A Little Less Talk and a Lot More Action

by LuAnn McLane

  “A redneck girl!” Lilly shouts, and raises her beer bottle. All the other redneck girls and even those who aren’t raise their bottles as well, including me . . . well because I am a redneck girl, after all.

  Suddenly I know where this is leading . . .

  “Yeah, there’s nothin’ on earth that turns me on more than a redneck girl. In fact, I’ve chosen one in particular.” He looks in my direction and crooks his finger at me. “Macy, come up here on stage. I want ya to sing and dance with me!”

  “Sing?” I squeak at Lilly. “I can’t sing!” When I hesitate Lilly gives me a nudge and a this-is-part-of-the-getting-Luke-plan wink. I roll my eyes at her but then slip down from my stool and make my way to the front of the bar, high-fiving fellow redneck girls along the way.

  “Now, while I’m singin’ about my favorite kinda women and dancing with Macy, I want a few other redneck chicks dancin’ up on the bar,” he requests, and points in that direction. “Boys, take a seat and move your beer bottles outta the way!” Tanner shouts as he reaches out and helps me step up beside him. A moment later he launches into the Bellamy Brothers classic, “Gimme a Redneck Girl,” the Southern chick anthem long before Gretchen Wilson’s “Redneck Woman” hit the top of the country music charts.

  Because I’m basically tone-deaf, I mouth the words while Tanner wraps one hand around the microphone and loops his arm around my waist. He belts out the song so as to be heard over the crowd. “Why don’t ya gimme a, gimme a, gimme a”—he shoves the microphone to my mouth so I have to sing loud and proud—“redneck girl!” Luckily my off-key voice goes unnoticed except for Lilly and Sam who are laughing their butts off. Brandon, who is also privy to my lack of singing skills, puts his thumb and pinkie in between his lips and whistles.

  “Bring it home, Macy,” Tanner shouts. It’s a good thing he’s holding on to me since the stage is the size of a postage stamp. Spurred on by the cheering crowd and fueled by three Bud Lights, I decide to hell with my horrid voice and belt the song out as though I’m Tammy Turner instead of Macy McCoy. No one seems to care that I suck.

  “Let’s hear it for Macy!” At the end of the song Tanner puts his hat on my head and raises my hand in the air as though I just won a prizefight. When he leans down and kisses me, I have to admit that I feel kind of special. The redneck girls cheer me on, making me take a bow as if I’m the queen of something . . . although I’m not sure what. Perhaps Bud Light? I laugh at the thought as I place Tanner’s hat back on his head where it belongs. He gives me a grin that I swear means he’s interested. I smile back even though I know this won’t go anywhere since he’s handsome as all get out and cute enough to eat with a spoon . . .

  But he’s not Luke.

  Still, he’s interested in me. While I know that this is all part of his stage presence, Tanner could have chosen anyone in the bar and for some reason I caught his eye. It’s enough to give me a boost of confidence. Tanner doesn’t seem to mind my few extra pounds. Maybe being as skinny as a stick is overrated after all.

  “God bless redneck girls,” Tanner proclaims, and of course is met with cheers. “Thanks for the dance, Macy,” Tanner says. I realize that my five minutes of near fame are over but then Tanner leans in close and kisses me on the lips . . . a quick kiss, mind you, but he lingers long enough to get a sigh from the other less-fortunate redneck girls in the audience. If I were bolder I would throw my arms around his neck and give him a good one, but I’m not that brazen. Instead, I feel the heat of a blush creep into my cheeks. But then I remember that I’m supposed to make the most of this situation, so I smile up at Tanner with what I hope is a flirtatious invitation to come sit with me in between sets.

  We’ll see. Maybe I’m getting a little too overly confident in my cleavage-showing shirt, but then again when I get back to the table there’s a cold beer waiting for me.

  “From a secret admirer,” Lilly announces loud enough to make sure that Brandon hears. I have to wonder if the drink really was from someone or if she’s making it up as part of her plan.

  “Cool,” Sam says. “From who?”

  Lilly looks at her and says tightly, “That’s the secret part of secret admirer.”

  Sam frowns. “Yeah but usually—” she begins, and then sort of jumps, making me wonder if Lilly just kicked her beneath the table. Lilly’s eyes widen at her sister. “Oh . . . right, Macy’s been getting that a lot lately.” She looks up at Brandon. “Yeah, she’s taken Nashville by storm. Haven’t you, Macy?”

