Risk(2)

“Say hello to Truly,” Saylor prodded, jerking a thumb back to where I was still blindly filling salt shakers.

“Hey, Truly,” Cord called, never taking his eyes off her. “You ready to go, babe? The boys are waiting on us over at The Hole.”

I knew what The Hole was. It was this perpetually teeming country western bar three blocks away on an unlit, somewhat disreputable street. The bar was flanked by a new age temple and a vintage thrift store. Its real name was Gallop Gold but everyone called it The Hole because it was little more than a hole in the wall.

I knew who ‘the boys’ were too. Gentry men apparently came in sets of three. Cord was only one of the head-turning triplets that hatched somewhere in the desert and then descended upon humanity like a plague of testosterone. For his part, Cord did seem to be a step above his brothers and I wondered how much of that was due to Saylor. The other two, Creed and Chase, appeared to have few interests other than whoring and sarcasm.

Saylor loved those guys, if for no other reason than they were extensions of Cord, but whenever I saw them they reeked of conceit, alcohol and the empty-minded hunt for sex. Once, when I’d been standing in the hallway behind the kitchen, Creed came out of nowhere and brushed against my backside far too closely. There was no excuse; the hallway wasn’t that tight a fit. At the feel of his hard body my fists had balled up involuntarily as desire roared through me.

I swear Creed knew every foul thought in my head as he leaned in close to my ear and murmured, “Beg your pardon, pretty lady.”

I couldn’t even nod in response. It was too much to do anything but stand there and wait for the fire to go out. Even though it had been far too long since I’d gotten sweaty with anyone, I wasn’t about to slide backwards by indulging in one of the Gentry boys. Creed had chuckled lightly before moving on to someone more willing. Those boys had enough attention. They didn’t need any from me.

Suddenly I realized Saylor had said something.

“What?”

She reached over and pulled at my arm. “You’re coming with us whether you like it or not. I know underneath that sassy southern girl front you’re dying for a little fun.”

I snorted. “Plenty of that throughout the years.”

Saylor pretended to check her watch. “Time has come to have some more.”

Cord wrapped a possessive arm around Say’s shoulders. “Come on Truly. Makes her all sad when you say no time and again.”

Saylor stuck her lower lip out and adopted a bad drawl. “And y’all don’t want me to be sad, do ya now, Tallulah Rae Lee?”

The sound of my full name sobered me for a second. I struggled to keep the smile on my face so no one would guess how my heart hurt.

Saylor noticed something was up though and she looked at me curiously. We’d been friends just long enough to be somewhat aware of each other’s moods. She tilted her head and gave me a gentle smile.

“It’ll be fun, Truly. Real low key. Just a few drinks and then we’ll walk you back here to your car, okay?”

I almost said no. I should have just waved the happy couple away, retreating to another solitary night with a container of cherry vanilla ice cream and the company of my cat.

“Give me five minutes,” I told her instead. I backed away to grab my purse from the lockers before heading to the rest room.

After all, I hadn’t spoken the whole truth when I told Say I’d had no other wardrobe options this morning. There might have been a few musty t-shirts hiding in the back of my dresser. Instead I had pulled out the cobalt blue dress I’d dubbed from a vintage Butterick pattern a few years back. It had been a while since I’d worn that dress or anything else advertising sex so freely.

As I stood in the grubby ladies room I removed the rust-colored cardigan I’d pulled on so that Ed wouldn’t give me any shit. Most dresses were a tough fit on account of my ample breasts. However, when sewing this one from scratch I’d easily tailored the bust line to be comfortable.

I critically appraised my face in the mirror. It wasn’t the first time it had occurred to me that I ought to look older than twenty one. The years had been hectic and not in a good a way. Instead, I’d known the sort of wildness that dragged down the soul as it wore the freshness off the skin. It had the power to leave nothing more than a collapsed shell behind. That’s what it had done to my mother. The last time I checked she hadn’t coped well with losing her looks.

After a few tugs, the elastic band holding my hair in place came loose. My hair was naturally thick and so dark it was nearly black. An inheritance, I supposed, from the father I never knew. My mother and nearly everyone in her family tree were light and golden.