“It’s a plain tank and a jean skirt, Matteo.” She lifted her feet. Black cowgirl boots with a silver floral design on them. “Violet said it’s real causal.”
I noticed her nails were painted silver. “You could wear an ancient T-shirt and sweats with holes in them, and there still wouldn’t be a fucking plain thing about you, baby.”
“Thanks. I think.” She scrunched up her nose, and when I kissed it, she smiled for me. “You’re out of a suit, and you’re still too gorgeous—it should be against the law to be able to look that good without makeup.”
“My old man has a rule. He says he’s the king of Natchitoches, and we’re not allowed to wear suits unless we’regoing to church or court. The rest of the time, we are to wear jeans?—”
“And shit,” my brothers all chimed in with me.
Stella laughed.
I kept one of her hands in mine and one on my heart as we made it to an old truck I had fixed up myself in high school. My brothers had their own, andpapà had one from when he still lived with Magpie. We all started them up, a sound people called “the Fausti rumble” echoing through the woods.
Stella cranked her window down when Mariano pulled up next to me. He tipped his nonexistent hat to me and revved the gas, like he wanted to race. Then he smiled and fell behind as we all headed toward the bar.
The bar, which used to be called The Road House, was under new ownership, and people in town were still pissed about it. The new owner was from out of town and trying to make it too fancy. It had been named the Boar’s Head and had beers imported from Europe on the menu.
A menu at The Road House.
Still fucking stunned me too.
The outside still looked the same—a bar that looked like it was placed on a road to nowhere.
“This is it?” Stella squinted her eyes. “What’s that on the neon sign?”
“A boar,” I said, turning the truck off and hopping out.
“Oh, I thought it was a piglet.”
“That’s called neon on a budget, baby.”
She laughed, and it seemed to surprise her. “You’ve been hiding something from me, Matteo Fausti.”
I lifted my eyebrows.
“Youdohave a sense of humor.”
“You like it on me, baby?”
“I do,” she breathed. Iloveit.”
“I’ll keep it then.”
After I opened her door and set her down on the ground, I took her hand.
“I still feel like I’mv-v-vibrating,” she said.
“Yeah, that old truck has the shakes.”
“I love that too,” she whispered, her eyes flicking up to mine.
We met up with everyone and all walked in at the same time. I paid for everyone, since the new owners were charging a cover charge, and Violet bitched and complained about it. She shook her fist at the new owner, calling him ridiculous for it, but he only shook his head at her and turned back to a customer who looked like he was sampling all the different beers.
“Can you believe it?” Violet said. “A cover charge at THE ROAD HOUSE!”
Awhoop!went up, and a few people screamed, “YEAH, LONG LIVE THE ROAD HOUSE!” The line of men all clanked their cheap beers and started bitching about it. The new owner had accepted this revolt and just did his own thing, like the complainers didn’t even exist.
“Some of these people are the same ones who were around when Maggie Beautiful was,” my old man said, keeping mamma’s hand tight in his. She was already tapping her foot to the music blaring through the place.
