Maisie
. . .
ELEVEN
Ches informed me we were hitting up Outlaw tonight.
Apparently, it's some old dive bar the locals frequent.
Not like they have other options, but it sounds like the place to be on a Friday night.
When he texted me to wear my dancing shoes, line dancing was the last thing on my mind.
Fresh off the plane from New York, I had bright lights and techno music on the brain. This is the furthest thing from that.
I threw on a full vest pant style jean romper that zips up my cleavage. Modest, but still hot as hell. My hair is in big, loose curls. I chugged an old beer I found stashed in the back of my fridge, finishing just in time before Ches arrived.
My boots tap anxiously as Ches pulls into the gravel parking lot, rambunctious chatter bleeding out through the front door. An Outlaw sign that looks on the brink of burning out flashes sporadically above the door like some old Hollywood prop set decor.
Ches slams his hand out his window, letting out a whistle.
The boys piled in the truck bed hoot and pour out the sides.
I exit the truck with relief I didn’t have a panic attack.
Two drunk men stumble out of the bar, tripping over each other and laughing, fighting over a cigarette.
This scene is a long ways away from my norm in New York.
It’s the perfect place to start my research.
An arm flops around my shoulders, and I’m dragged into a warm body. I smile at Ches, who shoots me a lopsided grin. “Did I mention I missed ya?”
“Only a million times now,” I tease.
He chuckles, knocking his shoulder into mine before opening the door for me. The ranch hands, whom I now know as: Jake, the attention seeker, Carter, the quiet one, and Lukas, the know it all, filter in behind us beelining for the bar top.
Ches is ripped from my side when an old friend greets him, wanting to catch up. I nod that I’m okay without him and make my way through the busy crowd to grab a drink. There are two female bartenders working in tandem through the large line.
I’ve never been great in social settings, especially when left to my own devices. I check my phone, responding to a text from Lan about when he can come to visit. I eventually make it to the front of the line, the shorter of the two bartenders waving me over.
“Hey, babe, what can I get ya?” she shouts over the loud country music, slapping a towel over her shoulder.
She’s wearing a black tank top that says Outlaw and matching black leather shorts.
Her pale skin is covered in a mirage of black ink from head to toe besides her face.
She has a black cat vibe going, and I’m here for it.
“I guess I’ll start with a shot of whiskey and go from there,” I reply, laughing awkwardly. It’s been a while since I’ve been out while single. Some liquid courage is exactly what the doctor ordered.
Her ocean-blue eyes blow wide before narrowing in playful assessment. “Are you my twin? I think we just became best friends,” she says, shooting me a flirty wink. “Any preference on your poison?"
Her easygoing nature instantly calms me. “Whatever you have for well is fine. I’m not drinking it for taste.”
She shoots me a finger gun, clicking her tongue.
“Right answer.” She gets to work, grabbing a rocks glass, flipping the whiskey bottle skillfully before tipping it upside down to pour me a hefty shot.
It’s a good thing I didn't drive tonight. If I didn’t know any better, I would assume she’s trying to put me to sleep.
She slides the glass across the counter. I down it instantly, letting it burn a trail down the back of my throat and cough. “Fuck! What was that?” I hiss, trying my best to keep the shot down.
“That’s the priceless Jim Beam special! Good bang for your buck if you’re looking for a fun night. I like to call it the porcelain painter. I’ve had one too many bad nights after drinking that shit.” She winces. “Burns just as bad coming up as it does going down.”
“Great,” I groan, feeling the alcohol warm my stomach already.
A seat at the bar top opens, and I slip onto it, propping my elbows on the counter.
It’s probably not the best idea to get a second drink already.
I don’t normally drink that often, but I might as well get another while I have the bartender's attention.
I can sip on this one and make it last the night.
“What’s next on the tasting agenda? Vodka?”
I bristle. “God no. I’ll take whatever light beer you have on tap please.”
She smiles and grabs a tall glass, filling it with the single beer tap they have.
She slides it across to me and uses the towel from her shoulder to wipe off the sticky bar top in front of me.
“Soooooo,” she sing-songs. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess you’re here for a little R&R.
I would definitely remember a pretty face like yours if you were a local. ”
Is she flirting with me?
