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She laughed at herself and looked at Kathy Ann, who smiled widely and then glanced at me for approval. I shrugged.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be considered responsible,” I said, “young or old.”

She liked that.

“Yes, we’re going to have a good ole time of it tonight. If you listen to us and watch us carefully, Kathy Ann, you might even lose your virginity,” she said, and laughed again.

Kathy Ann looked to me, but I walked ahead, still thinking about the way the sparks flew around Keefer Dawson.

There was a long line at the entrance of Stumpin‘ Jumpin’, but Charlotte Lily took us around on the inside of the crowd, and when we approached, her sister’s boyfriend glanced at our fake IDs and just stepped out of the way. Kathy Ann looked excited enough to explode.

The moment we entered, the music washed over us like an ocean wave. The dance hall itself was a long, dark room with sofas and tables and drapes, giving the impression you were in someone’s house, except that there was a large dance floor and to the right a long bar with a half-dozen bartenders, all with black cowboy hats, black suspenders holding up jeans, and no shirts.

They were all well-built, good-looking men. The bar was already jammed, mostly with what looked to me like college-age women flirting with the bartenders. Small spotlights combed through the dancers as the beat grew quicker and the volume of the music was turned up another notch or two. It was very hard to hear anyone talk, but no one cared, even though people sitting side by side at the bar were literally shouting at each other.

Waitresses in cowgirl outfits and fancy, glittering boots took orders from those seated on the sofas. We were just standing, drinking it all in, when suddenly Charlotte Lily saw someone she recognized.

“C’mon,” she screamed, pulling at my arm. “There’s Wyatt Baxter. He goes to Tennessee State.”

I didn’t know how she could see anyone through the thick jungle of swinging bodies. We wove our way through to three young men sitting and drinking at one of the sofa and coffee table setups. One of them recognized Charlotte as we approached and broke into a wide smile.

“Hey, Charlotte Lily, I was hoping you’d be here tonight,” he cried, standing.

“I haven’t seen you here in a while,” she said.

“Busy, busy in summer school session,” he said, shaking his head. “Who are your friends?” he asked, focusing mainly on me.

“This is Robin. She’s new to Nashville. Surely you remember Kathy Ann?”

“Oh,” he said, looking at her. “Yeah, yeah. How ya doin‘, Kathy Ann?”

“Just fine, thanks,” she said.

“I’m Wyatt,” he told me, and extended his hand. He was a little less than six feet tall, with an athletic build and dirty-blond hair, the strands of which lay trim over the top of his forehead.

I shook his hand, but he didn’t let go of mine. Instead, he pulled me a bit closer because of the loud music and screamed, “This is Axel Farmer.” He pointed to the stout boy in the middle with dull brown eyes and a military-style haircut. He looked as big as the security guards at the door. “Axel’s a linebacker on the football team. And that there is Birdy Williams,” he said, pointing to the third boy, who was lean and had an interesting, sensitive-looking face. “He plays trumpet in the marching band, and he’s in a jazz band on the side, thus we call him Birdy, after Bird, the famous jazz musician. Hey, make some room, Birdy,” he ordered.

Birdy shifted to the left. Charlotte Lily moved quickly to the open seat.

“You wanna dance?” Wyatt asked me.

The music changed to something more rock than western. I looked at Charlotte Lily, who seemed already interested in Birdy Williams. Grandma would say she had “wandering eyes” and was never satisfied.

“I guess,” I said.

“Hey, Axel, order a round of drinks for everyone, will ya,” Wyatt ordered. “What do you want?”

I wasn’t sure what to order.

Charlotte Lily piped up with, “Get us three Saddle Soaps.”

“You heard her, Axel,” Wyatt said, and pulled me toward the dance floor. When I looked back, I saw the waitress taking the drink orders and then Axel asking Kathy Ann to dance.

The truth was, I had never been to a dance club before this. I had gone to some of the honky-tonks Mother darling sang in, and most had a dance floor, but there was nothing that compared to this. The frenzy, the loud music, the exciting lights were all hypnotizing. Wyatt was a good dancer, too. I copied some of his moves and we danced into the next song, which was more country western. I wasn’t into the beat as well and unsure of my steps, so he leaned over and shouted, “Let’s get a drink.”

I found out Saddle Soap was some kind of draft beer. It tasted very good, and after working up a sweat dancing, I found it very enjoyable. I drank it fast. Wyatt saw that and hooked a waitress to bring me another.

“You go to school with Charlotte Lily?” Wyatt asked.