by LuAnn McLane
I made Daisy promise not to tell Jamie Lee until after the honeymoon since I didn’t want to do anything that would put a damper on her blissful time with Griff. I hate that this decision will bring any kind of sadness to the people I care most about, but when I mentioned this to Daisy, she assured me that it’s all part of growing up. With a sigh I tell myself that at twenty-six I guess it’s about doggone time.
Tammy provided a small but nicely furnished studio apartment in a building that she owns near Vanderbilt University. Even though it’s just a few miles from the heart of Nashville the campus is a tree-filled green space that’s both peaceful and beautiful. Its summertime activity is minimal but I can imagine that the hustle and bustle of backpack-toting students will be a sight to see come fall semester.
But as I look around my living space I’m thinking that it’s rather beige and boring, so I’m trying to decide what accent colors to use and perhaps purchase from the Home Shopping Network when my phone vibrates in my pocket, making me jump. There’s just something about the vibrating sensation that is unnerving as though it will suddenly zap me or something . . . I know I’m weird that way.
Glancing at the small screen I see that it’s Lilly. “Hey there,” I answer cheerfully even though I’m too pooped to pop—something my daddy used to say when he arrived home from a long stretch on the road.
“Hey, Macy, whad’ya doin’?”
“Just chillin’ here in my new place.”
“Well, Sam and I are fixin’ to head over to Tootsie’s later on tonight. You wanna come with us?”
“Oh, that’s my favorite little honky-tonk!” I tell her, but then groan. “Lilly, my butt is draggin’. I don’t think I can muster up the energy.”
“Oh, come on, Macy. Tomorrow is one of our few days off before hitting the studio. We’ll keep it on the down low won’t we?” she shouts to Sam.
“Sure we will. Just like we always do,” Sam shouts loud enough for me to hear. “We’ll be in by eleven—tops.”
“Okay, then,” I tell them. “Just as long as we don’t overdo it. I don’t want to start my first day hungover.”
“Oh we won’t,” Lilly firmly promises. “We’re not what you would call party girls, are we Sam?”
“Noooo way. Not us. And don’t wear anything tight or flashy cuz we don’t like to draw attention to ourselves either. We don’t care about flirtin’ with the cowboys . . . just, you know, listening to the music.”
“You’re yankin’ my chain, aren’t you?”
“Sam, are we yankin’ Macy’s chain? Would we do such a thang?”
Her answer is a fit of laughter followed by a weak, “No . . . course not. We’re, um, what do you call it, Lilly?”
“Wallflowers?”
“Yeah . . . that.”
By now I’m laughing along with them. “Okay, I’ll grab an energy drink but I can’t promise how long I’ll last.”
“We’ll come along with a car and pick you up. Boone will drive us so we don’t have to worry about drinkin’ and drivin’. Plus, if anyone messes with us, he’ll give them a ball-shrinkin’ glare. It’s fun to watch.”
“So, he’ll come into the bar with us?”
“Yeah. He won’t sit with us but watch from a little ways away.
“We’ll have a bodyguard?”
“Yep, and he takes it serious. It’s totally unnecessary and I’ve told him he can just drop us off, but he always insists on staying and keeping an eye on us.”
“That’s so cool.”
“Well I guess, unless he gets too overprotective. Then I have to tell him to back off.”
“Yeah, that would suck,” I reply, but I personally think that Boone is sweet on Lilly. I’ve caught him staring at her when she’s not looking but I decide to keep my mouth shut. I’m too new in this group to stir up any trouble. In fact, I give myself a warning not to drink too much and get stupid. I’ll just have a couple of longnecks to unwind and then back off. “I’ll start gettin’ ready.”
“Okay, we’ll see you in a little while.”
“Wear somethin’ slutty,” Sam yells, and then laughs. “Show off the girls. You’ve got some nice ones!”
“Sam!” Lilly shouts back at her.
“What?” she asks innocently. “She does. It’ll get us some free beer for sure. Two words, Macy: low cut.”
“Sorry, Macy,” Lilly says. “She’s outta control.”
I have to laugh but then think I’m going to be in for quite a night with the Mason sisters. “Wait, do you two get recognized?”
