“Yeah?”
“Yes,” I said, “but don’t get a big head about it. I don’t want your ego knocking anyone off the rig.”
He smirked and kissed my sweaty forehead. “How in the hell I make it without you is a damn mystery to me.” He kissed me again.
Then he tapped on the window and Mitch, Violet, and Paul converged. Mitch tucked Paul in his seat while Violet started the car. A blissful surge of cold air breezed over my hot skin.
Mitch turned on the radio, keeping it low.
“You don’t have to worry about his head,” Mitch said, glancing at us from the rearview mirror. “We keep it deflated.”
“Tell me,” I said, sitting up to give Brando enough room to unzip his overalls and expose his thin white tank underneath, “how you do that.”
Mitch laughed. “We remind him that he’s really not as bad as he thinks. After all, can he dance on his toes? No. Buthiswife can!”
I groaned and hit Brando’s arm when I fell back.
“BRANDPOW, give Auntie Sawlette a suka,” Paul said, being extra sweet, the look in his eyes hinting at wanting a candy for himself. “She keeps crying.”
Violet and Mitch laughed like it was the funniest thing they ever heard. Brando and I looked at each other and he shrugged, as if to say,This is what I deal with every two weeks. Settle in for the ride, Ballerina Girl.
“Where are we staying?” he said, ignoring them. “Did you go home to the house on Snow?”
“I can’t. Not yet.” I told him that I had arrived yesterday and spent the night in his old room at Maggie Beautiful’s.
He nodded, understanding, but there was an edge to his voice. “As long as we have a bed.”
“I have one more surprise.”
“Better than the last?” He looked hopeful.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I—brought someone with me. And the surprise will only be a good one if the other person is happy about it showing up.”
His eyes fell to my hands, which were in front of my stomach. His face turned ashy again. He swallowed so hard that I heard it.
“Tell me, Scarlett.”
“Emory Snow,” I said, giving him a narrow look. “He came to meet the old Emory Snow.”
He opened his mouth and then closed it. Then he muttered, “Better him than me.” I went to comment on his remark, but he instructed Mitch to hand Paul a sucker out of his bag, and then he took me in his arms again, and we didn’t resurface from the depths until much later.
Chapter Three
Scarlett
Somehow Violet had convinced us to join her, Mick, and Mitch at the Road House. Before I even stepped through the door, I was finally able to find something to be thankful for during our time apart.
It seemed like the years had put enough space between the memories of my last visit and me to allow a smile to come to my face. I was practically a child the last time I came. Now I felt old enough to belong in the crowd. Sheriff Stone couldn’t haul me off to my parents’ place like he had back then. He’d have to cart me to jail with the rest of the adults.
Nothing had changed—not the scenery, not the people—except for the music. Poisonous Dawn, Mitch’s band, wasn’t playing. But Jane was still up there, lending her vocals to a country group. The urge to boo her off the stage was strong, but reminding myself that I was an adult, I settled for giving her the finger on the down low.
Maggie Beautiful sat atop the bar, a sparkling cowboy hat on her head, and no less than four guys at her feet. When she saw me, she raised her glass above her head.
“Fellas!” she said, louder than the band. “Look who’s here! My dancing daughter Scarlett Rose Fausti!”
This was met by a bunch of cheers and whistles from her admirers.
“What do you say, baby girl? Want to give them a dance?”
