by Lucy Score
It was after midnight, and I’d been involved in a very detailed dream re-enacting the other night with Cassidy. Only this time it wasn’t Jonah interrupting us. It was Devlin.
“Bowie, I could use a favor,” Devlin announced crisply in my ear.
“Now?” I asked, staring blearily at the clock.
“It can’t really wait.”
“‘Kay.” I came to a seated position.
“I need you to drive over to my place and grab the billfold out of Scarlett’s underwear drawer.”
“Don’t go diggin’ around in there!” I heard my sister shout in the background.
“Billfold. Underwear drawer,” I repeated, pulling on a pair of jeans from my dresser.
“Then I’m going to need you to drive down here to the police station.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“I assure you. I’m not shitting you. There was a little altercation tonight—”
“I told you. Did I not tell you to watch those girls?” I was wide awake now, grabbing a sweatshirt and sneakers on my way out the bedroom door.
“What the hell’s going on?” Jonah demanded from his doorway. “Why does shit always happen in the middle of the night in this house?”
“Girls got arrested,” I filled him in.
Jonah perked up. “Lemme grab my shoes. I’ll come with you.”
“Thanks, Bowie. Appreciate it,” Devlin said.
“That’s what family’s for.”
I did the math and told Jonah to drive separately.
Deputy Bubba Rayhill was pacing the sidewalk in front of the police station when I pulled up. “How’s it goin’, Bubba?” I called, sliding out from behind the wheel. Jonah hopped out of his vehicle and joined us on the sidewalk.
“Thank god you’re here. We gotta get this mess cleared up before Sheriff Tucker gets wind that I had to arrest his wife and daughters,” Bubba said, wringing his hands.
“I’ve got the cash,” I said, waving Dev’s billfold like a Willy Wonka golden ticket.
“Thank you, sweet Jesus,” Bubba said throwing up a prayer to the winter sky.
Jonah and I followed him into the station, and it took all of half a second to know why the man had been waiting on the sidewalk for us.
The noises coming from the holding cell were an unholy cacophony.
“Y’all started it!”
“No, you all started it!”
“Girls, I don’t care who started it because I’m gonna end it by dunking all your heads in this toilet.” That last one came from Nadine Tucker, who was standing between Cassidy and Misty Lynn. The cell was so crowded that Devlin was pressed up against the bars in the corner, holding Scarlett around the waist as she tried to join the fight.
“If this is how eating my feelings ends, I’m never attempting it again,” June grumbled from the cot. Two women I didn’t recognize were taking turns wailing and blowing their noses.
Lula looked unruffled, pressed up against the stainless-steel sink mounted to the wall. She was admiring her nails as if she were contemplating a manicure color.
“Ladies…and Devlin,” I said.
They all launched themselves at the bars, talking at once and pointing fingers.
Cassidy was flush-faced and was glaring pitchforks at Misty Lynn, who was reaching for me through the steel bars. “Hey there, Bowie. Nice of you to come down and see me,” she purred.
“That’s it! You keep your hands off of the Bodines, you herped harpy.” Cassidy grabbed Misty Lynn by the bleached-blonde hair and pulled.
Devlin waded in as the women rolled around on the cement floor.
“We’ve been through this, ladies,” he said, prying them apart. Unsupervised, my sister climbed up on the cot like it was the ropes of a wrestling ring.
She hurled herself down on top of Misty Lynn, and the fighting began again.
“I’m so gettin’ fired for this,” Bubba muttered under his breath as he fumbled with the door keys. “Y’all stop that, right now!”
June scooted over two inches to avoid the hair extension that Scarlett threw in her direction.
Bubba hurried inside and made a grab for Misty Lynn, knowing better than to try to go for Scarlett. She was a biter in close quarters.
I sighed and followed him inside. I wasn’t afraid of Scarlett’s canines. Not after having grown up with her. Hell, we’d taught her all her fight moves. It made it easier for me to anticipate the elbow she threw at my jaw.