I take a sip of my beer, letting the foam coat my lips. “Visiting family, actually. I’ll be here for a bit while I’m…figuring some stuff out.”
That piques her interest. “Who’s your family?”
“The Foxes.”
“Ches, Rox, and Walt?” she asks, tilting her head.
“The very ones. Ches is my cousin, and Walter and Roxy are my aunt and uncle.”
“Interesting. I’ve lived here my whole life, and I’ve never seen you around the ranch.”
She looks around my same age, 25, which means she would have been around if I had gotten the opportunity to grow up here. I can’t help but think about all the memories Lan and I missed out on from being in the foster system.
“I’m originally from Washington. My circumstances didn’t allow me to get out here very often.” It’s all I manage to say, which is more than I would normally share.
She gives me an understanding smile before her hand shoots out.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here now. I’m Hunter, but everyone calls me Hunt.
” She grabs a coaster off the counter and scribbles something in pen before sliding it across to me.
“My number, if you ever get bored at the ranch and want to hang out. We don’t get newcomers around here very often, and I’m claiming you first, before anyone else can snatch you up. ”
I pocket the coaster, my chest all warm and fuzzy, or maybe that’s the whiskey.
Hunter gets back to mixing up drinks for guests while I slowly sip my beer.
She makes sure to still engage with me, talking while working.
She’s damn good at her job. She works through the long line in minutes while filling me in on all the town drama she eavesdrops on while working.
I like Hunter. I think I like her a lot, actually. I don’t bond with people, like ever. Very rarely do I find someone who seems to be as interested in me as I am in them. No one prepares you for how difficult it is to make friends in adulthood.
I’ve been working on letting go of things that don’t serve me anymore, reminding myself why I would keep holding on to something so desperately that causes me pain and doesn’t want to be held on to.
And for what? So you can keep something that only brings you heartache and stress?
That only makes you feel worse about yourself and reaffirms your own self-doubts.
I’ll always be the first to admit I’m a sensitive girl.
The biggest lesson I’ve learned in adulthood is not everyone is going to like you, and that’s okay.
It’s not to say it’s my own fault. People change, grow, and sometimes the train they are on is not the one you are meant to board.
At this point in life, with me and Lan moving around so much from a young age, it’s safe to say he’s my only remaining friend. I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Hunter is in the middle of telling me an animated story about an older local she saw leaving here with multiple men in a single night. I can’t help but laugh along with her.
“No fair, you started without me!” Ches whines, saddling up next to me.
I pretend to look at my invisible watch. “They are about to do last call. Maybe they can squeeze you in,” I tease.
“Always the jokester,” Ches chuckles, tapping his knuckles on the bar top to get Hunter’s attention. There’s no line right now, so she saunters over, a wide smile on her face.
“Chesney-poo, always a pleasure. What can I get ya, doll?”
“Your number, for starters,” he jokes, shooting her a wink.
Hunter looks over to me, smirking. “I already gave out my limit for the night, I’m afraid. Maybe next time.”
Chesney fake pouts, pointing at his cheek. “A kiss’ll do then.”
She leans over the bar top, planting a red lipstick kiss on his cheek before slapping his other cheek playfully. Chesney howls with laughter.
I watch their fiery interaction. If I hadn’t been talking with Hunter for the past twenty minutes, I would assume they had a thing going on. That’s just Hunter's personality, though.
"What did the little shit have so far?” he asks, looking over to me and my beer.
Hunter points down at the Jim Beam bottle. I shiver at the reminder of it hitting my throat.
“Perfect. We’ll take two more please…and I’ll have one of those beers. It looks like Maisie’s is almost out. She’ll take another one as well.”
I almost double over. “And who is drinking all that? Because it certainly won’t be me.”
“We’re celebrating! It’s your first time back in how many years, Mais?
Plus, it’s your first time here since turning twenty-one.
If I want to drink with my baby cousin for the first time, I’m gonna do it, damn it,” he shouts excitedly, slapping the bar.
I know he’s just messing around, and I secretly love it.
That doesn’t stop me from groaning. “Fine, but can we at least have something besides the Jim Beam this time? I’m going to have nightmares about that tonight.”
“You heard the princess. Top shelf whiskey it is! My treat.” Chesney's arm flops over my shoulder while Hunter fetches the expensive whiskey with dust coating the outer glass.