“Nope,” Stacia said. “Cherry’s permanently designated.”
“That doesn’t sound fair. That’s like when my older brother called shotgun for life.”
“Did it work?” Cherry asked.
He looked in her eyes. “Yeah. He was bigger than me.”
“She doesn’t mind,” Stacia said.
Russ was still looking at Cherry. “Is that true?”
“I don’t drink,” she said.
“She’s never evenhada Mule,” Stacia said. “She won’t even try one.”
“They’re good,” he told Cherry.
“I assume so,” she said. “They come in a special glass and everything.”
“You cantastethe copper,” Stacia said.
“You really can,” Russ agreed. He nudged his chin toward Cherry. “Why don’t you drink?”
“I like to keep my wits about me.”
“Your wits...” he said, stalling out. It sounded so witless that Cherry laughed for the first time.
Russ frowned at her and took a drink.
The Irish folk band kicked it up a notch. They were actuallygood, not just competent. Apparently they were from Kansas City. Their frontman could play every instrument that got handed to him.
A few people had started dancing. Cherry and Stacia—and Russ—got pushed away from the stage, but the three of them stayed together.
Russ seemed actively interested in the music. Not just drinking near it. “I was hoping you swing-danced,” he said to Cherry between songs.
“Why?” She lowered her eyebrows. “Doyouswing-dance?”
He shrugged. “A little.”
“That doesn’t seem like something people do ‘a little’ of. That’s like saying you do ‘a little’karate.”
“Not really.”
“It’s acommitment,” she said. “You have to go to a special place on a special night, you have to wear special clothes...”
Stacia was listening and laughing at them both.
“You’re the one wearing a swing dress,” Russ said to Cherry.
“I just think it’s cute.”
He nodded. “It is cute.”
“I think it’s cool that you swing-dance,” Stacia said. “Is it hard?”
“Not at all.” He was still looking at Cherry. “I could show you...”
“Can you swing-dance tothis?” Cherry tilted her head toward the bagpipe player.
