Page 29 of Fighting for You
The music in the space suddenly changes to “Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)” by Big and Rich, and everyone in the bar cheers. Everyone but one guy who slaps a palm on the jukebox.
Thea and Ripley burst out laughing. “He must have forgotten his glasses again and picked the wrong song,” Ripley explains. “Bob plays ‘Should’ve Been a Cowboy’ by Toby Keith at least three times a night here.”
“That doesn’t count, does it?” asks Thea.
“Margie, what do you think?” he asks me.
I look between them, Thea’s face clearly asking for clemency and Ripley’s is hoping for chaos. The alcohol in my veins makes me brave, and I say, “A cowboy song is a cowboy song. Drink!” Ripley laughs delightedly with me, and Thea takes her shot.
“Okay, don’t look now, but there is a very tatted, very badass looking dude who keeps looking over here. Looking at you, Margie,” Ripley says much too loudly for the conspiratorial tone he’s trying to use. I stiffen, my mind immediately assuming he’s talking about Brooks.
We’ve been hanging out and playing Redneck Wrecked for a while now, all three of us getting drunker as the night wears on. Ripley kept adding more silly rules as we kept drinking, and I’ve lost count of the shots I’ve taken. Thankfully, the bartender noticed how quickly we were putting them back and sent over some food and glasses of water for the table.
I whip my head in the direction he’s looking. I can’t help the small pang of disappointment when I see Archer standing by the bar. He shoots me a megawatt smile and gives me a nod in hello. I turn back to face Thea and Ripley and look down into my water.
“What’s that face? He’s cute!” says Thea with a slight slur.
“Ah, nothing. I just thought you meant someone else,” I reply. “That’s Archer.”
“Ooo, Archer,” both she and Ripley sing-song, sounding an awful lot like preteen schoolgirls.
“Oh, he’s coming—he’s coming over!” Thea whisper-shouts before turning to greet Archer, “Well, hello there.” Ripley elbows her, and they fall into a fit of giggles together.
I roll my eyes at them, and the room swims a little before I focus and look up at the smiling blond standing next to our table.
“Hi, Booger,” he greets, causing the Chaos Couple—as I so aptly named them at some point in the night, though I can’t recall the exact reason why now—to cackle even louder.
“Hi, Archer,” I say with a smile. “What brings you here?”Oh my God, am I flirting? Do I want to be flirting with him?
Archer looks around the table and clears his throat as his eyes land on Thea, who is still giggling into Ripley’s shoulder. “Uh, I’m here with my sister. She just moved to town, I’m showing her around.” He hooks a thumb behind him in the direction of the bar. I look to where he’s pointing and can make out a stunning woman with fire engine colored hair and a punk-goth vibe. She has tattoos running up and down both arms, her hair is tied up with a bandana, and her make up is making me jealous. I need to know how she does that thing with the eyeliner. I realize Archer’s speaking again, so I bring my attention back to him.
“...with her kid. I plan on bringing her to RED soon too. I’m sorry to hear Cary left.” He directs the last bit to Thea, whosehappy smile slowly falls. Every time he’s mentioned, it’s more and more obvious I’m missing a lot of details. I feel terrible for Ripley though. It seems like no one is ever concerned about his feelings; they talk about it right in front of him.
Thea gives him a small smile but doesn’t say anything else.
“I better get back to Calla before she tricks Shelley into falling in love with her,” Archer says with a laugh. I can’t tell if he’s joking or serious, and my alcohol-induced mind is no help. Before I can even respond or say goodbye, he’s walking away, and I realize I must have missed the rest of what he said.
I look over to Thea, melancholy still painting her face, and I’m shocked again by how open she’s being about her feelings for an ex with Ripley sitting right here. Without another word, she gets up from the table and strides out to the dance floor.
“Sometimes you just have to let a girl dance her heartbreak away.”
“Heartbreak? But I thought…” And suddenly the shift in Thea’s mood makes sense.Cary left.Though I don’t know the details there, I know she’s been sad since. I distantly recall my trip to Hayes’ studio and someone mentioningpresent history. I can’t imagine what Ripley’s going through watching her right now. “Oh… I’m so sorry, Ripley.”
He looks at me, his eyes slightly narrowing as if he’s really taking me in. His lips quirk in a small smile. “You, my dear Margot, look like a good egg,” he says right before he takes another shot. “And because you look like a good egg, I think I can tell you Thea’s heartbreak only hurts me in the same way it hurts you. Watching someone else go through whatever,” he waves his hand loosely in the direction of the dancefloor, “that is, is tough for anyone—but especially afriend.”
His words take a moment to sink in. “But I thought…” I trail off, not really sure where my thought was going.
“You thought I was in love with a spunky little blonde who unfortunately happens to be in love with someone else?” I nod, and he continues, “Sadly for me, I am.” He downs another shot and stands up but continues to look at me. “What’s most unfortunate ishe’s3,000 miles away.”
I imagine my eyes are as wide as saucers as the truth of what he’s telling me settles around us. “Oh.”
Ripley smirks again. “Close that mouth, you’ll give the men staring at you the wrong impression.” I slam my lips closed and look around, my cheeks heating. He slides a full shot glass in my direction, some of the tequila spilling over the side. “Bottoms up, buttercup.”
And then he’s gone. Swallowed up by the bodies on the dance floor, popping up next to Thea a moment later, stepping in and not missing a beat in the song as they move together.
My alcohol soaked brain can barely wrap itself around what I just learned. I’m feeling grateful to Ripley for trusting me with his truth, but at the same time, I feel like I have to reframe everything I know about him and Thea from the last six months.
Unable to really process it, I whisper, “Fuck it,” and down the shot before heading out on the dance floor to find the first two people I can truly call friends in Indigo Hill.
