Hell, Yeah (11 page)

At midnight Travis set his empty jar on the bar and waved at Cathy before he weaved through the people and went home to his trailer. The Fort Worth girls whooped and hollered through one more line dance then disappeared past Tinker in a flurry of giggles.

By one o’clock things had slowed down enough that Larissa asked Cathy to make her a martini. She carried it to the other side of the bar and sat down. “That was fun. Can I do it again? I made a hundred bucks in tips.”

“Don’t know how I would have handled it without you. Thanks for helping me.”

“Hey, want to shoot some eight ball when the doors are shut?” Larissa asked.

“Not tonight. You any good?” Cathy asked.

“Fair. Been tryin’ to get up enough nerve to ask Merle to play,” Larissa said.

“Where’d you learn?”

Larissa shrugged. “London. There was this earl who liked his billiards.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack, and he was fine looking especially behind closed doors. We played a few times in the nude. Hey, you heard that new song called ‘Skinny Dippin’’? I’m going to try that when summer gets here. By then I’ll have my own good looking cowboy to go with.”

“Yes, I’ve heard it,” Cathy said. She didn’t say that she’d already imagined doing just that with Travis Henry. “Tell me, how did you go from an earl to Mingus, Texas?”

“I have trouble staying in one place, with one thing, or with one man for very long. I get bored easy.”

“Going to get bored with the Honky Tonk and Mingus in a few weeks?”

Larissa sipped the martini. “Best martini I’ve ever had and that includes all of them. And I don’t know if I’ll get bored in Mingus or not. If I do I’ll be here three days past the boredom day.”

“Three days?”

Larissa’s eyes glittered. “Yes, it’ll take me that long to get a moving van in and to call Hayes Radner to sell my house to him.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I might if I was bored. So you better not throw me out of the Honky Tonk.”

“Don’t tease me about Hayes Radner. That man is evil with a bank account.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t tease you about him. Who’s that singing?”

“Emmylou Harris. And the song is ‘Two More Bottles of Wine,’” Cathy told her.

“I’ve been there and done that. Like Emmylou says, I’ve got two more bottles of wine, only mine is two more beers.”

“Hey, pretty lady, you want to dance?” Bart asked.

“You one of Cathy’s oil men?”

“I am.”

“Married?”

“Divorced.”

“I’m not very good at dancin’ to this music but you look like you’d be a hell of a teacher.” She stood up and wrapped her arms around his neck and he two-stepped her right out into the middle of the floor.

Dolly Parton sang about her man bringing her the sunshine when she was in darkness. Cathy had a soft place in her heart for that particular song. Her mother had loved it and had danced around the living room with her father every time it came on the radio and she could corner him in some part of the trailer.

Larissa was panting when she claimed her seat again after half a dozen songs. “It’s time for this Cinderella to go home. I’ll be back tomorrow evening. Maybe I’ll make another hundred dollars in tips?”

“If we’re as busy as we were tonight I’d love the help. I’d pay you if you’d agree to work for me.”

Larissa shook her head emphatically. “I got a job and I sure don’t want to be tied down to anything. If I’m here and you are busy I’ll work for tips. If I want to dance with a good looking cowboy or oil man, then by golly I want to be free to do it. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Cathy said.

At two o’clock Tinker sent the last dozen people home and Cathy locked up behind him. The Kendalls finished up the night with a song that said heaven was just a sin away. The singer said that way down deep inside she knew that it was all wrong but his eyes kept tempting her.

“You got that right,” Cathy said.

She wouldn’t even have to get the car out of the garage to find sin. The way Travis held up his drink and winked at her said that he’d be more than willing to help the devil take her to heaven any night of the week. All she had to do was walk across the backyard, knock on the door, and kiss him. Heaven would be waiting in his arms. Only trouble was come morning it would be hell to pay and she wasn’t willing for another broken heart.

“Hey, did you see those two yahoos sitting over there in the shadows all evening. They had shifty eyes. One went to the bathroom and came back and then the other one went and they kept looking around like they were casing the place. Never drank a single beer or danced with anyone or watched a pool game. Mostly they watched you and Larissa,” Tinker said.

She shook her head. “It was so busy and full tonight I almost counted heads to make sure we weren’t over limit. I didn’t notice them. Why do you reckon they were here?”

