The Rising Bull was a square warehouse of a building nestled right off the highway. A wooden corral surrounded the side and a large gateway led to the parking lot. Mounted above the gateway was a big red longhorn skull with heavy duty chains wrapped around the horns. One eye socket was a bright yellow bulb and the other remained hollow. Sick ’em, the Rising Bull’s mascot, glowed against the darkened sky, enchanting all who met his gaze. And Carmen was bewitched every time she saw him.
The place was slap full, so Carmen parked in the back. She patted Amy on the knee and said, “Time to cut loose.” Without waiting for a response, she stepped from the car and shimmied her short black dress down her thighs. Cowgirl hat straightened, she cupped her breasts, giving the girls a quick lift. And for the final primp, she ran her fingers through her black hair and fluffed.
As Amy rounded the front of the car, Carmen entwined her arm with Amy’s. She just needed to get a few drinks in the girl and maybe Amy’s bad day would be a distant memory. Arm-in-arm, they headed toward the bar’s entrance.
“Get ready to put yourself two sheets to the wind and drink your worries away,” Carmen said.
With a small smile, Amy nodded.
Carmen stopped and twirled Amy to face her. She stomped her heel on the gravel lot.
Amy shrugged. “What?”
“You better not let that damn rat ruin the whole night.”
“I’ve been thinking…”
Carmen pointed a red fingernail at the building where a caricature of Sick ’em was painted on the side. A silver horseshoe hung from its nostrils and ammo belts wrapped around its horns. “This is a bar,” she said in a mother-to-child tone. “No thinking allowed.”
“But maybe that week I had all those terrible nightmares, maybe it didn’t have anything to do with the dead rat I had found back then.”
“Brilliant revelation. Now let’s go.” Carmen’s heels clicked as she strutted toward the bar’s front door.
Amy caught up to her. “Maybe the rat from today won’t haunt my dreams. Could be last time I was fighting off a cold or something?”
“Exactly.” Carmen tugged Amy’s arm once more. “Cold meds can give you some trippy dreams.”
Carmen spotted Derrick standing at the entrance. She let go of Amy’s arm.
But damn, he looked good. He wore a black muscle shirt with tight black jeans that showed his lean but muscular legs, and those rugged steel toe work boots.
Derrick was heavy into conversation, his hands animate. Last time she’d seen him, a week and two days ago, he’d gone home with Miss Suzy Slutbags from Whorelane. Long legs. Blonde hair. Big breasts. How fucking original.
“You and Derrick on the fritz again?” Amy asked.
“No,” Carmen lied and stopped to light a cigar.
Where had he been this time? Rock climbing? Skydiving? Running with the fucking bulls? She watched Derrick until he ducked inside the club then continued walking.
“Who was Derrick talking to?” Amy asked.
“Cinder. He’s been a regular at the Bull for a few months now.”
Amy hesitated before asking, “Have you—”
“No.” Carmen shot Amy a stern glance. “I think he likes the poles.”
Cinder wore a blue rhinestone suit and yellow suede shoes. In one well-manicured hand he held a large cigar and in the other, a moon pie that he’d already taken a bite from. Cinder had to be the second most exotic dresser who frequented The Bull.
“How fares this splendid eve for Lady Carmen and her consort?”
Carmen took a drag of her cigarette. And she’d give him the number one slot for being the most eccentric talker. “Just dandy.”
“May I offer a guess?”
The guy always got her costume right but she never took it further. He seemed harmless enough, but she had zero attraction for him and she sensed he had even less for her.
Her game of ‘guess the costume and answer the trivia = get laid’ was a bit juvenile but entirely entertaining. And in this podunk, backasswards town, a little excitement could curb a strong desire to tie oneself to a train track.
She nodded.
“A sexy cartoon madam with poodle-like hair and nose...with a bit of a western spice.”
She shook her head. “How do you do that?”
Cinder winked. “I have traveled stars beyond dreams; your eyes make me quiver still.”
Carmen nodded indifferently. “Cinder, sweetheart, you need more Daniels and less Cummings.”
“Your Daniels I have known, but your Cummings is much a bore.” He moved his face close to Carmen. “But she walks in beauty like the night; of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright.”
Carmen laughed and placed a light kiss on Cinder’s cheek. “Byron. Now that’s more my style.”
Cinder took another bite of the moon pie and looked into the sky. “Tis a night of a thousand stars and destinies aligned that we find ourselves one day afar, but it will never forsake whom we are.” He leaned to look around Carmen where Amy stood. From his minty cigar, Cinder swirled a cloud of icy white smoke. “I must know the name of your lady friend.”
“I’m Amy.” She gave a wave. “What will never forsake who we are?”
“Our sign from the stars that we are eternally aligned.” Cinder’s face scrunched. “Such unorthodox vibes pour forth this moment in time. Is it too forward to ask of your sorrows and pains?”
Amy’s eyes grew wide, gawking at Cinder as if he were some sort of celebrity.
Carmen snatched her by the wrist. “Her day’s been awesome. Catch you later.” She dragged Amy through the door as Cinder gave his verbose farewell.
Just inside, surrounded by country music, drunken chatter, cigarette smoke and dim lighting, she pulled Amy to the side. Carmen fished through her own purse. “I have something for you.” She found the purple vibrator, still in the package. “Meet Bastet.”
Amy scowled. “Put that away. What would Shane think?”
“It was his idea.”
A short brunette with pigtails and shorty shorts leaned over Amy’s shoulder. “I have that exact one, ‘cept mine’s pink. You’ll love it.” She disappeared into the crowd.
Amy snatched the vibrator and shoved it in her purse. Her arms crossed over her chest, she glared at Carmen. “You gave it a name?”
Carmen mimicked Amy’s angry expression and body posture, but with a touch of exaggeration. “I name all my playthings.”
“I can’t believe Shane would ask you to buy me a...toy. What was he thinking?”
“He wasn’t thinking. He’s got a penis and he’s breathing. But the brute is in love with you on a diehard level, so take the gift and be grateful.” When Amy only glared at her, she added, “Probably worried about leaving you alone so much.”
Watching Amy’s face redden, Carmen struggled with an uncontrollable urge to laugh her fuckin’ head off. Again, she dug into her giant purse and grabbed her cosmetic bag. She forced it into Amy’s hand. “Put some war paint on that pretty face and loosen up, girl.”
“Why?”
The urge to laughter faded, replaced by frustration. “Because the mopey-pouty, woe-is-me is tiresome and I refuse to babysit. Besides, I need to dance, get drunk and maybe even score myself a man, but your negative nancy vibes are going to be a super buzzkill.” She lifted her chin, gesturing to the ladies room. “Bury the damn rat already. Forego the mournful widow, Plain Jane look and put some damn makeup on.”
When Amy’s posture drooped and her frown deepened, Carmen wanted a do-over. If only she could take back all the shit she had just yammered.
Amy took the cosmetic bag. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a downer.”
Relieved and shocked Amy took her run-down so well, Carmen shrugged. “If you keep thinking bad things are going to happen then they will.”
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