by Dixie Cash
“And you didn’t set a time? Why not?”
Spur felt a need to be defensive creeping up on him. When it came to women, he always seemed to be saying the wrong thing or making the wrong move. “I told her I’d call her.”
Electra planted her hands on her slender hips. “Spur Atwater, we’re no better off than we were before.”
“We? When did this become we? I didn’t see you anywhere in Carruthers’s barn sticking your neck out. Or should I say, our neck?”
Electra squinted her eyes, lost in thought. “Okay, here’s the next step. Today is Tuesday. You need to call her Thursday. In the morning. Ask her out for Saturday night. Take her somewhere nice.”
“Hey, now, let’s don’t get carried away. I’m too broke for nice. I was thinking of barbecue and beer.”
“You’re kidding,” his sister said indignantly. “Spur, honey, the woman you described to me wouldn’t be impressed with barbecue and beer.”
“I’m not trying to impress her, ’Lectra. She’s bound to know I’m not a man of wealth. She’s seen where I live. Besides, if I have to work at making an impression, then something’s wrong. Me,” he said, pointing a thumb at his chest. “She has to like me, not the places I can take her or the things I can buy her.”
Electra reached up and placed a hand on the back of his neck, pulled him down to her level, and kissed the top of his head. “You’re right, bro. I’m sorry for even suggesting it. You’re the prize. You be yourself. If she can’t see what a catch you are, then best to learn early.”
“Thanks. I appreciate you looking out for me. It’s probably a waste of time anyway. Hell, she’s driving a rig worth more than I’ll make this year. Can we change the subject now?”
“Just one more thing. I hope she likes me enough to ask me to be one of her bridesmaids in y’all’s wedding. I’ve always wanted an expensive designer dress, even if it is a bridesmaid’s gown.”
“God help me.” Spur threw up his arms and walked away.
“You can walk away from me, Spur, but you can’t turn your back on fate. Kismet. Damn it all to hell, it’s kismet.”
AFTER SPUR LEFT, Paige had thrown herself into another day of work. Now, taking a break, she called the Styling Station. Edwina answered. “Hey, baby doll, what’s shakin’?”
“Not much,” Paige said.
“Did you hear what happened in town this morning? It was awful. Just awful.”
“Gosh, I don’t guess I did. What happened?”
“Some poor woman got locked in the cooler at Manuel’s. They had to call the sheriff to get her out.”
“Oh?” Paige said weakly. “I didn’t hear.”
“They say she was stiff as a board and turning blue. Billy Don wasn’t able to revive her, but they saved the baby.”
“Baby?”
“Yep. Saddest damn thing I ever heard. No one knows who she was. Nine months pregnant. I don’t know what’ll become of the baby. Just breaks my heart.”
Paige was dumbstruck. She looked down at her stomach. Nine months pregnant indeed. “Uh, that’s sad, really sad. Uh, would Debbie Sue happen to be around?”
“Hey, Debbie Sue,” Edwina yelled. “Pick up the extension. It’s Paige.”
Debbie Sue’s voice came on the line. “Hey, did Ed tell you about the poor woman in the cooler?”
“Uh, yes, she mentioned it.”
“That has to be a tall tale started by Roxie Jean Koonce. You probably haven’t met her. She’s the dispatcher at the sheriff’s office. Not a mean bone in her body, but she’ll stretch the truth to make Billy Don look good. She’s afraid he won’t get reelected and she’ll be out of a job.”
Paige wanted to change the subject before she said the wrong thing and revealed the truth. She lowered her voice. After all, she was talking to a married woman. “Debbie Sue, uh, I called to tell you that someone came to the house late last night. He thought you still lived there.”
“A guy? Late at night? I can’t imagine who that would be.”
“He said his name was Clint. Clint Matthews.”
“Say that again,” Edwina said.
“He said his name was—”
“Quint. Quint Matthews.” Debbie Sue finished the sentence. “So what happened?”
Paige related the conversation with her late-night visitor at the front door.
“How’d he look?” Debbie Sue asked.
“I thought he looked good, kind of sexy. Maybe he was a little sure of himself. Of course, I’ve never met him up close before. But I’ve seen him ride once.”