  I’m thinking that Sam is going a bit too far with this but I nod anyway while trying not to snicker. Taking Nashville by storm? What does that even mean?

  “Really?” Brandon asks. His lips sort of twitch, making me wonder if he’s already got the crazy plan all figured out. “By storm, huh?”

  Sam nods vigorously. “Yes sir. I think I’m gonna start callin’ her Hurricane Macy,” she says, and then jumps again. Poor thing. She’s going to have bruised shins. Sam gives Lilly a what-I’m-trying-here expression.

  “Hurricane Macy . . . ,” Brandon muses while rubbing his chin. “Hmmm, I like that. I do believe it fits too.” He gives me an I-know-something-is-going-on look but can’t quite figure it out. But then his eyes widen just a fraction and he says, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to hit the boys room. I’ll be right back.” He smiles at Sam as he slides from his stool.

  “I’ll save your seat,” Sam promises sweetly, but then pounces on Lilly as soon as Brandon is out of earshot. “Would ya quit kickin’ me? You about broke my doggone leg.”

  “Oh come on Sam. Hurricane Macy? What the hell was up with that?”

  When Boone snickers, Sam shoots him a glare. “I don’t know . . . I panicked. I’m guessin’ you’re tryin’ to get word back to Luke that he’d better get his butt in gear because Macy’s got guys lined up around the block? Am I right?”

  Lilly hits her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Well hello. Yeah!”

  Sam purses her lips. “Pretty good plan, I guess,” she admits, but with a bit of skepticism.

  “Oh, like you could do better?” Lilly tosses back.

  “You didn’t ask me.”

  Lilly leans her elbows on the table and hisses, “Because you’re so wrapped up in bad-boy Brandon.”

  “You should talk. You were wrapped around Boone!”

  Boone holds up his hands. “Girls, you’re veering away from your mission.”

  “Right,” the sisters say in unison, and I have to laugh.

  “So, stay on task,” Boone reminds them. I notice that instead of snapping back, Lilly nods and slips her small hand over his. What a difference a kiss makes . . .

  “Okay, we need to shift this plan into high gear while Brandon’s still here,” Lilly tells Sam. “It’s your job to keep him around for as long as you can, so don’t get on his nerves.”

  “Does it look like I’m getting on his nerves?”

  Lilly shrugs. “It’s all a matter of time.”

  “Bite me,” Sam says, but just when I think she’s serious, Boone laughs and I realize they’re just joking.

  While they banter back and forth I’m noticing that Brandon’s taking his sweet time getting back to the table. Luckily, Sam is deep in conversation about whether they should buy me a long-stemmed rose being peddled by a vendor, so she doesn’t immediately notice Brandon’s absence. I do, however, and hope that he hasn’t for some unknown reason left Tootsie’s. It wouldn’t be like Brandon to do such a rude thing but then again he seems to have a lot on his mind. While nursing my beer I’m contemplating all of this, including the fact that the jealousy card probably isn’t going to pan out anyway, when my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. As usual I’m startled as though I don’t know what’s tickling my leg.

  “Ohmigod, it’s Luke,” I say, and slide the phone onto the table.

  “Answer it!” Sam, Lilly, and even Boone say in unison.

  “No!” For some reason I get it into my head that Luke will somehow know about the
plot if I answer. Crazy, I know, but I just stare at the phone as it buzzes. Then I can’t believe my eyes when Boone—yes Boone—picks up my phone and flips it open. Lilly’s and Sam’s mouths are hanging open as well.

  “Hey,” Boone says, and then gives me a startled what-have-I-done look that for any other reason would have been comical. “Um, this is Boone, you know, the bodyguard. No, Macy’s in the bathroom . . . Yeah, they are too. You know how women go in packs.” He winces and then shrugs his wide shoulders. “Yeah, I’m keeping an eye on her. Sure. Okay, I’ll have her call when she gets back to the table.” He pauses and then says, “Um, yeah, she did sing on stage. No, not too much really, just a few. Okay, will do.” He flips the phone shut and then says, “Um . . . sorry. I don’t know what the hell got into me.”