“Might have to do with Larissa. She’s new in Mingus. Come in here and bought a house and don’t appear to go to work anywhere. Maybe they’re stalking her.”

“Well, they wouldn’t be stalking me.” She laughed.

“Just keep your eyes open and be careful,” Tinker warned. “Lock up behind me and be sure to keep your windows locked. The way they were actin’ don’t feel right.”

“Maybe they were religious and trying to figure out a way to save my wayward soul or maybe they were Hayes Radner’s men trying to figure out a way to talk me out of my beer joint,” she told him.

“No, neither one of those seems right. They show up again, I’m going to confront them.”

“Point them out to me if they do.” She followed him to the door and locked it behind him. She set her empty beer bottle on the table, turned out the lights, went into her apartment, and headed straight to the shower.

Cathy rolled her eyes when she looked at the stack of papers on the desk to be entered into the computer. Another stack of forms to be noted for future use and then filed away waited on the other side of the computer along with the payroll timesheets. They had a bright purple Post-It attached to them with doodles of daisies in the corners and a note that they should be finished before the next shift. A second Post-It, this one neon orange, said that someone would be by to pick them up before three so the men could clock out.

“Forget about getting caught up today,” she growled.

She entered the information from the time cards into the computer, rubber banded them together, and set them to one side. Then she started on the stack of data entry papers that had sprung up like mushrooms in a rainy spring. The second day of work in an office convinced her that running a beer joint was her calling, not working for an oil company.

The door opened and she looked up to see a stranger. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“Name is Cal Anderson. I’m a derrick hand and I’m down for the eight to eight night shift starting tonight. Got a parking list for me to sign in?” he asked.

Cal was a short round man somewhere between twenty-five and thirty. There was a white line where a wedding band had been until recently. His baby face was as round as his waistline, but his arms stretched the fabric of his coat.

Cathy handed him the list and he put his name on the number four slot. His writing had a feminine flare that looked out of place with the other scribbles.

“So what’s the story on that old beer joint out there? Is it closed up?” he asked.

“No, it’s open from eight to two every night but Sunday. I own and operate it,” she said.

“Well, if that ain’t the sorriest luck. If I’d have known that we had an on-site beer joint I’d have put in to work days. My shift’s from eight to eight Tuesday through Saturday. Only night I can go for a cold beer will be Monday. You reckon you could open it in the daytime for us who work nights?”

“No, sir. Six hours at night and this job is plenty for me,” she said.

“Then save me a bar stool on Monday. Don’t expect you’ve got live bands except on the weekends, do you?”

“Don’t ever have live bands. You want that you go on up the road to the Trio Club. We have oldies night on Monday. That means the old three-for-a-quarter jukebox is plugged in. Rest of the week we have the new jukebox with the new artists. Guess you’d better like the old stuff if you’re only coming out on Monday,” she said.

“Love it. Cut my teeth on Marty Robbins and Conway Twitty. Granny listened to them. Grandpa listened to Dolly Parton and Crystal Gayle. Got any of them folks croonin’ on that old jukebox?”

“Every one of them,” Cathy told him.

“Then I’ll be there. Save me a dance too.” He grinned.

“Can’t do it. Don’t dance with customers,” she said.

“If it wasn’t for bad luck…”

She held up her hand at the cliché. “I know, you wouldn’t have no luck at all.”

He started out the door with a loud, make believe sigh. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Cathy O’Dell and I’m just temping for Maggie,” she said.

“Like I said… bad luck… no luck at all.” He waved.

She went to work and when she looked at the clock she was surprised to see that two hours had passed and her neck was in a cramp. It popped when she rolled it several times. She inhaled deeply and caught the whiff of strong coffee still in the percolator. Her stomach grumbled so she went to the kitchen to see if Travis had really put ice cream in the freezer.

She snooped around in the cabinets and found a dozen kinds of soup, two loaves of bread, and peanut butter along with a package of soft chocolate chip cookies and a bowl filled with Butterfinger candy bars. The refrigerator had cheese, apples and oranges, twenty containers of yogurt, and milk. Four kinds of ice cream and a dozen man-sized frozen TV dinners were in the freezer.

She picked up a container of strawberry yogurt and opened three drawers before she found the spoons. She leaned against the bar and ate slowly. She’d forgotten about computer kinks and aches. Bars had their own set of pains at the end of a shift that involved sore legs and throbbing toes. Computer work put kinks in the neck and lower back. She ate a bite and rolled her neck; ate a few more and did a couple of squats; another couple and did a dozen knee lifts. She had just put the last bite in her mouth when Travis stepped into the office.

