by Cat Porter
Nina remained focused on her phone, her fingers tapping away. “Huh? Oh. Yeah, sure.”
“I’m off. Call me if you need anything.”
“’Kay,” came out of her mouth without her looking up from her phone. “Oh, hey, what’s with the guitar?” she asked, glancing up at me.
I flung open the door. “Don’t touch it. It’s mine.”
“MY TWO BEST FRIENDS are meeting tonight. End of story. One of you is either out of town or in the thick of work. So ridiculous. Lenore’s finally back from visiting her son in LA for several months. The first ladies’ night at the Tingle needs to be celebrated. What could be better?”
“What could be better?” I muttered as I raised my apple martini at her. How can I possibly turn down the event of the century—male strippers at the club-run titty bar?
“That’s more like it!” Grace clinked my glass with her beer.
“Absolutely!” Jill clinked her tall glass of cranberry and soda and lime against ours.
Jill was a month away from delivering Grace’s baby, and her baby bump was now huge and very round, stretching her clingy dress. We’d surprised her and Grace with a baby shower last week, and now, this would be the last girls’ night out for a long while, so the timing was perfect.
Grace, Jill, and I had arrived first. The other old ladies—Mary Lynn, Suzi, Dee, Nina, and Alicia—had arrived soon after. The nightclub was packed and very loud. The women of the Black Hills were ready to party.
My stomach twinged at the sight of Butler talking in Nina’s ear as he gripped her upper arm. Nina made a face and mouthed off at him, twisting her arm out of his hold. A tiff? Maybe tonight would prove to be far more interesting than sitting at home, crunching numbers while listening to the television blaring in the background or wandering around the Internet. Again.
Nina marched over to our table, her face tight, and threw herself in the last empty chair.
I leaned into Grace. “What’s Butler doing here?”
“He’s been managing the Tingle. He took over for Kicker.”
“Seriously? The man had a serious drug and good-time addiction for years. What the hell is he thinking?”
“It wasn’t his idea. It was Jump’s. A test for good behavior. Otherwise…”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“And how’s he holding up amid all the booze and boobs?”
“Great, from what I hear.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
“You’re glad?”
“Of course.” I drained my glass. “He’s come a long way.”
“Yes, he has.”
The last thing I wanted to do was be at a peen-ogling party with Butler present.
Grace and Jill had repeatedly invited me to club get-togethers, but I always had a ready-made excuse. The first one I’d gotten out of was that big club party months before when Butler and Nina had been officially welcomed back into the One-Eyed Jacks. I’d found a couple of estate sales just over the border in Wyoming and made it a weekend trip.
Although I should have been at that particular party, seeing as how my brother had screwed things up between the clubs by manhandling Jill when he’d found out she was pregnant, dragging her from our house to the club at gunpoint to mouth off to the Jacks. I could barely believe my ears when my mother had called me first thing the following morning and told me all about it.
The rest of the parties were the usual barbecues or community charity events, and I had managed to be busy for almost each one. The less distraction, the better.
Of course, I had attended Jill and Boner’s wedding a couple of months ago. It had been a beautiful morning at Sylvan Lake, the two of them so emotional, so very happy. And then the party afterward at the club under a white tent in the middle of the track, just like Dig and Grace’s wedding.
Butler had brought me a glass of wine. He’d held a can of soda in his other hand.
“You’re not taking off after this wedding, are you?”
“No, I’m not, Blondie.”
He laughed. “Good.”
“Are you taking off?”
“Here to stay.” He raised his chin at me. “Same as you.”
We clinked drinks, our eyes on each other.
“There she is!” A grin lit up Grace’s face, her focus trained on a dark-haired woman snaking her way through the tables to us.
Lenore had severely dyed black hair streaked with pink, pinned up into a sort of retro beehive do, with several thin hairbands at the crown of her head. She sported a dizzying web of colored tattoos all over her chest and up to the base of her throat with more around her arms.
“Lenore!” Grace hugged her.