  Again, the apologetic expression on his face would be funny if he hadn’t just answered my phone. Of course we all start asking questions at once until Boone finally holds up his hands in surrender.

  “How did Luke know that I sang with Tanner?” I ask, and then it hits me. “Brandon! That’s why he’s been gone so long.”

  Lilly and Sam high-five. “Are we good or what?” Lilly asks me.

  “Wow . . . yeah,” I admit with a bit of wonder. My heart starts to pound. “So do you really think he’s, like, jealous? Or is it just, you know, brotherly concern?”

  “Is he your brother?” Lilly asks, bopping her head so hard that her spikes actually move.

  “No.”

  “Well then, there’s your answer.”

  I blink at her for a moment but then turn to Boone. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  With a rather embarrassed lift of his shoulders he says, “Sorry. I think I just got caught up in the moment.”

  Sam snickers. “That totally sounded like a girl.”

  With an effort Boone reverts to his badass bodyguard expression but even though it’s pretty dark in the bar, I swear he’s blushing all the way to his bald head. “Hey, I have a feminine side,” he says in a high-pitched voice that has us all laughing.

  “Right,” I tell him.

  “I think it’s cute,” Lilly tells him, and he blushes even deeper.

  “Oh gag me,” Sam says, but then has no room to talk since she seems to melt like warm caramel when Brandon returns to the table.

  “What?” he asks when we all look at him expectantly.

  “Where have you been?” I ask him.

  “The bathroom.”

  “Have you been talking to anyone in particular?” I persist, but when he merely shrugs I prompt, “Confess, Brandon. Luke just called and seemed a bit . . . ,” I begin, but I don’t have the confidence to say jealous because I still can’t really believe it.

  “Is jealous the word you’re searching for?”

  “Do you think he is?” I blurt out, and then hide my embarrassment behind my beer bottle.

  “I was givin’ it my best to make him feel that way.”

  After thumping my bottle down I widen my eyes. “You were?”

  “I was pretty much on to y’all’s plan from the get-go,” he admits. “But for the record, Luke called me, so I decided to, you know, help things along.” He looks at me and shakes his head. “It’s been obvious for a while now that the two of you were fighting your . . . feelings.”

  Boone grins at Brandon and holds his fists out for a knuckle bump. “Thanks man.”

  “For what?”

  “For sounding like a chick too. See, we all have a feminine side.”

  I look at badass Boone and bad-boy Brandon and have to laugh. “Yeah, who knew?”

  “Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone in Hootertown,” Brandon requests with a grin. “Don’t want to ruin my rep.”

  “Me either,” Boone says.

  “You guys crack me up,” I tell them with a shake of my head.

  “Your secret is safe with me,” Lilly says in such a serious tone that Sam snickers, drawing a frown from her sister.

  “Oh okay,” Sam says, and rolls her eyes. “I won’t breathe a word that Boone is such a softie but I’ve always known it anyway.”

  “I’m not a softie,” Boone scoffs.

  Lilly reaches over and wraps her hand around his bulging bicep. “Personally, I think that it’s incredibly sexy when a big, strong guy shows a sensitive side.”

  Boone grins at her. “Okay, I take it back. I’m a marshmallow.”

  “Oh gag me again,” Sam groans, but I can tell she’s happy for her sister.

  Unable to contain my curiosity one more second I turn my attention to Brandon. “Um, what exactly did Luke call you about?” I keep my tone casual but I’m sure I’m not fooling anybody.

  “He wanted me to head over to Dixie’s Dance Hall, but I said that I was in Nashville.”

  “Oh . . .” I feel a stab of disappointment. “So he wanted to go out on the town,” I mumble, trying not to sound so pathetically glum, but I know that I do. Of course I’m out on the town . . . but whatever.

  “Macy, it’s Hootertown. What else is there to do?”

  I shrug. “I dunno,” I mutter, sounding like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh, but then jump when my cell phone rings. “Ohmigod, it’s Luke.”

  When I stare at the phone Boone says, “If you don’t answer it, I will.”

  Until a little while ago I would have thought Boone was kidding but now that I know differently, I take a deep breath and flip my phone open.

  16

  Dreamin’ and Schemin’

  “Hey, Luke,” I answer, hoping he can hear me over the music. All eyes at the table are on me. “What’s up?” I ask, and then wish I could think of something clever to say. When I can’t hear him I put my index finger over my ear but then Tanner starts singing “I Love This Bar” and it’s impossible to make out a word Luke’s saying.

