American Honey

by Heidi McLaughlin

  “I called for you.”

  I stop and place my hand on my hip, cringing immediately at the thought of shit touching my skin. Dropping my hand, I look Tyler square in the eyes. Had he known who I was when he picked me up yesterday we could’ve hung out, but no, he had to be an ass of epic portions and ignore me. I thought for sure he’d at least be a little bit of a salvation for me.

  “I’m here doing the work you said I had to do!” I wave my hand widely at the many piles that I’m supposed to move out to the “back forty,” as he called it. After Tyler’s early lunch, I was given my list of chores. At first I thought it was a joke. I couldn’t believe my aunt and uncle expected someone like me to get dirty. Sadly, I was wrong, and I was ushered out the door. Even my cry about homework fell on deaf ears. I’m sure that comes later. I’m learning quickly that we use nature as a clock on the ranch.

  “I see that. You’ve been out here for two hours and have yet to fill one barrow. You might want to pick it up because it’s gotta get done and it’s either today or tomorrow.”

  “Whatever,” I spit out as I dig the pitchfork into another overheating pile of crap. “What do you want, Tyler?”

  “Well…”

  I stop what I’m doing and immediately regret it. He’s taken off his hat and is running his hand over the top of his freshly shaved head. When we were little I used to tease him about his curls, but he doesn’t have them now and a part of me is wondering if they’ll reappear if he grows out his hair. I suppose this heat doesn’t mix well with longer hair. Lord knows I’m sweating something fierce. His blue eyes are a stark contrast against his tan skin, making them sparkle as if looking out over the ocean. His tan is real from working, not the fake type that the guys in the City often spend most of their time achieving under bulbs. I would know, since it was an every other day stop for me. On Tyler though, it’s sexy, appealing and sadly the opportunities I have to see him shirtless no longer continue.

  I look over his shoulder at Jeremiah who is taking out one of the horses. He’s screaming something incomprehensible, which causes Tyler to look as well.

  “Ignore him.”

  “I plan on it,” I say automatically. It’s dawned on me that getting along with Tyler and Jeremiah will make my time here more manageable, but I’m not here to establish the connection we had when I used to live here. Those days are long gone and overtaken by superficial thoughts and selfishness. I’m here to do my penance and get the hell on a plane to Paris. I have a goal and I won’t let some country boys ruin it for me.

  “Can I get back to work, Boss?” Tyler blanches at my choice of words, which gives me very little satisfaction. I want to take back my words but am afraid to show him that I care. He didn’t care about me yesterday. Why should I show him my true feelings?

  “Actually, Aunt Sue has asked that I take you into town. She thinks you need some clothes suitable for working on the ranch.”

  I shake my head. “She just wants me to dress more like her.”

  “Don’t know, don’t care, Savannah. I have to go into town, she mentioned me taking you, said it might be nice if we stopped for dinner. I’m leaving in fifteen minutes.”

  Tyler doesn’t wait for me to respond. He turns and leaves me ankle deep in manure. I freeze when he takes off his shirt; watching the sun hit his back makes me ponder how different my life can be here if I let down my guard. Thing is, I did that once and that’s how I ended up back in his Podunk town. I bet Tyler knows I’m watching him as he bends down to pick up the hose. He turns on the water and splashes himself. The droplets glisten in the sun as they traverse down each ridge on his back making me wish I had a towel to offer. He doesn’t exist where I’m from and I can’t exist here.

  “Savannah?”

  His voice breaks my daydream and I find him standing in front of me. His chest is wet and drying quickly from the penetrating sun. My eyes travel down the front of his body. There isn’t a patch of hair until his belly button and then… I force myself to look away.

  “Why can’t you call me Vanna?”

  His lips pull into a thin line as he shakes his head. “Because that’s not who you are to me, sweetheart.”

  Rolling my eyes, I rest my hip against the pitchfork. I look at him questioningly, fearful of what might come out of my mouth if I speak.

  “I think you should go in and shower. Let me show you around.”

  “Is that so?”

  He nods. “Jeremiah and I hang out at this place called Reds, you might like it.”

