Sidecar Crush

I lounged on the floor in Scarlett’s living room, my back resting on the couch. She’d put out an assortment of snacks on the little coffee table and made drinks for everyone. We were all dressed in comfy clothes or pajamas, making it feel a bit like a slumber party.

If I had too many of these drinks she was mixing, it might turn into one.

“Thanks again for inviting me,” I said. “Today was much needed.”

“Glad you could make it,” Scarlett said. She tossed a few more pillows on the floor and balanced her drink in one hand as she sat. “Seemed like you could use a little pampering, with everything that’s been goin’ on.”

I nodded. She was certainly right about that. I’d made the mistake of reading more of what the gossip columns were saying, and it wasn’t good. I was a home-wrecker, a vixen, a seductress, and an attention whore. Jameson was a hick with a tragic past and the shadow of his father looming over him—although the stories always emphasized that he was hot. Someone had taken pictures of him at the lake—shirtless of course. Images of Jameson Bodine in nothing but board shorts, running his hands through his wet hair, had gone viral.

“Yeah, the last few weeks have been ridiculous,” I said.

“Did your ex quit buggin’ you after the little incident at Moonshine?” Scarlett asked.

“Incident with the ex?” Cassidy asked. She sat up a little straighter and tilted her head. “I heard something went down.”

I laughed. “My ex showed up in town after he saw the story about me and Jameson. I agreed to meet him at Moonshine, mostly so I could get rid of him.”

“And of course you know who showed up,” Scarlett said.

“Let me guess,” Cassidy said. “A big wall of Bodine men.”

“Scarlett was with them,” I said.

“Hey, there was no way I was missin’ that,” Scarlett said. “And I have to give it to my brothers. They were on their best behavior.”

“Best behavior? They tossed Kelvin into a dumpster,” I said.

“Nothin’ he didn’t deserve.” Scarlett glanced at Cassidy. “Public assholery.”

“Typically in West Virginia, disorderly conduct carries a fine of up to four hundred dollars,” June said. “Or a night in jail.”

“Well, in Bootleg, we just toss your ass into a dumpster and call it a day,” Scarlett said.

Cassidy and Scarlett both raised their glasses and clinked them together.

“So what did the asshole ex do after being served up a cup of Bootleg justice?” Cassidy asked.

“He left town,” I said. “And I haven’t heard from him since.”

June tapped her chin thoughtfully. “It appears to have been an effective measure.”

“I’d say so,” Scarlett said. “We know how to do things right, ’round here.”

I grabbed a handful of potato chips and popped one in my mouth. “I still can’t believe he flew all the way out here.”

“Sounds like you dinged his pride,” Cassidy said. “Men are like toddlers. They don’t appreciate what they have until someone else wants it. Then they throw a tantrum.”

“I think the good ones get it,” Scarlett said. “They appreciate what they have, when what they have is good.”

Cassidy groaned. “Scarlett, I love you, but I don’t need to hear any more about the amazing Devlin McAllister. You found the perfect man. We know.”

“Aw, Cass, you’ll find a man who’s perfect for you, too,” Scarlett said.

“I don’t think he exists,” Cassidy said.

“Approximately ninety percent of Americans get married before the age of fifty,” June said. “The numbers are still in your favor.”

“That’s not exactly a comfort, June Bug,” Cassidy said.

June just shrugged and picked up her phone.

“Are you still striking out, Cassidy?” I asked.

She groaned. “I swear, I think I’m going for some kind of record. Most terrible dates before the age of thirty or something. I didn’t think it could get worse than the guy who picked me up on his riding lawnmower.”

“It got worse than a guy picking you up on a riding lawnmower?” I asked.