“Chill the fuck out, Scar,” I growled at her. Cassidy was trying to kick at Misty Lynn while Devlin picked her up off the ground.
“Trade me,” I shouted. We swapped the women we were wrangling, and I got Cassidy cornered up against the cinder block wall. “Hey there, Cass.”
She stopped squirming against me and hiccuped. Drunk Cassidy made very few public appearances. It was usually my sister drinking to excess, and Cassidy playing the responsible one. I had to admit, she was one hell of an adorable drunk.
“Hey, yourself,” she responded, tilting her head until her ear touched her shoulder.
“Whatcha doin’?” I asked, ignoring the commotion behind us.
“You’re really, really good-looking,” she announced, her eyes wide.
“Why, thank you.”
She frowned at me. “I think I’m forgettin’ something.”
“What kind of something.”
“Something that has to do with you,” she said, closing one eye and tilting her head to the other side. She brought her finger up to my nose and poked me probably harder than she meant to. “I like your nose.”
“I like all of you, Cass.”
She brightened and then her face immediately changed to a fierce frown. “I know what it is! I’m mad at you! Very, very mad.” She poked my nose again.
“Why’s that?” I asked, grinning at her.
“I don’t know, but when I remember, you’re gonna be in b-i-g trouble.”
“Well, I’m sure I deserve it.”
She nodded fiercely. “Yep. You definitely do. So, what are you doin’ here?”
“I came to get my girl,” I told her.
“Your girl isn’t Misty Lynn, is it?” Cassidy demanded. “Because she’s a stupid face and a terrible human being.”
“You’re my girl, Cassidy Ann.”
“I am?” She grinned at me like I’d given an entire orphanage Christmas presents.
I nodded. “You sure are.”
She frowned again, trying to do some figuring. “Was I always your girl? ‘Cause this feels kinda new.”
“Oh, Cass,” I sighed, stroking a thumb over her lower lip. “Always. You’ve always been my girl.”
“Misty Lynn said she was gonna show up on your doorstep and be neighborly.”
“She did now?” Fucking Misty Lynn. Her two main superpowers were seducing stupid men and pissing off anyone with lady parts.
“She didn’t show up, did she?” Cassidy asked very seriously.
“No, honey. She didn’t. She’s trying to kick my sister’s teeth out right now.”
“Oh! Good! That’s really good,” Cassidy breathed a sigh of relief that smelled like blueberry moonshine. I made a mental note to keep her away from open flames for the next hour or two.
“Cass, honey, can you stand right here and not move while I help Jonah and Bubba and Devlin?”
She looked at me like a cartoon deer, all big eyes and sweetness. “I sure can,” she promised chipperly. “Question: Do you think you’ll kiss me again tonight? ‘Cause I really, really like it when you do that. Asking for a friend.”
I was definitely enjoying this momentary amnesia. I wanted to bundle her up and take her home and let her pass out on me. “Cassidy, I promise to kiss you every chance I get.”
“Yay!”
I propped her against the wall and went to work separating Misty Lynn’s henchwomen, who’d started arguing about God knows what. Bubba had scratch marks on his neck. Devlin had tossed Scarlett over
his shoulder and was spinning her around until she was too dizzy to fight anymore.
Jonah had cornered Misty Lynn who—enjoying the attention—flashed him her tits.
“Look away, Jonah!” Scarlett screeched. “Look away! She’ll hypnotize you with them and then cut your dick off!”
“Fuck you, Scarlett!” Misty Lynn hollered.
“I’d say fuck you, Misty Lynn, but just about everyone in this town has had their turn already,” Scarlett shot back.
“What do we do?” Bubba demanded, picking the second henchwoman up off the floor and leaning her against the bars.
“Okay, this here’s what we’re gonna do,” I announced, adopting my best vice principal tone.
37
Cassidy
There was a goddamn woodpecker trying to peck his way out of my brain. I was face down on flannel sheets, and the contents of my stomach were having a raging debate over whether or not they wanted to come back up.
