Imperfect Harmony (Big Sky Cowboys 3)

Sarah

After what was hopefully the worst performance of my entire life, I decided to go out with some of my bandmates and a bunch of people from the crew. My plan was simple. I would drink as much as I possibly could and then maybe I could forget the abomination that was me on stage. It was bad. I tripped over a wire and fell on my face. I got nervous and missed my cue… twice. And, the piece de resistance, as I danced down the catwalk into the audience, a bobby pin fell out of my hair and scratched some woman’s cornea. I found her in first aid after my set and was surprised when she and her husband wanted me to sign some autographs, but still, it was mortifying.

So, for the first time, when Gwen asked me to join them like she always did, I said yes. It was still early and Neville, my bassist, said he knew someone at the Rockin’ Robin Cafe and could probably get us all a table, especially because we were in the industry. So we decided to brave the crowds at the iconic venue. Much to my surprise and everyone else's, Horse said he was coming out too.

I’d never been to the Rockin’ Robin Cafe, but I knew about it. The Robin was a small intimate venue that hosted both big names and small. Inside, it was nothing special, just small and dark, but I would literally be as honored to perform there as I had been to stand on the stage at The Garden. The Robin unearthed and elevated the voices of the kind of singer-songwriters that commercialized music had no use for—real talented folk. Neville had managed to get us two tables, which we squished around.

“Whoooooo wants drinks?” Leon blustered in a goofy Oprah-esque boom.

I raised my hand and a little too loudly, said, “Me!”

Gwen and a few others, including Sean, laughed. Horse did not.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Gwen said kindly.

“I maimed a woman.” I sighed, exasperated.

“Oh, please, she can still see,” Sean quipped.

Leon interrupted our conversation. “Drinks first, pity party later. Who wants what?”

“I’ll take a beer—something local,” Gwen said.

“That sounds good, we might need a pitcher,” I posed.

“Works for me,” Leon confirmed.

“Me too,” Neville added. “Maybe two pitchers.”

Sean cleared his throat and said, “I would like a Belvedere vodka martini with five olives, dirty.”

“Of course, you would,” Leon joked. “But they don’t have the hard stuff here, sweetheart.”

“Boo,” Sean snarked. “Well, then get me a Sauvignon Blanc, cutie pie.”

Horse stood up and moved to go with Leon. “I’ll give you a hand.”

When they were out of earshot, Gwen leaned into Sean and me. “What is he doing here?”

I looked around, hating the idea of being overheard gossiping about Horse. Neville was totally distracted, talking to the guy he called to get us into the Robin.

Sean leaned in too so I was now the monkey in the middle. “My guess is he’s orbiting Sarah.”

“Orbiting?” Gwen giggled in confusion.

Sean clarified. “I have a sneaking suspicion that Big Bad Boss Pony gravitates toward our sweet little Sarah. She is the Earth and he is the moon, baby.”

“Really? You think Horse wants to bone Sarah?” Gwen blurted. “No, no way. No offense, Sarah. You’re perfectly boneable. But Horse doesn’t fraternize. He doesn’t even socialize.”

“Say what you will, but I’m telling you, he wants all up in that snatch.” Sean smiled, bobbing his head enthusiastically in a show of confirmation.

“Oh my God, stop it!” I whispered at Sean, mortally embarrassed by his chatter. “First of all, that is not true. He can hardly stand to be in the room with me, and secondly, you will never again reference my nether regions, ever. Got it?”

“Your nether regions? What are you, ten?” Sean laughed.

“Ugh. My vagina, or vulva, or whatever.”

“Your vulva?” Sean was hysterical now.

“Yes. What’s wrong with vulva? It’s factual.”

Gwen was laughing now too.

“How about something a little more festive, like fun tunnel?” Sean suggested.

“Or animalistic,” Gwen offered, “like beaver or pussy.”

I was sure I was blushing. “You two are incorrigible.”

An hour and a half and quite a few beers later, I was busily trying to get Leon to come up with a better word for vulva than fun tunnel. Sean and Gwen had gone to the bathroom together and I wanted to make them laugh when they got back. I wasn’t totally out of control but I felt loose and happy. We’d had the pleasure of listening to a fantastic duo and opposite me, Neville was still singing their praises to Horse.

“That was the best duo I’ve seen in ages,” he said.

“They were good,” Horse said flatly.

I prodded Leon’s arm. “C’mon, you have to have something better than fun tunnel?”

“What’s better than fun tunnel?” Leon remarked.

“That last song reminded me of that great old Bonnie Raitt song, ‘Angel from Montgomery,’” Neville said.

I thought to myself, that’s a John Prime song, but I didn’t want to be rude.

“That’s a John Prime song,” Horse responded. “He wrote and recorded it three years before Bonnie Raitt covered it. John Denver also covered it in that same year.”

Horse knew an awful lot about music. He knew music history and he mentioned my key change earlier in the day. I was starting to think that deep down he was a musician at heart.

“Oh, right,” Neville said sheepishly. “John Prime was amazing.”

“How about love shack?” Leon suggested, still talking to me about vaginal slang.

“Nah, we need better. Think, Leon, think.”

“I got nothing,” Leon shrugged.

I took a swig of my drink, waiting for inspiration.

And then from across the table in that deep sultry voice of his, Horse said, “Penis fly trap.”

That was it. I wanted to cheer and laugh at the same time, but instead, I choked and beer shot out of my nose, then Horse was at my side patting my back. His hand felt huge between my shoulder blades, strong and gentle at the same time. The heat of his fingers seemed to travel straight through my chest and down past my belly button until it pulled up and parked in my fun tunnel.

“Are you okay?” Horse asked.

I nodded, but I was still coughing. Leon poured me another beer so I could clear my throat. I took a big swig.

“I’m going to get you a glass of water,” Horse asserted, scowling at Leon.

“No, I’m fine,” I argued. “Let’s just figure out how I’m going to work penis fly trap into conversation.”

Horse sat down next to me and draped his arm across the back of my chair. I had a split second where I wondered what he was doing, but the conversation moved forward and the buzzed version of me liked him close, so I decided not to question it. When Sean and Gwen came back from the bathroom, it was clear that they noticed that our seating arrangements had been adjusted, but I brushed that off too.

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