  “I’m underage in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “I haven’t, but they don’t care, and no one is sayin’ you have to drink. You can come or not, don’t matter none to me. You have fifteen minutes.”

  This time he walks away and right into the barn, out of sight, but not out of mind. I don’t know how I’m going to spend day after day working with him. He’s my boss for the summer and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.

  Chapter 7 – Tyler

  The radio plays one of my favorite songs and by favorite, I mean one that I’ll dance to at Reds. I think my back is permanently slouched from leaning over and looking out the window for Savannah. The clock on the dashboard tells me that I’ve sat in my truck ten minutes longer than I said I would. One quick look at the front door and I know she’s not coming. If I were a betting man I’d say she went inside and asked her Aunt Sue about shopping. Sue would’ve likely played along for a few minutes, but Savannah’s smart and she’d catch on. Her aunt didn’t suggest shopping. I just wanted to get her away from the ranch so I could see if the girl I once knew was still inside. I just want to see her smile. She hasn’t done that since she arrived, granted she’s been here barely twenty-four hours, but still. A girl’s gotta smile and from what I remember, Savannah has a killer one.

  I drive away without looking back. The dust cloud behind me makes it impossible to stare at the house in my rear view mirror. I should be thankful that I can’t see it. I’d probably throw the truck in reverse and go drag her out of the house kicking and screaming. Of course that means I’d have to put her over my shoulder and hold her legs down with my arm, which would undoubtedly come in contact with her ass and that would likely be my undoing. Yes, it’s a very good thing I can’t see the McGuire house right now.

  Everything in my head is telling me to ignore her. To let her do her thing and not even bother making small talk. Uncle Bobby told me that she’s off to Paris as soon as the summer’s over, so getting attached only means heartache. Not that my heart beats for her or anything. But the thought of what Savannah was like when we were kids still lingers in the back of my mind. I know that Savannah is in there somewhere; she just needs to be let out. The girl I remember would’ve mounted any one of our mares for an early morning ride and would’ve have told her uncle exactly what he can do with that chore list. Although watching Savannah in those outlawed shorts and her aunt’s muck boots was comical, I’d rather see her dress appropriately for working on the ranch. The last thing we need is for her to hurt herself or get some pesky bugs biting up her legs. Hell, maybe she needs to be taught how to live on a ranch. I suppose living in the concrete city, you forget what it’s like to stop and smell the roses, or saddle up a horse and take a day trip out yonder. Maybe I’m just the guy to reacquaint her with life in the country, or maybe I just need to stay away from the enigma that is Savannah McGuire.

  Coming to Reds was a bad idea. Inviting Savannah to come with me was even worse. At this rate, I’m destined to screw up something major and cause an epic catastrophe or go home with someone I shouldn’t. That someone just walked into Reds and will surely be my breaking point tonight. Reds is packed and there isn’t a place to park that won’t make me walk a hundred yards to get in the door. When I spot Jeremiah’s truck, I park in front of him, blocking him in. I figure I’ll end up leaving before him anyway so it shouldn’t matter. I take one look in the mirror and give myself a pep talk. I can go in, have a beer, be cordial and go
home alone, or I can go in and let Annamae walk all over me, tell me how much she misses me and let her show me a good time in my truck. Either way, I’m screwed. I slide my hat on, adjust the rim and practice my best Tyler King ‘resident cowboy’ smile. Oh yeah, that’s going to knock ‘em dead.

  The music is blaring and bodies are moving on the dance floor. The constant thunk of boots hitting the wood at the same time makes the floor vibrate. There are a few girls standing on the edge waiting for a two-step and some fella to come ask them to dance. They’re all dressed similarly with their shorty shorts and cowboy boots on. I’m not usually a fan of this hoochie cowgirl style, except this is how I see Savannah dressing once she realizes she’s meant to be on the ranch. These are the city girls that come down for the weekend, slumming it. They want themselves a real cowboy, but only on the weekends when their corporate daddies are all playing golf and not watching their darling debutantes. This is where Jeremiah thrives. Me? Not so much, unless of course you’re my ex and you’re blocking my way into Reds.

