Cowgirl Crazy (#2, Cowboy Way) (3 page)

According to her friend, she made nearly a
thousand dollars a week working as a waitress there, and Twyla
could sure use that money. It would allow her to get the equipment
and start training to do what she really wanted to do, enter the
Cowboy Mounted Shooting events. Twyla was a good rider and a good
shot. She thought maybe she could do better at that than she had at
barrel racing. She was at least going to try it. There were a lot
of things she was going to try, things that being stuck in the
barrel racing circuit for so long had prevented. Twyla felt sure
she would eventually hit on something she was good at.

Hopefully she’d get the job at the bar, and be
good at waitressing, because the paltry money she had saved from
her winnings from barrel racing was going to run out swiftly. All
Heather told her about the job was that she would be serving
drinks, and maybe doing some dancing. Twyla was as uncoordinated as
they came, a tomboy, and Heather knew that. They’d been out
together before, and while Heather twirled around the dance floor
with a string of men, Twyla managed to step on one cowboy’s toes
badly enough that word must’ve gotten around and nobody else asked
her to dance.

But Heather was going to teach her. She told
Twyla if she could shake her hips, she’d make tips. Twyla thought
maybe she could manage that, although she feared her version of
hip-shaking might result in someone thinking she was having a
seizure and calling 911.

Heather was the performer, a singer and dancer
all her life, and she was good. Making it as a singer was Heather’s
dream, and Twyla knew she’d eventually make it, because even though
Heather was a failure as a barrel racer like Twyla, she had the
talent. She’d seen her friend perform and her voice was just
amazing.

Twyla knew she had to have some kind of hidden
talent too. It was just going to take time and effort to find out
what that was. One thing she knew for sure was her talents would
never include singing and dancing. She’d leave that to
Heather.

Lying in bed wasn’t going to help her discover
her talents, though. This was the first day of her new start, and
she was wasting it. Throwing back the covers, Twyla sat on the side
of the bed and got her bearings. With a heavy sigh, she padded
across the floor and walked into the small kitchen. “Coffee,” she
croaked, after unsticking her tongue from the roof of her
mouth.

Heather glanced at her, pulled a mug down off
the hook below the cabinet then handed it to her. She smiled, as
she picked up the spatula again. “You better get a move on,
sunshine. We’ve got dragons to slay today.”

“
I feel like a damned dragon, so
watch out,” Twyla grumped as she filled the mug. Primping, shopping
and dancing, their to-do list for the day, wasn’t going to improve
her mood. But if she wanted to be successful at her five-o’clock
interview with the manager of the bar, she did need to get a move
on. Heather had a miracle to perform in just a few
hours.

“
I’m probably going to make a fool
out of myself in front of your manager.”

“
Nah, we’ll get you whipped into
shape,” Heather replied with a laugh as she flipped the egg in the
bacon grease to cook the other side.

“
I’d rather the whipping over
trying to dance. You know I’m as clumsy as a stump.”

“
Stop it!” Heather shouted. “You
are going to do fine. Leon isn’t looking for professional dancers,
he’s looking for good-looking women.”

“
Well, I’m not that either,” Twyla
said, leaning against the counter to blow the steam from her
cup.

Heather looked at her and grinned. “You will
be when I get done with you. ”

Twyla groaned and took a long hot sip of her
coffee which scalded all the way down her throat to her stomach.
She welcomed the pain. It couldn’t be any worse than the torture
she knew was waiting for her at the beauty salon, and then the
mall.

Heather elbowed her. “Come on Twy –change your
attitude or you won’t get the job. You have to feel sexy to be
sexy.”

“
I haven’t
ever
felt sexy,
and I doubt I ever will. I’m a tomboy. I haven’t worn a dress since
I was four. Drove my mother crazy.”

“
Oh, you won’t be wearing dresses,
darlin’. We’re going to find some shorts that will show off those
long legs I’d die to have.”

“
I have bird legs.” Long yeah, but
skinny as hell. They were toned from all the riding she did, but
they weren’t something she was proud of. Because she was so tall,
Twyla always felt gangly and out of place.

