Page 11 of Beneath the Blue Moon

***Casey***

Hmm… the sheriff is looking mighty scrumptious tonight.

He walked into the bar, and all the other men here faded into insignificance.

He dominates the small space, looking ten feet tall next to everyone else. I

have to say, he’s crossed my mind more than a few times these last couple of

weeks. His blue plaid shirt is tucked neatly into his faded jeans, and every

strand of hair is in place. My fingers are just itching to mess it up. I know

he’s watching me; he hasn’t taken his eyes off me since he got here. I drop my

pen and intentionally bend at the waist to give him a little show. Grabbing a Bud

and the whiskey bottles, I walk back to the end of the bar. When I get there,

that woman is there, the one who wouldn’t help me at the sheriff’s office. I

fix a smile on my face.

“Here you go, boys.”

I snag two glasses from under the bar, add ice, and pour the

drinks. I quickly glance at the woman. She looks pretty nervous and out of

place. Aww hell.

“It’s Mary, right?”

Her gaze falls to the floor. “Yeah.”

“What can I get you, Mary?”

“Um… a beer, I guess.”

“You mind if I suggest somethin’ for you?” I ask.

“Go ahead,” Brick encourages her. “She knows what she’s

doing.”

Her eyes dart to him nervously then she nods. I study her

carefully. She’s pretty, something one probably wouldn’t notice without scrutiny;

she just needs to pay more attention to her appearance. Her brown hair is

pulled back in a tight ponytail, and she looks down so much, you can barely see

her hazel eyes. She’s dressed like her co-workers—jeans and a shirt. Her jeans

are two sizes too big and her top is obviously a man’s. She’s a little plump.

Maybe that’s why she seems so uncomfortable. She just needs a little

confidence.

I walk away and start grabbing ingredients—vodka, gin,

tequila, rum, triple sec, cola, and sour mix. I could make this drink in my

sleep. After scooping ice into a glass, I add the spirits, watching her as she looks

around timidly. What’s wrong with her? You’d think she’d be more

comfortable since she probably knows everyone here. I need to loosen her up. Change

of plans. I’m going to eighty-six the traditional Long Island Iced Tea. I put

away the triple sec, cola, and sour mix, and grab a lemon and the blue curacao.

I squeeze half the lemon into the glass with the spirits and cover it with the

shaker. In another glass, I add ice and the curacao. I give the other mixture a

good shake, strain it into the glass, and give it a stir. I garnish it with a

wedge of lemon, add a straw and place it in front of her.

She looks down at it with a sneer. “It’s blue.”

“Just try it,” I tell her.

The men turn to her as well, and we watch as she takes a

sip. Her eyes widen, and she takes another.

“It’s good. Really good.”

She smiles for the first time tonight, and I decide to make

it my personal mission to ensure she has fun. I don’t know why, but it makes me

feel good… or maybe it’s the smile of approval on the sheriff’s face.

“Sip slowly, darlin’. It can get to you real fast,” I warn.

Nodding, she goes back to her drink. Hmm… I just noticed I’m

even starting to sound like everyone else around here. Where has my New York

accent gone?

“Are you boys gonna sit here all night?” I ask. “Find a lady

and get on the dance floor!”

I grab the air horn from under the bar and let it rip.

Everyone stops what they’re doing and turns toward me.

“Listen up, folks! Looking at all the beautiful

people in this room, there is no reason why everyone shouldn’t be on the dance

floor!” They respond with loud hollering and hooting. “It might be ladies’

night, but it’s raining men. So, ladies, let’s… get… wet!”

The women scream and there’s an immediate exodus to the

dance floor. My job is done.