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“Yes, well…I should let you go. I hope I didn’t bother you,” I stammer.
“Hey, why would you ever imagine you’re bothering me?”
“Because you haven’t called all week and I respect that you have your life and I have mine, and I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time. That’s all.”
“Not at all Cookie. Not at all. I’ll call you soon, okay?”
“I don’t need you to call me, okay? I’m just saying…you usually do and you haven’t and I don’t like to bother people. I don’t need anyone to talk to.”
“Okay, okay. How about you call me next time you want?”
“Oh God Quade, can’t we just be normal?! Forget it. I’ll talk to you when I talk to you. Bye. And thanks for listening. I appreciated it. Bye.” I hang up feeling like the difficult bitch that I am.
I can’t fathom why I’m so upset, but Quade never did address his silent treatment to my satisfaction. And I wasn’t about to ask about that night last week. It still gives me the heebie jeebies…I should be relieved he hasn’t called lately. Perching my laptop and a glass of wine on the circular, marble tubside table, I pour myself a hot bubble bath. It’s time to unwind, get Quade and Maxine out of my head, and do some planning for the upcoming conference weekend.
Chapter 6
Bo
I don’t often hit the bar on Wednesday nights, but I’ve gone and done somethin impulsive. I think I’ll head out and see if I cain’t find Jose tonight.
Sure enough, as I pull into the parking gravel for Cowboy Saloon, his Mustang’s in its usual spot.
“Big Bo! What’s up man? Get your ass in here!” Jose’s never lacking in encouragement, as I enter the dim corridor of the bar.
“Hey bro, how’s it goin?” I reach out and pat his back as he flags down the bartender.
“Can I get you a beer?” he asks. “Hey Kiana,” he calls to the bartender without hesitation, “get this man a Lagunitas on me.” He slaps my back in return and clinks his Miller Lite against my freshly opened bottle. “What brings you out on a Wednesday, man?”
I turn up my bottle and take a long pull before answering that. “Well Jose, I decided to set certain events in motion towards the possible betterment of my future.”
Jose looks at me like I’m an alien. “Dude, man, you’re so…nerdy for a great big fucker. You know that?” I put my head down to laugh, feelin self-conscious but humored all the same. Jose’s a straight talker, and I dig that about him. “Bo, man, I wanna be happy for you, but what is it you’re trying to communicate man?”
I take another good swig and half my bottle’s empty. “Jose, it’s about my lady Fiona.”
Jose looks away with a smirk, mumbling something in Spanish.
“No come on man,” I press on. “Hear me out here, okay? I’m takin steps…you should be proud of me.”
“Okay. Like what kind of steps?”
“I signed up to attend a florist conference over in Ft Lauderdale that I happen to know she attends every year. That’s what.”
Now Jose’s eyes light up. He’s startin to get the picture. “So like, you’re gonna meet her there and then what… you’re gonna have one of those long distance relationships or something man? That ain’t gonna work, you know?”
“Hey now, don’t be so pessimistic. Who says it cain’t work, and besides…I ain’t askin you about that. I’m tellin you…I’m gonna meet this woman, I’m gonna love this woman, and I’m gonna make her mine. That’s how this is gonna go down bro. And now, you can challenge me on that all you want to, but you’re gonna find out soon enough.” One more swig and my Lagunitas is toast.
Jose’s been lookin skeptical, but now his expression breaks into the smiling laughter he’s famous for. Jose’s a good natured guy, among the best of men. He just doesn’t ever wanna see me get hurt and I love him for that.
“Hey, Bo, I’ll dance at your wedding. Okay man? I believe in you man.” He eyes my empty bottle as he drains his own. “Another round?”
“Sure thing bro. This one’s on me.”
We sink into the next round without conversation. Jose’s eyes wander between Kiana’s movements and a group of dudes shootin pool. I know what he’s thinkin…that I’m takin a huge risk, that I should cozy up to one of the single regulars at this bar, that I’m nuts. But I also know what I know, and I can’t quite explain how I do.
When I was a boy of fourteen, one of the last things my mamma ever told me was that I had the gift. She said she had it too, came from her Apalachee Indian roots. I remember the way she looked at me that day, with her dark black eyes, somberly…as though she knew somethin dreadful that she couldn’t say. And the way she held onto my hug before goin out to the barn that night, and wouldn’t let me follow. All she said was that Pappa needed help with the horses, and that it wasn’t safe for me to go too…
I’m startled out of my reverie when Jose reaches over and pats me on the back. “You okay there buddy, you’re looking really far off somewhere.”
