Page 26 of Love Is a War Song

“This looks intense,” I shouted up to Davey’s ear. He was so much taller than me. He leaned down a little. His eyes were scanning the crowd, no doubt looking for his fiancée.

“You’ll figure it out. The steps repeat themselves, so you’ll get practice and be good at it before the end of the song.”

“No one will recognize me here, will they?”

“I doubt it. Why?”

“Oh, no reason. Other than I am public enemy number one and the most canceled pop star since Justin Timberlake got his DUI.”

“Justin Timberwho?” Red interjected. Davey laughed.

“Never mind.”

“Ain’t nobody here who’d lay a finger on Lottie Fox’s granddaughter.” Davey patted my shoulder. I felt tiny with his big hand.

“Her reputation extends farther than just the ranch?”

“Her reputation extends through all of eastern Oklahoma.”

“Lottie was a hellion back in the day. Barrel racing, shooting contests, the works,” Red added. “She can shoot better than anyone here. Her shot is always straight and through.”

I nodded. I was safe, that was what I was most concerned about. All the stomping made the floor vibrate, and the music flowed through me. I felt the energy around me and was itching to dance.

“What do we do first?” I asked.

“We drink,” Davey said. I could get behind that. “There’s my girl. I’ll link back with y’all later.”

Davey stalked toward a tall, leggy Black woman—Mary Beth.

Her eyes were smoldering as she sauntered toward him.

Mary Beth was in a cute short floral dress and brown cowgirl boots, her hair was shoulder-length and blown out and styled in big bouncy curls.

She launched herself into his arms and wrapped her legs around Davey’s torso.

She kissed him deeply and with such longing I had to look away to give them privacy.

Never in my life had I ever felt such longing and passion for a partner.

Davey had mentioned over dinner that she lived in Tulsa and traveled all around to work on shoeing horses, so they didn’t live together yet, because his job was on the ranch.

They were saving up for a little house with some land of their own between Lottie’s place and where Mary Beth’s business was.

So, for most of the week, they were apart from each other, carrying on with their jobs.

The wedding was still a little ways away, and seeing their reunion now, it was evident that staying apart was difficult.

I wanted that for me one day, where being away from my partner was like losing a part of myself. I’d read enough romances—I wanted that all-consuming, passionate, forever-and-always kind of love.

“I see some of my buddies over there.” Red jutted his chin at a high-top table at the back of the place, and around it was a group of five graying men drinking from longnecks.

“You wanna dance with me?” I asked him.

“Oh no, it’s been some years since I could keep up with what they’re doin’. Line dancing ain’t what it used to be. If a two-step comes on, I’ll join ya. I don’t think you’ll be hurtin’ for dance partners though.” He nodded at some young men who walked by eyeing me and tipping their cowboy hats.

Red nodded his goodbye and headed to the table of his friends. It was just me and Lucas left, standing in the honky-tonk.

“Want to buy me a drink?” I looked up, batting my eyelashes at him, hoping he would soften a little toward me and also buy me a drink, because while it was payday for the men, I wasn’t paid and I hadn’t received any money in the mail from my mom.

I was flat broke. And I hoped no one at the bar would card me, because I didn’t even have my ID.

Lucas, with his hands in his denim pockets, looked down at me with a raised eyebrow. “No.”

“I don’t mean romantically. I just don’t have any money.” It was like our horseback ride never happened.

He shrugged. “There’s free water in those dispensers over there. Have fun.” He clapped my back and then walked away into the crowd.

I stared at his retreating form, fighting the urge to give him the double bird. I tickled the man once and now he was avoiding me. The drinks couldn’t cost more than five dollars here.

Well, I didn’t need him. There were several ways to get a free drink and the easiest was to talk to that group of cowboys who already showed interest in me.

I wasn’t proud of it and the inner feminist in me cringed, but a lady’s gotta do what a lady’s gotta do.

It was the oldest hustle known to man. Batting my eyes didn’t work on Lucas, but there were a couple hundred people here. It would work on at least one of them.

I’d never been to a country-western dance hall before, nor have I line danced. So, when Davey said to wear my dancing shoes, those were my regular four-inch stilettos, clear strappy ones. I wore my blue paisley–pattern silk handkerchief dress that tied behind my neck in a halter.

Looking around at all the denim booty shorts and miniskirts, I stuck out like a sore thumb. No woman here was wearing anything higher than a two-and-a-half-inch heel on their boots.