“Nah,” Lilly answers, “not too often, anyway, unless of course we’re with Tammy. She comes out with us once in a while but not too often since it’s such a hassle for her. Besides, she’s pretty much a homebody. Okay then, see you in a bit. Go find your second wind, Macy.”
After hanging up the phone I have to smile. While I dearly miss Jamie Lee, these girls are going to be a lot of fun, I can just tell. I’m dying to call Jamie Lee just to talk but I’m so afraid that I’ll slip and spill the whole thing that I didn’t even take her last call to me.
On my way to the bathroom to primp I snag a Mountain Dew from the fridge but after my lively conversation I’m already feeling energized. I tell myself that it will be fun to go out and flirt and have a good ol’ time but then of course my thoughts turn to Luke. Other than a brief conversation after he called to ask if I was settled in, I haven’t heard from him, making me feel as if the amazing night we had was some sort of dream I conjured up in my head. I’m really trying hard to take Daisy’s advice and to get my own life in order first but my doggone heart refuses to cooperate. Every time my phone rings my pulse races in hope that it’s Luke calling to tell me he misses me so much that he just has to come for a visit.
Then, of course, I tell myself now that I’m gone, Luke has moved on and probably doesn’t think of me at all. Out of sight and out of mind and all that . . .
I look at my pathetic self in the mirror and sigh. “Okay, Macy McCoy, just wait a doggone minute!” Narrowing my eyes I give myself a well-deserved stare down. I look kind of silly since one eye has mascara on and the other doesn’t but I glare anyway. “Stop your bellyaching and take life by the horns.” Then I picture myself wrestling with a big old bull and start to giggle. I decide right then and there that I’m being too serious and I need a girls’ night out of fun and laughter.
Since it’s a sultry summer night and Tootsie’s will be jam-packed, I pull my hair up into a loose ponytail, letting locks of hair hang in a deliberate messy way that I hope looks playful and sexy. After a light dusting of hair spray, I touch up smoky-gray eye shadow and add a bit more peach-tinted gloss that Carrie gave me. Satisfied with my hair and makeup, I head to my closet to find something that will show off the girls like Sam suggested. Because I’m self-conscious about my weight I don’t have many tight tops, but maybe it’s about time I embrace my curves instead of hiding behind loose-fitting clothing. I quickly settle on a jeans skirt but then try on a dozen blouses, hating each one more than the last. “Damn, I don’t have anything to wear!”
I’m nibbling on the inside of my cheek and staring at my closet full of crap when my front doorbell chimes. Tugging on a yellow V-neck T-shirt I hurry to answer the door.
“Cute skirt but the shirt sucks,” Sam comments as she breezes past me into my bedroom.
Lilly rolls her eyes. “She’s in a man-hating mood and I’m not far behind her. I pity the poor cowboy who has the nerve to approach us. He just might get his head bitten off.”
“You still having man troubles with that drummer?”
“That two-timin’ jackass? I’m so done with him.”
“Yeah, you’ve said that before.” Sam’s voice is muted from the bedroom but her frustration rings out loud and clear.
“I mean it this time.”
“Sure you do.”
“Bite me!” Lilly shouts in Sam’s direction.
“Damn, Macy, don’t you have any slutty clothing?
I’m gonna have to take you shoppin’ at the Opry Mills Mall. Now, get your butt back here and let’s try to sex you up.”
“What about you, Macy?” Lilly asks as we walk to my room where we find Sam going through my closet like Stacy on What Not to Wear. If there were a big garbage can, I do believe my wardrobe would be in it. “You still mooning over Luke? Not that I would blame you.”
I shrug. “Sorta.”
She hooks her arm through mine. “Well, for tonight join the man-hatin’ club. In a sad way it feels kinda good. Empowering even.”
“Yeah, but you know it always backfires,” Sam says as she holds up a Payton Panthers extra large T-shirt. When we get in one of our man-hatin’ moods we sorta radiate it and for some reason we become a challenge, you know what I’m sayin’? I wanna be mean like in the Pink song, ‘Leave Me Alone,’ ” she says with a laugh. “Guys just always go after what they can’t have.”
So do women, I think to myself.
“Okay Macy, do you actually wear this shirt in public?” Sam wrinkles her nose and tosses it in the growing heap of nonslutty tops.