  “Go outside,” Lilly suggests, and I nod.

  “Luke, I can’t hear you so I’m going outside, okay?”

  “Good idea,” he shouts into the phone.

  While weaving my way through the rowdy crowd I get a few high fives resulting from my five minutes of near fame on stage with Tanner. “It was hard making my way through the crowd. Tootsie’s is jam-packed,” I tell him after I’m finally outside. The fresh air on my face feels good. While staying close to the building I find a more secluded spot. “That’s better. I can finally hear you.”

  “Don’t go far,” Luke warns with a hint of concern. “Had I known Brandon was heading down I’d have gone with him.”

  “I don’t think he meant to come all the way to Nashville. You know Brandon. He tends to fly by the seat of his pants.”

  “Yeah, but he’s a good kid,” Luke says, and then chuckles. “Well, not exactly a kid anymore. He’s all grown up.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Damn, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I really need to work on that . . .

  “Um, yeah, I’ve noticed,” Luke surprises me by saying. Maybe he didn’t mean to blurt that out either? “So I hear that you’ve been having some fun tonight,” he says casually, but dare I hope that he is just a teensy bit jealous?

  While looking up at the flying pink pigs I have to smile. “Me singing into a microphone is not a good thing. But you already know that.”

  “I don’t think you were asked up on stage for your singing ability,” he says dryly. Wow, maybe he is jealous . . . “I’m glad that Boone and Brandon are there to watch over you girls.”

  A bit of my feisty nature surfaces. “Luke, believe me, I can take care of myself.”

  “Ah, sweetie, I know that, but promise me you’ll be careful. You’re not in Hootertown, ya know.”

  Wait . . . hold the phone. Rewind. Did he just call me sweetie? Like in short for sweetheart? I know it’s sort of a sexist term but heaven help me, it makes me smile.

  “Macy?” he asks, mistaking my melting over the sweetie term for feistiness. “Don’t be stubborn about this, okay? Just be careful there in the city.”

  I want to say, Cal
l me sweetie again, but of course I don’t. “I will.”

  “Listen, I’m coming to Nashville on business tomorrow. Would you like to have dinner with me after you get off work? I might be there for a few days interviewing for a position at Vanderbilt.”

  “Really? My apartment is near campus.” Make an offer for him to stay at your place, a little voice shouts in my ear but I don’t have the nerve. “You should just come over and I’ll cook you dinner.” What?

  “That sounds great,” he says. “I’ll call you later in the day. Thanks, Macy.”

  “You bet,” I tell him, but I’m thinking, My God, what did I just do?

  “Now get back inside with your friends.”

  “I will,” I promise, but all I can think about is the fact that in a moment of absolute insanity I offered to cook dinner for him!

  “Good. See you tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” I reply lightly, but then squeeze my eyes shut after I tell him good-bye. Cook dinner for him?

  Cook dinner for him!

  “What was I thinkin’?” I whine loud enough to startle one of those guys painted silver to look like statues. “I can’t cook worth a lick,” I confess to the silver guy, who reminds me of the tin man. I suppose in the back of my mind I was thinking that if Luke came over for dinner there was a much better chance of him staying the night.

  “Sorry about your luck,” the tin man says, coming out of character. His silver lips are pink underneath, making him look kind of scary, but I appreciate his sympathy. It’s a bit humbling that a street beggar is treating me with kindness. I suppose I should count my blessings.

  “Thanks,” I tell him, and then toss a dollar into his tip bucket. Then with a little whimper I bang my phone against my forehead. “Now what am I gonna do?”

  He shrugs. “Order takeout? Just, you know, put it on real dishes. Or just be honest and tell him you can’t cook.”

  I nod. “Yeah, you’re right. So I can’t cook. So what?”

  “There’s the attitude,” he says, and then slips back into his statue mode. I have to admit that he looks pretty real . . . and kind of creepy.

  Statue guy is right, though. In this day and age I shouldn’t be worried about my lack of cooking skills. I mean, who cooks nowadays anyway? Well okay, people in Hootertown still do, not to mention that Luke’s mama is famous for her culinary skills. Even so, I should just be up front and tell him the truth.