Chapter 21
HATTIE
“What did you say your name was?”
The bartender smirks at my question and leans over the table to place a fresh drink in front of me. “I didn’t.”
There are several female servers at Westridge’s only watering hole. The guy behind the bar took it upon himself to deliver our drinks himself, though. I’d expect nothing less when seated at a table with the likes of Blythe, Savannah, and Mesa.
I don’t frequent this bar, unlike many of the locals. I’m not even much of a drinker unless it’s in a social setting. But tonight is different. I don’t care that it’s a weekday or that I’m three tequilas deep before nine. I need this.
“Name’s Dusty,” he says, standing with his hands on his hips and sporting a charming grin.
Instead of walking away, he lingers at our table and lets his eyes slide over to Savannah several times.
I’m not surprised, because she came here straight after work, and she looks like a knockout with her perfectly lined, nude lips and the sheer black tank that’s been hiding under her blazer all day.
He’s subtle about it until his lips part when she lifts her drink to sip it gracefully.
“You must be new here,” Blythe points out with a snicker.
Dusty lifts an arm to scratch the side of his head, and I swear he flexes his bicep. It’s covered in colorful tattoos. “Yeah, I guess you could say that,” he admits with a chuckle.
I take a swig of my tequila and sit up straight with a spark of excitement. I forgot how fun it is to ride a buzz.
“Well, welcome to town!” I offer. “Let me introduce you to everyone. This is Mesa, retired electrician. That’s Blythe. She’s a cheerleader in the Professional Football League. And then, Savannah. Technically unemployed, but she does a lot of charity work.”
Dusty hones in on Savannah. “Oh yeah? That’s awesome. I happen to love charities, actually. They’re so important.” I try not to roll my eyes. All three girls are holding back a burst of laughter as he nods seriously. “What kind of charity work do you do?”
Her hand is plastered over her mouth, and she’s bending forward to hide her amusement, so I answer for her. “Mainly in the medical field. Raising awareness and funds to mandate male castration. I mean, contraception.” I giggle. “Yeah, contraception.”
“That’s uh—” Dusty is at a loss for words.
I smile up at him, blinking my lashes and waiting for him to come up with a response. When he furrows his brows and tilts his head, we can’t hold back any longer. All four of us erupt in a fit of laughter. After several beats, Mesa hiccups and widens her eyes at the door with a hand over her mouth.
I pat Dusty on the arm. “Thanks for stopping by. We’ll let you know if we need another round.”
He ignores my dismissal, instead perking up at the change of subject. “I can bring y’all some appetizers if you want. The cheese fries are pretty clutch.”
I look over my shoulder and see that three familiar men are striding toward the bar. Well, two, technically. One of them is headed straight for our table.
“Better go,” I whisper out of the side of my mouth. “You have about fifteen seconds.”
Blythe crosses her legs, brings her drink to her mouth, and lifts her eyebrows as if she’s just as entertained by Dusty’s impending demise as I am.
He takes a step back, but not before Gage stalks past him and braces his hands on the back of Blythe’s chair.
He bends down, and she tilts her head with a smile while he kisses the side of her neck.
“Gage?” Dusty smiles and reaches out his hand when Gage flicks his eyes up to him. They lean in and slap each other once on each other’s backs.
“Hey, how’s it goin’?” Gage asks.
“Not bad,” Dusty answers with a shrug. “Busier than normal for a Wednesday, so I can’t complain.” He nods toward Blythe. “So, this is the wife you wouldn’t shut up about last time you were in here, huh?”
Blythe’s mouth drops open, and she spins in her seat to whack Gage in the stomach. “You asshole! You’re married?”
My entire face breaks out in a grin. I’m so fucking glad Mesa called her and Savannah to join us. Drinking is no fun when you’re the only one who turns into a Prank Sinatra when you’re tipsy. Blythe has gone toe-to-toe with my shenanigans, and it’s been a blast.
“Oh—shit, I, uh—” Dusty is positively flustered and leaning away.
Gage rolls his eyes with an exasperated sigh. “Yes, this is my wife. And I see you’ve been serving her plenty.” His gaze narrows as his eyes dart between all four of us girls at the table. “Raise your hand if you’re drunk.”
