6. Six
SIX
Itold myself that seeing Huxley wasn’t the worst thing in the world. We’d cleared the air — something that was a long time coming — and knew where we stood.
I was irritated, though.
He’d brought up Mick, which was ballsy. I’d been convinced he was going to evade that entire conversation. That wasn’t what happened, though. No, he’d gone there, and it left me fuming.
I didn’t sleep well that night and was still agitated the next morning. So, as I set about unpacking, I pulled out my tablet and placed a call to my sister.
She was wearing a cowboy hat when she answered. It was pink, with sparkles, and her shirt featured a big Ellen DeGeneres face.
“Unbelievable,” was all I could manage when I got a good gander at what she was wearing. “Don’t you think that’s a little … ?” What was the word I was even looking for here?
Lucy had cut her long brown hair, so it was above her shoulders in an adorable bob.
I actually appreciated the cut. I’d always been frightened to go short, but seeing her look so cute had my mind whirling.
Could I pull off that cut? We looked a lot alike, despite being more than 10 years apart in age. It was a thought.
“What?” Lucy tilted her head, telling me she was feeling defiant. “What were you going to say?” she pressed when I didn’t immediately answer.
I could have let it go, but I didn’t. “I know Ellen was the face of lesbians everywhere for a time —”
“She was a trailblazer,” Lucy agreed.
“She’s kind of hated now, though,” I argued.
“Who could possibly hate Ellen?”
“All the people who said she was mean behind the scenes of her show.”
“Oh, that’s just gossip.” Lucy waved off the suggestion as if swatting at a gnat. “I don’t believe Ellen was anything other than amazing.”
“Okay.” If she wanted to believe that, who was I to tell her otherwise? “If you’re trying to find a soulmate — which is always what you’re trying to do — don’t you think you should go with somebody a little more family-friendly as an advertisement?”
“No.”
“Okay, then.” I sighed. “How is the hunt going?”
“Well, not as well as I hoped.” Lucy’s lips turned down. “Did you know there aren’t a lot of cowboy lesbians?”
“Is that an overall thing, or just a Wyoming thing?” With Lucy, you never knew. Her head was all over the place.
“So far, it seems to be a Wyoming thing. It could be an overall thing, though. I’m going to find out in three days.”
Uh-oh. The look of determination on her face told me she was going to be on the move again. “Where are you going this time?” I was resigned to whatever came next. Lucy was incapable of sitting still.
“I have some feelers out,” she replied. “I’m waiting for responses from ranches in Texas and Oklahoma. There weren’t a lot of options for a fast transition.” She looked legitimately upset, so I didn’t say what I wanted to say.
I told you so.
Whenever Lucy made a move, I carefully broke down why it probably wasn’t going to work. I wasn’t trying to be a jerk — I was a legitimately worried older sister after all — but she always took it that way and did the opposite of what I suggested she do.
That’s why I had to bite my tongue this time.
“Oh, just say it,” Lucy said after several seconds of uncomfortable silence. “I know you want to.”
“No, you don’t like it when I interfere in your life,” I countered.
“That’s never stopped you before.”
“I know, but —”
“Just say it.”
I bit back a growl and gave in to my worst possible instincts. “It’s stupid to go to Oklahoma. You’re going to have the same problems there that you’re having in Wyoming.”
“What makes you say that?” Lucy didn’t sound mad as much as curious.
“Do you know a lot of stories coming out of Oklahoma that revolve around happy lesbians?”
“No, but I don’t know a lot of stories about happy lesbians in Texas either.”
“True, but there are pockets of openness in Texas. Like Austin. Did you put in for a ranch close to Austin?”
“No. The only opening was near Odessa.”
I had to look up Odessa on my phone and cringed. “Have you thought that maybe ranch work isn’t your forte?” I asked, changing tactics on the fly.
“I want a sexy cowgirl,” Lucy complained. “I can’t help it if my loins demand it. The heart wants what the heart wants.”
“Right.” Talking to Lucy was like talking to a wall sometimes. “Well, I wish you and your loins luck. When do you think you’ll find out about a new placement?”
“It had better be in the next three days. That’s when my internship here ends, and my free housing runs out.”
I’d never heard of cowgirl internships — I was certain it was actually called something else — but now wasn’t the time to be pedantic. “Well, I wish you luck.”
“No, you don’t.” Lucy shook her head. “You’re worried I’m going to ask you for money for a plane ticket.”
