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But there was no way in hell I was going to admit that.
“Sure. No problem.”
“Thanks; I’m worried about her. I would fly back, but?—”
“No, it’s good; I got you.” I knew this was his busiest time of year with fire season. And I also knew how independent Ruby was and how much she’d hate for him to do that.
“Thanks, man.” I could hear the relief in his tone, and it only made me feel worse about the thoughts I’d had regarding his sister. “We’ll talk soon.”
“Yeah.” I disconnected the call, and before I could pull away from the curb, another call came in.
It was Hudson Reed, who was a deputy sheriff. Over the past year or so, there has been a serious uptick in drug-related offenses and overdoses, so an inter-departmental task force was formed in an effort to shut down one of the biggest meth and opioid operations in the state. Hud and I were the point people for each of our respective departments.
“Hey, Hud,” I answered.
“Hey, I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No, I’m not on nights.”
“Good.” He sounded relieved before explaining that he had gotten a tip-off about a farm that was in Wishing Well city limits but near the county line. If the intel was good, the top of the food chain in the criminal organization behind the crisis was holed up there. We needed to sit on the property, so we wouldn’t be going in blind. That meant twenty-four-hour surveillance.
“I’ll run it up the line and get back to you.” It was difficult enough to get overtime approved when it was just my department, with two people involved, it was a bureaucratic nightmare.
“Hey, since you’re still on days, what are you doin’ Friday night?” he asked.
“Nothin’. Harp’s going to be at a sleepover.”
“Harmony’s having a girl’s night, so JJ, Colton, and I are goin’ to the Cow for a beer if you wanna stop by.”
I didn’t really drink, so going out was not high on my list of things to do. But maybe a night out wouldn’t be so bad. It might take my mind off Ruby. Maybe my reaction to her had more to do with my nonexistent dating life. It was better than staying at home thinking about the fact that she would be leaving the next day. At least a night out would be a distraction. One that I desperately needed.
7
RUBY
“If you don’t have anything nice to say, come sit next to me.” ~ Miss Dottie
“I can do this,” I said to myself as I took a deep breath and stared up at the entrance of The Tipsy Cow. I’d been sitting in my car for the past twenty minutes, putting the pro in crastinating.
Why had I agreed to come here?
For the past week, the only places I’d gone were the trailer park and the senior home to visit Dottie. My plan had been to do the same today, but Destiny Porter, now Briggs, since she’d married JJ Briggs, owns Sugar Rush bakery and had stopped by Sunset Acres to drop off cupcakes. While she was there, she’d invited me out for a ‘girl’s night.’ I wouldn’t have even considered it, but a residual check from a commercial I did two years ago cleared my account today, so I was flush.
I had one more night in town, and I honestly couldn’t face another night in the trailer with the newlyweds. For the last four nights, I’d locked myself in the music room, put noise-cancelling headphones on, and pretended that I didn’t hear any sounds that made it past them. Last night, when I’d been woken up by my bed swaying back and forth, I’d told myself that the motion was just a trial run for the rocking of the boat. It was sea sickness training.
So tonight, I was either going to meet Destiny for a drink here or go get a room at the Come On Inn. If this were eight years ago, it wouldn’t even have been a choice. I would’ve gladly gotten a tattoo on a sunburn rather than socialize with people from high school.
But this week, everyone was really welcoming and nice. No one had a bad word to say to me, at least not to my face. The only person I’d actually spoken to about the video was Miss Dottie, and she’d been so kind and supportive. She told me that one night, one video, didn’t define me and that it only had the power that I gave it. She also reminded me that opinions were like buttholes; everybody had them, and most of them stink. She said that I couldn’t live my life worried about other people. But the thing that she’d said that had resonated the most with me was when she promised me when I looked back on my life, I would regret the things I hadn’t done more than anything I had.
For the past twenty-six years, I’d followed every rule. I worked hard. I sacrificed. I never put a foot wrong. I minded my Ps and Qs. I never asked for what I wanted. I never rocked the boat. I made sure I never gave anyone a reason to have a bad thing to say about me. I always did the right thing, and where had it gotten me?
I’d spent my entire life trying to prove to people that I was good enough. That I was worthy. That I wasn’t the girl from the trailer park, the product of an illicit affair, the daughter whose father hadn’t wanted her.
As I sat alone in the parking lot of the Cow, I realized something: I was all those things. And that didn’t make me less than anyone else. I was tired of trying to be some unattainable, perfect person just so people would accept me. I wanted to walk into the rest of my life just being me. If people liked it; great, if not, their loss.
The internal pep talk gave me just enough momentum to get out of the car. As I shut the door, I caught my reflection in the mirror. I’d decided to wear a summer dress that a costume designer had made for me. It was a backless bodycon dress with a scooped neckline that revealed a hint of cleavage. The hem hit me mid-thigh and was a much more daring cut than I’d typically wear because I never wanted to draw attention to myself unless I was on a stage performing. But tonight, I wanted to feel sexy, and as soon as I slid it on, I did.
My newly acquired, yet untapped, self-confidence propelled my feet forward. I entered the bar and glanced around the room. The bar was filled with people talking, laughing, dancing, and drinking. Several eyes turned in my direction, and all the bravado I’d just felt evaporated.
