“This is not good. You would not believe what he said to me,” I announced.
Roxie and Jules got close and, even though I barely knew any of them, I told them about the latest incident and I did so in great detail. There was more sucking in of breath then more smiles.
“Shit. I thought some of the stuff that Vance said to you was Sexy Hot Boy Hot but Luke’s got him beat by a mile,” Daisy told Jules.
“I’d pay a man to talk to me that way,” Shirleen put in.
“He’s a jerk,” I said happily, sounding as if this was a good thing and applying shiny lip-gloss to my lips in the mirror. “I hate him.” Again, this was said with drunken good cheer and all the girls looked at each other, lips tipped up at the ends. “I’m moving to Wyoming the first chance I get. I’m moving in with Sissy’s mother even if Sissy isn’t there anymore. Mrs. Whitchurch likes me and she owns a shotgun on account of the bears that are always going through her trash.”
Daisy gave a tinkly-bell laugh.
Jules came up behind me in the mirror. “During my thing, I convinced myself I was moving to Nicaragua,” she shared.
“Nicaragua sounds good but it’s filled with those Latin-lover types. I’m trying to get away from macho men.”
She pressed her lips together like she was trying not to laugh and glanced at Roxie. I ignored them and turned, screwing on the cap to my lip-gloss. I heard the band strike up again after a break and I instantly got the best idea I decided at that moment that I’d ever had in my life.
So of course I had to share and I shouted, “Let’s dance!”
I shoved my lip-gloss in my pocket and charged out the door through the bar right by the table where all the Bad Boys were sitting and straight to the dance floor. The Girl Gang followed me.
I loved music and I loved to dance. There were times in my life when Sissy and I went out and I didn’t drink a drop, just danced like a lunatic. Even when I was Fatty, Fatty Four-Eyes I was the kind of person who got lost in the music and didn’t care who was watching. Now, especially as I was heading towards three sheets to the wind, I let it all hang out.
Of course I’d never been to a club where Luke could see me but I was feeling fine, feeling loose and as the girls and I moved in our Girlie Dance Circle I was having the time of my life.
After a few songs I shouted the latest, greatest idea I ever had in my life, “Shots!” Then I peeled off and went to the bar.
The place was packed and the bar was three deep. Two guys saw me and shifted to the side to let me through. I smiled at them huge and bellied up to the bar.
“Hey, thanks,” I said, still throwing a smile over my shoulder.
“Don’t mention it, darlin’,” one of them replied.
It took a few minutes but a bartender made it to me.
“I want…” I turned to the dance floor and counted my Girl Gang membership. “Five shots of tequila. Don’t bother with the lime, we’re Rock Chicks, we can hack it,” I informed him.
The guy behind me chuckled. I gave him another over the shoulder grin not exactly knowing what he found funny but also not caring. If he was in a good mood then I thought it was rude not to share in his good mood.
“Outta my way,” I heard and the crowd around me parted without comment. This was somewhat unusual seeing as we were at a biker bar and someone pushing through the crowd was normally frowned upon. I understood why there was no comment when Wild Man Tex moved in beside me. Not many people would stand in Wild Man’s way.
“Hey Tex. How ya doin’?” I asked as if we had known each other all our lives and he was my best friend in the whole world.
He looked at me then he commented, “Darlin’, you’re shitfaced.”
I leaned into him. “Yeah. Isn’t it great?”
He shook his head and grinned but said, “I don’t mean to rain on your parade, you deserve a good night after a coupla kindnappin’s, but you best be watchin’ your step. Your man ain’t likin’ what he’s seein’ and the atmosphere is gettin’ tense.”
I blinked at him. “My man?”
“Luke,” Tex told me.
I swung my head around and looked at Luke. He was watching me and it appeared Tex was right, he didn’t seem happy.
I turned back to Tex. “He isn’t my man.”
“Girl, it don’t matter you don’t think he is, he thinks he is. Therefore, in Badass Motherfucker Land, that means he is.”