Honky Tonk Christmas (27 page)

“He’s got kids and they’ve got school tomorrow and he’s not my cowboy,” Sharlene said.

“Well, since he’s not your cowboy can I make a play for him? I saw him at Merle’s this afternoon. That’s exactly what I’m looking for. Responsible. Has a good job. I love kids and those two of his are so cute. I’d feel like I died and went to heaven on a big fluffy cloud if I could get that man,” Darla said.

Jealousy shot through Sharlene’s veins like a slug of cheap whiskey thrown back in one big gulp.

“You’ve rendered her speechless, Darla. I didn’t know anyone could make Sharlene stop talking,” Tessa laughed. “And stop teasing her.”

Darla opened the dishwasher and removed dozens of pint Mason jars. “Who said I was teasing.”

Kent claimed an empty barstool right in front of Sharlene. “Who’s teasing?”

“No one,” Sharlene said quickly. “What can I get you?”

“Nice party out at Merle’s, wasn’t it? I wonder if Elmer and Betty will have a barn open house?” he asked.

“Betty says they’re having a Thanksgiving barn dance. Not on the holiday but the weekend after so she can decorate the barn in Christmas colors. She’s looking for a live band and the whole nine yards. Says if Elmer gets a barn and she can’t have a room like Merle’s then she’s going to have a party,” Sharlene said.

“That ought to be fun. I’ll have to make sure Loralou has the night off. There she is, coming in the door. Fix me up a couple of pints of Coors,” Kent said.

“How’s things going there?” Tessa asked.

“Looking serious. I’m thinking maybe an engagement ring for Christmas but don’t you tell. I want to surprise her,” Kent whispered.

“And the charm strikes again,” Tessa whispered to Sharlene.

Sharlene set about making a pitcher of Coke and Jack. “It can hop around and make couples like rabbits make baby bunnies as long as it stays away from me.”

Darla raised a hand. “And me. Keep that damn little naked angel and his arrows away from me. I wouldn’t even look twice at your cowboy seriously.”

“I keep telling you…” Sharlene started.

“We know,” Tessa said. “He’s not your cowboy.”

“Who? Holt?” Kent asked.

Sharlene had forgotten he was still sitting on the barstool.

“Me and the boys got a bet going as to how long it’ll take you two to wake up and admit you’ve got an attraction for each other,” Kent said. “Want to give me some insider tips so I can either up my bet or lower it?”

“You’d better take all your money out of the pot if you don’t want to lose it,” Sharlene said.

Behind her, both Tessa and Darla were pointing at the ceiling.

The smell of sweat, beer, smoke, perfume, and aftershave already filled the air and the Honky Tonk had only been open an hour. Line dances mixed with slow two-stepping songs kept the customers drinking and happy. The jukebox music was loud but could barely be heard among the buzz of laughter and talking. Merle was holding royal court at the pool tables in the new room with a line of admirers waiting for a chance to knock the eight ball queen off her throne.

Tessa was handling the mixed drinks, Darla the draft beer, and Sharlene was taking orders and taking care of buckets and bottles. They had no time for conversation past how many beers, was the dishwasher’s last cycle finished, and did someone have time to gather up the trays from the tables.

“Pint of Coors,” Holt said when Sharlene made it to his end of the bar.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Buying a beer.” He grinned.

Tessa called out from the mixed drink station. “Hey, Sharlene, we’re out of trays again. Want to gather them up for us?”

“Gotta go,” Sharlene said.

“I’ll get them if you’ll let me buy you a beer after work,” he said.

“You take care of trays and I’ll buy you a beer after work,” she told him.

“You got a deal.” He left his barstool and another person claimed it immediately.

By midnight he was behind the bar loading and unloading the dishwasher and drawing beer when the load got too heavy for the three women to handle.

“Hey, handsome.” A woman pushed her way between two die-hard ranchers at the bar. “Come out from behind there and let me teach you to line dance. I’ll pay you double whatever Sharlene is giving you.”

“Mindy! Where in the hell have you been? I haven’t seen you since June,” Sharlene said as she stuck six bottles of Miller into a bucket and covered them with ice.

“Got married but it didn’t work so here I am, on the prowl again. Where’d you find this handsome hunk? If you’ll point me in the direction of the rock that you turned over to find him, I’ll go see if there’s any more hiding,” Mindy said.

Sharlene grinned. “If I told you where I found him, you wouldn’t believe me. What can I get you?”

Mindy pointed at Holt.

“He’s not for sale. Beer. Mixed drink or both but you can’t have my help. It’s too hard to find these days,” Sharlene said. “Did you marry someone you met in the Tonk?”

Mindy shook her head. “Then give me a pint of Coors. And hell, no, I didn’t marry someone I met in the Tonk. Met him up at the Boar’s Nest. If I’d met him here it would have lasted. I don’t know of a marriage that started in the Tonk yet that ended up in divorce courts. He was from Abilene. Just passing through and three weeks later we wound up in Vegas for a weekend. Got married by Elvis while we were both looped. Don’t know if it was us getting hitched or two bottles of Jim Beam. Big mistake. Don’t ever say ‘I do’ in front of Elvis.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t draw that beer just yet. Give me a whole pitcher of Jack and Coke and a pint jar and your pretty bartender,” Mindy said. “I bet he could make me forget all about Elvis.”

