Page 26 of The Wedding Gift
He and Jorja had worked hard all day long, barely stopping long enough for a sandwich in the middle of the afternoon. He hated to admit it, but the Honky Tonk had taken on a brand-new look with all the decorations. She had plugged in all the lights. Mistletoe hung from the ceiling in four places, and the eight-foot tree looked like something out ofa magazine. He’d made damn sure every inch of garland was strung up somewhere in the bar so he wouldn’t have to fight with the stuff in the apartment bathroom. The room was tiny enough and already had a Christmas shower curtain. He could imagine getting tangled up in garland every time he got out of the shower.
“We are officially open for our first night of business,” Jorja said from behind the bar.
“Yep, and I don’t see people rushing through the doors, even though we’ve got music and plenty of beer and bourbon,” he told her.
Jorja moved around the bar to sit on a stool. He followed her lead but left a seat between them when he chose a place to sit. If they did get customers, he’d be on his feet for the next eight hours, and he’d learned long ago to rest a few minutes when he had a chance.
“You ever worked in a bar?” he asked.
“Nope, but I’ve been in my fair share of them in Nashville,” she answered. “If you can hold down the back side, I reckon I can run the grill and ring up charges.”
“Hey, we made it.” Frankie pushed his way through the door behind a tall redhead who was all decked out in tight jeans and a sweatshirt with Rudolph on the front—and his nose was lit up. Two big bluetick hound dogs ran in withthem, and both the animals were wearing Rudolph antlers. “This here is my girlfriend, Chigger. That’s Jorja”—he pointed across the room as they hung up their coats and hats—“and the guy beside her is Cameron. Them dogs don’t belong to us. They’re Luke Thomas’s huntin’ dogs.”
Frankie whistled shrilly and the dogs ran out the door as if they’d caught the scent of a coyote out in the parking lot. “They come by the bar every few days to see if anyone will buy them a beer.”
“You’re kiddin’, right?” Jorja asked.
“Nope,” Chigger answered for him. “Luke says that they hunt better after they’ve had a beer. He likes to dress them up, even when he takes them huntin’.” Chigger turned and winked at Cameron. “Oh. My. Goodness. It’s a good thing I’m not twenty years younger, or I’d take that cowboy away from you, Jorja.”
“You can have him, but not until after closing time.” Jorja slid off the stool. Not only did she not usually take risks, but she also didn’t believe in signs and omens. Yet, there had been two doves and then, of all things, two hound dogs. She shrugged off the idea that the universe might be trying to tell her something and asked Chigger, “What can we get you?”
“We want bacon cheeseburger baskets and two beers—Coors, longnecks,” Frankie answered. “And me and my girlhere will do some two-steppin’ while you get it ready. She said she was bored, so we got out the four-wheeler to get here tonight. If Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy, most of all this old bowlegged cowboy.”
He grabbed Chigger by the hand and swung her around, then brought her back to his chest for some fancy two-stepping to “Anymore” by Travis Tritt. For such a big man, Frankie sure was a smooth dancer. While Cameron filled a basket with french fries and lowered it into the hot grease, he wondered how it would be to dance with Jorja. Did she even know how to two-step, or was she one of those city girls who went to bars that played loud rock music?
When the song ended, Frankie kept Chigger’s hand in his and led her to a nearby table. The burgers and fries were done, so Jorja arranged them in baskets, set them on a tray with two bottles of Coors, and carried them out.
“Y’all enjoy,” Jorja said.
“You ain’t busy yet, so sit with us a spell.” Chigger motioned to an empty chair.
“Yet?” Jorja asked.
“Like Frankie said, I was bored today so I talked to lots of the folks around here on the phone. You’ll have a full house by eight o’clock. Tell me about yourself. Frankie tells me that Lila and George Jenks are your grandparents. Theytalk about you all the time when they come up here for some dancin’. But”—she dipped a fry in ketchup—“I can’t imagine why you’d ever leave Nashville and move to Mingus.”
“I was tired of the rat race and needed a change of scenery,” Jorja answered.
“Well, honey, you can see all of Mingus in a two-minute tour.” Chigger giggled and then lowered her voice. “But if I was you, I’d just park my butt in this place and stare at the scenery in here.” She glanced toward Cameron and chuckled again. “That is a fine hunk of cowboy behind the bar, and you’ll have to keep a tight rope on him, or else all the single women in Palo Pinto County will be findin’ a way to get next to him. I been down in the dumps all week because this is the year my ex gets my kids for two weeks, but I’m already feelin’ better now that I’m here.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m glad you’re feelin’ better now, and just how many women would that be?” Jorja teased.
“I’d guess maybe a lot, because some of them that ain’t single right now might be by the time New Year’s gets here once they get a look at him,” Chigger answered.
“Well, that’s between him and them,” Jorja said, but a little rush of jealousy filled her heart. She told herself it was because she damn sure didn’t want to sleep on the sofa in the office if he had a woman in the apartment, but the voice in her head said that wasn’t the only reason.
“Honey, there won’t be nothing between him and them but sweat if the women I know have their way about it,” Chigger said.
“Is Chigger your real name?” Jorja changed the subject.
“No, it’s not,” Frankie answered for her. “But she says that only her mama—who has been dead for years—and God know what name is on her birth certificate. That’s why she won’t marry me. She’s afraid I’ll find out her real name.”
She raised an eyebrow at Frankie. “My name is Chigger. I gave myself that name when I was a teenager and figured out how much fun sex could be. Until I got a little older, I could put an itch in a man’s britches that made him feel like he’d been in a patch of chiggers, but I could relieve that itch with a romp in the sheets.”
Jorja’s cheeks burned for the second time that day.
“Don’t blush, darlin’.” Chigger giggled again. “I was ownin’ my sexuality long before women figured out they had the right to like it every bit as much as a man. I hear a couple of doors slammin’. Things are about to start hoppin’ in here. Nice visitin’ with you, and any time you want to get away from here, you just give me a call, and I’ll make supper for you and the cowboy.”
“Thank you.” Jorja pushed the chair back and headed toward the bar.