“
You have legs up to your chin,”
Heather countered. “Be proud of them. Own them.”

Twyla snorted. “I do own them unfortunately,”
she replied looking down at the top of her shorter friend’s dark
head.

Heather tsked, then flipped the egg out of the
skillet onto a plate and shoved it at her. “Eat, and for God’s sake
finish that coffee. You need an attitude adjustment.”

“
It’s gonna take a lot more than a
cup of coffee to do that. I’m in a little bit of a funk if you
haven’t noticed.”

“
Oh, I’ve noticed. Now if you want
my help, eat your damned breakfast and work on your mood. I’m going
to get ready.”

Two hours later, Heather shoved her arm
through the dressing room door and a silky tank top and a pair of
miniscule blue jean shorts dangled from her fingers. Twyla grabbed
them, and inspected them. “Holy shit, girl, get the other piece of
these shorts off the rack for me will you?”

Twyla held them up and saw they were only
about three inches long from the waistband to the ragged hem. And
there were wear holes in them that looked like a rat had chewed
through the denim. The bottom of the pockets hung past the bottom
of the legs.

“
Put ‘em on Twyla,” Heather said
firmly. “We’re running out of time!”

Huffing out a breath, Twyla stepped into the
shorts, and sucked in to snap them. She jumped from foot to foot
and fought the zipper until she finally got it to the top of the
track. “Fifteen pounds of feed in a ten pound sack,” she grumbled
as she turned to look over her shoulder in the mirror. The crease
at the bottom of her ass cheeks was on prime display. “I’m not
wearing these. Get me a bigger size.”

Heather’s pretty face appeared through the
curtain. Her eyes tracked down Twyla’s legs to her toes then flew
back up. She grinned. “Those fit you perfect! Turn
around!”

All Twyla could figure was her friend must be
blind if she thought these shorts fit her. Surely when she saw the
back, she’d realize her mistake. Twyla turned her back to the door
and folded her arms over her chest waiting for her friend’s gasp.
Nothing.

“
I love the rhinestones on the
pockets. That’ll sparkle in the lights. Try on the shirt, and I’ll
get you a few more. There’s a pair of boots you need
too.”

“
I can’t afford all this, and I
don’t need a new pair of boots. Mine are perfectly
fine.”

“
Your boots are old, dusty and
worn out. They’re square-toed men’s boots. Riding boots. You need
girly boots, and you need this job, remember?”

Twyla’s shoulders sank and she unfolded her
arms. “I do need this job.”

“
Then you better start
cooperating. Get the shirt on, and I’ll get the other stuff. Our
appointment at the salon is in fifteen minutes.”

Heather disappeared, and Twyla slid the shirt
over her head. It swished over her skin feeling like wet silk. When
it settled, the material was cold and her nipples hardened.
Heather’s head poked through the curtain again. “That’s too loose.
You need something stretchy. Lace maybe. And you need a strapless
pushup bra. Take these, and see if they fit better. I’ll be right
back.”

Heather’s tone sounded like what Twyla
imagined a drill sergeant’s would sound like. Authoritative, take
no prisoners, your opinion doesn’t mean shit. You don’t have an
opinion if you know what’s good for you. So Twyla stifled hers, and
changed again. The two shirts fit her just the same, and she knew
they weren’t going to meet up to Sergeant Heather’s expectations
either. Twyla was starting to think nothing would, unless she went
to that audition naked. Hell, wearing this stuff, she was already
halfway there. This whole thing was so not her usual self. Twyla
did not wear Daisy Duke shorts, or silky shirts, she never had. Her
wardrobe consisted of tank tops, jeans and cotton shirts to cover
them.

But look where your usual mode has
gotten you. This is a new start for you. You can be anyone you want
to be. Nobody here except Heather knows you’re a clumsy, dowdy
tomboy.

