Page 2 of Country Charm

He’s a young buck. A sophomore in high school onsummer break looking to make some cash for “fun and games”. A problem with small towns is that word gets around, and I know he’s working to help his mama. She’s been basically running the diner for years but gets shit for it. Country boys tend to be mama’s boys. Lord knows I can’t deny mine.

Being young and not so used to working in the hot sun all day means he can get sick or hurt easily. I like to call him off for small errands because he still does me good, and he can get some rest.

“Sure thing, Mr. Hill!” he says emphatically.

“After you get to the barn, rinse everything off with the yellow hose, and line them up on the white shelves inside the walk-in. Then grab the water coolers and fill them up at the blue spigot. Bring that and the cups on down for everyone. There ain’t a cloud in the sky today.”

“Yes sir!” He brushes his hands off on his jeans and hops on the ATV. He’s a good kid. I hope one day my own will have a heart like his.

The thought surprises me.

Chapter Two

Cassidy

Standing in front of the mirror, I lift my arms above my head and watch my breasts lift an inch and then drop them. I pull at the skin on my face and get extra close to the mirror, looking for any wrinkles.

I totally have crow’s feet! At least I don’t have smoker’s lines. Of course, you don’t, you’ve never smoked, you lunatic.My internal monologue seems slightly manic as I assess my physical appearance.

Grabbing the underwear and bra on my bathroom vanity, I don them and give a small turn.Not bad.I thought this was going to be much, much worse. Thirty is around the corner and I am looking damn fine. Well, as fine as I can look for a girl who sits at a desk all day.

My friends have made this birthday seem like it is such a big deal. Granted, I am the only one left who doesn’t have a “significant other”. I don’t feel like that’s necessary to be happy or play a major factor in the big three-oh. My dad never had a wife or a girlfriend when I was growing up and he was happy until the day he got sick. Even then, he was pretty happy, for a man who had cancer.

Georgie makes it seem like I’m so lonely that I’ll end up being a spinster who has three cats. I honestly don’t ever feel lonely. My friends are more than enough consistent company and the occasional lover fills the void for any kind of physical need.

Cats aren’t really my thing; it’s not like I hate them, I just never want to own one. Sleeping in the middle of my king-size bed by myself seems better than only getting half. Being single doesn’t seem like a burden or a negative factor in my life, it’s just another part of who I am.

The girls will learn to accept it. I just hope they don’t incorporate this factor into this year’s birthday prank again. Part of our group’s charm is our unique sense of humor. The four of us have been friends since college. We all lived in the same dormitory sharing a kitchen and a main living space between the four of us. The pranks started then, and they haven’t lightened up due to age.

Last year the girls dragged me out for a night of bar hopping, but we only hit up gay bars where the girls would happily announce that I am single and ready to mingle. I am fairly proud to say I gathered my fair share of phone numbers and shared my first few kisses with women. While it was fun, it wasn’t my cup of tea. So, for a prank, it was pretty mild. Mary said she could have sworn I was in the closet and just needed that final push.

This year I sent Mary to pick up the proposed catering on her way to my apartment and when she arrived at the restaurant the entire staff sang “Happy Fortieth Birthday to You.” That cost me a pretty penny while I sat in the corner with our friends and some of her colleagues. I have no doubt they have something good planned for me.

I finish getting ready for work, and I remember that my coworkers are planning on having the whole song and cakething in the breakroom today. This fact has me spending a little more time than usual making sure I’m presentable.

I pull my long chestnut hair into a sleek, straight ponytail and put on a little more makeup. After nodding at my final look, I get dressed and grab my bag, before hopping in my sweet ride, and heading to my amazing nine-to-five.

There may have been some sarcasm in that. My sweet ride is a beginner BMW coupe, and my amazing nine-to-five is a pawn at an analytics firm. I’m great with computers, numbers, projections, research, and data collection; so, it’s not a hard job.

When I get to work my small office is decorated with streamers, balloons, and a banner that says, “Flirty Thirty”. I can only imagine that came from Georgie, who works one floor up. Rolling my eyes, I set my things down and see a card envelope resting between my keyboard and monitor. My name is written across the face of it, in a beautiful script.

I sit in my chair, open the envelope, and see a piece of folded pink cardstock. Pulling it out I expect a lovely message, a gift card, maybe even cash. What I do not expect is the explosion of glitter.

Glitter.

Glitter. Everywhere.

Glitter in my hair, in my eyes, up my nose, on my clothes, all over my desk, in between the keys of my keyboard… everywhere.

Happy 40th Birthday to our

beautiful Cassidy.

Hopefully, this year will sparkle and shine above the rest.

I will kill them.

I swear it to myself. It’s not that I mind shiny things, or even a little sparkle. But loose glitter all over my office and myself. I will never be able to clean this all up. It’s now a permanent fixture in my life, to be added to my long list of personal attributes.

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