“Not feelin’ happy vibes that my good girl is usin’ the words ‘titty bar’ ‘cause I’m sittin’ outside one and that she’s gotta count on Wood to keep her safe from my f**kin’ ex when I’m not there. High-class good girl like you should live a life untouched by that kinda shit and a man like me should know better than to bring it on her.”

“I lived a life untouched by that kinda shit, Tate, and I’d never been unhappier because there was worse shit in it and it had nothing to do with talking about titty bars,” I whispered.

He was silent a moment as if contemplating this.

Then he demanded, “You sleep in one of my tees.”

“Sorry?” I asked.

“Wood’s in the house while you’re in my bed. Only claim I can stake since I’m f**kin’ three states away and I’m stakin’ it. You sleep in one of my tees.”

“Tate, that’s unnecessary.”

“Babe. Sleep. In. One. Of. My. Tees,” he said slowly and with waning patience.

“Oh all right,” I muttered.

More silence then a soft and sweet, “There’s my good girl.”

My breath caught and I opened my mouth to say something but he’d disconnected.

I touched the button and put my cell on the counter.

Then I turned to Wood and asked, “You want coffee?”

Wood crossed his arms on his chest and his eyes dropped to my bare, tan legs exposed by my cutoff jeans shorts. I’d cut off the legs of some of my old, fat jeans so the shorts hung on my h*ps but even I thought they looked kind of sweet, however, now, I was considering changing them.

Wood’s gaze came back to mine, he grinned slow, it was no less sexy than the times I’d seen it before and he answered, “Yeah.”

I went to get him coffee and I decided I was definitely wearing Tate’s tee to bed.

* * * * *

At 3:30 a.m. in the morning, I stood uncertainly in Tate’s living room watching Wood nab the remote.

“Do you need more pillows?” I asked.

“I’m all right, Laurie,” Wood answered, moving his body to lounge on the couch where I’d put the two sham covered pillows from Tate’s bed with the blanket from the couch.

“Um… I need to –” I started.

Wood flicked on the TV, turned the volume low and his eyes came to me.

“Baby, go to bed,” he said gently.

I nodded and his phone on the end table by the couch rang. He reached for it, looked at the display, grinned huge, flipped it open and put it to his ear.

“Tate,” he said, his voice vibrating with the chuckle he was suffocating and I bit my lip and decided to listen to the conversation.

“Yeah, she’s home safe and sound. No Neeta. Though, some guy named Brad turned up at Bubba’s.”

I could swear I heard Tate roar, “What the f**k?”

Or maybe that was in my head.

Wood burst out laughing.

Nope. It wasn’t in my head.

I closed my eyes but opened them again when Wood started talking.

“Yeah man, you meet this f**kin’ guy?” he asked, his voice amused. “I know. Total dick,” Wood agreed. “Bar was jammed. Saturday night but more. Word was out Neeta was in town. Half the folks came to see the faceoff; other half came to take Laurie’s back. Ned and Betty were there, both of ‘em. All the waitresses were there, even the ones who weren’t on including f**kin’ Jonelle. Krystal, Bubba and Dalton were all mannin’ the bar. Stella, Holly, Tyler that trainer and that g*y guy who owns the salon showed. Even those two f**kin’ hippies were there, the guy still wearin’ those f**kin’ glasses even though it was night, purple this time.”

This was true. Everyone I knew or even spoke to in Carnal was at the bar. Twyla even turned up. Apparently Neeta was a big draw. Also apparently I’d made some good friends.

At first Krystal, Bubba, Jim-Billy, Wendy (who was on with me) and Wood seemed a little stunned at this show of support. Then they all thought it was hilarious. Then they all talked about it, loudly, sometimes yelling about it across the bar. My “posse” as Wood started to refer to them, joined in the yelling conversation and everyone thought this was the height of comedy, especially the more liquor they got down them. Even Krystal joined in the fun, not only making acid comments about Neeta (who it didn’t take a psychologist to read she did not like) but also ending the night doing shots with Twyla. I’d stood at the bar waiting for Dalton to fill an order and stared at her like I’d never met her. Dalton was right there with me. Then he turned to me, smiled and put my drinks on my tray.

My mind came back into Tate’s living room when Wood started talking again. He was warming to his story and enjoying telling it if the massive grin on his face was anything to go by.

“Then this f**kin’ guy walks in… to Bubba’s…” Wood started choking because he was laughing so hard he was having trouble speaking but he forced out, “in a f**kin’ golf shirt. Man, I think he had girl shit in his hair.”

Wood lost his battle with his hilarity and burst out laughing.

I wondered if Tate was laughing or if he was looking for something to throw.

Wood controlled his mirth and, still chuckling, stated, “No wonder Laurie got in a car and fled suburbia. The prospect of that guy the rest of her life… Christ.”

I sighed and crossed my arms on my chest.

Wood kept talking. “Trouble? No man, he came in ready to bring it on but Laurie’s posse saw him walk in, eyes on her, they clocked him immediately and he didn’t make it within five feet of her. The whole lot of them closed in, except the hippies but they kept goin’ outside to their van so I think they were stoned outta their minds by this time. They were in their own world, they missed the whole thing. Anyway, he started to throw ‘tude and f**kin’ Jim-Billy, of all people, sucker punched him in the gut. Then that butch chick, the new waitress, she got him by the scruff and frog marched him out the door.” Wood shook his head. “Wish I had that shit on tape.

I didn’t. Experiencing it once was enough.

Though seeing Twyla frog march Brad out the door was kind of funny and Carrie and Mack would get a kick out of seeing it on tape.

“No, Tate, not a problem. Bubba jumped on his bike and followed him to the town line. The guy got frog marched out the door by a chick. She’s solid and her chick status is questionable but I’m pretty certain she’s still a chick. That kinda hit to his manhood? He ain’t comin’ back.”