Heather’s arm shot through the curtain again
and there were two short shirts in her hand. One was a pink checked
cotton and the other was sky blue lace. She took them, and Heather
handed her a half-bra too. “Hell, I’m flat-chested. I can go
without a bra for all that matter,” Twyla said looking down in
horror at the twenty dollar price tag dangling from the
side.

“
Make the most of what you have,
Twy—that bra will give you the breasts you’ve always wanted. It has
gel inserts.”

Holy shit, she was going to have fake boobs.
“I don’t know, Heather…”

“
Just put the damned thing on!”
Heather said with frustration.

Her friend really was getting aggravated with
her, she could hear it in her tone. Twyla needed her friend’s help,
so she better get with the program. “Yes, ma’am,” she replied with
a laugh, sliding the straps of her bra down her shoulders. Reaching
behind her, Twyla unfastened the clasp, and dropped her bra to the
floor. Quickly, she positioned the new bra and fastened it. When
she turned toward the mirror, she gasped. Boobs! She actually had
cleavage .

“
Holy shit,” she whispered in
awe.

Heather stuck her head through the curtain,
and Twyla saw her broad grin in the mirror. “It’s a miracle bra,”
she said with a laugh.

Twyla’s eyes fixed on the mounds of flesh
pushing over the top of the cups. “Damn straight it is.”

“
Try the shirts on and let’s get
out of here. If we’re late to the salon, Sophie will be pissed.”
Twyla tried on the shirts, and got an approving nod from Heather.
They checked out and Twyla thought she might need a second job to
pay for the clothes and new boots she’d just bought for her first
job. A job she hadn’t even gotten yet.

After the trip to the salon for a sixty dollar
haircut that didn’t amount to much hair being cut at all, a
hundred-dollars-worth of makeup, and several cans of hair goop, her
debit card was almost melted, and Twyla felt like her face would
crack if she smiled. She was definitely going to need a second job,
if this one didn’t pay off right away, she thought as she got up
into the truck with Heather.

“
Are we done yet?’ she asked
plopping the bags down on the floorboard by her feet.

“
With shopping yes, but we need to
go to Jolie’s dance studio for your crash course in the Crazy
Cowgirl dance routines. She’s our dance coach, and a waitress there
too. She owns a dance studio on the side. Between us, I know we can
get you up to speed.”

Things were already going so fast Twyla’s head
was spinning. Add any more speed and it might fly off of her
shoulders. “Can we reschedule the interview for tomorrow? I’m about
worn out from all that!”

Heather laughed. “Girl, you don’t know what
worn out is. But you’re about to find out. You need to work on your
stamina, because this job pays well but you have to be able to keep
up. When I go home at night, I’m whooped, but my pocketbook is
full.”

Twyla was starting to have her doubts about
how well she was going to fit in at that bar. The job sounded like
great money, but she also wondered why she was expected to wear
shorts up the crack of her ass, and enough makeup for a clown. Her
mother and brother would have a coronary if they saw her. Her daddy
would just kill her. She wondered what Ryan would think of how she
looked now. She looked a lot like the buckle bunnies she always saw
him with.

Stop thinking about him! Who cares
what Ryan Easter thinks!

But maybe this job wasn’t for her. It was a
far cry from rodeoing, or anything else she’d ever done in her life
to date. “Maybe I just need to find a regular waitressing
job.”

“
And make eight dollars an hour?”
Heather asked with a laugh, as she shoved the truck into gear.
“This is the hottest club in town. The job won’t be there tomorrow.
Girls are waiting in line to work there, because the tips are so
good. Leon did me a favor by looking at you first.”

Heather was putting her neck on the line to
help her. If Twyla backed out, or didn’t at least give it her all,
her friend would be embarrassed. Maybe lose her own job. Twyla had
agreed to do this, told Heather she wanted it. She couldn’t let
that happen.

“
Thank you for asking him,” she
said.

“
I want you to work there too. I
think it will be fun. Just like old times.”

Not quite. The last time they worked together
had been on the rodeo circuit as barrel racers. This was a whole
different ball of wax. “Are you sure I can do this,
Heather?”