I sit up tall and confident, lifting my arm into the air. As does Blythe.
“Good to know.” After kissing Blythe one more time, he walks away, shaking his head. I don’t miss the slight rise and fall of his shoulders, though. He was definitely chuckling a little.
“Those aren’t really your jobs, are they?” Dusty accuses with his hands on his hips.
Mesa flattens her lips and shakes her head.
He laughs and peeks over his shoulder. “I don’t really want my face rearranged by the other two, so I’m going back behind the bar. Wave me down if you need another round.”
“I’ll take one more,” I say.
He walks backward and shoots me a finger gun. “Got it. Be right back.”
“Nice to meet you, Rusty!” Blythe calls out.
I let out another laugh while pressing a hand over the neckline of my off-the-shoulder top. “You eat men for breakfast, don’t you?”
Blythe lifts her glass and holds it in the air. “Every day.”
“Hey,” Savannah cuts in, looking at me. “You didn’t finish your story, and I’m not taking another sip without the full update. What else happened?”
Mesa leans her folded forearms on the edge of the table, and I clear my throat.
When we got here not long ago, I launched straight into a recap of the last month or so, with a few backstory details regarding Heston and me.
It’s all been sitting in my head, locked away for too damn long.
The liquid courage was exactly what I needed to let it all out.
Before Dusty showed up, I had made it all the way through this afternoon’s argument at Solana Bluffs.
“There’s not much more to tell. I need dirt on Marcus, y’all. Like, really good dirt. I just don’t know what to look for, or where I’m going to find it.”
“We can help,” Mesa offers, placing a hand on my arm.
“Absolutely,” Savannah agrees. “We’re all here for support. I’m so sorry you’re going through this. We had no idea.”
Blythe is quiet.
I take another sip of my tequila and sway my shoulders back and forth in time with the music. “It’s no biggie. I’ve been crying and having one giant breakdown since the sun came up this morning. I’ve reached my limit of tears for the day.”
“Let’s go with breakthrough, instead,” Mesa suggests.
I snap once and then point at her. “Breakthrough. I like that.”
“Good,” she replies with a laugh, making quick eye contact with someone behind me. “I’m going to run to the bathroom. Wanna come?”
“I’m good. I think I’ll just sit here and drank.” I smile. “Drink.”
Savannah scoots her chair back and hooks her hand in the crook of Mesa’s elbow. “I’ll go with you. We can say hi to our shadows at the bar on the way.”
Blythe stirs her drink with two tiny straws at an alarmingly slow rate. Despite the hum of the weekday crowd and the music playing overhead, our half-occupied table suddenly feels drenched in silence. Something has definitely shifted.
“So, how did Heston react to all of this crazy news about Marcus?” she asks.
“I haven’t told him yet,” I admit, looking down at my hands and sobering up a little. “I planned to, but then I got called out for an emergency, and it sort of shortened our conversation. I’ve been so tired and emotional today,” I add with a sigh. “I needed to let loose for a while.”
“I get that,” she says with a gentle nod. “I kind of figured as much when Mesa texted me SOS. I’m not gonna lie, I kind of needed a night out, too. I’ve been studying and working like crazy lately.”
“Studying for your boards? You only have one year of residency left, right?”
“Little more than a year, but yeah.” She leans back and takes a deep breath. “I’ll have board exams this fall, and then I can apply for the fellowship program.”
“The light at the end of the tunnel,” I suggest.
The edges of her eyes crinkle as she gives me a closed-lip smile. “Exactly. Counting down the days until I can have a family practice here in town. I want to spend more time at home rather than commuting to the city.”
It hadn’t dawned on me before tonight that she and I might have a lot in common. Other than similar natures during a spontaneous girls’ night out, I relate to what she’s saying about her career. I lift my glass for another drink and scoot my chair closer to her.
“I hope I’ll be running my own clinic soon, too. I’m not quite ready, skills-wise. And my boss still has some time left before he retires. But he’s already approached me about passing the baton, so to speak. I’ve always wanted my own practice.”
“Really? I can totally see it. You’ve got the work ethic, for sure.”
I puff a surprised laugh out through my nose. “I—thank you.”
