says, and a heated glance passes between them.
“Okay! On that note,” I pat Bri’s shoulder, “you two—three—have fun.”
I strut over to tap Caleb on the shoulder and give him an emphatic greeting. “Hey! I heard you were here!”
His relief is palpable as he sweeps me into a hug. “So good to see you! Here, meet Lydia and Briscoe. Y’all, this is Darcy.”
I wave and put my arm around Caleb’s waist. “Mind if I steal him for a dance?”
They gesture for me to take Caleb. “Good to see y’all,” he says as I pull him away. We easily fall into a two-step rhythm and he lets out a big sigh.
“You looked like you needed rescued,” I say.
“Yes and no,” he says, keeping a smile pasted on.
“An ex?” I ask.
“Something like that. I’m glad they’re happy together, though. It’s just weird to see it.”
“I get it,” I say. “There are some people you never really get over.”
Caleb tilts his head. “You not over somebody?”
I glance at the water-stained drop tile ceiling. “I’m over him. I’m not over what he did to me. And he won’t get over me.”
Caleb nods. “That makes sense. Need me to beat anybody up?”
I chuckle. “I’ll let you know. Probably not. He’s a weenie and would probably call the cops because he can’t take a little punch.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want to make any comments on masculinity, but . . .”
I laugh again. “I know what you mean.” I catch the eye of the woman Caleb was talking to, her look wistfully sad. “Should I pretend like I love you?”
Caleb smirks. “I don’t want to be petty, but. . . .”
I throw my head back to laugh this time. “Everybody’s entitled a little bit of petty every once in a while.”
“Let’s show off then,” Caleb says. He demonstrates his prowess, spinning me this way and that while we both smile and laugh. I notice his Lydia in the corner watching us with a similar pained smile to what Caleb was just wearing.
A cowboy hat catches my eye, and there’s Jake, long and tall and broad and dreamy. He’s changed his shirt to a crisp, fresh pocket tee that hangs masterfully off his shoulders down to his tight ass. I love that he put on a fresh shirt to come to the bar, and I wonder if he keeps one in his truck, packed one just for this, or stopped somewhere to buy one.
All of those thoughts are equally endearing.
He’s looking at his phone and frowning. Caleb follows my line of vision.
“Oh, Daddy’s mad again,” he says as Jake stalks out of the bar, lifting the phone to his ear.
“Hope everything’s okay,” I say vaguely. “He doesn’t really get mad.”
“Oh, he gets mad,” Caleb says. “Wednesday, when you wouldn’t drink water, he was pissed.”
I chuckle as the song switches to a slow song and we change our pace. “He’s a nut.”
“He is, but he’s a good roomie. It’s weird. This summer is like the sendoff to the real world for all of us. Jake’s finishing school, I’m starting my plumbing program, and Becca’s working toward her farm.”
I sigh. “And then there’s me, hiding out from the real world.”
He shrugs. “What if this was your real world?”
“Hmm. Does that mean I never grew up?”
“Maybe,” he leans in conspiratorially, “growing up is overrated.”
That thought has certainly occurred to me in the time I’ve been here, but it feels like a cop-out. Everything I’ve done in my life to this point is to “make it,” and “making it” doesn’t happen back home. Making it is something that happens in big cities, at cocktail bars and events where I have to wear shimmery dresses. After so many years proving I “made it,” I’m not sure it was all worth it.
Caleb’s eyes flick to the corner where the couple he was talking to sits, and he turns on the charm, looking at me completely lovingly. “Hey, can you play along for a minute? I think we need to kick up the heat again.”
“Of course.” I throw my head back with a deep laugh like he told a scandalous joke. “How was that?”
“It’s perfect,” he says. “Daddy’s lucky to have you.”
The song ends and Caleb dips me, but not as suggestively as Jake did in the homeplace kitchen.
“Thanks for the dance. Go see your man. He still looks grumpy.”