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B rodie and Gertie agreed to go with me to hear Darryl sing. I pointed my car in the direction of Terrell, a small town filled with a smattering of redneck bars, used car dealerships, run down motels, and an outlet mall.

About twenty minutes later, I exited Highway 34 and took my first right. The bar was lit up like a lighthouse directing the farmers and derelicts into the comfort of its shady shores.

I parked the car in a lot across the street from Mama’s Double Wide. The bar had recently been scoured, exterminated, and reopened with a country themed venue.

A few boot clad couples straggled toward the entrance. We exited the car, and I joined Brodie, who stood staring at the bar. The words Honky Tonk flashed in neon across the front of the building.

“Wha’ the hell’s a honky-tonk?” Brodie asked. The Australian seemed befuddled at the southern bar.

“It’s a club where a bunch of hillbillies get together, drink beer, and listen to Merle Haggard,” I explained.

“And they dance, c’mon!” Gertie tugged Brodie’s hand toward the tin roofed building.

The barn shaped building had whitewashed brick walls painted end to end with a depiction of the Confederate flag. I shrugged off the sensation the Civil War was trying to eek its way into my life and followed them inside.

Laughter and a loud version of the latest Toby Keith song met us as we entered. Cigarette smoke circled upwards toward the gabled roof.

Brodie stopped and stood in the foyer taking it all in. The interior consisted of bricked walls adorned with an artist’s rendition of the Texas and American flags. A huge, painted corrugated metal sign emblazoned with the words Don’t Mess with Texas hung from the balcony projected out from the far wall.

The lighting in the establishment was minimal, with most of the electricity centered on the rustic bar that ran the length of the right wall and the small stage positioned under the balcony across the back wall of the club.

A set of drums bookended by enormous speakers indicated a band played there on occasion. According to Darryl, his set went on at ten.

Peanut shells strewn about the floor crunched under our feet as we made our way inside. Since the live entertainment didn’t start until ten, country music was piped in from speakers hidden around the room. Gertie offered to grab a table, and Brodie moseyed up to the bar for drinks.

I sought out the ladies’ room to powder my nose. After I borrowed the facility and blew a kiss to the life size poster of a cowboy, shirtless and plastered on the bathroom wall, I joined Gertie at a table near the stage.

She was snapping her fingers and singing along with a familiar song when mid-snap her breath caught. Gertie frowned in the direction of the door.

“Don’t look now, but here comes that beotch you went to high school with.”

I turned to see Ragina Hood walking toward me.

Ragina was a year older than me. She had moved to our school in the ninth grade when her father was transferred from Los Angeles. The girls in my school went apeshit when they found out we had a real live 90210 amongst us. She hung with the popular crowd in school, dated Jake for a hot minute, and disliked my friendship with him.

Ragina graduated, and I discovered Glamour Magazine, highlights, and makeup vloggers. The last time she saw me she barely recognized me. Barely.

Caiyan and I were having dinner with Brodie and Gertie at a swanky restaurant in Uptown, complete with firepits and bougie drinks, when Ragina noticed me. She was there with her boyfriend at the time, a semi-pro indoor soccer player who, turned out, played for the other team.

She plopped down at our table and told everyone about brace face Jennifer Cloud. I mentally crawled under the table and planned her demise. Caiyan thought it was cute, Gertie not so much. Her obvious animosity toward me rubbed Gertie the wrong way and she endeared Ragina a nickname.

“Hey Vagina,” Gertie said as Ragina stopped by our table.

“It’s Ragina,” she said, teeth clenched.

“Oh, right, Ragina, my bad,” Gertie said. A wicked smile made her freckles dance.

“Didn’t think I’d see you out and about so soon after your breakup.” Ragina flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulder and eased into the chair next to me.

According to Ragina, a guy like Caiyan was out of my league. At our last meeting, she had slipped him her number under the table. After she left, he told me she was like a Tootsie Pop. All the good stuff was on the outside. He tossed the napkin adorned with her number into the firepit, making me ecstatic. I showed him my thanks later that evening.

“Breakup?” I questioned. How did she know Caiyan and I weren’t together? For cripes sake, I only found out recently.

“What are you talking about?” Gertie asked.

“You know, your breakup with the sexy Scottish guy.”

I glanced over at Gertie.

“Oh, poor you. You haven’t seen the latest on Gossip Gal?”

She dug in her Boite Chapeau Louis Vuitton bag and retrieved her smartphone. Holding it up for scary face recognition, she tapped the screen, careful not to damage her pointed, red, bedazzled nail.

“Here’s the post.” She turned the phone toward me.

I took it from her, attempting to hide my jagged cuticles. Gertie leaned over my shoulder and read along with me.