  I tip my hat to Annamae who has her hands firmly on her hips. “Evenin’ Annamae. Haven’t seen you at the honkytonk in some time. Rufus out of town?” I should be bitter, but I’m not. He saved me from a life of being a socialite’s husband. Annamae would’ve never moved to the ranch and I definitely don’t want to live where there’s traffic.

  “I’ve been tryin’ to get up with you for days.”

  “Really? What for?” She hasn’t left a message at my house so I know she’s up to no good. It’s just a matter of me figuring it out before it’s too late.

  “I hear you have a Yankee livin’ with y’all.”

  Good news travels fast around these parts, except it’s not news and Savannah’s only been here for a day. “Yeah, where’d you that?”

  Annamae shrugs. “Around.”

  “Uncle Bobby’s kin, that’s all.”

  “I don’t know why you call him your uncle. He ain’t.”

  “Blood isn’t the only thing to make someone your kin, Annamae. Hell, we would’ve gotten hitched and you would’ve been my kinfolk.” I shake my head at her. Her family is high cotton and all about status. No one is good enough for her family. “I gotta find Jeremiah.”

  Annamae looks over her shoulder and angles her head. I look around and spot him on the dance floor being sandwiched by two redheads. I don’t know how he does it, but he’s definitely smooth.

  “Have a good night, Annamae.” I leave her standing there to contemplate the meaning of life or whatever else she needs to think about.

  “How do?” Della asks as she sets a beer on the bar for me. I nod in her direction, pick up my beer and spin to watch the line dancin’. Girls love it when a guy can dance, but I’m not into the synchronized dancing. Give me a two-step where I can hold my girl and let the music guide us, and I’m happy. I can see Savannah and myself out there dancing. Hell, we used to dance on the porch all the time. She taught me how to two-step. I’m so much better at it now though, and I want to show her. I want to take her out there, place my hand on her neck and guide her around. I want to pull her close and let our bodies move in the same distinct motion. I want to feel her pressed against me and have my hat cover our faces when we kiss. These are all thoughts that I shouldn’t be having about Savannah.

  “Ah, well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.”

  “What’s wrong, sugah?” I turn at Della’s voice and hang my head. “Don’t go fallin’ for the Yankee.”

  I look at her questioningly. “How’d you know about her?”

  “Small town. Big bar. Everyone’s talkin’ about the hottie down at the ranch.”

  I look around the bar and shake my head. “Jeremiah gossips like a girl.” Della starts laughing.

  “Too right.” She walks away, only to return with a full glass for me. “From what I hear, y’all knew each other when you were young’uns?”

  “Yeah, she and her momma moved to New York City few years back. Uncle Bobby says she got in some trouble and her momma shipped her back here to finish out school and for the summer. I don’t know what she did and we ain’t really talking’ yet, mostly on the count that I made a fool out of myself when I picked her up.”

  Della throws her towel over her shoulder and shakes her head. “Sweetie, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

  I spin around on the stool and cross my arms, resting them on the lip of the bar. “It was bad. I went and made this big ole scene, picked her up and swung her around, you know like you’re always talkin’ about in them books you read? Anyway, it wasn’t her, just some random girl that got off the bus with her and ever since then, her demeanor is cold.”

  Della tries not to laugh, but can’t hold back. I rest my head on my arm and sigh.

  “Listen here, sugah, you have to remind her why y’all were friends to begin with.”

  “How?”

  “Well I don’t know, Tyler, you have to find somethin’ that was special and just go with it.”

  “You mean ask her out?”

  Della shakes her head. “Not all girls want to go out. Just remind her of what a sweet, charming boy you are. She’ll be putty in your hands.” Della walks away to tend to the rest of the patrons, leaving me with thoughts of taking Savannah out on the horses or even four-wheeling. Thing is, I don’t know if she likes those types of things anymore. If she were from here, it’d be a no brainer and even though she is from here, she’s changed.