I was worried about that. Whenever Lucy decided — always on a whim — to pull up stakes and move, either my mother or I had to foot the bill. She’d never met a dollar bill she didn’t want to immediately spend. That meant she never had any money set aside.
“Did you ask Mom?” I asked, already resigned to my fate.
“Yeah, she said I was on my own.” Lucy’s brown eyes narrowed on me. “I’m actually surprised that she didn’t call you to give you a heads-up that it was time for the tough love approach yet again.”
The last time we’d agreed to try the tough love approach, Lucy had hitchhiked from Maine to Ohio. It had driven my mother crazy. I was actually surprised that she was willing to go that route again.
“She tried to call last night,” I admitted. “I was at a reader event, though.”
“Oh, right.” Lucy bobbed her head. “You’re in your new place in Savannah, aren’t you? How is it going?”
“I’ve only been here for a day. It’s going okay so far.” Not really, but I didn’t want to worry my sister. “I’m in the middle of unpacking.”
“Show me the place.”
I spent the next five minutes — the apartment wasn’t big enough for it to go longer — carrying the tablet around and showing her my new digs. She whistled when I was finished.
“That’s a great place,” she enthused. “Show me the view.”
I did. There was a small park across the way and businesses up and down the street.
“Wow,” she said when I sat with a box to unpack it, propping the tablet on a different box so I could see her. “That’s a great apartment. How did you luck into that?”
“Bella James. She’s another author. She and her husband just moved into a new townhouse they purchased, so she was happy to sublet me this one.”
“That’s lucky.”
“It really was. I was anxious to move down here, so I would have taken almost anything, but this place is really nice.” I let out a happy sigh, then thought back to seeing Huxley the night before. I didn’t realize I was frowning until Lucy cleared her throat. “What?” I asked, forcing a smile.
“Where did your head just go?”
“Nowhere.” I was a terrible liar. The single-word reply came out far too quickly.
“Nowhere?” She cocked her head. “I don’t believe you. What happened? Were those other authors mean to you? I know you had an event last night. You told me last time we talked that your first reader event was the night you arrived and were worried that you would be tired.”
“Nobody was mean to me,” I assured her. That was mostly true.
“Do I have to put on my spurs and come kick some author ass?”
Ah, leave it to Lucy to take the most dramatic approach. That was always her way. “The other authors weren’t mean to me. It’s just …” I could have let it go, but I didn’t. I never just let it go.
“Wylie.” Lucy did her best impersonation of our mother.
On a sigh, I gave up. “I ran into Huxley Ambrose last night. He just moved here, too.”
“Get out!” Lucy’s mouth dropped open. She’d been young when our mother partnered with Eleanor Ambrose. All she remembered of that time was getting ice cream in bed at night from the nanny who traveled with us. She was never part of the actual event.
I nodded and shrugged. “I was just as surprised as you.”
“How did that go?”
“Well, it could have gone better.”
Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “What did he do?”
“It could have gone worse, too,” I assured her. “It was just … really, really awkward. I don’t want to talk about it.” With great determination, I started pulling out knick-knacks for the shelf.
If I thought that was going to work on Lucy, I was sadly mistaken. “Oh, don’t even,” she scolded. “I want to know absolutely everything.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” I used unpacking as a reason not to look her in the eye. She could always tell when I was lying. “He was a little snotty at first and brought up the Klingon.”
“He did not!” Lucy was many things, but disloyal wasn’t one of them. She might have found my mastering Klingon weird, but she was the only one who could make fun of me for it. If anybody else tried, she was all over them. “What a putz! What did the other authors say?”
“The guys were strangely excited.”
“I told you that was a great way to get a guy.” She looked proud of herself.
“They’re both married. With children,” I added as an afterthought.
“Ah, well.” Lucy held out her hands in a “you win some, you lose some” gesture. “Did they at least stand up for you?”
“No, but Huxley apologized right away. He realized it wasn’t nice.”
“Not nice? That was an asshole move if I ever heard one.”
“He felt guilty about it,” I insisted. “He was just as thrown as I was. I think he wanted to run for the door when he saw me.”
“What happened after that?”
“Nothing. We agreed to let it go, and everybody ordered dinner. We talked about everything but the fact that Huxley’s mom committed assault on our mom, and then it was time for the reader event.” I shrugged, as if to say, “that’s all, folks.”
Lucy was far too in tune with my moods to believe that. “There has to be more.”