Going Cowboy Crazy (16 page)

“Are you ladies talking about me?”

A short, balding man walked in, dressed in creased blue jeans and a western shirt so starched it could stand on its own. At first, Faith thought it was one of Shirlene’s older relatives. But then he leaned over the couch and kissed her, and Faith reevaluated the situation.

“Hey, Lyle, honey.” Shirlene patted his round cheek before pointing at Faith. “Look who’s here.” As the man turned, she sent Faith a wicked wink.

“Hope?” His eyes widened. He tossed his cowboy hat down to the coffee table—almost knocking over Faith’s margarita glass—before he jerked Faith up off the couch and enfolded her in stiff cotton that reeked of cigar smoke. “Lord have mercy, girl. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“I’m not Hope,” Faith tried to explain.

“What?” He set her back down on her boots, his gaze running over her features. “Well, you’re right. You don’t look like the Hope I remember. Not with that short hair, but those baby blues are the same.”

Shirlene giggled, obviously enjoying her little game.

“I’m really not Hope. I’m her twin sister, Faith.”

Lyle chuckled as he leaned down and gave her a kiss right on the tip of her nose. “You and Shirlene—always playing tricks. Remember the time you two took my Cadillac for a joyride?” He shot a smile over at Shirlene, whose giggles had turned to out-and-out laughter. “That taught me never to leave the keys in the ignition. Hell, you two remind me of Lucy and Ethel with all the mischief you get into.

“And speaking of mischief, I’ve got a hardheaded foreman to attend to before I head to Houston.” He reached down and grabbed his cowboy hat off the table, then addressed Shirlene. “I’ll be back on Saturday, sugar. If you need me, call me on the cell.” Still giggling, she only nodded.

Before Lyle left the room, he shot one more glance at Faith and shook his head. “Twin sister.”

Once he was gone, Faith flopped back down on the couch and glared at Shirlene. “That wasn’t funny.”

“Oh, yes it was,” she got out between fits of laughter.

Faith watched her for a few seconds before a smile tickled the corners of her mouth. It was impossible to stay mad at a woman with such a love of life. “Okay, so it was pretty funny. But you didn’t help matters, Lucy, making Ricky think I’m Hope.”

Shirlene caught her breath. “Oh no, I’m not Lucy. Hope’s Lucy. I’m Ethel.” Her green eyes widened. “Which means Lyle is Fred.”

Since Lyle was a dead ringer for Fred, Faith couldn’t help but laugh.

“So the margaritas are finally kicking in?” Shirlene asked.

Faith shrugged, even though Shirlene was probably right. She didn’t feel as angry as she had. In fact, she felt pretty relaxed.

“Good.” Leaning forward, Shirlene filled their glasses back to the top before handing Faith hers. “So here’s the plan. We’ll get you settled into the guesthouse and then we’ll head on over to the high school for the homecoming decorating meeting. I can’t wait to watch that show. Cindy Lynn has always wanted to step inside Hope’s skin—so it should be real entertaining.”

“Oh no, I’m not—”

Cutting her off, Shirlene lifted her glass. “Here’s to Lucy and Ethel—may they ride again.” She clinked Faith’s glass and took a deep drink before holding up the glass again. “And to Lucy’s twin sister and Ethel—may they get into just as much trouble.”

Unable to refuse Shirlene’s offer of friendship, Faith clinked glasses and resigned herself to one more day in Bramble.

Besides, how much trouble could you get into at a homecoming decorating meeting?

“S
O IT’S DECIDED.
Hop—I mean, Faith—will be in charge of paper plates and cups. And Shirlene will be in charge of the punch.” Cindy Lynn, president of the Women’s Society for the Betterment of Bramble, sat at a table in the front of the classroom with her overprocessed hair curled in a style that had been popular… never, and with so many layers of mascara on her top and bottom lashes, they resembled fuzzy black spiders.

“Would that be slutty or virgin punch?” Shirlene yelled from the back of the room where she sat—or
leaned
would be a better description—next to Faith.

While Faith had only sipped on her second margarita, Shirlene had polished off the rest of the pitcher.

