I Love This Bar (8 page)

   "Did you ever have to?" he asked.

   Not only was Daisy full of sass, she was brassy as hell.

   "Not at the Honky Tonk. Now go on home and take Emmett his picture. Bar is closed at two o'clock and I'm too tired to play these games with you," she said.

   "What'd you mean, not at the Honky Tonk?" he asked.

   "That's my business. Good night, Jarod." She shoved him out the door and locked it behind him.

   She went back into the apartment and poured a bowl of Lucky Charms cereal.

   Lucky.

   Charms.

   Two words she didn't really believe in. A person made their own destiny. Their choices brought their consequences. Luck was a figment of someone's imagination. Charm? Well, some folks had it. She, like Emmett, did not.

   She'd always figured that she'd used up her share of luck when she landed at the Honky Tonk. And she'd never been accused of having much charm. That was her mother's claim to fame. So charming that she had three husbands and too many boyfriends to count before she died in a car wreck at the age of thirty-seven.

   She filled her mouth with the cereal and looked at the leprechaun on the front of the box as she chewed. Suddenly the critter had Jarod's face. She moaned. She had to get him out of her mind or else he was going to drive her crazy as an outhouse rat.

The wind blows constantly in Texas. Cold wind in the winter months, warm breezes in the spring, and then June comes and it feels like it's coming straight out of a bake oven with the temperature going from hot to hotter to hottest as July passes a day at a time.

   Daisy slathered sunblock all over her pale skin, donned as few clothes as possible, and fired up the lawn mower. The backyard wasn't very big, but by the time she finished mowing the temperature had raised in direct proportion to how sweaty she'd gotten. She put the mower back into the garage, wiping at her forehead with a bandana she'd tucked into the back pocket of a pair of cutoff jeans. She sat down on the small back porch shaded by one lonesome old scrub oak tree and fanned herself with the damp bandana. A tall glass of sweet tea sounded wonderful but she'd have to make a pitcher.

   The cell phone in her pocket began to vibrate and she fished it out.

   "Hello."

   "Miz Daisy, Runt is down and havin' trouble gettin' the baby out. Momma said to call you."

   Daisy recognized the voice immediately. It was Tommy Joe Horton and Runt was his show goat for the 4-H club.

   "You reckon I need to come out there and help?" she asked.

   "Yes, ma'am. Wait a minute. Momma is hollerin'. She says that Runt has got the baby out now and it's breathin'. Thanks, Miz Daisy. I knew things would be all right if I talked to you."

   "You are very welcome, Tommy Joe. Take care of the new baby."

   "I will."

   She shoved the phone into her pocket and leaned her head back against the porch post. A coyote howled out in the woods beyond the area she mowed. Hounds bayed to the north. Before she could figure out if the hounds were actually chasing the coyote, another noise obliterated everything.

   It sounded like a thresher coming up the road but it was too early for wheat harvest. When the thing turned off the highway and into the Honky Tonk parking lot, she stood up and peeked around the end of the building. She shaded her eyes with the back of her hand and watched an old Ford pickup rumble right up to the back porch.

   She was already headed for the door to get her black bag when Chigger crawled out of the passenger seat and yelled, "Hey, Daisy!"

   "Good grief!" She stopped and looked again. Surely there weren't two identical trucks in Palo Pinto County running on rust, dirt, and prayers.

   Chigger crawled out of the passenger side of the truck. "What're you doin'?"

   "You buy that truck from Henry Green?" Daisy asked.

   "Yep, I did," Jim Bob yelled from the driver's window. The truck had been white at one time but now it was covered with rust spots. The front bumper had long since fallen off and the tailgate was gone. "It's my new fishin' wagon."

   Chigger winked. "Cute, ain't it? We come to take you fishin' with us. We got beer and pop and bologna sandwiches."

   Chigger wore jean shorts cut off so short the pockets hung below the denim, a pink tank top, and her signature pink cowboy boots.

   "It's too damn hot to fish. And why'd Henry sell his truck?"

   "Cause he bought a newer one," Jim Bob said.

