“Cards, anyone?” No one was more surprised than Charlie to hear the words fly out of his mouth. He just wanted Jean to be happy, and ideally also to change the subject so Smithson would stop monologuing about his personal awesomeness.
“What are we playing?” Emma asked, setting down the notebook in which Charlie imagined she’d been writingSMITHSON SUCKSover and over.
“Um, poker?”
“That’s for tomorrow, sweetheart.” Mrs. Pike handed him a basket of cheese straws, tipping her head to indicate he should pass them around. “We’re taking everyone up to Deadwood to see a real saloon. But good for you, being sociable,” she added, patting him on the arm.
“How about horseshoes? Would you like to play with me, Eve?” He felt the color creeping into his cheeks when he heard how it sounded, but hopefully no one else could tell by firelight. At least it wasn’t cornhole, a name Charlie could never say without cringing.
“I had you down as more of a library warrior, Two Buck.” Smithson laughed, but Charlie had seen the mean look in hiseye, and knew it wasn’t a friendly nickname. “Two Buck Chuck. Get it?”
Before Charlie could answer, Smithson turned to Mr. Pike. “About time for the announcement, don’t you think, big guy?”
Charlie’s dad had always been sensitive about his height. Mugsy’s theory was that many of the problems in their relationship stemmed from the fact that Charlie was several inches taller than Mr. Pike. Whether or not that was true, Smithson had cracked the code for sweet-talking Charlie’s father, who rubbed his hands together in delight.
Uh-oh.Charlie had a bad feeling. Mugsy joined them, frowning at the geometry of the scene: Smithson and Mr. Pike over there, Charlie standing apart.
“They’re about fifteen minutes out,” she informed Charlie’s dad.
Jean glanced sharply at Mugsy, then at Charlie, before lowering her head so her hair fanned in front of her face.
Smithson handed his beer to a guy in a flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off. “Listen up, y’all. Everybody getting their cowboy on tonight? I feel like Kevin Costner!”
“Hear, hear!” said Mr. Pike.
“Give it up for the Pike family, for putting on this spread. Charles and Sandy, and of course my boy Chuck.” He hit Charlie with double finger guns. “Let’s show them some love.” There was a smattering of applause.
Jean shot Charlie a furious look.
“I’m not his boy,” he whispered. “He’s just saying that.”
“Now, we promised you entertainment,” Smithson went on, like this was his show. “Some of you had your suspicions about our special guest.”
“Reba,” Haggard of the red-hot cocktails bellowed.
Smithson frowned. “It’s not Reba.”
“Crystal Gayle?” one of the Canadians asked.
“Never heard of her.” Smithson circled a finger in the air. “Come on, people. It’s obvious. Huge star. Totally on brand with the fam.”
“You have Dolly?”
Charlie thought that might have been the whiskey guy, but it was hard to tell once everyone started buzzing about Dolly Parton. A tuneless rendition of “Jolene” was floating through the crowd when Smithson clanged a cowbell he must have pried out of the hands of one of the musicians.
“It’s not Dolly. Or The Chicks. Or Beyoncé,” he added when the pear brandy guy from Oregon raised a hand. “Hit it,” he yelled at the band.
Mugsy rubbed her mouth. Charlie wasn’t aware she felt that way about bluegrass, but maybe mandolin music was like cilantro: either you liked it, or it made you physically ill. Between the warbling and the jangling and the whine of the harmonica, it took a few minutes for his brain to travel from “that sounds familiar” to “oh no.”
He watched awareness spread through the group, more and more of them turning to stare at him. Charlie’s dad was clapping along, encouraging everyone to join in, like this wasn’t a song about his son’s alleged sex life. Overshadowing the embarrassment was a sharp prick of fear: Did Jean know? He tried to catch her eye, but she was staring at the ground, spine rigid.
So that was a yes.
“That’s right,” Smithson yelled, “Adriana Asebedo is playing a private concert, right here, Sunday night!”
While everyone celebrated around them, Charlie turned to Mugsy. “Did you know about this?”
Her wince said it all.