“You know what I just realized?” she asks. “I’ve been around you plenty of times. I’ve spoken to you, interacted with you, and even helped you. But before tonight, I don’t think I’d ever actually met you.”
I snort a laugh because, well, tequila. Plus, her statement doesn’t make sense to me. Blythe’s expression remains unchanged. My face falls as her words repeat in my head enough times to take shape.
She’s right. I’ve been nothing but a blubbering mess around her and everyone else in this small town for months. Of course, little glimmers of who I am have shown up here and there. But in truth, the last time I felt like myself was . . . well, a very long time ago.
I down the last swig in my glass.
“You’re funny,” she adds. “Obviously smart. Maybe a little unhinged, but in a good way.” She shakes her head with a shrug. “I don’t know, I guess I was under the impression that you were colder and more distant than that. Shady.”
My jaw drops. “Shady?”
“Okay, wait.” She laughs and waves her hand. “Bad word choice. I just meant . . . I don’t know. It’s like you had this filter on that I couldn’t see through.”
The lump in my throat is hard to swallow. My skin feels too warm. My fingers brush over my cheeks, which are most certainly cherry red. The flush of embarrassment only lasts for a moment, though, and cool relief sets in.
Because thankfully, I feel like the mask is finally lifting. I’m sick of wearing it.
“I used to enjoy things,” I admit, lifting the corner of my lips rather than breaking down in tears. “Not just amazing things. Ordinary, everyday life things. I wasn’t carefree, but I was easy-going and fun. Optimistic. I’ve been trying to get back to that.”
“I don’t know your whole life story, but I know you’ve been through a lot.” She thinks for a moment before lifting a hand to fidget with her necklace. “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself around me. Around any of us.”
I turn, prop my elbow on the back of my chair, and lean the side of my head on my fist. “I’ve had too many drinks to lie about this, so don’t make fun of me, okay?
But I was really terrified that I was walking into the lion’s den with you and Savannah.
With the rest of the guys, too. I wanted to feel like I could belong with all of you, and I couldn’t stop picturing someone standing up in the middle of the room and pointing at me to shout, ‘She doesn’t even go here! ’”
In that moment, Mesa and Savannah slide back into their seats.
Blythe leans forward and lowers her voice to a whisper. “Hate to break your buckle, Hattie Jo. But no one was ever going to do that.”
We smile at each other, heads huddled close like we’re telling secrets at a sleepover. I can envision us doing this more often. I like knowing there are three women I can confide in and trust. I like the idea of letting them lean on me when they need to even more.
“Sorry about the wait,” Dusty cuts in. I take the cold glass from his outstretched hand. “Y’all need anything else?”
“We’re good,” Savannah tells him. “Thank you.”
“I may not have been able to get a good read on you until now,” Blythe continues when Dusty strides away, “but you deserved a little more slack than that. I feel bad because I know I probably made you feel defensive.”
I lift my drink so that I can clink it with hers. “No one is allowed to feel bad tonight.”
“No, you’re right.” She looks over to Savannah and Mesa. “So, what’s the plan?”
Mesa shrugs. “I’m down for whatever. Every single one of us has to work tomorrow, though,” she adds with a laugh.
“I think she means the plan for pulling my head the rest of the way out of my ass and then dealing with Marcus,” I point out.
Blythe agrees with a nod. “Bingo.”
“Give me a few days on the Marcus thing,” Savannah says confidently. “I have some ideas.”
“You shouldn’t have to go to the trouble,” I say. “But thank you. I’m going to need the help.”
Savannah smiles sweetly. I almost flip my hair over my shoulder and dive into a list of ideas I’ve come up with myself, but the music switches to a slow song, and I stop to take a cleansing breath instead. The glass tumbler in my hand twirls on the tabletop in a slow circle.
I push away from the table and stand. “I’ll be right back.”
I find my way across the room. The pool table in the back isn’t being used, and I lean my hip against the edge while pulling my phone out and clicking on Heston’s contact.
He picks up after one ring. It’s silent for a moment, but I can hear him breathing.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” I answer, looking down and crossing my ankles.
“Hi.”
I glance over to where Tripp, Warren, and Gage are each occupying a spot at the bar. “Where are you?”
“Outside.”