The Adventures of Slim & Howdy by Kix Brooks; Ronnie Dunn; Bill Fitzhugh

Author:Kix Brooks; Ronnie Dunn; Bill Fitzhugh
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: FIC002000
ISBN: 9781599951379
Publisher: Center Street
Published: 2008-05-11T22:00:00+00:00

35

“THE EAGLE FLIES ON FRIDAY,” JODIE SAID, QUOTING T-BONE Walker. She glanced at her watch. “Happy hour starts at four.”

And by five-thirty everybody feels like money to burn and nothing to lose.

Better hang on to your hat.

Weekends at the Lost and Found. Time to let it rip and roar. Didn’t matter if you’d spent the last five days working an oil rig or cooped up in a home or an office cubicle, all work and no play sucked. And when you do step out, it don’t matter if you’re high-rollin’ or honky-tonkin’, long as you’re out.

There were low-cut dresses, knee-high boots, and tight jeans to be wiggled into and back out of later. If all went well, somebody might even be there to help. Lots of friendly people at the Lost and Found. There were drinks to be drunk. Rugs to be cut. Stick a whole roll of quarters in the boogie box, son, turn up the heat. Put a buzz in the joint.

“Let’s get this thing rockin’!” were the first words Howdy heard come out of the mouth of the guy who walked in wearing a Can’t We All Just Get a Bong? T-shirt. His buddy, trailing right behind, figured he was going to impress the chicks with his Git-R-Done hat and his ability to do the majority of Larry the Cable Guy’s stand-up routine. Hey, it had worked before.

Howdy was on the door, checking IDs. Cover charge didn’t kick in until later. Bong Boy and Git-R-Done were both old enough so Howdy just smiled and let ’em in, told ’em to have some fun. Thinking about his own younger, dumber days.

Slim was back in Jodie’s office with his guitar and a legal pad, working on a song. It was an idea that had been percolating since the day he and Howdy pulled into Del Rio and stopped for gas at the Truck ’n’ Go Quicky Stop. Slim had noticed this guy climbing down from the cab of his Kenworth, looked like he’d been on the road forever. Kidneys sore from too much coffee, back knotted like a rope. Then he pulled a picture from his shirt pocket and looked at it. He smiled and it was like dark clouds lifting off his face.

Slim didn’t have to see who was in the picture to know there was a song in it. He figured the guy had deadheaded down from Tulsa or maybe Little Rock. His baby wanted him back home and he’d been in the fast lane since the last toll gate, haulin’ nothing but high hopes and thin air. “Eighteen wheels singing home sweet home” was one of the lyrics he was working with. “For too many days, he’d been on the road, missing her more with every load, goin’ broke one white line at a time.” Yeah, it was coming together, but he still needed a title.

Out in the main room, Jodie and the rest of the staff were slinging hooch and wings and whatnot left and right.

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