“Quint’s not only sure of himself, but everyone else around him. But he’s fun, I’ll give him that. He’s a helluva lot of fun.”
“How long did y’all see each other? Does Buddy know him?” Paige asked, now intrigued.
“We go a long way back, but hey, I’ve got a haircut to do. Why don’t you come by the shop when you finish and we can talk more?”
Paige disconnected and returned to the horses. Whatever love triangle Debbie Sue was involved in occupied her thoughts throughout the morning.
Snacking on a scrambled egg and sausage burrito, an assortment of chocolate candy, and two Atomic FireBalls enabled her to work straight through without stopping to eat lunch. She felt bad that Manuel had been so shaken when he saw her emerge from the cooler shivering. But she had to admit, accepting his bribe had been the smartest thing she had done today.
By giving up a lunch hour, she found herself at three-thirty with her day’s work done. “Hey, Lester. Would it be okay if I head back to town? I need to talk to Debbie Sue before she leaves her shop.”
Lester glanced up from a magazine. “You already done?”
“Yeah. Listen, I’m in a hurry. There’s something about Debbie Sue’s house I need to discuss with her.” That wasn’t a lie. Quint had come by the house. “Are you still planning on leaving town next week or have you decided to leave sooner?”
“Yep, next week. Can’t possibly go before then. Got some things to see to first.” He lowered the magazine to his lap and assumed a cocky grin. “Want me to stay? I might consider waiting a day or two if I thought it’d be worth my time.”
Paige walked away, throwing a barb over her shoulder. “Sorry, Lester, but it’s not worth anyone’s time.”
sixteen
Paige was eager to see Debbie Sue and Edwina again. They were so fun. Passing the veterinary clinic she slowed, hoping to catch a glimpse of Spur. A glimpse wouldn’t change the course of anything, but she had to look anyway.
His pickup was nowhere to be seen. He could be making a call on a dozen different places, checking everything from birds to bulls, but she couldn’t stop thinking he could be with the brunette, probably trying to decide if he was in love with the vixen with dyed hair. He had probably asked her, Paige, out to dinner to test his real feelings. Well, that’s a lousy thing to do. Annoyance built inside her.
Or maybe the so-called beauty had broken up with him and he was on the rebound, asking other women out to heal his wounded heart. And now, at this very moment, he was kissing and making up with the dark-haired woman, his hands entangled in her overprocessed split ends, telling her he hoped they never quarreled again. They would marry and have children and they would ask Paige to teach them how to ride horseback. Snotty-nosed rug rats. Hell.
I hope he calls me tonight, was her final thought as she parked in front of the Styling Station. Whatever reason he might have for not calling, her lack of maturity couldn’t possibly be one of them.
As she entered the salon, the scent of shampoos, hair sprays, and chemicals tickled her nose. Edwina was teasing and styling a patron’s blue hair into a do shaped like a football helmet. Empty margarita glasses sat on the station counter.
Edwina appeared to have an enormous cud of gum, her jaws moving with the speed of an Olympian gum chewer. Every few seconds popping and snapping was interrupted by the emergence from Edwina’s mouth of a pink bubble, which she sucked back in, and the process star
ted again. Pop, snap, blow. Pop, snap, blow. She was in The Zone.
Edwina tilted her head back in a greeting. “Hey, kiddo, pull up a chair and grab a margarita in back.”
Paige smiled, partly because she was glad to see her new friend, but mostly in appreciation for what said friend was wearing. Bright pink shorts. Edwina’s long skinny legs ended in the tops of white boots. The rest of the ensemble was a tie-dyed T-shirt topped with a crocheted vest and hoop earrings as big around as beer cans. Priceless. Paige had seen pictures of the fashions from the 1970s, but this was the first time she had viewed it in real life.
Debbie Sue’s head poked past the floral curtain that filled the storeroom doorway. “I’ve already got one for you.” She came out and handed Paige a cold, salted drink. “So the great Quint Matthews came by and harassed you, huh?”
“Well, he came by.”
“Doesn’t surprise me a bit,” Edwina said and began spraying a cloud of hair spray. The customer pinched her eyes shut.