   "It's not too hot where we're goin'." Chigger stuck a cigarette in her mouth and cupped one hand around the lighter to keep the wind from blowing out the flame.

   "You goin' to be fishin' under air conditioning?" Daisy asked.

   Chigger took a deep drag. "No, but there's shade trees all around the pond and Jim Bob says if we catch anything he'll cook them for supper and catfish is my favorite meal. Besides, I told Momma the reason I wasn't comin' home for church is because I was going with you over to the Mingus church this mornin' and we were goin' fishin' afterwards. You goin' to make a liar out of me?"

   "I don't have to. You do a fine job of that yourself," Daisy said.

   "Way I see it is you got two choices. Either get your ass up off that porch and in the truck with us, or else Jim Bob will come throw you over his shoulder and put you in the truck. All you do is bartend and run around the whole country fixin' folks' ailin' animals. You need a day of fun. What's it goin' to be?"

   "You already lied. You didn't go to church with me. What's one more matter?"

   "God overlooks one little white lie. He don't abide two, especially on Sunday. You got to pee, you better go before we leave because it's about fifteen miles to the pond and I'm guaran-damn-teein' you, that truck will give your bladder a workin' out. If you got to go out there you'll be squattin' behind a mesquite tree and usin' a McDonald's napkin for toilet paper," Chigger said.

   "I don't own a fishin' pole," Daisy said.

   "We got a dozen in the back of the truck and we dug worms for bait before we left Jim Bob's place. You mean enough to bait your own hook?"

   "I can put a worm on a hook."

   "Then let's go," Chigger said.

   Jim Bob leaned out of the driver's open window and yelled, "Do I need to come on over there and help persuade her?"

   Chigger shook her head. "Naw, I think I've got her talked into it."

   "Okay, okay, I'll go fishin'," Daisy said. "But I've got to go inside and get my purse and my bag. I better take my car."

   Chigger eyed her suspiciously. "Promise you won't lock the door and stay in there."

   "You got my word on it. I'll go fishin' with you. I just need to get things."

   "You ain't goin' in your car. Whole reason to have a fishin' truck is to go fishin' in it or maybe use the bed for lookin' at the stars at night." Chigger giggled softly.

   "If I have to make an animal run, you going to drive me?"

   "Yep, I am. I can drive a stick shift good as Jim Bob. If you have to go sew up a dog's leg or take care of a horse, I'll take you."

   "Okay, I'm holdin' you to it." Daisy went inside to get her emergency bag and purse. She thought about cleaning up but figured she didn't look a bit worse than Chigger or that rattle trap truck.

   "I wasn't sure you'd keep your word," Chigger said from inside the door when she reached the living room.

   "I always keep my word. Didn't I go meet your momma?"

   Chigger smiled. "Yep, you did. Why don't you leave that cell phone and bag at home today? How long's it been since you just had an afternoon with no calls?"

   "What if someone needs me?"

   "They can call the vet out of Stephenville and pay for a weekend emergency call. Come on, Daisy. One day with no phone or bag."

   "Can't do it. I'll compromise. I'll go fishin' but I'll take my bag and my phone. Couldn't live with myself if something happened and I could have helped."

   "That's not a compromise."

   Daisy picked up the bag. "It's the best I'm going to do."

   Chigger led the way to the truck and scooted across the seat to sit in the middle. "Then I'll be satisfied with that much. Grab a beer out of the red cooler. You look hot as hell and I don't mean in the take-me-to-bed hot, but weather-hot."

   Daisy followed behind her and set her vet bag behind two tackle boxes.

   "Y'all want one?" She brought an icy cold can of beer from a cooler.

   "No thanks," Chigger said.

   Daisy pulled the tab and gulped a couple of times before she hopped up into the seat beside Chigger. "You sure this thing will go fifteen miles? I'm going to be one pissed off woman if I have to walk home in this heat."

   Jim Bob grinned. "Trust me, she's a lot sturdier than she looks. Sounds like a thrasher and looks like hell but it's a fine fishin' wagon."

   South of Thurber, Jim Bob took a dirt road and dust boiled up around them as thick as cigarette smoke in the Honky Tonk on a busy night. It rolled behind the truck then chased after them, scattering all over the cow tongue cactus lining the sides of the road and drifting into the cab of the truck. It stuck to the sweat on Daisy's face and neck and smeared when she wiped at it.

