“Youare gonna ride a bull?”
“God no... I’m gonna ride a bull rider.”
“Ugh. You know you can keep some thoughts inside your head, right?” I try to shake that particular mental image of my cousin out of my mind.
“Where’s the fun in that?” He smirks.
“Dislikin’ Dolly Parton is like dislikin’ puppies. It says more about you than it does about them,” Noah lectures as we make our way inside a bar called ‘Wild Boars’.
“I didn’t say I disliked her. Only that I think there are better country singers.”
“She’s an icon, Sammy. Respectfully, you’re wrong.”
I roll my eyes in response; there’s no point in arguing with Noah when he gets like this. Plus, he enjoys bickering too much. It’s like a sport for him.
The Wild Boar is a cliché of a country bar in Nashville, which I suppose is why we chose it. When I told Noah about Mum riding a mechanical bull while she was here, he declared it was going on the ‘must-do’ list for this trip. So, here we are.
Noah gets us both a beer from the bar, and I find a spot in the corner to people-watch.
“It’s busier than I thought it would be on a Thursday night,” I say to Noah as people begin piling into the bar wearing cowboy hats and boots.
“Yeah… about that...”
I arch an eyebrow at him in suspicion. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. But it might also be line dancing night…”
“Oh god,” I groan. “I thought we were just gonna ride the stupid bull and go home. We have to drive for like seven hours tomorrow!”
“I’m gonna give you a moment to hear yourself.” Noah takes a large sip of his beer, and yeah, okay. He has a point. I sound like an old man.
Half an hour later, the bar is filled with people, and a loud southern drawl comes through the speakers, asking everyone to make their way onto the dancefloor.
Noah returns from the bar with two shots. “For courage. Bottoms up!”
I neck the shot and wince at the burn in the back of my throat as it goes down. Fucking tequila.
The steps are easy to follow, so I pick them up quickly, but Noah appears to have two left feet and keeps going in the wrong direction. By the time we’re a few songs in, I’m shocked to find I’m enjoying myself. However, when I glance around me, Noah has disappeared, and I’m surrounded by about fifteen women. I gulp because most of them look to be at least twenty years older than me, and they survey me like lions eyeing up a tasty deer. Smiling politely at the few women closest to me, I make a swift escape and head to the men’s room.
The restroom is small: only one cubicle in the corner (seemingly occupied by two people from what I can hear), a trough-style urinal occupies most of the far wall, and a tiny sink by the door. It stinks of stale urine and beer, and as I walk, the soles of my feet stick to the tacky floor. Lovely. I can’t help but wrinkle my nose in disgust.
Not wanting to spend longer in here than necessary, I quickly piss in the urinal, and as I’m washing my hands, Noah walks out of the cubicle… with company.
Noah owns it, looking smug as ever, but the guy looks like a deer in headlights when he clocks that I’ve spotted them. Heappears to be in his early thirties and he’s almost as big as I am, but with dark blonde hair and a week or so of scruff on his face.
“We were just… erm… having a private conversation,” the man stutters in their defence. Noah doesn’t help the situation by snickering.
“That’s my cousin.” I point to Noah. “So I’m gonna choose to believe that lie.” The man’s shoulders droop in relief, and he makes his excuses before dashing out the door. “Come on, let’s go ride a fuckin' bull so I can go to bed already.”
“Would you like a peppermint tea first, Grandma?” Noah asks
“You joke, but that sounds fuckin’ delightful, actually.”
Chapter Four
Las Vegas, NV
Vegas is fucking loud. And bright. It’s kind of a nightmare if I’m being honest. Luckily, we’re only here for two nights, and then we’ll start heading towards more remote places for the rest of the trip.Noah threw a spanner in my itinerary by refusing, in his words, 'to drive for twenty-five hours through the middle of fucking nowhere America' in order to get to Vegas. So I caught a flight, and he met me here.