He looked at the desk then down the hall and finally his eyes came to rest on her standing there with an empty yogurt container in one hand and a spoon in the other. “I’m here for the time sheets.”

She motioned with the spoon. “On the desk with the rubber band around them.”

He removed his caramel colored canvas work jacket and dark brown leather gloves and laid them on the kitchen table. He rubbed his hands together to generate warmth, poured a cup of coffee, and wrapped his fingers around the hot mug instead of drinking it. The north wind was bitter cold that morning and the nerves in his face and nose tingled as the warm air brought them back to normal temperature.

“That’s interesting,” he muttered aloud.

“What? That I stole one of your yogurts?” Cathy asked.

No way was he going to tell her the interesting thing was that his insides were hot as fire while the outside of his body was cold as ice cream.

“That you like strawberry. It’s my favorite too. Mind if I have a taste?”

“I just ate it all,” she said.

He took two steps and was so close to her face that he could smell strawberries.

“It’s all gone,” she said.

“Not quite. Your mouth will still taste like strawberries.”

“Oh?” she said.

He inched so close that his chest met hers and his nose was only three inches away. His eyes crossed and he wrapped his arms around her waist. He leaned in and pulled her mouth to his in a soul searching kiss that went on until they were both breathless.

“Darlin’, that is one fine way to taste yogurt,” he whispered.

She reached up and brought his lips to hers again. He slipped his cold hands under her sweater feeling the warmth of the soft skin below her bra strap and she unbuttoned enough of his shirt to run her hands over his muscular chest.

The noise of a pickup right outside the trailer caused them to jump back as if they were fourteen years old and had gotten caught making out on the sofa in the dark. Travis hurriedly buttoned his shirt, picked up the coffee mug, and was sitting at the table when the door opened.

Cathy adjusted her sweater and had her back to the door when Rocky came into the trailer. The crimson blush in her cheeks matched the fiery feeling in the pits of her insides. Another minute and they would have been fumbling with zippers as they headed down the hallway toward his bedroom. And all without locking the front door!

“Got any coffee? Texas ain’t supposed to be this damn cold,” Rocky said.

“It’s been made since breakfast but it’s hot and strong,” Travis said.

“Just like I like my women.” Rocky laughed. “You hot and strong, Cathy?”

“That question could be considered sexual harassment,” Cathy said.

Rocky brushed past Travis on the right. “You get up on the wrong side of the bed this mornin’, woman?”

Cathy shrugged and headed back to her desk and started to work. She’d have much rather been kissing Travis than entering numbers onto the computer screen, and she’d be willing to do a dance in the middle of a rain storm if Rocky would suddenly turn into a frog and hop out of the trailer so she could go back to running her fingers over Travis’s hard chest muscles.

Now why in the hell would I think something like that? I’ve vowed to run from this, not right into it. But maybe if we had a romp in the sheets it would cure me of the infatuation and I could get him out of my mind.

“What do you need other than hot, strong coffee?” she finally asked.

He threw up his palms as if she was about to attack him. “If I answer that you’ll have me up on harassment charges.” He grinned.

“Get your mind out of the gutter and tell me what brought you to the trailer other than coffee and warmth,” Cathy said.

“You are a hard woman, Cathy O’Dell. Amos would do well to put you on the full-time payroll the way you keep us in line. I need a printout of the crew. We are going to hire one more roughneck,” Rocky said. He removed his coat and hung it on the back of a chair before he sat down with Travis.

“You were right. It’s damn hot and damn strong. It’s only a little less thick and black as the oil.”

“It’ll warm you up,” Travis said. “Think we’ll hit something in two months?”

“It don’t matter whether we do or not; this place is warm compared to where some of us will be headed by the end of February,” Rocky said.

“Ain’t it the truth,” Travis said.

Cathy stopped working and stretched her neck so she could see across the bar separating the office and kitchen. “What are you talking about?”

“Alaska,” Rocky said.

Travis chanced a glance in her direction. His gaze locked with hers and blistering hot sparks danced between them. If Rocky weren’t the best tool pusher in the whole business he’d fire him on the spot for interrupting what was happening between him and Cathy.