  Chapter 8 – Savannah

  Every time Tyler walks by or his voice echoes over the ranch, images of him driving away with me standing on the porch continue to replay in my mind. They serve as a constant reminder that he and I are no longer friends. Being stood up is not high on my qualifying list of being friends. He is, according to Aunt Sue, my boss and I’m to do whatever he asks of me. I also have to complete his requests in a timely manner without any sass.

  However, it’s very hard to be near him right now. He promised me shopping and a stop at his hangout, only to leave me standing on the porch being swallowed by a giant dust cloud. The tears I fought quickly turned to frustration. Doesn’t he understand that a woman needs more than fifteen minutes to get ready? I was standing knee-deep in manure for heaven sakes. I had to shower! He may be used to hanging out with women that smell like crap all day, but that’s not me and it never will be.

  To make matters worse, when he does walk by, he ignores me. Not that I want him to talk to me, because I don’t. I have nothing to say… except I do, and it’s not about taking me to town so I can submit my homework. I want to ask him why he stood me up. Why he made such a big deal about me going if he had no intentions of taking me. I had hoped after our brief conversation that maybe we were turning a corner and he and I would be friends, but it’s clear that he thinks I’m nothing more than an employee to him.

  I know I deserve this. I haven’t exactly been approachable or worthy of any friendship. I don’t want to be here mucking horse stalls or shoveling manure. This. Is. Not. Me. Life’s unfair, I know that, but never in a million years did I expect my mother to decide she can no longer care for me because of my out of control ways. I get good grades and do what I’m told. Just because she found me in one compromising position doesn’t make me a bad person. It makes me human. I know she’s made mistakes in her life. Half the time she makes me feel like one.

  When I boarded the bus to come here… a bus, not a plane… I told myself that a wall is going up and nothing will bring it down until I’m on a plane heading to Paris. My aunt and uncle may be the only family I have, but they don’t know me and they definitely don’t know my mother any more. She’s not the same person she was when we left here. Sometimes I wonder if moving to New York City was her downfall as well as mine. Frankly, I’m getting irritated hearing “remember when”… because no, I don’t want to remember when I was young, carefree and had no worries in life.

  Except I’m starting to and I’m afraid to ask any questions for fear they’ll be happy and think I’m
enjoying my time here. I’m not. If it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity and the smell. It’s the looks I get when I come downstairs dressed in shorts or a dress. My aunt and uncle can’t honestly say they’ve never seen a girl in a sundress before. I have eyes, I see the girls that show up to feed Jeremiah lunch. Their clothes are no skimpier than mine and lord knows what goes on in the barn when they get here. As soon as I hear the catcalls, I hightail it back to the house and hide in my room. It’s the only safe place where I can escape. Tyler can’t bother me there and watching him eat lunch in my aunt’s kitchen really bugs me.

  I fill the horses’ water trough and replace the hose where Tyler likes it. I’m done for the day and now have to find the courage to ask Tyler if he can drive me into town. I know it’s something my uncle discussed with him before I got here, but I have to make the arrangements. Uncle Bobby says that Tyler’s in charge on the ranch, I do what he says and Tyler will be accommodating. We both know the latter is not true.

  I kick off my unfashionable pink boots and leave them by the back door. My toes wiggle from the freedom they’re feeling at the moment. I know I’m missing the essential clothing necessary to survive on a ranch. I was hoping to take care of that minor issue last week when Tyler offered to take me shopping. Little did I know he was just kidding with that invitation.

  He’s leaning up against the counter when I enter the kitchen. The non-benefit of having a big ole country house is that when the screen door slams, it alerts everyone in the house that someone’s coming. Maybe that was my intention, because I definitely could’ve snuck up on him and if I had done that, he wouldn’t be facing me right now, eyeing me up and down like he has done every day since I arrived. I’m not sure if he’s expecting something with me to change or not, but if he is, he’ll be waiting an awfully long time. I’m me. He can take it or leave it. Part of me wants him to take it, but I’m not willing to admit that out loud. I’ve done enough pining over high society boys, and the rejection that they dish out is enough to last someone a lifetime. To them, it doesn’t matter what your mother does now, it’s whose blood runs through your veins. Regardless of her checkbook balance and club memberships, I’m still an outsider to them.