A Husband of Her Own. Brenda Novak
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when Aunt Millie told her she was too thin for the hundredth time. “Are you trying to cheer me up, or what? You know Aunt Millie would snoop through my things and try to hold me to a curfew.”
“I just want you to know you’ve always got somewhere to stay. You could even come out here to the ranch.”
“Wouldn’t Conner love that.” Rebecca retrieved the perfume from her dresser, squirted some into the air, then stepped into the shower of spray. She didn’t want to smell like a perfume factory; tonight she was aiming for subtle.
“He wouldn’t mind,” Delaney said.
“No, thanks. I’m not pathetic enough to move in with my newly married friend.”
“It’s just temporary—”
“Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.” Tomorrow. She’d figure something out tomorrow. Tonight she was going to forget all her troubles and go dancing for the first time in months. “Are you meeting me at the Honky Tonk or what?”
“You’re really going?”
“Of course.”
“Then I can’t let you go alone.”
“I’m not going alone. I’m going with Booker.”
“Exactly. I’ll be there in an hour or so.”
As soon as Rebecca hung up, the telephone rang. She eyed it with distrust. Ignoring a ringing phone went against her basic nature. She had sort of a “no run, no hide” policy; anything less smacked of cowardice. But she didn’t want to talk to Buddy or her father or one of her perfect sisters. Not right now. Tonight she was feeling good and going out.
She managed to keep herself from picking up but hurried into the kitchen to adjust the volume on the answering machine. She breathed a sigh of relief that she’d used some restraint when she heard Buddy’s voice.
“Beck? Where are you? Are you mad at me? What’s wrong? I haven’t heard from you. I thought we worked everything out, so what’s with the silent treatment? If you’re that upset about the wedding, maybe we could move it up a couple of weeks. I’ll talk to my aunt. Give me a call, okay?” Beep, click.
“A couple of weeks? Jeez, that’s nice of you, Buddy,” she grumbled and went for her coat.
When she had her purse as well, she called Booker. “I’m on my way.”
“I’ll meet you there,” he said and hung up.
“OH, MY GOD! Would you look at her?” Mary said, straining to see through the crowd. “She’s got a tattoo on her belly.”
“You’re kidding. A tattoo? Of what?” Across the table from Josh, Candace made her date, Leonard Green, move so she could see the dance floor.
“Seems to be a butterfly. She’s over there with Booker Robinson,” Mary answered. “You know he’s back in town, right? He drove past me on that motorcycle of his a few days ago.”
“You already told me,” Candace replied.
Mary watched for a few seconds in silence. “You think they’re sleeping together?”
Josh had been trying to ignore the conversation—just like he’d been trying to ignore Rebecca—ever since he’d arrived at the Honky Tonk. But he couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “No,” he said flatly. “She’s not.”
“How do you know?” Mary asked, her tone eager.
Candace pursed her lips in obvious skepticism. “They look like they’re sleeping together to me.”
“I thought she was engaged,” Leonard said. Until that moment, Josh hadn’t realized Candace’s date was even listening. He’d been too busy craning his neck to see over the half wall that separated their table from those playing darts.
“She’s engaged, all right,” Mary said. “But I wouldn’t put anything past Rebecca. She likes guys on motorcycles, remember? Besides, her fiancé isn’t from around here, so how would he know?”
Josh felt his jaw clench as he put his beer on the table. “She isn’t sleeping with Booker. She didn’t even know he was in town until this morning, okay? Can we cut her a little slack?”
Mary frowned at the impatience in his voice. “What’s wrong with you, Josh? I thought you didn’t like her.”
“I have better things to do than spend the whole evening gossiping about Rebecca’s every move,” he said.
A pouty expression claimed Mary’s face. “Boy, are you touchy tonight.”
“I’m just tired of talking about Rebecca as though she’s the devil incarnate. She’s not all bad, you know.”
Candace arched her brows. “She’s not?”
“No. For one, she has more grit than anyone I’ve ever met.”
Mary and Candace exchanged a look. “Whatever you say, Josh,” Mary told him.
“I’m serious. Do you remember when we were in the seventh grade and Buck Miller was teasing Howie Wilcox?”
“Candace and I weren’t in junior high then.”
“I was,” Leonard said, turning back to the table as the game of darts he’d been watching broke up and the participants sauntered over to the bar. “Buck was always teasing Howie.”
“He was always picking on someone,” Josh said. “And this day we’d had to run the mile for Phys Ed. Poor Howie was so overweight he could barely walk a mile, let alone run one, and Buck was all over him about it, saying the only person he knew with more rolls was the Michelin Tire Man, crap like that.”
Leonard nodded. “I remember.”
Josh focused on Mary and Candace. “Rebecca heard what Buck was saying to Howie and decided she’d had enough. She threw down her books, marched up to Buck and told him to keep his big fat mouth shut or she was going to shut it for him.”
“She did?” Candace said. “Buck was one of the strongest kids in school.”
“He went through puberty in the sixth grade, but she didn’t care,” Josh said. “She told him he’d better quit teasing Howie or she’d make him pay.”
Mary pulled her chair closer to the table. “What’d he do?”
“Started shoving her, telling her to mind her own business before he taught her how.”
“And she…”
“Shoved him right back. Pretty soon they started swinging at each other and all the kids gathered around.”
Mary laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding. Did she come out of it okay?”
“No.” Josh took another drink of his beer. “She got her ass kicked. For Fat Howie.”
“Why?” Candace wanted to know. “Were they friends?”
“Not that I know of. Fat Howie didn’t have any friends.”
“Why didn’t she try to get away when she could see that Buck had the best of her?” Leonard asked. “All she had to do was go crying for the principal.”
“Rebecca wouldn’t give up. She just kept swinging.” Josh shook his head. “Damnedest thing I ever saw.”
“How’d it end?” Mary asked.
“The yard duty finally came and broke it up.”
“Did Buck get suspended?”
“They both did.” He sighed as he toyed with the condensation on his glass, watched a drop roll from the rim to the base. “I’ve always been ashamed of myself because of that day,” he admitted.