I stick my hand into the top of my dress, and lift each breast to make sure they’re sitting as high as possible. Taking a final look in the one and only mirror this motel room has to offer, I appreciate my efforts. I have to stand on top of the toilet seat because the mirror is above the sink, but I make due.
I look good.
I pulled a strapless mini dress out of a box in the corner, along with my knee-high heeled boots I've had forever that give me a few extra inches. The dress has a tight bodice and flares out in the skirt just enough to make it perfect for dancing.
My hair is freshly washed, and my waves decided to behave today, giving me perfectly voluminous hair. I put on some light makeup, which I had to dig through another box for. I’m pretty sure it’s all expired, but it’s fine. It did the job.
I reapply my lip gloss and pop a stick of gum in my mouth before reapplying my deodorant. I’m supposed to be at The Whiskey Hollow at seven, and it’s ten til’, so I grab my keys—car and motel room—and head downstairs.
When I pass by the front office I see Robert, the owner, wave through the window to get my attention. I wave back, and open the front office door.
“Hi, darlin’. Just wanted to see if you needed to pay up for the next week,” he says while pushing his wire framed glasses onto his forehead.
“Yeah, probably. I’ll let you know,” I tell him, offering a small smile. He’s a nice guy, and has actually been a comforting presence in this strange limbo I’ve been in.
He nods. “Will do. Have a good night.”
“Thanks, Robert.”
He waves goodbye and returns to his game of solitaire as I step back outside.
I’ve looked for a place to rent every day since arriving here, and have yet to find anything. Between work and visiting Rose in the evenings, I just haven’t had much time.
I’ve asked around a bit, but don’t want to spread the word too much in fear of it getting back to someone I don’t want to know. Something has to give soon though, because there’s only so many more showers I can take in that bathroom. The water pressure is nearly non-existent.
————
The moment I walk into the bar, I’m met with a wall of noise and bodies throughout the large space. Low lights, loud music, and a packed crowd. Yep, definitely a Saturday night for the only good bar in town. I’m not surprised, Maverick has done a great job keeping this place alive. I scan the crowd until I see a mop of platinum blonde hair in the far corner near the dance floor.
I weave through the tables and people, spotting Sophie pushing together two tables. When I approach her from behind, I wolf-whistle. She whirls around, sees it’s me, and smiles.
Sophie is like what you would imagine if you were asked to draw a goddess. Thick, long blonde hair, flawless skin and big blue-green eyes. She has curves for days, and a rack I could only dream of. Tonight she’s wearing cowboy boots with a tight as hell denim mini skirt, a white top that does nothing but wonderful things for her chest.
“Damn, girl. You look hot,” I tell her honestly.
She looks down at herself.
“Oh good. It looks okay?” she asks with a worried look in her eye, gently readjusting her skirt.
Puzzled, I cock my head. It’s not like Sophie to worry about what other people think of her. I scan her head to toe, as she continues to fidget. Why would she care to make sure she looked good tonight? It’s just Beau’s–
Oh.
Ohhhh.
I wrap her up in a big hug, and whisper into her hair.
“Is this what’s going on with you? Is that what you don’t want to talk about?”
“Maybe.”
“You and Beau?”
“Not for a long time.”
“How long?”
“About ten years.”