“Virgin, of course,” Cindy said. “After all, it’s being held in the school gymnasium. Now, if there are no more questions about the dance, we can move on to the Parade of Queens.”

“I think I saw one of those in San Francisco once,” Shirlene blurted out. “The costumes those guys wore were spectacular.”

Faith coughed to cover her laughter.

Cindy’s spiders narrowed. “Yes, well, most of us can’t afford to travel as much as you, Shirlene.” With a slight upsweep of her pointy nose, she moved on. “So I assume everyone knows that the parade takes place before the game with a shorter version at halftime. All homecomin’ queens, past and present, will meet at the town hall by five thirty and, during the game, sit in the designated first two rows of the stadium so it will be easier for them to get down to the field. Last year, Emma Jean sat up with her kids and husband and held up the entire procession because she got stuck behind the band when they were takin’ the field.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember that,” some woman in the front row said. “Didn’t she get stuck in the tuba section?”

“Right behind Ernie Clines,” another woman cut in. “And you couldn’t move that boy with a John Deere front loader—”

“Ladies.” Cindy Lynn tapped a tiny mallet on the table. “We need to keep on track or else we won’t get anything accomplished.” Her eyes scanned the group. “All queens will sit in the first two rows. Now moving on to the next order of business—Darla, how’s the float comin’?”

A plump woman with rosy cheeks stood up and turned to the group. “I’m happy to announce that the float is finished and is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. As you know, after last year—when the students chose that filthy rap song—Principal Garner insisted they choose one this year that was an oldie but a goodie.” At this point it looked like she tried to roll her eyes, but her eyes were so small it was hard to tell. “So of course, they chose another weird song that no one has heard of—‘Welcome to the Jungle.’ ”

Faith and Shirlene burst out laughing, but the women didn’t have a clue what they were laughing at.

“I know,” Darla continued. “Can you imagine? I could just see our lovely queens dressed up like monkeys swingin’ from a bunch of ugly vines. Anyway, I was forced to use some creative thinkin’, and I can’t wait for y’all to see it.” She waited for the round of applause before she took her seat.

“Good job, Darla,” Cindy Lynn said before she addressed the entire group. “As a homecomin’ queen myself, I will be contactin’ the other queens to make sure they know where and when the parade will start. Twyla has been kind enough to offer her services on Friday so all queens will have matching updos.”

Shirlene cringed. “I don’t envy you, honey.”

Before Faith could ask what she meant, Cindy Lynn stood up and motioned in her direction.

“So now, without further ado, I give the floor to Hope—I mean, Faith—so she can tell us all about her time in Hollywood.” She moved out from around the table, and all eyes turned to Faith.

“Oh, no.” Faith shook her head. “I-I can’t—really.”

“What do you mean?” Darla asked, looking at Faith as if she had just killed her favorite dog. “You mean you ain’t gonna tell us any Hollywood secrets?”

Faith swallowed. “W-well, I—”

“Of course she’s going to answer all your questions,” Shirlene butted in, seeming not quite as drunk as she had been a few moments ago. “Lord knows, we’d never get out of here if Hope didn’t say a few words.” And when Faith sent her a desperate look, she added under her breath. “Just fake it, honey. This group won’t know the difference.”

But her reassurance didn’t make Faith feel any less sick to her stomach. Public speaking terrified her, but no more than disappointing a room filled with expectant faces. She thought about telling them the truth, but realized that even if she spelled everything out for them—starting with her conception and ending with Jenna and Burl’s visit to Slate’s trailer—they still wouldn’t believe her. Like ghost hunters in a deserted house, they only saw and heard what they wanted to.

And what they wanted was Hope. Therefore that’s who she was, no matter what evidence she offered to the contrary. Which meant she had no choice but to go along with the charade.

“So what would you—y’all like to hear about?” The accent was all wrong, but not one set of eyes registered confusion.

“Matthew McConaughey!” someone yelled out.

“Yeah.” Darla held her pudgy hands over her ample chest. “Please tell us you got him into bed, Hope.”

Faith’s eyes widened, but she swallowed down her panic, and using everything she’d learned in the one high school drama class she’d taken, tried to channel Hope.