The latest feed from Gossip Gal, a celebrity stalker turned blogger, displayed on the screen. Cradled in a heart swoosh, a picture of a smiling Caiyan and Mahlia captioned All my best to the Happy Couple! G.G. XOXO.

The smaller print read Scottish Lord to wed Mafuso Motors princess Saturday afternoon on the second of July.

My stomach rolled. “Things didn’t go as planned,” I said, handing back her phone. Where was Brodie with our beers?

“I guess he figured out a southern girl wasn’t his cup of tea,” she said, returning her phone to her bag.

Brodie set three long-necked beer bottles down on the table. I upended mine before he took his seat. “Yer the dingo from Jen’s high school,” Brodie said to Ragina.

I tried to hide a smile. Ragina had no idea what the word meant. She smiled wide at Brodie’s rugged Keith Urban persona.

“Why, yes I am.” Ragina leaned toward him as he took the seat next to Gertie. She blinked twice when Gertie leaned over and kissed Brodie complete with lots of tongue action to ensure Ragina took the hint. This Aussie’s taken.

“PDA, already…” She wrinkled her nose at the lip-locked couple.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. The dive bar was not the normal hangout for the uptight homecoming queen.

“My grandfather was a prominent photojournalist and a descendant of Civil War photographer Mathew Brady.” She flipped her brown hair aside. “Anyhow, when my grandfather died, he left me all these Civil War photos and the owner of the bar wants to check them out. He might buy them from me to display in the bar.”

“Shouldn’t you donate them to a museum?” Gertie paused from staking a claim on Brodie to ask.

“Yes, you should donate them,” I said, remembering Caiyan’s promise to Mr. Raney.

“No way. The museum won’t pay. The owner of the club’s offering top dollar. We’re discussing it over drinks tonight.”

The music changed, and Gertie squealed at Brodie. “Let’s go dance. I’ll teach you how to do the Cotton-Eye Joe.”

Brodie mouthed, “I know how,” to Ragina and me as he followed Gertie to hook up with the other line dancers.

“Can I take a look at the photos?” I asked Ragina.

“You can see them hanging on the wall after I get paid.” Ragina hugged her bag tightly to her middle.

“Just asking.”

“How are you going to mend that broken heart of yours after your ex-hunk ties the knot with the gorgeous rich New Yorker?” She placed her hand over her heart in feigned interest.

Typical Ragina. Trying to bring me to tears over my broken relationship. If I wasn’t careful, she’d snap a pic of me drowning my sorrows in beer and send it to Gossip Gal.

I lifted my chin and tried to think of some snappy remark to let her know I wasn’t suffering over the news of Caiyan’s impending marriage when a man encircled me from behind and kissed me my neck.

Ragina’s eyes grew wide. I stiffened, ready to karate chop the frisky asshole, then relaxed as the familiar scent of Marco followed.

“There you are, gorgeous, I’ve been looking for you,” Marco said as he grabbed the chair opposite Ragina.

I smiled at him.

“Who’s this?” he asked me, nodding toward Ragina.

“Oh, sorry, this is Ragina. An old friend from high school.” I turned toward Ragina. “This is Marco, my uhm…”

“Fuck buddy,” he finished my sentence.

I watched Ragina lick her lips as she took in Marco’s blue eyes and solid, muscular body.

The rich tone of Patsy Cline’s voice came over the speakers. “This one belongs to me,” he said and pointed to the dance floor.

My inner voice donned her square-dancing attire, but I held up my beer as if to protest.

He snagged the bottle from me and downed the remainder of my beer. He took my hand and led me from my chair to the dance floor.

Ragina’s mouth hung open as Marco pulled me in tight to his chest. We swayed to the music.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him.

“My sister shared the latest on Gossip Gal and I decided you needed a friend. I texted Brodie and he told me your plans for tonight. Gertie just sent me an SOS. What’s her story?” He cut his eyes toward Ragina.

“Ragina dated Jake in high school. She didn’t like our friendship, and he dumped her.”

“I take it she wasn’t happy when the two of you became a couple?”

I inhaled Marco’s freshly showered scent, and the cologne he wore made my toes tingle.

“Nope, and although we didn’t last, she still has a vendetta against me.”

“Let’s give her something to be jealous of.” Marco leaned in and kissed me. Long and deep. The kind of kiss seen on the big screen. The kiss where the couple’s lips met perfectly, and you could tell by the tilt of the hero’s head and the way he cradled the female lead, the guy was an amazing kisser.

My boy howdy lit up like a jet engine ready for takeoff. Any minute, I would turn into the Human Torch from the Fantastic Four . I broke the kiss and stared into his eyes.

“I think I broke a sweat,” he cracked a smile and pulled me closer. The song’s melody played, I’m crazy, crazy for feeling so blue.

