“I called Lolita. She’s gonna start while we’re gone.”
I nod. I should’ve already called the housekeeper, but until today, I didn’t even notice how bad the mess had gotten. I walk over to the closet that’s big enough to be a small bedroom and pull out my last pair of clean jeans that I didn’t know were in the back. They have holes in the knees because I usually save them for workdays. I haven’t been working my ranch lately. The fact that it’s solely my responsibility now sits like a lead weight in my stomach. Hopefully, my foreman, Billy, has been keeping things going. I’ve seen him driving in and out every day with a few of the ranch hands.
I shove the grief aside, refusing to give in to it again. Tonight, I need to let loose. Tomorrow, I’ll worry about business. I grab a button-down black shirt off a hanger and quickly get dressed.
When I walk back out into the room, Duke tosses me some deodorant and cologne. “You should shave.”
I shake my head and finish applying the deodorant. I spritz the cologne on my neck before setting it down. “Anything else,Mom?”
“You gonna go barefoot?”
“No clean socks.”
He rolls his eyes, searching around the ground. He picks up a pair that doesn’t look too bad and hands them to me. After putting them on, I pull my snakeskin cowboy boots on and grab my nice straw Stetson off the dresser.
“You look semi-human again, finally. Let’s go.”
Once we get downstairs, he leads me into the kitchen. The wood beams on the ceiling are hewn from massive trees on the property that fell during a tornado the year the house was built. My grandmother was an incredible cook, so the kitchen has a commercial-grade oven and plenty of counter space. The soft yellow of the cabinets is complemented well by the neutral wood stain on the original hardwood floors and butcher block countertops. Since my grandmother died, Lolita’s the only one who’s ever used the space. Now, it’s littered with takeout boxes and empty beer cans.
The front door creaks open.
“Hello, Mr. Seymour?”
I grit my teeth. She used to call my grandfather Mr. Seymour, and I was just Sam.
“In the kitchen, Lolita,” Duke calls out.
He grabs a bottle of bourbon from the counter and pours us each a shot. He hands me mine with a grin. “We gonna fuck some shit up tonight?”
I clink my glass with his before letting it burn down my throat. I slam it down on the counter before turning to Lolita as she enters.
“Call me Sam.”
She smiles, her round eyes softening. “Okay, Sam. You really should have called me sooner.”
“I know; I know. I’ll pay double this time. Can you wash my sheets?”
She nods, waving a wrinkled hand in the air. “I take care of everything. I’ll need to come back tomorrow to finish.”
I nod, noting from the old clock on the wall that it’s already four in the afternoon.
“Then I guess we won’t be coming back until after lunch tomorrow.” Duke claps me on the shoulder before strutting toward the front door.
The man gruntsin pain as I slam his arm down on the table. I raise my hands overhead in victory. The blonde next to me yelps with excitement, throwing herself around my neck.
“You’re kicking ass! That’s your third win!”
Duke signals the bartender, swirling his finger in a circle. “Another round, Harry!”
He grins, wrapping his arm around the blonde’s redheaded friend. I remember them being pretty when we first got here, but now I can’t really tell. My head is swimming with hard liquor. I sway on my feet, blinking as the girl hangs on me.
I reach up, peeling her hands off of me. I stumble toward the bathroom. There are way too many people stuffed inside OldHarry’s tonight. I squeeze through the bodies, heading toward the men’s room. After I get in and relieve myself, I step back out into the hallway and accidentally bump into someone. I reach my hand out to steady the person. When I lift my gaze, I make eye contact with my ex-girlfriend, Keely.
“Oh, hey. Sorry, Keels.”
She leans into me. “Don’t be sorry. Who’s the whore you’re hanging out with?” She presses her breasts into me.
I shrug. “Must be from out of town.” I try to walk past her, but she presses a hand to my chest. “Sam … what are we doing?”