“Well”—she cleared her throat—“there was that one time…”

It was funny how a few lies could snowball into an avalanche. An hour later, Faith was completely buried beneath the façade she’d conjured up. Gone was the shy woman who blushed at every sexual reference, and in her place was a chatty slut who had fake affairs with every Texas actor—from Tommy Lee Jones to Sandra Bullock.

“I can see that about her,” Darla said. “Wasn’t she like a lesbian in that beauty pageant movie?”

“She wasn’t a lesbian.” Cindy Lynn’s globby eyes narrowed in thought. “I think she was a klutzy cop.”

“I loved that movie,” another woman piped up. “But enough about her. Did you get to meet any country entertainers while you was there?”

“Hundreds,” Faith lied.

“Don’t tell me you met Tim.”

“Oh, you mean Timbo. Of course I did. And I guess y’all knew that he was really born and raised in Texas.” Faith thought it was a nice touch and, if the look on the women’s faces was any indication, so did they.

“Ohmygod!” Cindy Lynn gushed. “I always knew that.”

“Well, so did the rest of us, Cindy Lynn, so don’t go actin’ like you was the first,” Darla huffed.

“I was not actin’ like I was the first—”

Suddenly Shirlene stood up and headed toward the front. “I hate to break this party up—Lord, I can’t remember when I’ve had such a good time—but Faith and I need to be getting back to the house for supper.” She hooked her arm through Faith’s. “Come on, honey, I think you’ve done enough damage for one day.”

As they moved toward the door, the women called out their good-byes.

“I’ll call you, Hope.”

“We’re glad you’re back, Hope.”

“Sheriff Winslow said you lost a few screws in Hollywood, but he never did know his butt from a hole in the ground.”

“That’s right. You haven’t changed a lick.”

“Same old Hope.”

“Sure enough, the same old Hope.”

Cindy Lynn held open the door for them. “Hope, don’t forget you need to be at Twyla’s by four to get your hair done.” The door shut before the light went on in Faith’s brain.

“Oh no.” She looked at Shirlene. “I’m not going to be in the Parade of Queens.”

“No?” Shirlene tugged her down the hall lined with lockers and large banners advertising the homecoming dance. “An hour ago, I might’ve agreed with you. But after that performance, I’d say you’re pretty well screwed. You have now convinced those women that you’re Hope Scroggs. A Hollywood Slut Hope Scroggs, but Hope Scroggs nonetheless.”

Faith stopped and stared at her. “But I thought that’s what you wanted me to do.”

Shirlene rolled her eyes. “I didn’t realize you were going to love the part so much. I thought you’d go up there and answer a few questions—truthfully, I might add. ‘No, I don’t know Matthew. No, I’ve never met any Hollywood stars. No, I don’t kiss women.’ Instead, like Forrest Gump, you took the ball and ran and ran and just kept running until you were so far out of sight there was no calling you back.”

Feeling like she’d been thrown under the bus, Faith pointed a finger at her. “But you laughed.”

“Of course I laughed, honey. I laughed when Hope swung off the clothesline pole and broke her arm. Sometimes even train wrecks can make you laugh, until you survey the damage. And, girl, you just did a whole lot of damage.”

Faith looked back over her shoulder. “Maybe I should go back in there—”

“Nope. I think we should call it a day and leave it at that. Besides, nothing you can say will change their minds now.” She tugged her through a set of doors and out into the late afternoon.

The temperature had to be close to eighty; nowhere near the fifties and sixties of the Chicago autumn Faith had left behind. From the distance came a strange clapping noise. She looked at Shirlene for an explanation, but Shirlene only smiled and headed in the direction of the sound.

The football stadium was much larger than Faith’s old high school stadium and better cared for. The locker rooms, box office, and concessions looked freshly painted, as did the huge gray snarling bulldog that glared down at them from the side of the stands. When they reached the first set of bleachers, Shirlene headed up to the top.

The stands weren’t entirely empty. A few men sat close to the bottom, a group of giggling teenage girls sat in the center rows, and a young boy in a baseball cap sat close to where Shirlene chose to sit. If Faith hadn’t held that ball cap in her hand, she probably wouldn’t have recognized him.