Sweet Dreams (Colorado Mountain 2)

“Didn’t she know –?” I started.

“’Bout Bubba?”

I nodded.

He nodded back. “She knew, Laurie. But he made promises to her, to Tate, he’d tow the line, he’d do his bit, he’d grow up.” Jim-Billy shook his head. “Tate gets in his face, Bubba goes on the wagon but he always falls off.”

I got closer and asked quietly, “Does he like fishing that much?”

Jim-Billy stared at me.

Then he leaned in and whispered, “Honey, he ain’t fishin’.” I didn’t reply and must have looked confused because Jim-Billy went on whispering. “Why you think you broke through that stone around Krystal’s heart and made her take a chance on you?”

“I don’t –”

“He f**ks around, Laurie, with anything that moves, anything that breathes. Off here there and everywhere, partyin’ and gettin’ himself laid. Folks around town call him Bender Bubba. He’s on a bender and anything goes.”

I looked to the doorway of the hall, asking, “Why does she put up with it?”

I looked back to Jim-Billy to see him shrug. “She loves ‘im.”

I could understand that. Many women who hadn’t been cheated on didn’t understand other women who put up with it. When Brad came clean, told me about Hayley, my very first thought was I forgive you. I couldn’t see a life alone. I couldn’t abide a life without him in it. I wanted him so bad and loved him so much, I would have taken him any way I could have him.

He just didn’t want me.

“Poor Krystal,” I whispered.

“Don’t let her hear you sayin’ that,” Jim-Billy whispered back.

I looked at him, bit my lip and nodded.

The door opened and customers came in. I knew them, they’d been in before.

I grabbed my tray, headed their way and smiled, calling, “Hey Steg, Bob, what’s up?”

* * * * *

“Need two Bud drafts,” I said to Krystal as I hit the bar.

“Gotcha,” she replied, turning to nab some mugs and turning back, her hand going to the tap.

I studied her.

There was a lot on my mind, primarily Tate, who was coming to put me on the back of his bike so he could drive me the five blocks to my hotel. Also on my mind was his rampant desire for my safety and willingness to secure it.

His words in the office, though, were flipping me out, scaring me and other, very different things besides. I didn’t get it. I wasn’t certain what happened in there or why it happened. All I knew was that it did.

But now, I was thinking about Krystal.

She put a mug on my tray and went for the other one.

“You okay?” I asked.

She didn’t look at me when she answered, “Yeah, why?”

“Tonia,” I said softly and her eyes slid to me then back to the mug she was filling.

“Girl was a waste of space,” she muttered and I felt my face flinch. Then she went on, “Still, Christ.”

“Yeah,” I said and she put the other mug on my tray.

Then she surprised me by asking, “You okay?”

“About Tonia?” I asked back and she nodded. “No,” I answered.

“No one deserves that,” she stated.

“No,” I agreed. “No one deserves that.”

“Folk sayin’, way she dressed, way she acted, brought it on herself,” Krystal told me.

“Really? People are saying that already?”

“Yep,” she nodded.

“Do they know all that happened to her?” I asked.

“All that happened to her?”

“The, um… thing with her hair,” I explained.

“What thing with her hair?”

I looked at her a second and then muttered, “Nothing.”

She examined me. Then her face changed in a way I couldn’t read.

Then she said, “Tate.”

“What?”

“Tate tell you what happened to her?”

“Um… yeah, he popped by earlier and –”

She cut me off. “No, folk don’t know all that happened to her.” Then she mumbled, “Fuckers.”

“Got that right,” I replied.

She caught my eyes and surprised me again. “Thanks for doin’ the stock take, Lauren.”

“Um… you’re welcome.”

“And Tate says you wiped down most of the bar,” she went on.

“It was a slow day,” I told her.

She nodded. “Speakin’ ‘a that, with Tonia gone and Tate on the hunt, we’re losin’ the waitress durin’ the day. I’ve redone the schedule, copies of it are on the desk in the office. All the girls are nights now, even you.”

I nodded back again. “Okay, that’s fine with me.”

“You can handle it,” she said and I smiled at her.

She didn’t smile back.

Instead, she informed me, “Got ads in papers all over the county and then some. Gnaw Bone, Chantelle, everywhere. Hopin’ we’ll get a couple of girls in soon.”

“Okay,” I replied.

“It’ll be tough for awhile –”

I interrupted her. “We’ll cope.”

She held my gaze a long moment.

Then I said, “Better serve these.”

She turned away, muttering, “Yeah.”

* * * * *

I was in the bathroom studying myself in the mirror.

I was still in research mode in order to find ways to be the best waitress I could be in an effort to make a living when the time came when I actually had to make a living. Day tips weren’t great, as Krystal had warned. On Saturday and Sunday, when the bar was busy, tips were fantastic. Even fantastic, they didn’t make up for the weekdays. It would be good to work nights.

In my efforts at research, I was experimenting with makeup. Today, it was slightly heavier. Not Krystal, Jonelle and, rest her, Tonia heavy but not my normal subtle either.

I was also experimenting with footwear.

I’d dug into my clothes and pulled out a top that I bought a few years ago but it hadn’t fit in awhile. Seeing as I was constantly missing meals, on my feet and swimming regularly, my clothes were fitting loose. So I’d tried it and found it fit though it was just a smidge snug at the cle**age. A cream blouse, a bit see-through (so I wore an off white, stretchy camisole under it), it also fit snug up my midriff but it was supposed to because it had two darts at both sides under my br**sts and the same at both sides in the back. It had a collar and such short sleeves they couldn’t really be called sleeves as they were just an inch of material. I’d also added a layering of a bunch of silver necklaces that I usually only wore one at a time, all of them having daisies or flowers dangling from them or pendants with daisies and flowers stamped on them. I’d put on my daisy stud earrings and my flower-dangling bracelets. I’d paired this with jeans, a tan belt and, the new tactic of the day, high-stiletto-heeled sandals. They were tan leather that almost matched the belt and they had five thin straps that led into a big rose at the toe and a wraparound ankle strap you couldn’t see under the bootcut of my jeans (which was too bad because I always thought it was sassy and Brad had agreed, he’d loved those sandals and he especially loved the sassy ankle strap).