Page 85 of My UnTrue Love
Lyrics from the folk song “Crossroads Coyote”
Clem was not having a great morning.
Her brothers kept texting her, demanding answers about her new living arrangements.
Her butt had done that annoying thing where it somehow grew overnight, so her skirt felt tight.
Woody’s idea of “fixing” the issue with the bathroom was to yank out the mildewed drywall under the sink and replace it with a haphazardly cut piece of cardboard. There was now a hole in the wall and the sink still leaked.
She was out of the bananas she used to mitigate the artificially-sweet taste of Bill’s breakfast cereal and she couldn’t justify the cost of buying more. (Desert Pete, the owner of the Lone Prairie, had refused to pay Bill after he fired him, so they were more broke than ever. It was very upsetting.) The unadulterated multi-colored chemicals in Gala-Ohs! were liable to burn a hole in her tongue.
And, most frustrating of all, Bill was being stubborn again.
“I just don’t see why we can’t break into Luke’s apartment and look for him. He won’t answer when I knock.”
Bill sloshed coffee into a purple mug. It was decorated with the words “Hug Your Favorite Nurse” and a cartoon tarantula with all eight of its legs extended for an embrace. Clem had a feeling it had been left behind by the apartment’s last tenant.
“We’ll hear if he’s in there soon enough. Him and that damn screeching fiddle.”
“He’s uniquely talented, Bill. I’m going to try and get him admitted to the Westlands Performing Arts Academy. I think it will really help him refine his natural gift.”
“Coyotes don’t go off to college. More likely we go off to jail.”
“That’s ridiculous. He’s not a criminal. He’s just a sweet little boy.”
Bill didn’t seem persuaded. “I can’t commit breaking and entering on our neighbor’s house today. I got an important appointment. I’ll do it tomorrow, if you’re so set on it.”
She made a face. “Yes, I was here when you got the call to set up yourimportant appointment. You were remarkably mysterious about the whole thing.”
“Was I?” His forehead creased. “Well, I’m tickled you think so. A man likes to hear he’s mysterious, every now and then. Especially from the girl who knows what color his bed sheets are.”
Blue.
His sheets were blue and she’d woken up in them. And woken uponBill, with her hand in a very embarrassing place. That was another reason for her lousy mood. Bill didn’t seemupset by it, but Clem was appalled that she’d basically groped the poor guy while he slept.
This really was a rotten morning.
Bill’s head tilted, as if something just occurred to him. “Darlin’, have you been wondering about my appointment?”
She ate more of her unbanana-ed breakfast.
“Huh.” Bill lounged there, basking in her brooding silence.
Clem sent him a sideways look, annoyed by his amusement. “Oh, shut up.”
Bill chuckled. “Sadly, my mystery ain’t so mysterious.” He told her, all chipper and pleased with his teasing. “It’s a job interview, at Camp Town Racetrack.”
She squinted in confusion. “What would you do there?” She couldn’t imagine they needed a guitar player. Didn’t they use bugles to announce races?
“I’m hopin’ they’ll hire me to look after the horses.” He headed for the fridge to grab a carton of milk. “I like horses.”
Right.Cowboy.
Clementine’s tension eased, the morning looking up. “I support you having a temporary day job at the racetrack, if it makes you happy.” She could see how working with animals would be fulfilling to him. Bill was such a tender soul.
“I’m hoping it’ll be more than temporary.” Milk and sugar got heaped into his coffee. The man had a sweet-tooth, no doubt about it. “Once I find a real job, you won’t have to be upset about saloon owners refusing to pay us. I don’t wantanystress affecting your health. You can be more secure, if I have a…”
Clementine cut him off. “Yourreal jobis being a guitar player andmyjob is to convince people how talented you are. We’re finding you a new venue today. We talked about it last night.”