“No, I sleep in it.”
“Well okay.” Sam shakes her head sadly. “But that’s almost as bad. What would Luke say if he saw you sleepin’ in this?”
“We’re not goin’ there, Sam,” Lilly warns.
“He is the coach of the team so he might like it,” I protest. “May I keep it, Stacy?”
“Oh you watch that show too?” She gives Lilly a look. “See I’m not the only one who loves What Not to Wear.”
Lilly shrugs. “I just hate the throwing away of the clothes part, that’s all. I wouldn’t let anyone toss my very own clothing in the trash.”
“But you get to replace it with cool stuff.”
“Fancy-schmancy clothes. I’d want my old stuff back.”
Sam nods. “True,” she admits, but then brightens. “You know what? I think we need a redneck version of the show on CMC. Wouldn’t that be fun? We could have Carrie do the makeup . . . and Macy, you could do the hair!”
“What would you do?” Lilly asks her sister.
“The clothes, of course. I have a very exquisite sense of redneck style,” she says with her nose in the air.
Lilly snorts. “I’ll give you that, baby sister.”
While tapping the side of her cheek Sam says, “You know, we could be on to something.”
Lilly snorts again.
“I’m serious,” she insists, and I’m thinking she could be right. “We could get our participants at Wal-Mart. You can always find some poor soul in a tube top and go-go boots shopping in Wally World.”
“You shop at Wal-Mart?” I ask, and they both nod. “So does Tammy . . . well, she has someone shop there for her,” Lilly says. “We all grew up dirt-poor. No matter how much money we make we’ll still clip coupons, shop at Wal-Mart, and take restaurant leftovers home to eat the next day. It’s just who we are.”
“Good for you,” I tell them, and mean it.
“Well, Macy,” Sam says as she looks at my clothing strewn all over the bed and floor, “a serious shopping spree is in order. Damn, girl, if I had big breasts like yours I’d flaunt those puppies.” She tosses a button-down white cotton shirt at me. “Put this on but leave the first few buttons undone.”
“But it has long sleeves,” I protest.
“Roll them up to your elbows. We’ll add some bracelets and a necklace to draw attention to your cleavage.”
“I don’t want to draw attention to my cleavage.”
“Too bad. It’ll be fun and get us free beer.”
“You can afford your own beer,” I remind her with a laugh.
Sam arches one eyebrow. “It’s the principle of the thing.”
“Well, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble getting guys to buy you a drink,” I tell her. She looks both enticing and sweet at the same time—a combo that drives guys wild. “Your layered spaghetti-strapped T-shirts are too cute and yet manage to be sexy.”
She cups her hands beneath her boobs and shoves them upward. “Yeah, like these itty-bitties will get noticed. Ha.”
“Hey, I thought we were man-haters tonight,” Lilly protests. Lilly is sexy but in a Gretchen Wilson don’t-mess-with-me badass way. She’s not fooling me, though. I already know that she is a softie beneath her spiky blond hair. That said, I could imagine that she can raise a little hell.
“Oh come on, Lilly, don’t get too out of hand. You know it drives Boone crazy. Give the guy a little rest tonight.”
“He needs to learn to back off.”
“Yeah, right. I think you cause trouble just to get his attention.”
Lilly waves a hand at her sister. “Yeah, right. Why would I do that?”
Sam angles her head and says, “You tell me.”
“Oh like Boone is my type. Come on, Sam. Get real. I mean he’s a nice guy and all . . .”
“And hot as hell.”
Lilly shrugs. “If you go for muscle-bound bouncer types. You know I dig musicians.”
While shoving my arms in the shirt, I watch for Sam to counter and she does with a laugh. “Yeah, and how’s that working out for ya?”
“Bite me.”
“You need a shirt that says that,” I tell her with a grin.
“Yeah I do.”
“She has a coffee mug that Tammy got for her,” Sam says, “but a shirt would be better.”
“I’d rather have the pleasure of sayin’ it. And Boone is not the guy for me,” she protests a little too hotly. Something in her eyes tells me that she’s at least thought about him that way.
“You want to do him. Admit it.”
Lilly tosses a shirt at Sam. “I do not want to have sex with Boone!”