When the song ended, we returned to the table, and I was thankful Brodie had ordered another round. Ragina had deserted us for a gaggle of girlfriends at a nearby table. I sat down next to Brodie and he handed me a beer.

“You’re gonna need this to extinguish those flames, mate.”

“That was some kiss,” Gertie announced. “Reminded me of the Top Gun Kiss.”

“No, ya wrong. I’d say it had Gone with The Wind quality,” Brodie teased.

“Just giving the school chum something to stew over,” Marco said, taking a drink of his beer then glancing over at Brodie. “You really think it was up to Rhett Butler’s standards?”

“OK, stop. The kiss was merely a ruse to make Ragina go away, and it worked.”

This statement got three bottles raised, and I clinked them with mine.

I gave Ragina a finger wave from our table. Ragina ignored me and joined her plastics typing on their phones.

“I swear she took a pic of you with Marco,” Gertie said.

Damn, maybe Ragina wasn’t the only one who’d witness the movie star kiss. Positive Caiyan didn’t follow Gossip Gal, I chastised myself for worrying over what he would think about me with another man. He was engaged to Mahlia for cripes sake, and they had set a date for the wedding. The reality the marriage might happen made my heart heavy.

Distracted from my worries by the announcement for Darryl to begin his set, I set my beer down to applaud. There was a hum-ho clap from the crowd.

Darryl began strumming his guitar and sang his rendition of Chris Janson’s song Buy Me a Boat . I wasn’t sure what to expect, but to my surprise, Darryl had a good voice. The redneck crowd went crazy over the song and every song Darryl sang for the remainder of the set.

“Thanks for comin’ out y’all!” Darryl announced into the microphone. “It’s time for me to take a break.” A few boos echoed. “But we’ll have a round of karaoke while I quench my thirst.” Darryl hopped off the stage and joined us at our table. A waitress came over with a glass of water for Darryl.

“How ’bought a round of beer for my cousins and their friends,” Darryl signaled to the waitress.

“Thanks bloke, none for me. I’m the designated driver.” I realized Brodie had only two beers after we arrived and had shifted to sipping water.

Gertie introduced Darryl to Marco and Brodie. The waitress delivered a pitcher of draft beer and four glasses. Darryl poured each of us a glass, minus Brodie, and we toasted to his first successful night on stage. We listened as a few people gave their best efforts at karaoke.

After we finished off the pitcher of beer, Darryl, overexcited about the reception he received from the crowd, ordered a round of tequila shots to celebrate.

Darryl was announced back to the stage. The rounds of beer and shots kept coming as we listened to his next set.

By the time Darryl finished his set, I was licking the salt off Marco’s hand, throwing back the Jose Cuervo, and sharing a lime from between his teeth. I thanked him again for the tactical maneuver he spawned on the dance floor.

“Ragina has always been a thorn in my side,” I said to Marco and emptied the last of my beer.

“That beotch needed a taste of her own medicine,” Gertie said.

As Darryl took his break, he announced the mic was open for karaoke again. Gertie jumped up on the stage and gave us a rendition of Achy Breaky Heart . She received a standing ovation from the crowd.

“Jen you should go sing. It’s liberating,” Gertie said when she returned to the table.

“Nope, not gonna happen,” I told her, but my words seemed slow and I couldn’t help myself from smiling at everyone.

A pretty girl with purple hair sang a Carrie Underwood song and I envisioned myself carving my name into the leather seats of Caiyan’s Maserati.

“Let’s go, Cloud,” Gertie drug me up to the stage and I blinked at the faces staring back at me. Marco and Brodie were whooping words of encouragement.

I’d had plenty of liquid courage. Gertie began with the lyrics to one of our favorite songs, Pistol Annies’ I Got My Name Changed Back . I joined her and embodied Miranda Lambert. By the end of the song we had the entire place, including Ragina and her plastics, boppin’ on the dance floor. People crowded in front of the stage wiggling in time with the music and shouting for an encore.

Darryl brought us another shot to the stage. It was followed by a song. Then it went shot, song, shot, song, until I plucked the microphone from its stand and went from the stage to the bar, leaving Gertie standing speechless at the empty microphone stand.

I sang and gyrated my way down the epoxy coated bar top turning over drinks until a pair of strong arms removed me from the limelight. Marco waved to the crowd as they applauded my performance.

“What’re you doing?” I asked, my words slurring just a tad. “I’m schlinging.”

“If you do another shot, I’m afraid your clothes are coming off. And I’d rather remove them in private.”

Darryl began his third set, and somewhere along the way I recalled lying across the back seat of Gertie’s car with my head in Marco’s lap and Brodie behind the wheel.

The last thing I remembered was reaching up and touching the deep indention in Marco’s chin and watching it wink as he spoke to Brodie. “Hurry up, Aussie.”