seen you around much," Townsend remarked, capturing my eyes in a "what gives?" look.
"I've been busy," I said, shuffling my feet. "You know. Stuff. But I still live at the same address and I haven't changed
my phone number," I told him. "Or entered the federal witness protection program."
"Ditto," Townsend said. "How's life as a college coed--the second time around?" he asked. It was actually the fourth time,
but I wasn't about to correct him. "Strange, you dropping in to college at the same time your sister dropped out," he added.
"Yes, isn't it?" I said. I'd gotten so used to being the dumb sister that I had to admit the reversal of fortune between Taylor
and me was one I rather enjoyed. Of course, I was keeping my current GPA pretty close to my vest to maintain the illusion
of academic success, but with the project I had planned, I'd be back in the respectable range by the end of the trimester
and would shout it from the barn roof.
"So, classes are going well?"
"Definitely," I responded. The classes were going well. It was me that was the problem.
"I hear from Brian that Kari is a little bit stressed out getting ready for the wedding," he said.
I nodded. "I think that's probably pretty typical," I said. "Brides have a lot going on. How is the groom holding up?" I asked.
"Like a rock," Townsend said.
Of course he was. All the groom had to do was show up. It was the bride and her family who did all the heavy lifting.
"How nice for him," I said. "I suppose as best man you're planning the traditional raunchy bachelor party. Women get stuck
sipping punch with old ladies with blue hair who fall asleep during lame games, and guys get to sow their last wild oats with
strippers, beer, cigars, and lap dances." I cocked my head to one side and tapped my cheek. "What's wrong with this picture?"
Townsend put an arm on the wall behind me and moved closer, our bodies almost touching.
"You sound like you have inside knowledge of what goes on at bachelor parties," he said. "By the way, did you know they used
to be called stag parties? In Australia they're called 'buck nights.'"
I felt my eyebrows rise along with my body heat. "So named, no doubt, for the amount of rutting that goes on," I said, feeling
a wee short of breath.
"Naturally," Townsend agreed. "Or so I've heard."
I snorted. "Yeah, right. You possess no inside knowledge of what goes on at buck nights and stag parties."
"Brides have their night out, too, now," Townsend said, taking a nicely shaped hand and tucking a length of loose hair behind
my ear.
"Yeah. Hen night. You guys get a big macho rutting stag of a party and what do women get? A bunch of clucking ol' biddies.
I'm crying fowl!" I said.
Townsend laughed. "Some of those parties can get a little wild," he said.
"They can?" I asked, dubious. "How so?"
"A lot of women hire male dancers--strippers--to perform for the bride," he said. "Or they go to a strip club."
"They do?" Hmmm. Maybe hen parties were more than they were cracked up to be.
Townsend looked down at me. "You're not getting any ideas, are you, Calamity?" he asked. "Because Brian's a little nervous
about you being in charge of the night's activities as it is."
I frowned. "Oh? He is, is he?" I said. "I get it. What's good for Bambi isn't good for Faline," I said.
Townsend frowned. "Who the hell is Faline?" he asked.
I tapped my toe. "Bambi's childhood friend and future mate," I informed him. "Didn't you ever see the movie?"
He gave me an evil grin. "I couldn't handle the part where the hunters shot Bambi's mother," he said.
Yeah, right. Truth be told, her head was probably on Townsend's wall.
"Well, all I know is that I intend to make Kari's Doe Party a night to remember," I said. "A blow for equal rights."
Sheriff Surly appeared, and he stuck a stack of papers between Townsend and me. "Here's your paperwork," he said. "Nice doin'
business with you. Now, I know you have to run."
I gave the sheriff an
"I've been busy," I said, shuffling my feet. "You know. Stuff. But I still live at the same address and I haven't changed
my phone number," I told him. "Or entered the federal witness protection program."
"Ditto," Townsend said. "How's life as a college coed--the second time around?" he asked. It was actually the fourth time,
but I wasn't about to correct him. "Strange, you dropping in to college at the same time your sister dropped out," he added.
"Yes, isn't it?" I said. I'd gotten so used to being the dumb sister that I had to admit the reversal of fortune between Taylor
and me was one I rather enjoyed. Of course, I was keeping my current GPA pretty close to my vest to maintain the illusion
of academic success, but with the project I had planned, I'd be back in the respectable range by the end of the trimester
and would shout it from the barn roof.
"So, classes are going well?"
"Definitely," I responded. The classes were going well. It was me that was the problem.
"I hear from Brian that Kari is a little bit stressed out getting ready for the wedding," he said.
I nodded. "I think that's probably pretty typical," I said. "Brides have a lot going on. How is the groom holding up?" I asked.
"Like a rock," Townsend said.
Of course he was. All the groom had to do was show up. It was the bride and her family who did all the heavy lifting.
"How nice for him," I said. "I suppose as best man you're planning the traditional raunchy bachelor party. Women get stuck
sipping punch with old ladies with blue hair who fall asleep during lame games, and guys get to sow their last wild oats with
strippers, beer, cigars, and lap dances." I cocked my head to one side and tapped my cheek. "What's wrong with this picture?"
Townsend put an arm on the wall behind me and moved closer, our bodies almost touching.
"You sound like you have inside knowledge of what goes on at bachelor parties," he said. "By the way, did you know they used
to be called stag parties? In Australia they're called 'buck nights.'"
I felt my eyebrows rise along with my body heat. "So named, no doubt, for the amount of rutting that goes on," I said, feeling
a wee short of breath.
"Naturally," Townsend agreed. "Or so I've heard."
I snorted. "Yeah, right. You possess no inside knowledge of what goes on at buck nights and stag parties."
"Brides have their night out, too, now," Townsend said, taking a nicely shaped hand and tucking a length of loose hair behind
my ear.
"Yeah. Hen night. You guys get a big macho rutting stag of a party and what do women get? A bunch of clucking ol' biddies.
I'm crying fowl!" I said.
Townsend laughed. "Some of those parties can get a little wild," he said.
"They can?" I asked, dubious. "How so?"
"A lot of women hire male dancers--strippers--to perform for the bride," he said. "Or they go to a strip club."
"They do?" Hmmm. Maybe hen parties were more than they were cracked up to be.
Townsend looked down at me. "You're not getting any ideas, are you, Calamity?" he asked. "Because Brian's a little nervous
about you being in charge of the night's activities as it is."
I frowned. "Oh? He is, is he?" I said. "I get it. What's good for Bambi isn't good for Faline," I said.
Townsend frowned. "Who the hell is Faline?" he asked.
I tapped my toe. "Bambi's childhood friend and future mate," I informed him. "Didn't you ever see the movie?"
He gave me an evil grin. "I couldn't handle the part where the hunters shot Bambi's mother," he said.
Yeah, right. Truth be told, her head was probably on Townsend's wall.
"Well, all I know is that I intend to make Kari's Doe Party a night to remember," I said. "A blow for equal rights."
Sheriff Surly appeared, and he stuck a stack of papers between Townsend and me. "Here's your paperwork," he said. "Nice doin'
business with you. Now, I know you have to run."
I gave the sheriff an
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