“I finally made it! The traffic was really bad on the way over here,” Lenore said on a throaty laugh. “There’s a line outside.”
My scalp prickled. I knew that sexy voice. I knew that spiked rose tattoo laced on the top of her breasts, peeking out of her fantastic black bustier. Black eyeliner along with dark red lipstick gave her a stark, intriguing look, and long turquoise earrings reflected the startling color of her large eyes. I knew those incredible blue-green eyes. I’d never, ever forget them for as long as I lived.
My stomach clenched.
“Lenore, this is Tania. And, Tania, this is Lenore, who has the lingerie store in town you love so much—Lenore’s Lace. Finally, you two get to meet.”
Lenore’s grin faded, a dramatically defined eyebrow arching high.
Yes, it’s me.
I raised my chin and pushed my lips up into some sort of a smile. Lenore was Rena.
I remembered those amazing eyes once fraught with terror and flooding with ugly tears. I remembered those long hands, not manicured, not laced with tattoos, but bloodied, scabbed, and clawing at me.
“Please help. Please,” she’d pleaded with me when we’d first met.
“Lenore?” I asked, a tentative quality to my voice that I just couldn’t stop in time.
She nodded slightly, her matte-red lips parting. “Yes.”
My face blazed into a grin. “Grace has told me so much about you. I love your store.”
But my first words to her, to Rena, over twenty years ago had been, “Yes, yes, I’ll help you.”
“Oh, thanks,” said Lenore, standing next to Grace. “It’s good to meet you, Tania. Finally. Grace has told me a lot about you, too. Congrats on your store. When are you opening?”
We were smooth. Yes, we were.
“Next month, hopefully.”
Tricky slung an arm around Lenore’s neck, planting a kiss on the side of her face. Her extraordinary blue-green eyes remained on me.
“You want a drink, hon?” Tricky asked Lenore.
“Geez, Tricky, it’s ladies’ night. We’ve got this covered! Stand off,” said Grace, laughing.
Lenore flashed Tricky a smile and kissed him. A raunchy deep kiss.
I swigged my martini. I was envious of such a simple act of intimacy, envious of that shared affection. I forgot what that felt like. I’d stopped expecting it. Worse, I’d stopped getting sad by the lack of it in my life.
Tricky smoothed a hand down her hip as he whispered in her ear. He sauntered back to the bar where I’d spotted other club members loitering.
Lenore’s eyes slid back to mine. Serious. Stealthy.
A topless waiter stud brought a tray of shots to our table, and Grace and Dee helped distribute them.
Lenore leaned in to me, a hand on my elbow. “Nobody knows. Nobody here knows anything about who I really am,” she whispered. “Have you ever said anything to Grace?”
“No. I didn’t even realize you were here, that you were…you.”
“Good.”
I lowered my voice. “I’ve never said a word to anyone. I’m sticking to that.”
“Okay.” Her eyes shifted around us. “Thank you.”
“How are you? You look great.”
“I’m good. Things are very good.”
“You and Tricky?
”
She shrugged. “We hang out off and on. It’s fun.”
“Good for you.”
“Grace told me you’re getting a divorce.”
“Almost there.”
“I got myself one of those a few years back, too, and I survived just fine.”
I only nodded. You always do, it seems.
I’d first met Lenore over twenty years ago. Two months after Grace and Dig’s wedding when I’d finally left Meager. When I’d met him. An escapade, an experience that was burned in my memory and was so pivotal to me, yet at the same time, disturbing, heartbreaking.
“How long have you been in Meager?” I asked.
“Right after we last saw each other, I came here. I liked it a lot. I stayed.”
“Have you seen…” I asked in a whisper.
“No.” Her voice was firm, her tone blunt.
“Oh, I have,” I blurted.
Maybe I should shut the hell up.
Her eyes widened at me. Was she surprised or scared?
“You two getting to know each other?” Grace asked, an arm at my waist.
“Lenore was just telling me about her divorce,” I said.
“I was. Stay away from musicians, Tania, whatever you do.” Lenore raised her drink at me, and I clinked her tall glass with my martini as we held each other’s gaze. “Fuck them, but don’t marry them. Ever.”