Wait a minute. Flannel sheets? I hadn’t gotten mine out yet. I was still hanging on to the hope of a warm snap with my cotton bedding. I opened one eye.
“Well, shit.”
This wasn’t my bed or my bedroom.
“Please be Scarlett’s,” I whispered to myself through cracked lips and a mouth as dry as all the deserts in the world.
“Nope. Guess again,” a cheery voice announced.
I opened my other eye, wondered why it hurt, and then focused in on the nightstand. There was a bottle of aspirin, a sports drink, and a plate of dry toast.
“Mornin’.” Bowie Bodine, looking fresh as a daisy, was sitting on the foot of the mattress looking at me like he hadn’t a care in the world. He was dressed for work and putting on shoes.
A few details from the night before floated up into my consciousness. I was in Bowie’s bedroom. “Oh, God.”
“Drink your orange electrolytes like a good girl,” he told me, patting my ass.
I buried my face in the pillow that I now realized smelled like him.
“Why am I here?” I groaned, not sure if I was asking the existential version of the question or the literal one.
“You insisted on coming in last night when I brought you home.”
“Where did you bring me home from?” I asked.
“Jail,” he said cheerfully.
“Oh, God. Do I still have a job?” I croaked. I remembered moonshine. A whole vat of it. Me telling Devlin all about my problems. Misty Lynn being downright ugly. It got kinda blurry after that.
“Of course you still have a job. You think I’d let anything happen to you?” he teased.
I lifted my head from the pillow and peered under the sheets. I was fully dressed, but not in my own clothes. I was wearing a Bootleg Springs High School hoodie and a pair of sweats that were a good four sizes too big. Bowie’s clothes.
I was in Bowie’s bed, wearing his clothes.
“Where did you sleep?” I demanded.
“On the couch.”
I flopped back down on the pillow and reached blindly for the aspirin.
“You don’t need to look so relieved about it,” he teased.
“I’m mad at you,” I told him.
“So we’re back to that?” He took the aspirin from me, thumbed open the bottle, and dumped the caplets in my hand. Efficiently, he opened the sports drink for me and handed it over.
“Back to that? I never stopped being mad at you!”
“Last night you asked me to kiss you again because you really, really like it when I do that.”
I was definitely going to throw up. The memory burbled to the surface. Yep. Jail cell. Misty Lynn’s hair extensions. Bowie backing me up against a wall and being sweet.
I swore.
He stroked a hand over my hair, and I didn’t care for how much I liked it.
“Why am I in your clothes?”
“Well, you came in here after Bubba released y’all and told Jonah to make you pancakes. Then you took your clothes off on the stairs and helped yourself to my closet.”
This was why I never let Drunk Cassidy out to play. She was a dumbass.
“You took advantage of me while I was drunk!”
“I did no such thing, Cassidy Ann,” he shot back, appalled at the idea.
I rolled my eyes and then felt like I was going to puke. Note to self: Don’t roll eyes while hungover.
“I mean, you let me be nice to you when I was drunk. Even though I’m clearly still furious with you!”
He crossed his arms and smiled at me like I was making a fool out of myself.
“Are you mad at me or Drunk Cassidy?” he asked.
“Both!”
He laughed.
“What happened last night and how do I still have a job?” I asked, closing my eyes. I pulled the hood of the sweatshirt up over my head, tying the strings real tight to block out the morning light.
“Well, apparently, y’all got into some kind of confrontation with Misty Lynn and her sidekicks. Bartender called the station and Bubba responded. With the help of a patron with a minivan, he drove you all back. He didn’t think the sheriff would take kindly to him arresting his wife and two daughters. And as it turns out, Misty Lynn has one more drunk and disorderly left on her rap sheet before she looks at a weekend in jail. So we fixed it so no one got in any official trouble.”
“You brokered a truce?”
I vaguely remembered Devlin and Bowie making me shake Misty Lynn’s stupid hand that had probably touched sixty percent of the penises in town.