“You can have two out of the three. Why would you be on the prowl already if you just got out of a five month horrible relationship?” Sharlene picked up the square bottle of Jack Daniels.

“Relationship only lasted one month. Took me four months to get up the nerve to go honky tonkin’ again but I’m back in full force. If you won’t let me have him then I’ll go find someone else. Talk to you later, darlin’.” Mindy picked up the pitcher and jar that Tessa set in front of her. She handed Tessa a bill and told her to keep the change and disappeared into a crowd of slow dancers in search of a table.

“Hmmm,” Sharlene mused. “I could make a lot of money pimping you out for a couple of hours at a time.”

Holt threw up his palms. “What’d I ever do to deserve that kind of treatment? Don’t answer that out loud.”

Sharlene looked up to see that Tessa and Darla had stopped work and were listening.

“What did he do?” Darla grinned.

“Nothing,” Sharlene said. “Here comes another wave of thirsty, lusty souls.”

And thank God for them. I almost said things aloud that shouldn’t even be thought about in a dark corner,
Sharlene thought.

At closing time Luther unplugged the jukebox just as Waylon Jennings finished a slow song about making it through December and announced that the Honky Tonk was officially closed. “We’ll reopen at eight tomorrow evening and be open until two o’clock Sunday morning. We are closed on Sunday night.”

Smoke rushed out the door with every customer and by the time they were all gone the haze hanging close to the ceiling had practically disappeared. Luther carried his red and white cooler to the bar area, tossed six empty Coke cans in the trash, and picked a bottle of beer from the ice.

“I need this tonight. It’s been a hell of a busy week,” he said.

“Please don’t tell me you’re ready to throw in the towel. One night a week is all I can talk Kent into and besides, what would I ever do without you?” Sharlene said.

Luther shook his big round bald head emphatically. “Hell, no! I’m not ready to quit. I’d quit the oil business before the Tonk. I like it a lot better these days. You girls ready to go?”

“You drinkin’ that here or takin’ it with you?” Tessa asked.

“You drive. I’m drinkin’ it on the way.”

“I’ll drive. I love these busy nights. I made a hundred dollars in tips,” Darla said as the three of them traipsed across the dance floor toward the door.

“I owe you a beer.” Sharlene looked at Holt who’d taken up residence on a bar stool. “Would you please take the tops off a couple of Coors while I lock up the cash register?”

“Yes ma’am.” His Texas drawl was more pronounced when he was tired.

He had his feet propped on a chair when she joined him at a table in the new room. She kicked off her boots and propped her feet up on the table.

“My dogs are barking,” she said.

“I didn’t think it was polite to put your feet on the table,” he said.

“I own the place and it’ll get washed down good tomorrow before we open again. Try it. Feels wonderful.”

He pulled off his boots and adjusted the chair so that his feet would touch hers. He’d touched Tessa and Darla’s hands while they worked. He’d bumped against all three of them all evening. No one but Sharlene set a fire inside him, not even Mindy who’d flirted so blatantly that it was embarrassing.

“It does feel good.” He wiggled his toes and enjoyed the fire they shared.

She tipped up her beer. “It’s a tradition. Ruby started it. She taught Daisy to walk away from the mess after a hard night and do cleanup the next morning when she was rested. Daisy taught Cathy and Cathy taught Larissa. I still remember the first night she trusted me enough to join her after work.”

“That mean you trust me?” Holt asked.

“I trust you, Holt. The issue between us has nothing to do with trust.”

“It doesn’t, does it? Want to talk about it now?”

“Do you?”

“I miss you, Sharlene. I miss our visits, even the ones in the middle of the night. I miss my friend. And I trust you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes but she refused to let them escape. “I miss you too.”

“Were you really a sniper or were you just saying that to get a rise out of me?” he asked.

She set the beer down with a thud. “I was really a sniper. I still have the nightmares to prove it.”

“How many?” he whispered.

“Nightmares? Every night except when I slept with you,” she said honestly.

“I didn’t mean how many nightmares,” he said.

“I made myself not count so I really can’t answer that. Enough that the dreams haunt me.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“I’m good at it. I did a job so that hopefully there won’t be another nine eleven. That’s what the captain told me when he gave me the pep talk for reenlistment.”

He sipped at the cold beer. “You didn’t want to make a career of it?”

“No, one stretch and two tours was enough for me. You sure you trust me?”

“With my life, yes I do.”

But not with your heart,
she thought.
That would take a hell of a lot more than your life, wouldn’t it?

She changed the subject. “Where are the kids tonight?”