   Chigger left a dirt smudge when she swatted a mosquito on her neck. "If someone could figure out a casserole dish to make from cow tongue cactus, they could make a fortune. You got any bright ideas about how to cook up cactus, Daisy?"

   "Not me. How about you?"

   "Well, if we can't cook the sumbitches maybe we could figure out a way to boil them down and use them to run car and truck engines. Save a hell of a lot on gas. Or if we could figure out a way to make mosquito repellent out of it, we could make a fortune." Chigger smashed another bug on her bare arm, leaving a dime-sized blood stain.

   Jim Bob slung his right arm around her shoulders and drove with his left hand. "That's my girl. Ain't she the smartest thing you've ever seen?"

   "I don't know. If it killed mosquitoes it might kill Chiggers and then she'd be in big trouble. What are we doing here?" Daisy finished the last sip of beer and looked up at Emmett McElroy's house.

   "Fishin'," Chigger said innocently.

   Jim Bob took a cell phone from the bib pocket of his overalls and poked numbers. "Hey, we're here. We're goin' on down to the pond. Got enough fishin' poles and worms for all of us so don't go tryin' to hunt up any of Uncle Emmett's. Bring him along. Seeing Chigger might sweeten him up the rest of the day."

   Daisy poked Chigger in the arm. "Who is he talking to?"

   "Shhh, he can't hear on that phone if there's noise around him," Chigger said.

   "Well, then let the old codger sleep if he's too stubborn to leave the air conditioning." Jim Bob flipped the phone shut.

   Chigger looked at Daisy. "He was talkin' to Jarod. He lets us fish in his pond and Jim Bob is askin' him if he wants to go with us."

   "You did this on purpose. You are a bitch from hell," Daisy said.

   Chigger winked. "You are one fickle friend. You just agreed with Jim Bob that I'm the smartest thing either of you ever saw."

   "I did not agree with him. I didn't answer at all."

   "That's agreeing. You didn't disagree."

   Daisy looked down at her scuffed up cowboy boots, the worst pair in her closet. Her jean shorts were like Chigger's—cut off so short the pockets hung below the denim, only Daisy's had paint splotches on them as well as dirt and sweat. Her red cotton halter top was faded and speckled with paint too.

   Chigger grinned. "If you don't like that cowboy then why does it matter that you look like shit?"

   "Thank you so much," Daisy grumbled.

   Jim Bob stomped the clutch and put the car in first gear. "Well, I think both of you are sexy as hell in them getups. Fish will come up to the top just to cop a look at the two prettiest women in the whole state."

   Chigger kissed him on the cheek and whispered something in his ear that caused him to chuckle.

   Daisy looked out the window and wished she'd shot them both with her sawed off shotgun. All that sweet talk and love cooped up in the cab of a truck when she couldn't shake a vision of Jarod from her mind was downright sinful.

   Jim Bob parked the truck under a big oak tree, opened the door, and Chigger slid across the seat and under the steering wheel into his waiting arms. He kissed her so hard that Daisy blushed.

   Chigger grinned at Daisy when the kiss ended. "Might as well stop poutin' and get out. Who knows, maybe you'll get a kiss today."

   "You are really a bitch from hell," Daisy seethed as she got out and helped carry a couple of quilts and fishing gear to the enormous pond not a hundred feet away from the truck. A gentle breeze teased the tall grasses in the pasture and the white clouds dotted the broad expanse of blue sky above her head.

   Chigger shook a quilt out and it floated down to the earth, wrinkle free. Jim Bob brought the coolers, one at a time, and set them on the quilt. Then he brought a CD player and a small black case and handed them to Chigger. She flipped through the case and found the CD she wanted, put it in the player, and cranked up music from Toby Keith. She had her hands above her head and was moving in time to the music by the time Jim Bob had a worm threaded on his hook.

   Chigger motioned toward the extra rods. "Might as well bait a hook. We ain't goin' home until we catch supper or dark, whichever one comes first."