I laughed. “Ah, I’ll keep that in mind. So, what kind of musician was your ex-husband?”
“He was the bassist for this band called Cruel Fate,” Lenore said, sipping on her drink.
“No way! They were huge for a while there. Aren’t they from our parts?”
“They are. In fact, Grace here played a part in their success,” Lenore replied.
“Not really.” Grace waved a hand. “When I managed Pete’s, I booked them a few times when they were first making it around Rapid. They returned the favor later on after they’d hit the big time, and they played Pete’s on a few special nights. They brought in big crowds and good attention for Meager and the bar.”
“That’s fantastic,” I said.
Grace bumped my shoulder with hers. “See what you missed out on?”
“I guess I never should’ve left town,” I replied, my tone dry.
Lenore’s eyes slid to mine. She sipped her drink.
I know, Rena. I know. It was a good thing I left. Otherwise, we never would have met. Otherwise…
I licked the traces of sweet apple and vodka from my lips, fighting to block the visuals.
If I’d never left Meager when I did, I never would’ve crossed paths with Lenore, and she’d be dead right now or worse. And me? I would have bumbled and stumbled along on my merry way and been a much different Tania than the one I was now.
But here she was, best friends with my best friend, a successful small business owner, and most importantly, healthy, confident, and happy as hell with herself.
Sounds good to me. All good.
I raised my glass at her again and smiled. A true smile. A we-did-good-girlfriend smile.
“Ladies, ladies, ladies!” boomed a woman’s velvety voice over the microphone.
We settled in our seats as Cassandra, the gorgeous and very elegant African American talent manager of the Tingle, started off the evening with a warm welcome and introductions. Butler stood at the side of the stage, his arms crossed.
The lights flashed and dimmed, and the crowd applauded as Cassandra swept off the stage. An electronica song pounded out its pulsing beat, and three men in shiny black cowboy hats and impressive black chaps appeared onstage. Each of them thrust and pulsed their hips to the rhythm.
I grabbed a fresh apple martini.
These crazy cowboys were wildly talented dancers. We roared and clapped furiously.
One of the dancers came forward and headed for Mary Lynn, taking her hand and raising her from her chair. This hunk of man was all shiny-skinned with ripped muscles to hell and back, which he somehow managed to make flutter and pulsate on their own in a display of testosterone gone mad.
“Spartacus of the Wild West,” I muttered to myself.
Mary Lynn squealed as he twirled her around and led her away from the table toward the stage, but she pulled away, shaking her head at him.
“Come on, Mary Lynn! Go!” I yelled, clapping.
“She can’t!” Jill shouted over the blare of the music.
“Why the hell not?” I asked, my eyes still pinned on Spartacus.
“Because her old man is going to freak. He’s here at the bar with the rest of the men,” she replied.
I glanced toward the bar where Boner, Lock, Jump, Kicker, and Judge sat stern-faced, all in a row, like ornery bulls caged in a pen. Only, these bulls were clutching beer bottles and glasses of liquor.
“What the hell is the point of ladies’ night then?” I asked.
Dee got the dancer’s attention, and pointed me out to him.
Spartacus Cowboy shot me an I’m-coming-for-you-and-you’re-all-mine grin, stalking over to me in his cut-muscled glory.
“The guys will leave soon, they’re going to get bored!” shouted Grace over the din of the music. “But for now, you be our ice-breaker! Go!”
“Why me?” I asked.
“You’re the only single woman at our table!” Jill clapped.
Nina laughed at her side, hooting and whistling.
Single woman?
Spartacus swiveled in front of me, his oiled up skin shiny and inviting under the lights. He took my hand in his, making a show of kissing it, his mouth moving up my arm. I laughed at his melodramatic expression, at the roar of the crowd.
“Go! Go! Go!” shouted and clapped all the women around me.
Hell yes! I am proud to be single, goddamn it.
I shot up from my chair, and a slick grin broke over Spartacus’s chiseled face.
