A Little Texas

Blackjack had not been her friend. In fact, blackjack had taken her last hundred dollars and bitch slapped her.

“What’ll it be?” said the bartender. He wore an old-fashioned white apron that suited the Old World ambience of the place. Soft music piping from the speakers settled over the few patrons.

Kate pursed her lips. “Grey Goose, twist of lime, three cubes of ice.”

“Nice. I like a woman who drinks like a man.” The voice came from her left. She glanced over at the guy.

“I wasn’t aware vodka was a man’s drink,” she responded with a lift of one eyebrow, a move she’d perfected in junior high school.

“Touché,” he said, sliding a predatory smile her way. He looked good. Toothy grin, disheveled brown hair, five o’clock stubble designed to make him doubly irresistible. Any other time and Kate might bite.

But not tonight.

She gave him a flashbulb smile and turned ever so slightly to her right. Stay away, buddy.

But he was like any other man—couldn’t read a woman’s body language.

She felt him scoot closer.

The bartender set the glass in front of her. Without hesitating, she picked it up and downed the vodka in one swallow. It felt good sliding down her throat, burning a path to her stomach.

“And you drink like a man, too,” her unwanted companion said.

Kate turned toward him, not bothering to toss him a smile this time. “How do you know I’m not a man? We’re in Vegas.”

His eyes raked her body. “I can see you’re not a man.”

Kate narrowed her eyes. “Good vision, huh? Well, don’t trust your eyes. Don’t trust anybody, for that matter.”

She didn’t say anything else, just turned from him and studied the way the light illuminated the bottles lining the mirrored bar. It made their contents glow, made them seductive.

Bars of “Sweet Caroline” erupted from her purse and she rifled through it until she found her cell phone. A quick glance at the screen and she knew her friend Billie had finally got around to returning her earlier call. Finally. She could seriously use a sympathetic shoulder. And not of the rumpled, sexy, “can I buy you a drink” variety.

She punched the answer button on her iPhone. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Oh, my God, I’m like so having an emergency here.” Billie’s normally sarcastic tone sounded like neurotic chicken. A whispery neurotic chicken.

“What’s going on?”

“He freakin’ proposed!”

“Nick?” Kate asked, picking up the fresh drink in front of her.

“No, the Easter Bunny,” Billie huffed into the phone. “I’m in the bathroom. Oh, God. I don’t know what to say…I think I’m hyperventilating.”

Kate pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it. Where was her calm, self-assured friend? The one she needed now that her business was doomed? “Okay, first thing, head between your knees.”

“The toilet area’s not real clean. I’m gonna stand.”

Kate wanted to scream that she’d lost everything today and didn’t need to hear about Nick and his damned proposal. But she didn’t. Instead she said, “Okay.”

“Kate, he has a ring and everything. He actually got down on one knee.” Billie’s voice now sounded shell-shocked. “I didn’t know what to do.”

Kate picked up the vodka and tossed it back. It felt as good going down as the first one. “So you said…”

“I said I had to go pee,” Billie whispered.

Kate couldn’t help it. She laughed.

“Don’t you dare laugh, Kate Newman!” Billie snapped. “This is not funny.”

Kate sobered. Well, kinda sobered. The vodka was working its magic. “You’re right. It’s not funny. It’s sweet.”

“You can’t be serious,” Billie whispered. “He’s talking marriage. Marriage, Kate!”

Kate heard something muffled in the background, then Billie’s quick intake of breath. Then she heard Billie call, presumably to Nick, that she’d be right out.

“Okay, stop chewing your hair.”

“What?”

“Do you love him?” Kate asked.

“Yes. I totally love him,” Billie whispered.

“Then say yes.”

“Are you joking?” Billie said. “Did you just tell me to say yes? You don’t believe in marriage.”

It was true, she didn’t—well, at least not for herself. Love was fairy-tale bullshit. She shouldn’t be giving relationship advice to a dead cockroach, much less a living, breathing friend. “I don’t. But you do.”

The line remained silent.

“Can you imagine waking up with him every morning even when he’s old and wrinkly and…impotent? Can you imagine watching your grandchildren together? Filing joint taxes? Painting a nursery?” Kate couldn’t seem to stop the scenarios tumbling from her lips. “How about picking out china patterns or cleaning up your kids’ vomit—”

“Okay. I get it. Yes,” Billie said.

“Then hang up, open the door and take that ring.”

Kate punched the end button and tossed the phone on the bar. If Billie was so stupid as to reject a man who loved her despite her seriously weird attributes, then she deserved to stay locked in Nick’s bathroom. With pee on the floor.

When she looked up, the bartender and her previously pushy friend stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. Well, she had. And her business along with it. And now Billie wasn’t even available to her. Kate was on her own.

Like always.

Before she’d hit the ATM machine several hours earlier, she’d contemplated borrowing the money she needed from Billie. As a successful glass artist with international acclaim, her friend had steady cash flow even in a bad economy. But Kate never asked for help. And to do so now, with a friend, felt not cool. With a possible wedding on the horizon for Billie, ten thousand would be hard to spare. Besides, if she were going to borrow money, it would be from her absolute best friend who lived in Texas and was loaded to the gills with old oil money. But Kate had never asked Nellie to help her before, not even when Kate had dropped out of college her freshman year to go to beauty school and spent three months eating bologna and ramen noodles.

She couldn’t bring herself to do it. Kate had always relied on herself to make it through whatever problem arose, and this was no different.