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"Really?" He leans in smiling. "So you're good?"
I cringe. "I mean, I don't know if I'm good, I just always thought I was the small-town girl with big-city dreams."
"Damn, Paisley. I had no idea."
I laugh. "Yeah, I sing sometimes now just when I'm in the fields or whatever, and just want to be alone, and I write, but not as much as I want to. I work a lot. I have like three jobs and the kids and the house and stuff, I'm just making sure I got rent covered and everything. I wish I could write more and play more."
"Damn, you ever perform?"
I shake my head. "No, never. I haven't sung on stage in like three years."
"Three years? Since you were 18?"
"Yeah," I laugh. "I think the last time I performed was my high school talent show. I was going to leave after high school." I stop talking for a second. There are tears in my eyes suddenly, and I hate that I'm getting emotional over this, but I realize, I never talk about it with anyone because the people I talk to are people who already know this story. Holt is someone new, someone who doesn't know where I've been, who I planned on becoming. He doesn't understand what I was going to be, he's only seeing what I've become.
My voice cracks, "Yeah, I had these big ideas I was going to leave town and I was hoping to get some record label to sign me. I was working on an album and I thought if that didn't work I could always try out for American Idol or something like that. It doesn't really matter anymore. Those ideas are kind of childish."
Holt frowns, "But you're only 21, you can't let your dreams die now."
"Why not? It's like you said, 'life happens, things change.' You don't always get what you want."
"Right, but–"
"No, it's not 'but,'” I push back, feeling frustrated. No longer wanting the drink, the dance, the date. I shouldn't have gone there, gotten so personal, so honest, so real. It's too much too fast.
Holt senses it, and he wants to backpedal, go rewind the tape 10 minutes, but we can't do that.
I take a deep breath. "Look, maybe this wasn't a great idea. I told you I don't date, and–"
"No, I was being an idiot," he says. "You're right, life does happen. Fuck, dreams do change and real life can fuck them up. So, we're not here for that." He claps the table with his palms. "You're going to go to the bathroom and wash your face or whatever girls do, and I'm going to get us glasses of water and we're going to drink them."
I laugh, appreciating his game plan.
"And then you're going to take my hand and I'm going to take you on that dance floor,” he continues. “Got it?"
I roll my eyes playfully. "Really?"
He nods, "Yeah, really. You came here to have fun, not to get all weepy at the table, and we're not going to leave all mad, because hell, it sounds like we've both kind of been through a shit storm the last few years."
I laugh despite myself, despite all of this. The bar is dark and the music is loud, but in this moment it feels like Holt Stone sees me. Like, actually sees me as the person I am. I don't even know who the hell I am right now. But he's right. We have been through too much to let this moment pass us by. "Just give me three minutes, okay?"
He nods, "Three minutes, and then we're getting our butts on that dance floor."
Paisley
I splash cold water on my face and look in the mirror, telling myself to get it together. The low lights in the bathroom are forgiving, and for that, I am grateful. I don't exactly want to look into my eyes right now because sometimes the reality is a little too grim, a little too honest. Right now, I want to forget. I want to go back to that thought I had when I was in the car. Tonight, I could be somebody else, maybe on the dance floor, at least.
I lick my lips. I smile. I can do this.
The girl at the sink next to me gives me a wink. "Did you come in with Holt Stone?"
I nod. "Yeah. You know him?"
She grins. "Oh yeah. He's a really good dancer."
"Is he?"
She shrugs. "Yeah. And he's a really nice guy."
"You've been out with him?"
She shakes her head. "No, he doesn't go out with people."
"What do you mean?" I ask, reaching for a paper towel and drying my hands.
"Well, I don't know. He just comes in here, dances. I mean, he's friendly and everything, and he gets along with everyone. He just... He's been in town a year or two, he works at a ranch, and he's friendly. He's just not really... the kind of guy who hooks up, I guess."