Let me enthrall you, his face said.
I grinned. Give me your best, baby.
He led me up the small set of stairs to the side of the stage, and we brushed past a familiar figure.
Butler.
I glanced at him. His eyes were shiny blue stones, his lips tilting in a lopsided grin, as the dancer pushed me down into a waiting chair onstage. I held Butler’s steady gaze, and he raised his chin at me and smiled.
Spartacus danced in front of me, beckoning me with his pistoning hips and undulating pelvis. Each crazy move was greeted with cheers and whoops from the crowd. He took my hand in his and rubbed it along his ass as he ground against me, his oiled skin shining under the heavy spotlights. He popped back, executed a skillful spin and turn and tore off his chaps revealing the rest of his fantastic body and a tiny shiny thong, which sheltered a massive tool. We all responded wildly.
Lenore clapped and hooted, and I pointed at her and laughed, raising my thumbs in the air.
Yes, Rena was here. She was okay. More than okay. She was happy and had good people around her, had created a new life for herself. That counted for something. That counted for a hell of a lot.
And me?
Why was I hiding away, burying myself in work, making excuses? No, it made no sense.
So, I had a crush on Butler that hadn’t waned in the many months since Sioux Falls. It wasn’t the end of the world. It meant I was alive; it meant that blood was pumping through my veins, pumping through my heart. My crush wouldn’t amount to anything, but it was okay. I actually liked him as a person. We were friends.
I glanced at Butler. His smile was huge as he positioned his fingers in his mouth and blew out a shrill whistle. The crowd whistled and hooted back over the crest of the throbbing music. I laughed and stood up.
Spartacus Cowboy offered me his hand. I took it and let him sweep me up into his arms and dip me low. He raised me up, and we danced, we grooved. He flirted with me with his eyes, his grin, teased me with his amazing hot body, and I flirted and teased him right back.
My girls shouted and cheered. “Go, Tania, go!”
; TANIA WAS HAVING FUN, cutting loose, and it was good to see. Really good to see. She laughed as the fucker shook his muscled ass in her lap and then rolled his cut abs and pecs in her face, beckoning her to lick him. The sight of her moving to the music, laughing—her head tossed back, that long white throat arching, her black hair gleaming in the spotlight—had me rooted to the spot.
Yeah, you sure wanted to help her cut loose, didn’t you?
And I’d done it.
Tania shimmied her upper body at the dancer, following him move for move, spurring him on. Once she was in, the girl gave it her all. I liked that.
I liked her.
She was probably seeing someone, fucking someone. I’d noticed Travis, Lock’s army buddy from South Carolina and his hot rod specialist at the shop, checking her out more than once every time she was at the club, going through Wreck’s stuff in the storage unit. Seeing that had annoyed me like a mosquito buzzing in your ear when you were just about to fall asleep and all you wanted was to hunt the fucker down and smash it.
But I can’t do anything about it, can I?
Tania hooted and made funny faces as the dancer pretended to hump her.
What would it be like to take it all the way with her? She’d give as good as she got, really appreciate it, and tell me all about it with that mouth of hers that never stopped running.
I’d like to hear what Tania had to say as I got her up Come Mountain.
Let it go. Ain’t gonna happen.
Getting back into business mode, I shifted my gaze around the crowded night club. The place was jammed tonight. My brothers were missing from their perch at the bar.
A touch on my arm.
Cassandra’s pretty face was spoiled with a frown. “B, something’s going on up front.”
“What is it?”
“A group of men are outside, trying to get in. Men from another club.”
I charged toward the front door, pushing through the people standing by the bar. The humid night air blanketed over me, making the knot in my throat stick.
With a group of men at his side, Notch, the president of the Broken Blades, leered at Jump.
What the fuck?
“We’re here to celebrate,” said Notch, his face in Jump’s. “Everybody knows the Tingle is the best strip joint for miles, so we came here special tonight. Don’t you assholes want our money? Same color green as everybody else’s.” His lined gaunt face suddenly burst into spasms of laughter.