I approached the bar, scooting in next to the tallest member of the cowboy group who leaned against the bar top.

“Hi,” I said, and smiled. Flirting in Hollywood was simple.

No one was ever actually looking for a connection though.

Everyone was out looking to see if the next person they encountered had something that could benefit them.

How could you tell the difference? Within the first three questions you would be asked What do you do?

and if you answered with a regular job, the conversation usually ended there.

How did I know? Because I had done it countless times.

It was judgy and jaded and I was over it.

“Howdy,” the tall cowboy said, using his finger to tilt the front of his hat down.

“Come here often?” I asked. It was corny, but I was a fish out of water here.

“Every Friday. Never seen you before, you new in town?”

“I am. I need some friends. Want to be my friend?”

He smiled, as if he caught me easily. “What do you want to drink?” he asked.

Sucker . I caught him easily, but I let him think it was him that caught me. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.” I rested my elbow on the sticky bar. Disgusting. I immediately removed it.

The tall cowboy motioned to the bartender for two beers.

“What’s your name, pretty?”

“Avery.”

“Avery, I’m Austin.”

The bartender popped the tops off and set the beers in front of us. Austin handed me mine and clinked the neck.

“How do you plan on dancing in those?” he asked as he took a swig.

“I’ve danced in worse conditions.” This was true.

His eyes bulged. “So you’re a dancer ? Like an exotic dancer?”

“No, I’m a professional dancer, like I tour.” Even if I was a stripper, that work was real work—it wouldn’t make me less of a woman or less deserving of respect. I needed to move on to a different cowboy.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. We don’t have many types of dancers here…” Austin let his sentence trail off, probably knowing full well he put his foot in his mouth.

“Well, thanks for the beer,” I said, and stepped away to find someone else to get me another.

Then another.

Then another.

The night was turning into a blur, and I was now on the dance floor trying to keep up with the steps for all the dances.

“All right, everyone, it’s the moment y’all have been waiting for. We are gonna do the Caliente!” the caller announced over the speakers.

The crowd went wild.

“What’s the Caliente?” I yelled over the commotion to my dance partner. Was it Dale? Or was that the other guy in the green shirt and Bass Pro Shops trucker hat? This one was in a muscle tank top and the tightest jeans I had ever seen a man wear, and I partied in WeHo.

“It’s the fastest dance she’s got. It’s fun, but you gotta really watch your feet,” Maybe Dale yelled over the crowd.

My head was starting to spin but the DJ started playing the song. It was a mix of something familiar but sped up like crazy. I knew I’d heard the song before.

“Jai Ho!”

“Oh my god!” I shouted. “Is this the Pussycat Doll version of the song from Slumdog Millionaire ?”

Maybe Dale only shrugged. It was! Why the fuck was a country-western dance called Caliente done to a Bollywood song, and not even the original song, but the Pussycat Dolls’ version?

The track then transitioned into another country song and everyone cheered, while still pivoting and pointing their toes.

I couldn’t keep up with the turns and steps.

Then there was Lucas resting against a high-top, watching me as a group of men chatted around him.

He gave me one of his infamous subtle blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smiles and tipped his hat at me before looking away.

I flushed crimson. It was time to turn again, and I crashed into a girl in a hot pink crop top and her date.

“Watch it!” they shouted and pushed me away.

I stumbled and rolled my ankle. Wincing, I pushed and squeezed my way off the dance floor with a limp. I needed water.

I got a plastic cup from on top of the cold-water dispenser when another cowboy leaned his elbow on top.

“Hey there.” He winked.

I just kept eyeing the water to fill my cup to the brim.

“Been watching you on the dance floor.”

“Have you?”

“It was like you were putting on a show just for me.”

“Just for you? I have never even met you before. I’m just havin’ fun, dude.”

“Wanna get out of here and have some real fun with me?”

“No.” I started chugging the water; it was gone too soon. I immediately started filling the cup again.

“Ah, come on, gorgeous. Your feet have got to be killin’ you in those shoes. I got a big truck in the parking lot with an extra-wide back seat row.” He wiggled his eyebrows as he chewed on the end of a toothpick.

Over the rim of the plastic cup, I leveled him my strongest get-the-fuck-away-from-me stare, but he appeared undeterred. Instead, he only leaned closer and took my upper arm.