much.”
He approached the bar, my insults not affecting his arrogant swagger in the least. Music heavy in steel guitar and twang filled the entire space of the two-story dance hall. I let my chin rest on the heel of my hand as I picked out the people I knew from the tourists. Then I observed Taylor chatting up Shea, who had graduated a couple of years after I had and had been tending bar at Cowboys since the day after her twenty-first birthday. I waited for Taylor to flirt with her or do something else that would help solidify my initial opinion that he was a total slimebag.
Shea cocked her head and looked completely smitten, but then they both turned to me. There was no point in looking away. I had already been caught.
I waved, and they waved back.
Shea popped the cap off of Taylor’s beer, and then she filled a plastic cup with ice and water. She patted his shoulder just before he carried the drinks toward me.
“Shea,” he said.
“I know her.”
“You asked me for the name of the last girl I bagged. It was Shea.”
I made a face.
“It was my first weekend here. She’s a sweetheart … and wild as hell.”
“ Bagged her? What does that even mean?” I asked, already wishing I hadn’t.
“Intimate relations. Intercourse. Coitus. Doing the deed. Nookie. Fornicating. Laying pipe. Screwing. Sex. Tapping that ass. Fucking. Need I go on?”
“Please don’t.” I sipped my water.
“I’m a vagrant, as your dad put it.” He lifted his bottle and took a swig. “There is little else for us to do between calls.”
“Only if you have no imagination.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Oh, I don’t know. August is a good time to summit Pikes Peak. The Garden of the Gods. Manitou Springs. The zoo. The Fine Arts Center. Seven Falls. The Air and Space Museum.”
“Okay. Let’s knock those out. How about this weekend? We’ll start with Pikes Peak. That sounds fun.”
“This is our last night together, remember?”
“Not at all,” he said.
I rolled my eyes and then tried to find something interesting on the dance floor. There were several sights to choose from. I saw a father-and-daughter couple … at least that was what I’d thought until he tried to give her vertical mouth-to-mouth. A man was attempting to get rejected by every female standing within three feet of the dance floor. A woman in head-to-toe black fringe was two-stepping backward by herself—and quite possibly starring in a Broadway musical playing in her own head.
Taylor pointed at her with the mouth of his bottle. “We call her Cat Woman. She’s just getting warmed up.”
“Who’s we?” I asked.
“Me … and them,” he said, pointing to the two men walking toward us.
Zeke and Dalton were shaking their heads in disbelief.
“Un-fucking-believable,” Zeke said. “I’m disappointed in you, Falyn.”
Both men reached into their pockets, and each one handed Taylor a twenty-dollar bill.
I looked to Taylor. “I was wrong. You’re worse than a cunt rag.”
Zeke looked to Taylor, genuinely concerned. “What’s worse than that?”
Taylor held up his hands, palms out, in surrender even though he was clearly still amused. “Just because I bet them I could get you here doesn’t mean I didn’t want you to come with me. Besides, I can’t pass up a lock bet.”
I shook my head, confused.
“Oh!” Taylor said, even more animated since his friends had arrived. “Can someone write this down? Ivy League does not understand my vernacular!”
“You mean, your verbiage,” I deadpanned.
Dalton’s mouth curved up into a half smile.
Taylor leaned in toward me. He smelled like cologne and cheap body wash with a hint of mint and sweet tobacco on his breath. “A lock bet is pretty much a sure thing.” His voice was low and smooth.
“Yep,” I said, “that’s my cue.” I stood up and headed for the door.
Dalton and Zeke made a fuss, yelling, “Oh!” at the same time.
Within seconds, Taylor’s fingers gently
He approached the bar, my insults not affecting his arrogant swagger in the least. Music heavy in steel guitar and twang filled the entire space of the two-story dance hall. I let my chin rest on the heel of my hand as I picked out the people I knew from the tourists. Then I observed Taylor chatting up Shea, who had graduated a couple of years after I had and had been tending bar at Cowboys since the day after her twenty-first birthday. I waited for Taylor to flirt with her or do something else that would help solidify my initial opinion that he was a total slimebag.
Shea cocked her head and looked completely smitten, but then they both turned to me. There was no point in looking away. I had already been caught.
I waved, and they waved back.
Shea popped the cap off of Taylor’s beer, and then she filled a plastic cup with ice and water. She patted his shoulder just before he carried the drinks toward me.
“Shea,” he said.
“I know her.”
“You asked me for the name of the last girl I bagged. It was Shea.”
I made a face.
“It was my first weekend here. She’s a sweetheart … and wild as hell.”
“ Bagged her? What does that even mean?” I asked, already wishing I hadn’t.
“Intimate relations. Intercourse. Coitus. Doing the deed. Nookie. Fornicating. Laying pipe. Screwing. Sex. Tapping that ass. Fucking. Need I go on?”
“Please don’t.” I sipped my water.
“I’m a vagrant, as your dad put it.” He lifted his bottle and took a swig. “There is little else for us to do between calls.”
“Only if you have no imagination.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Oh, I don’t know. August is a good time to summit Pikes Peak. The Garden of the Gods. Manitou Springs. The zoo. The Fine Arts Center. Seven Falls. The Air and Space Museum.”
“Okay. Let’s knock those out. How about this weekend? We’ll start with Pikes Peak. That sounds fun.”
“This is our last night together, remember?”
“Not at all,” he said.
I rolled my eyes and then tried to find something interesting on the dance floor. There were several sights to choose from. I saw a father-and-daughter couple … at least that was what I’d thought until he tried to give her vertical mouth-to-mouth. A man was attempting to get rejected by every female standing within three feet of the dance floor. A woman in head-to-toe black fringe was two-stepping backward by herself—and quite possibly starring in a Broadway musical playing in her own head.
Taylor pointed at her with the mouth of his bottle. “We call her Cat Woman. She’s just getting warmed up.”
“Who’s we?” I asked.
“Me … and them,” he said, pointing to the two men walking toward us.
Zeke and Dalton were shaking their heads in disbelief.
“Un-fucking-believable,” Zeke said. “I’m disappointed in you, Falyn.”
Both men reached into their pockets, and each one handed Taylor a twenty-dollar bill.
I looked to Taylor. “I was wrong. You’re worse than a cunt rag.”
Zeke looked to Taylor, genuinely concerned. “What’s worse than that?”
Taylor held up his hands, palms out, in surrender even though he was clearly still amused. “Just because I bet them I could get you here doesn’t mean I didn’t want you to come with me. Besides, I can’t pass up a lock bet.”
I shook my head, confused.
“Oh!” Taylor said, even more animated since his friends had arrived. “Can someone write this down? Ivy League does not understand my vernacular!”
“You mean, your verbiage,” I deadpanned.
Dalton’s mouth curved up into a half smile.
Taylor leaned in toward me. He smelled like cologne and cheap body wash with a hint of mint and sweet tobacco on his breath. “A lock bet is pretty much a sure thing.” His voice was low and smooth.
“Yep,” I said, “that’s my cue.” I stood up and headed for the door.
Dalton and Zeke made a fuss, yelling, “Oh!” at the same time.
Within seconds, Taylor’s fingers gently
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