Sam winks at me. “Say it, Macy . . .”
I grin at Lilly and say, “Whatever.”
“You girls are so wrong.”
Sam pushes herself to her feet and steps over the pile of clothes. “He’s much more intellectual than he looks, you know, Lilly. He reads a lot of heavy stuff and watches the Discovery and History channels.”
“Give it up, Sam.”
She shrugs. “I’m just sayin’.”
“Speaking of hot guys, Macy, have you heard from that blue-eyed hottie Luke?”
“Not really.”
Lilly slaps her jeans-clad thigh. “That does it. It’s a man-hater night for sure. We’re gonna get beer bought for us and then be snooty bitches. Okay, girls?”
Sam and I exchange looks and then shrug. “Oh, okay.”
“Sweet,” Lilly says with a this-is-going-to-be-fun grin. “High five, bitches! We’re outta here.”
“Speaking of Boone, where is he?”
“Waiting for us outside in the SUV,” Lilly says. “We should get a move-on.”
“How do I look?” I ask Sam.
“Come see for yourself,” she says as she grabs my hand and drags me into the bathroom.
“Oh my . . . ,” I say as I gaze at my reflection. I thought the plain white blouse would look drab but it offsets my summer tan. I usually wear my shirts loose in an effort to conceal extra pounds but the shirt tucked into my skirt gives me a waist.
“Here,” Sam says, and tugs at my collar, exposing more skin. “Baby, you’re hot!”
I giggle, but with my updated makeup and simple but sexy clothing I have to admit I’m feeling a bit more . . . confident. I’ve always downplayed my breasts but it is kind of fun to flaunt them a little.
“Play up what you’ve got, Macy. Embrace your full figure. You’re a beautiful girl.”
I feel emotion clog my throat. “You think so? I’ve picked up so much weight since high school and—”
“Stop! We all want to be what we’re not. Look at me. I’m short and flat chested.”
“You’re not flat chested.”
“Close enough. I’ve even thought of having a boob job.”
“Over my dead body,” Lilly says as she joins us in the small bathroom. “You’re petit
e like our mama. Embrace it!”
“I don’t wanna be petite. I want curves!”
“Yeah, and I don’t want this big ass.” Lilly turns around and points to her butt. “Guess what? I’m stuck with it.” She turns back around and loops her arms over our shoulders. “Guess what else? Tonight it doesn’t matter because we’re man-haters.”
“But we don’t really hate men,” I muse out loud.
Lilly laughs. “Yeah, I know. But it gives us a sense of purpose even if it’s bogus.”
“Tonight we’re rednecks without a cause,” she explains, and then squeezes our shoulders. “You girls ready?”
“Ready,” Sam and I say.
“Good. Then let’s go hit the Honky-Tonk Highway.”
13
Honky Tonk . . . Badonkadonk
We’re still laughing and cutting up as we walk outside to where Boone is waiting. He’s leaning against the mean-looking SUV, looking equally big and bad in black jeans and a plain black T-shirt that accentuates his ripped chest. His bulging biceps stretch the sleeves to the limit and reveal Celtic armband tattoos. Dark blond stubble shadows his square jaw and mirrored aviator sunglasses are in place even though the sun is setting.
“Ladies,” he greets us in a deep voice, and then reaches over to open the back door. I can’t help but notice that he smells as masculine as he looks—something dark and spicy mixed with danger. Okay, I made up the danger part but he really does smell delicious.
“Hey there, Boone,” Sam says. “You’re looking festive tonight. Where’s your cowboy hat?”
“Musta forgot it,” he answers dryly.
I greet him with a smile and he gives me a mere twitch of his full lips in return.
“Boone,” Lilly says in a rather aloof tone as she brushes past him into the backseat.
Sam gives me a discreet elbow but I had already taken note of the fact that Boone’s gaze lingers on Lilly longer than necessary. Sexual tension seems to crackle between them but as usual he has his game face on. It also occurs to me that he takes his job seriously and that we are completely safe in his care—not that Nashville is crime infested, but still it’s a protected feeling that’s rather nice.
Once we’re settled and Boone is behind the wheel, he raises his gaze to the rearview mirror. “Where to, ladies?”