“Play more oldies. They seem to like them best,” she suggested.
“Will do.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you later.”
“The Gambler,” by Kenny Rogers, brought several more senior citizens to the dance floor for two-stepping. The lyrics seemed to be speaking right to Lottie when the words said that the secret to survival was knowing what to keep and what to throw away.
Lottie wondered if she was playing with fire. Could this really be the new her, or was she just playacting at being what Knox wanted her to be? She really needed a sign to tell her if this was real or if it was time to walk away.
She set a cup of beer around to each of six older ladies sitting at a table. “Why aren’t y’all out there on the dance floor?”
“We’re sittin’ this one out and givin’ the other ladies a chance,” the one with Emma on her name tag answered. “And we got a little winded on that last line dance. I remember when I carried an extra pair of shoes in case I wore the leather down to nothing in the ones I had on.”
“I’m Beverly,” another one pointed a bony finger with a bright red nail to her name tag. “And honey, we’ve done a head count. There are only half as many men here as there are women. We are the best dancers in the whole place, but we aren’t greedy. So, we sit one out every so often and give the other gals a little boost to their egos when they are asked.”
“But, darlin’ girl, if I was thirty years younger…” Emma fanned her face with her hand, “I would give you a run for your money with that hunky chunk of sex that keeps his eyes on you.”
“Thirty, my saggy ass,” a third one with Myra on her tag snorted. “You’d need to be fifty years younger, and you’d probably need a how-to book to drag something that sexy into the bedroom.”
“Sex is like riding a bicycle. It all comes back to a person when it’s time,” Emma argued.
Beverly laughed so hard that she spewed beer all over her fancy western shirt.
“Good Lord, Beverly,” Myra fussed. “We can’t take you anywhere.”
“You ain’t sittin’ where you can see them two bartenders.” She wiped the beer away with a napkin and looked up at Lottie. “You might as well draw up six more. Most of the women are starin’ at the sex on a stick at the jukebox and the other one behind the bar. We’ll all be worked up enough that we’ll fight over who gets Henry for the night when we get back to the assisted care center.”
“Oh, no!” Emma declared. “I’ve already told him that I would meet him in his room and tell him all about tonight.”
Lottie picked up the tray. “Why didn’t he come with you?”
Emma rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “He won’t miss his Sunday football, not even if he’s seen the game before—not even for dancin’—but it will be over when we get back. And he’s got a whole bottle of them little blue pills.”
Lottie blushed. “You ladies have a good time, and I’ll be back with another round in a few minutes. It appears that Miz Emma does not need a how-to book at all. Andbless your hearts. I hope they don’t quit making those pills when I’m”—she looked at Emma and winked—“fifty years old.”
“God love your precious soul,” Emma said. “Now go flirt with that feller that you are sleeping with.”
“What?” Lottie gasped.
“You heard me. A woman has a different look about her when love is brand new and the sex is hot,” Emma said. “I’m not so old that I don’t remember how I felt when Warren and I were sneaking off to the barn before we tied the knot.”
“I didn’t know it showed,” Lottie said.
“Maybe not to everyone, but us old birds see everything, say what we damn well please, and live the way we want. We’re the generation that burned our bras, honey, and we don’t give a flip what anyone says,” Beverly said. “Enjoy your youth. Make good memories and then be happy and content if you get to live as long as we have.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lottie said with a nod and headed across the floor.
Bernie stopped her after she’d taken a few steps and handed her a second empty tray. “Would you take this back for me?”
“Sure thing,” Lottie said.
“I’m going to make the rounds and visit with the folks. I saw that you met Emma and her crowd. She’s my age and still feisty as hell. But I got to admit, I’m glad I’ve got family and don’t ever have to live in a care facility.”
“With your big clan, I don’t think you ever have to worryabout going anywhere, but those are some spicy ladies, no matter where they live,” Lottie said.
Bernie reached up and laid a hand on Lottie’s shoulder. “Yep, but not a one of them can hold a candle to me.”
* * *
Knox opened the truck door for Lottie and helped her inside, then rounded the front end of the vehicle and slid in behind the steering wheel. “How about dinner at the Dairy Queen before we go home?”