“Why?” Paige asked, puzzled.
Debbie Sue rolled her eyes. “Oh, no. You said the wrong thing. Here we go.”
“Simple human behavioral response,” Edwina said. “Nothing’s more alluring to the male of the species than the unconquered female. Men by nature are hunters. They get off on trying to get what they can’t have. The conquest.”
“Amen,” mumbled the customer through a towel she was holding over her closed eyes. “The primal need to dominate women is strong in an alpha man. I’m sure he enjoys the challenge even more, now that women are more empowered than ever.”
“Why, that’s right, Madge,” Edwina said. “You must have read the same book I did. The Naked Ape. And Quint Matthews is the ultimate naked ape.”
“God bless him,” Madge said. “When can I meet him?”
Paige had no reply and could only stare, not believing her good fortune at stumbling into an intellectual discussion of the battle of the sexes. Now she had not only the benefit of Edwina’s and Debbie Sue’s wisdom, but also that of another woman who looked old enough to be her grandmother.
“Don’t pay any attention to Ed,” Debbie Sue said. “She’s trying to quit smoking. She’s taken up reading everything she can get her hands on to take her mind off the nicotine craving. She’s become a regular Barnes and Noble.”
“Oh,” Paige said, blinking.
“And listen, whatever you do, don’t bring up the Middle East. A couple of days ago she thought the Middle East was somewhere around Dallas, but now…well, just don’t bring it up.”
Paige was interested in what Edwina had to say. In her current situation, any information from an experienced friend was welcome. “Alpha male? What is that?”
Edwina removed the black drape from her customer’s shoulders and took on the stance of a professor lecturing a class, her voice changing to a tone of authority. She even halted the gum mini-combo. “The term comes from the animal kingdom. The alpha male means the male in charge, the strongest of all males in the group. The alpha male is usually the only one that gets to screw the females. It’s his job to keep the females satisfied.”
“Don’t forget fertilized,” Madge said and hooted.
“Except for the fertilized part, that’s the perfect description of Quint,” Debbie Sue said, “especially the screwing part.”
The customer stood and slid her glasses on. “Girls, when can I meet this man?”
All three women laughed.
“Seriously, Debbie Sue, who is this man?” The customer picked up her purse and walked to the payout counter.
“Oh, you’ve heard me talk about him, Madge. We were both seventeen. Following the high school rodeo circuit the summer before our senior year. Our hormones were raging, and the competition kept our adrenaline rushing. What can I say?”
Paige felt disappointed. “When you were seventeen? Phooey, I thought I was going to hear something more current than that.”
Edwina spoke up. “It started when they were seventeen, honey. Then there was Buddy. Then there was no Buddy. Then there was Buddy again. That about sums it up. The last go-round, Quint practically killed himself trying to get Debbie Sue into bed and back into his life.”
“You’re better off with Buddy,” Madge said, digging cash from her purse. “I’d faint if I saw a man more alpha than Buddy.”
“I know,” Debbie Sue said, taking her money and stuffing it into a drawer at the payout counter.
“Gosh, from the way this Quint guy looked when I told him you and Buddy had remarried, I’d say he’s still crazy about you.”
“Nah. And I’ll prove it. I’ll bet he asked you out when he heard I wasn’t there, didn’t he?”
“Well, no—”
“Okay, let me think. He probably asked for your name and phone number.”
“Nope. Wrong again.”
“I thought he gave up bullriding,” Edwina said. “Because it sounds to me like he’s been tossed on his head again.”
Paige was enjoying herself and decided to give up the hoax. “Actually—”
“Aha,” Edwina said, gloating in triumph. “I knew there was an actually in there. I’d have bet my life on it.”
Paige grinned, enjoying being a part of the wicked fun. “Actually, once I told him you were married, he stopped me from closing the front door and suggested we get to know each other better.”
Debbie Sue and Edwina cackled and high-fived. Madge joined in the laugher.
“That’s a relief,” Debbie Sue said, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. “I was beginning to think he might have changed.”
“Some things never change,” Edwina added. “You can put a pair of boots in the oven, but that don’t make ’em biscuits.”