“Gloria and Chad wanted to play parents tonight. They called this afternoon. They’d finagled four tickets to Disney on Ice in Dallas tonight. Then they had a hotel room rented with an indoor pool and were ordering out pizza. They’ll play in the morning until they have to check out at eleven and then they’ve got appointments at a bridal shop to have the kids fitted for a tux and a fancy dress. Want to have a barbecue at the beach house up the road at supper time with all of us?”

“Why, Holt Jackson, are you asking me for a date?” she flirted.

“I guess I am,” he said.

“I’d love to,” she answered. “What can I bring?”

“Dessert?”

“As in food or something else? And are we talking about tomorrow or tonight?”

“Food. Tomorrow. Bartending is tough work. As beautiful as you are, I don’t think I’m up for dessert tonight,” he said.

“Me neither. Why are they fitting kids for a tux and a fancy dress at a bridal shop?”

“Gloria and Chad are getting married the last day of December in Wichita Falls. Big church foo-rah with all the trimmings. Waylon is ring bearer. Judd is the flower girl. Kent is best man. Bennie and I are groomsmen,” he explained.

“When did all this happen?”

“He gave her the ring a couple of weeks ago. He thought they’d have a six-month engagement. Gloria says not.”

Sharlene set her empty bottle on the table and put her feet on the floor. “Where are they going to live?”

“We’re working on an idea. We’ll have the jobs finished here and it’ll be semester break for the kids so a move wouldn’t be so difficult. Did I tell you that Kent is planning to propose to Loralou at Thanksgiving? Wouldn’t be surprised if they aren’t married by the end of the year too,” he said.

“What idea? And where are you going with my kids?” she asked.

“I’m not discussing either one with you tonight while we are both worn out, my lady,” he said.

She stood up. “I’m starving. Want something to eat? This is my normal breakfast time. How about western omelets and hot biscuits with sausage gravy?”

The way to a man’s heart might be through his stomach and the way to get him to talk is along the same pathway. Before he left she’d know where he was moving and how often she could still see the children.

He set his beer bottle on the table and his feet on the floor. “Lead the way.”

She locked up, turned off the lights, and went from the Tonk to her apartment with him right behind her carrying his boots. She pointed toward the sofa. “Remote is somewhere between the cushions. Make yourself comfortable. This won’t take long.”

He’d been in her apartment before when he was gathering up kids at the end of the day. It had a leather sofa on one wall, an entertainment unit with television and stereo on the opposite side of the room, a rocking chair in the corner, and tables filled with pictures of Sharlene’s family. The tiny dining area and small galley kitchen was to Holt’s right.

“I’ll never get used to seeing this table and chairs!” he exclaimed.

She raised an eyebrow. “Remind you of anything?”

“You’re not a bit afraid of color, are you?” The chairs were painted in the same colors as the ones in his house. One each of yellow, purple, hot pink, and turquoise.

She took eggs, sausage, frozen biscuits, and milk from the refrigerator. “I’m not afraid of anything except nightmares. What are you afraid of?”

“Bad choices. I’ll help. I can grate the cheese,” he said.

She handed him a bag of cheese. “I do a pound at a time so I don’t have to wash the grater but one time. That is pepper jack. You got a weak stomach? Why are you afraid of bad choices?”

“Not me. My stomach is lined with steel. I can eat anything but habanero peppers. Those are grown in hell and not fit for human consumption. Because my sister made some bad choices and it might be genetic. My parents were older when they had us kids. Maybe that’s because they made bad choices,” he said.

“Habaneros are so hot even Lucifer couldn’t eat them. Actually, they are grown in the backyard of a church house. They were invented by a preacher who was proving his point about how hot hell really was.” She crumbled a fist full of sausage into a small iron skillet and handed him a wooden spoon. “You keep that stirred and I’ll whip up the eggs and chop onions and peppers. Your sister’s bad choices could have been because she was so young. And you have no idea about your parents’ choices in their youth so they might have been as upright as a priest. So stop worrying or being afraid.”

“That’s easier said than done,” he said.

“Sure is.”

She bumped into him several times and felt the effects every single time her skin brushed against his arm or her rear end against his side. Without thinking she looked up at his mouth.

“What?” he asked. “I tasted the cheese when you weren’t looking. Do I have some on my mouth?”

“I wouldn’t care if you did,” she said.

He bent forward and brushed a light kiss across her forehead and then one on her lips.

“I was just checking out the merchandise. I didn’t ask for a free sample,” she teased.

“Wouldn’t do you a bit of good to ask or to demand. I’m too tired,” he said.

“So a little bartending wore you completely out, did it?”

“You askin’ me to take you to bed before or after we have breakfast?”

“Neither. I just want to eat, take a shower to get the smoke off me, and go to sleep. You want to stay? You can sleep with me, as in shut your eyes and snore.”

“Can I have a shower first?” he asked.

“It’s mandatory if you get between my sheets.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

“Wow! You are so romantic tonight.”

He chuckled. “Hand me the flour.”

“You better not mess that up. I get real testy when my gravy is scorched.”

He shook four tablespoons of flour into the sausage and kept stirring. “Right back atcha, darlin’. You get that omelet too dry and I’m an old bear.”