“Alaska?” she finally asked without blinking. She’d known it was a two-month gig, but Alaska? That just put the icing on the cake as far as letting desire win the race with common sense. If she did sleep with him and it caused her to fall for him, then he’d be gone and she’d be in a world of big-girl hurt.

Travis forced himself to stop undressing her in his mind. “Amos is willing to sink two million into this venture while he makes a deal in Alaska, but that’s his limit. We’re cuttin’ corners as much as possible. It’s one of those situations where if we hire too many to get the job done in the time slot then we overextend our budget. Without the men, we can’t finish in two months, so it’s like we’re working with one of those old balance things. Men on one side; money on the other. And keeping them perfectly balanced isn’t easy.”

“What about Angel? Does Merle know about Alaska?” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as hollow as her heart felt.

“Angel told Amos that she’d go to Alaska or the moon, and of course Merle knows,” Travis said.

Cathy hit the right buttons and the printer spit out a list of the crew members with possible recruits’ names on the bottom of the page. She reached up and laid them on the bar.

Rocky picked it up and studied it before handing it to Travis. “What do you think?”

“Luther can’t be beat.”

“He still married to that cute little filly who wants to travel with him?” Rocky asked.

“Last I heard they were divorced. He came home early and caught her with the driller. Sounds kind of dirty and the men made a lot of jokes about it, but Luther didn’t think they were funny,” Travis said.

“You sound like you are talking about a soap opera,” Cathy said.

“It gets that way. Men who travel with their wives are askin’ for trouble. It’s different if it’s a permanent situation, but most of this isn’t. We travel a lot as you can see by the parking list. Women living in cramped quarters get antsy and that makes trouble,” Rocky said.

“So what about the men who are married and away from home for weeks on end?” Cathy asked.

“Some of them couldn’t be shook away from their wives and families with a blast of dynamite. Others fall off the true-blue wagon the first time a honky tonk momma makes a pass at him.” Rocky finished his coffee. “I’ll call Luther and see if we can get him down here by tomorrow.”

“Where does he live?”

“Up in Ardmore, Oklahoma, right now. He’s been in Biloxi for a few months but he’s back on his folks’ ranch until Amos finds him something pretty close. I think he’d move this far. Can’t see him going to Alaska, though,” Travis said.

Rocky looked across the bar at Cathy. “I can’t wait until you see Luther.”

Cathy squared her shoulders. “Why? What’s the matter with him?”

Travis chuckled.

She shot a look across the bar. “What does that mean?”

Travis stood up and slipped his arms into his coat, pulled his gloves on, and winked at Cathy. “I’ll just let Luther be a big surprise. Come on, Rocky; let’s go fight the deadlines.”

“You are a…” Cathy couldn’t think of anything vile enough to call him.

He stood back and let Rocky leave before him and then bent down to kiss her on the ear lobe. “I’m a what?” he whispered.

“A right fine kisser,” she said.
And fast becoming my friend. Do friends knock each other’s socks off when they make out? I never had a guy type friend before so I’m swimming in unfamiliar territory. But here lately when anything happens my first thought is that I can’t wait to see Travis and tell him about it. Does he feel that way about me, I wonder?

* * *

Travis lined up the time sheets in the pockets above the clock. The rig shack was a portable building, eight feet square with a time clock on one wall and a small table pushed up against the back wall. It held a coffee pot that was never to be empty. Whoever took the last cup would start a new pot. Leaving a completely empty pot was an unforgivable sin and could get a man fired quicker than being careless on the rig. The walls were covered with papers, maps, seismologist reports, and changes to regulatory details. If it was important or they might want it in a hurry, it was tacked to the wall.

It wasn’t Travis’s job to do such menial labor but he’d been going to the trailer the day before for the WHMIS report so he’d volunteered to pick them up. He could have had Rocky pick them up when he went in for a new copy of the updated report but Travis wanted to see Cathy so he’d volunteered.

He touched his lips. So she thought he was a right fine kisser, did she?

He smiled. That was funny because he thought the same thing about her, and the more he knew her the more he wanted to be around her. Whether it was helping her in the Honky Tonk or sleeping on her sofa. He couldn’t wait to tell her about his day or what happened at the rig site. She understood his language when he asked for a WHMIS report and didn’t hesitate when he asked for time sheets. Damn, he’d found a friend and a damn fine kisser. Exactly what he was going to do with either or both was a mystery but he’d worry about all that later.