WEDNESDAY MORNING Paige awoke eager to get to work. She had known plenty of people who talked about going to work with the enthusiasm of a man on his way to the gallows. She was lucky to feel upbeat and excited about taking care of Harley’s horses. That was the result of doing something she loved, something about which she was passionate.
She dressed in her work clothes, drove to the Flying C, and started her day exercising the horses. Lester seemed preoccupied and left her alone to do her job, which was fine with her because she had thinking to do.
She had to decide what to wear when she went to supper with Spur. Just the idea of sitting across the table from him, one to one, made her work faster. Goodness, if she was this nervous now, how uptight would she be when the actual date rolled around?
If it rolled around.
The last thought made her rein her mount to a stop. Spur hadn’t actually set a date. In fact, the invitation had been vague at best. He could change his mind. The mystery brunette could change his mind.
For the first time in her life she truly cared if someone of the opposite sex invited her out, and here she had blown her opportunity. When he asked if she would like to have supper sometime, she should have said, “How about tonight?” An amateurish mistake. Debbie Sue or Edwina would never have made such an error. Add another task to her to-do list: find a way to cross paths with Spur again. If he didn’t break the ice and set a date, then she would. After all, this was the twenty-first century. Women didn’t have to wait for a man to ask them out like in the old days.
Noon found Paige sitting in the small office eating a sandwich and flipping through the pages of the most recent issue of Vogue. Funny, she had often envied the models on these pages, but today they looked anorexic and sad. Well dressed, but still anorexic and sad.
As she slid open the glued flap of a perfume ad to test the fragrance the phone rang. Lifting the receiver with her free hand she answered, “Flying C Ranch, this is Paige.”
“I forgot to tell you, tonight is girls’ night out,” Debbie Sue said. “Every Wednesday.” Paige smiled. She loved the way Debbie Sue just starting talking. No hello, no scripted conversation. Just direct and to the point. “Come on by after work,” Debbie Sue continued. “Ed and I are having margaritas. And we’ve go
t an interesting evening planned.”
“Gosh, thanks. Okay. Can I bring something?”
“Just your ol’ sweet self.”
“Oh, okay. What happens on girls’ night out? And mind you, Debbie Sue, I’m almost afraid to ask you that.”
“Oh, hell, nothing. We’re old married women. Just come by the shop and we’ll have drinks and supper together. Harmless.”
Paige doubted that much of what Debbie Sue had thrown herself into in life had been totally harmless, but she agreed and hung up, glad she had something to look forward to at the end of the day.
By late afternoon Paige was so tired she was tempted to call and beg out of stopping by the beauty shop, but, in the end, she decided to make only a short visit.
Before she knew what happened, her intention to stop in, have a margarita, and go home had turned into a shampoo and protein pack, courtesy of Debbie Sue.
“I say it’s time to eat,” Debbie Sue said when she finished blow-drying Paige’s locks. She turned up the radio as Gretchen Wilson broke into “Redneck Woman” and danced around the salon.
“I was planning on having that big chunk of Mississippi mud pie my honey made,” Edwina said, working on her nails with an emery board. “After I do your nails.”
“Mud pie’s for dessert, goofball,” Debbie Sue replied, twirling and doing a smooth two-step. “You know I can’t keep nails. I might hurt Buddy in a delicate place.” The two women cackled, with Debbie Sue never missing a beat to the music. When the song ended, Debbie Sue flopped into one of the hydraulic chairs. “If ever a song was written that’s my song, that one’s it.” She turned to Paige. “Had supper?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Good. I’ll go get something.”
“Do you need any money?” Paige asked, grabbing for her purse.
Debbie Sue waved her effort off. “Forget it. Your money’s no good in here.”
As Debbie Sue left, Edwina went to the manicure table. “Come over here, Paige, and let me do your nails. After working in horseshit all day, they probably need it.”
“But I can’t afford—”
“On the house, sweetie. I’m in the mood to create.” She picked up a dish and disappeared behind the floral curtain that hid the storeroom and shampoo room and returned with a dish of soapy water and the margarita pitcher. She topped off their glasses.