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Distracted from my worries by the announcement for Darryl to begin his set, I set my beer down to applaud. There was a hum-ho clap from the crowd.

Darryl began strumming his guitar and sang his rendition of Chris Janson’s songBuy Me a Boat. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but to my surprise, Darryl had a good voice. The redneck crowd went crazy over the song and every song Darryl sang for the remainder of the set.

“Thanks for comin’ out y’all!” Darryl announced into the microphone. “It’s time for me to take a break.” A few boos echoed. “But we’ll have a round of karaoke while I quench my thirst.” Darryl hopped off the stage and joined us at our table. A waitress came over with a glass of water for Darryl.

“How ’bought a round of beer for my cousins and their friends,” Darryl signaled to the waitress.

“Thanks bloke, none for me. I’m the designated driver.” I realized Brodie had only two beers after we arrived and had shifted to sipping water.

Gertie introduced Darryl to Marco and Brodie. The waitress delivered a pitcher of draft beer and four glasses. Darryl poured each of us a glass, minus Brodie, and we toasted to his first successful night on stage. We listened as a few people gave their best efforts at karaoke.

After we finished off the pitcher of beer, Darryl, overexcited about the reception he received from the crowd, ordered a round of tequila shots to celebrate.

Darryl was announced back to the stage. The rounds of beer and shots kept coming as we listened to his next set.

By the time Darryl finished his set, I was licking the salt off Marco’s hand, throwing back the Jose Cuervo, and sharing a lime from between his teeth. I thanked him again for the tactical maneuver he spawned on the dance floor.

“Ragina has always been a thorn in my side,” I said to Marco and emptied the last of my beer.

“That beotch needed a taste of her own medicine,” Gertie said.

As Darryl took his break, he announced the mic was open for karaoke again. Gertie jumped up on the stage and gave us a rendition ofAchy Breaky Heart. She received a standing ovation from the crowd.

“Jen you should go sing. It’s liberating,” Gertie said when she returned to the table.

“Nope, not gonna happen,” I told her, but my words seemed slow and I couldn’t help myself from smiling at everyone.

A pretty girl with purple hair sang a Carrie Underwood song and I envisioned myself carving my name into the leather seats of Caiyan’s Maserati.

“Let’s go, Cloud,” Gertie drug me up to the stage and I blinked at the faces staring back at me. Marco and Brodie were whooping words of encouragement.

I’d had plenty of liquid courage. Gertie began with the lyrics to one of our favorite songs, Pistol Annies’I Got My Name Changed Back. I joined her and embodied Miranda Lambert. By the end of the song we had the entire place, including Ragina and her plastics, boppin’ on the dance floor. People crowded in front of the stage wiggling in time with the music and shouting for an encore.

Darryl brought us another shot to the stage. It was followed by a song. Then it went shot, song, shot, song, until I plucked the microphone from its stand and went from the stage to the bar, leaving Gertie standing speechless at the empty microphone stand.

I sang and gyrated my way down the epoxy coated bar top turning over drinks until a pair of strong arms removed me from the limelight. Marco waved to the crowd as they applauded my performance.

“What’re you doing?” I asked, my words slurring just a tad. “I’m schlinging.”

“If you do another shot, I’m afraid your clothes are coming off. And I’d rather remove them in private.”

Darryl began his third set, and somewhere along the way I recalled lying across the back seat of Gertie’s car with my head in Marco’s lap and Brodie behind the wheel.

The last thing I remembered was reaching up and touching the deep indention in Marco’s chin and watching it wink as he spoke to Brodie. “Hurry up, Aussie.”

Chapter 12

The sun streamed through my window and woke me. I blinked against the light, and a sharp pain pierced my left eyeball. My French door was open, and a warm breeze came in off the balcony.

The first thing I noticed after my eyes cleared was a heaviness to my bed. I looked over and Marco lay face down in the pillow next to me. His tan skin rested on my white cotton sheets. The blanket covered his bottom half. Almost.

Oh shit. Did we have sex? I couldn’t remember. I recalled the kissing, some heavy petting, I think there might have been some fondling, and tongue action on his part, but the rest of the night was a blur.

I had on a t-shirt and panties. Good sign. Maybe I didn’t miss out on extraordinary sex with Marco. My head ached and my mouth tasted like cat litter. I needed water, a toothbrush, and French fries.

A muffled caw squawked in the room, and I lifted my head. At the foot of my bed sat a big red hawk with my VS pink lacy bra clasped in his beak. He perched on my footboard and raised his right talon to show me the catch of the day. A snake wiggled helplessly between the sharp talons.

I screamed and scrambled to stand on my bed. Clutching the sheets to my body, my free hand grasped my headboard. My jostling woke Marco.

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