Bourbon Bliss by Claire Kingsley & Lucy Score

Author:Claire Kingsley & Lucy Score [Kingsley, Claire & Score, Lucy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-01-04T05:00:00+00:00

23

George

My phone buzzing on my nightstand woke me with a start. I sucked in a quick breath and grabbed it. It was Gibson. Why in the hell was Gibson Bodine texting me in the middle of the night? It was one in the damn morning.

Gibson: you might want to come down to the Lookout

Me: what’s going on?

Gibson: kinda have to see this for yourself

He sent me a photo. The light was dim, and I was still trying to wake up. It was hard to tell what I was looking at. I squinted at the screen.

Wait. Was that June?

Me: Be right there.

I threw on some sweats and a t-shirt, stepped into my shoes, and didn’t bother grabbing a coat. I regretted that half-awake decision the second I stepped outside into the cold night. Despite the fact that it was early spring, it was still freezing. But I wasn’t going to pause to take care of my bodily needs. I was a big guy. Muscle would keep me warm.

Noise spilled out into the parking lot at the Lookout. Music and voices carried, even with the door shut. I went inside, and sure enough, there she was, just like the picture Gibson had sent.

June stood on a table in the middle of the bar, drunk as a fish in a barrel of whiskey. She teetered to one side, then the other, like she might fall right over. But she took a breath, held out her arms, and stayed standing—to a chorus of cheers and clapping from the crowd gathered around her.

What in the hell was she doing?

Her voice rose above the din. “All right, y’all, ready for the next one?”

More cheers. Fists, beer bottles, and mason jars raised in the air.

“Okay.” She held out her hands, motioning for quiet, although she already had the rapt attention of everyone in here. “Simon says—”

The crowd collectively gasped.

“Rub your stomach in a circle and pat your head.”

Everyone standing around her table attempted to do what she’d said. Most appeared too drunk to manage it. A pair of old ladies burst into laughter as they stumbled into a man with a barrel chest wearing a Bootleg Cock Spurs t-shirt. A girl about June’s age laughed so hard she had to sit down. An older lady I remembered as being called Granny Louisa was the steadiest on her feet, and she giggled as she rubbed her stomach and patted her head.

Front and center, leaning into each other like they might fall otherwise, were Cassidy and Nadine Tucker.

I knew who I had to thank for tonight’s shenanigans. I glanced around for Sheriff Tucker or Bowie Bodine, but I didn’t see either of them. Maybe the girls had given them the slip tonight.

June clapped to get everyone’s attention. “Simon says stop. Y’all are terrible at that. Okay, listen up. Jump on one leg.”

A guy with a trucker hat on backwards was the only one to jump. Everyone else pointed and yelled for him to be out. He slunk off to a table and sat down with a few other dejected players.

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