“Dev paid off the bartender to cover the damages and the tabs. No charges were pressed, and y’all went home.”
“Except I came here.”
“Yep.”
“Oh, shit! The cats. I have to feed them.” I sat upright and immediately regretted it.
“Taken care of. I fed them this morning and chased them around with that feather on a stick thing.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, flopping back down into his pillow. I should get up. Get up and storm out…and thank Jonah for the pancakes that in my foggy memory were pretty fantastic.
“I’d do anything for you, Cass.”
“Anything?”
He perked up expecting me to ask him for something he could give.
“You can just go back to pretending I don’t exist,” I told him.
“I can’t do that,” he answered, amused.
“Why don’t you give it a try? You might surprise yourself.”
He slipped his hand under the hem of the sweatshirt and stroked my back. It felt like heaven. “Honey, you’re gonna have to get it through your thick head that I’m not going anywhere. I’m not stopping until you agree to a date.”
“One date?” I loosened the hood so I could peek out at him.
“That’s all I need to make you fall for me,” he said with a wink.
“You’re an idiot,” I told him.
“I’m your idiot.”
“Is it safe to come in?” Jonah asked, covering his eyes in the doorway.
“She’s fully clothed,” Bowie reported.
“I saw a lot of boobs last night,” Jonah told me with a grin. He set down a glass with something purple and lumpy in it.
I groaned, and Bowie punched him half-heartedly in the shoulder.
“Ow!”
“What’s this?” I asked, eyeing the glass.
“Hangover cure,” Jonah said. “Drink it up as fast as you can and be prepared to feel a hundred times better.”
I’d settle for one time better at this point.
“Got yourself a bit of a shiner there,” Bowie observed, looking at my ouchy eye as I sat up and started chugging. That dang Misty Lynn and her pointy-ass elbows.
It tasted like seaweed and vinegar. I wanted to stop, but Jonah tipped the bottom of the glass up.
“Now what?” Bowie asked, taking the empty glass from me.
“Now we wait,” Jonah said eyeing me.
They didn’t have long to wait. “Oh, God
.” I bolted out of bed and ran for the bathroom.
I didn’t even bother slamming the door shut before I was kneeling before the porcelain throne and heaving up a whole mess of stuff.
“Works like a charm every time,” Jonah said from the doorway.
I heard water running and felt a wet rag on the back of my neck. My hair was pulled back from my face and held lightly at the base of my neck.
“Get it all out, honey,” Bowie’s voice was soft. That big hand was at my back again stroking my clammy flesh.
I did as prescribed. And after collapsing on the cool tile floor and laying there for a few minutes with Bowie mopping my forehead and playing with my hair, I did indeed feel better.
I’d yell at him later, go back to mad once I was back on my feet, I decided.
“I have to go to work,” I whispered.
“Jonah’s getting your care package ready. Ginger ale, coffee, and a breakfast sandwich.”
That all sounded pretty damn good.
I worked my way up to a seated position, pleased that my head hadn’t snapped right off my neck. With the aide of the vanity and Bowie’s helping hands, I made it to my feet.
“I’m gonna go,” I announced, walking gingerly toward the door. I made it into the hall and decided to try the door that divided our sides of the double. Bowie’s side was unlocked. Damn it. How was I ever going to sleep again knowing that the door that separated us was unlocked?
“Oh, hey, Cass?” Bowie called after me.
“Huh?” I grunted.
“Make sure you return the socks to Jonah. They’re his.”
38
Cassidy
I arrived at the station five minutes early and very hungover. Thanks to Jonah’s magic cure and breakfast care package, I was at least capable of functioning. Though I fully expected to walk in and be asked to leave.
What kind of a police officer could I be if I couldn’t even be a law-abiding citizen?
I couldn’t believe I’d basically handed Connelly a legitimate reason to fire me. I wanted to blame Bowie or Connelly or someone. But I’d been the one to pour half a gallon of moonshine down my throat last night. I had no one to blame but me.