Page 58 of After 5
“After we know the date, I’ll decide who goes,” Jake said.
Jake was making me insane with all his overbearing goodness.
Brodie leaned against the kitchen counter. “Mark my words, whatever Caiyan has plotted out, it will be good in the end. The guy always comes out smelling like a rose.”
Dead roses smelled, too.
Chapter 11
Brodie 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 wordsDon’t Mess with Texashung 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.
