In Honor (21 page)

“Went back home for a little while,” Rusty said, clearing his throat.

Shana looked pained all of a sudden. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. J.D. mentioned something about that. We were all awfully sorry to hear about your friend. That was the same guy who came up here with you on a trip to check out the team a few years back, right?”

“Shana, this is Honor,” Rusty interrupted. “His sister.”

“Oh,” she said, turning to me. “I’m so sorry. About your brother. It must be really hard for you.”

I just nodded, hoping she’d get the drift that it wasn’t something I wanted to talk about at the moment. Half of me felt guilty for the thought, but the other half just wanted a little stretch of time where it didn’t weigh so heavy on me.

Shana spoke up. “My fiancé was the captain who took him all around, so I met him when he was up here. Good guy.”

Fiancé.
I nodded again. Maybe she wasn’t so bad.

“Kinda like Rusty here.” She patted him firmly on the shoulder.

He raised his eyebrows and opened up his menu. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

“I definitely wouldn’t,” I added, relieved for a change in subject.

“Oh, then you haven’t seen this boy dance.” Shana smiled. “Not many players are as good on the dance floor as they are on the field. Believe me, I’ve dated my fair share of ’em.” She said this behind her hand, like she was telling me a secret. Rusty nodded agreement from behind his menu. “But Rusty here,” Shana continued, “can make anyone look good on the dance floor.” I watched him smile behind his menu and tried to picture it. “You guys should stay for Wade Bowen tonight,” she offered. “Then you can see for yourself.”

I was liking this girl more and more. “That sounds good, thank you.” I kicked Rusty under the table. “We’re stayin’, right?”

“Fine with me.” He closed his menu and smiled up at Shana. “I’ll take one of those western burgers and a Bud, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“It’s not at all,” she said without writing it down. “What about you, Honor? What can I getcha?”

“I’ll take the same,” I said, more joking than anything.

“Sure thing. I’ll put those in right now and be back with your beers.” Shana winked and turned on the heel of her boot.

When she was gone, Rusty raised an eyebrow at me from across the table. “Gutsy.”

“What?” I asked like it was nothing. “You ordered one no problem.” I tried not to smile but couldn’t contain the pride I felt at having just ordered a beer. In a restaurant. From a waitress.

“That’s right. I forgot,” Rusty said with a slow smile. “You’re all grown up these days.”

Shana returned with two frosty beer bottles and set them on the table in front of us. “Burgers’ll be up in a few. You guys need anything else?”

“Actually, I think we do.” Rusty sat back against the booth and looked up at her with the kind of smile that could probably make most girls say yes to anything. “We were thinkin’ we might need a couple of shots to go along with these.”

Shana tilted her head at him like the answer was no. “What about Hell Week? You guys aren’t supposed to be drinkin’ heavy right now.”

“It’s to toast to her brother.” He motioned at me, then looked back up at her, very serious. It was shameless, but something Finn probably would have appreciated. “C’mon. For Honor.”

Shana glanced at me, mulling it over before she turned back to Rusty. “Fine. Just don’t tell coach it was me that knocked you off the wagon. And keep it low key. I can’t afford to get in trouble over you, okay?”

We both nodded.

“What do you want, then?”

Rusty gave the question over to me. “Honor? What’re we drinkin’?”

Another one of his dares. I should’ve never, ever said anything about being all grown up. It was the exact type of thing he wouldn’t let me live down. Fine then. I pretended to think about it, like I actually knew something about what I might like to drink. “Hmm . . .”

Rusty watched me, entertained, and Shana waited.

“Tequila,” I said finally, with conviction. No matter that I’d never actually drunk tequila. It was the first booze that popped into my head, mostly because I’d heard enough songs to know it was something people took shots of.

Shana arched an eyebrow at Rusty, and he shrugged. “The girl means business. Make it two. And a couple more Buds to go with.”

“Oh good lord,” Shana said, shaking her head. “I can already see what kind of night this one’s gonna be. I’ll be right back.”

She turned again and headed for the bar, and I watched the cowboys watch her hips sway as she walked by. Then something she’d said came back to me. “You’re s’posed to be in Hell Week right now?” Rusty rubbed his forehead but didn’t answer. “Are you?”

“I guess so.” He lifted his beer and took a long drink, then set it down in a way that said he was done with that question. He wasn’t playing anymore, then. Shana just didn’t know it yet. “So, Honor, tell me somethin’. You a big tequila fan these days?”

“Oh come on. I had to order something. You used Finn to call me out on that.” Really, I’d regretted it as soon as I’d said it. The only hard alcohol I’d ever drunk was some peach schnapps that Lilah got once, and that was pretty nasty. Other than that, it was a beer here and there, but not because it tasted good. That was just what you walked around a party with. I picked mine up and took a big gulp. Since we were in a bar and all.

“That’s fine,” Rusty said. “I just didn’t know you could handle the hard stuff.” He raised his bottle casually for another sip.

“I should be able to. Why wouldn’t I? It can’t be
that
bad, right?”

“Nah, it’s not that bad.” He sat back with a wide grin and watched Shana, who was weaving her way back to us, tray held high above her head.

When she got to the table, she took two more beers off the tray first, then set down in front of me what looked way bigger than I thought a shot glass should be. “It’s a double,” she said. “On the house.”

This
was gonna be bad. “Thank you.” I smiled up at her, trying not to look scared of it. I slid it closer to me, spilling some on my hand. Oh god. I could smell it from far away.

Rusty took his and turned to Shana with a smile as she set down a dish of limes. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Burgers’ll be up soon, okay? Enjoy.” She hustled off to tend to the bar, which was now filling up with cowboys, mostly older guys milling around in boots and palm-leaf hats.

Rusty looked at me like he was working hard to keep a straight face, then he licked the back of his hand and picked up the salt shaker.

“What are you doing?”

He sprinkled salt over the wet spot. “I’m takin’ this shot. Salt?”

Apparently this was how you took a shot of tequila. With salt. I stuck my hand out.

He grinned. “Did you want me to lick it for you?”

“Ew. No.” I pulled my hand back and licked it myself. “This is weird. Are you messin’ with me?”

“No,” he said, sprinkling salt on my hand. “You lick the salt, take the shot, then suck on one of these.” He put a lime wedge between the thumb and forefinger of my salted hand, then slid the shot over to my free hand. “Pick your glass up now.”

I did, and Rusty grabbed himself a lime, then raised his glass in his other hand. He actually expected me to do this. Right now. The smell of it was enough to make me wanna heave. My heart sped up. I was just gonna have to get it down as fast as I could without thinking about it. But oh, god, it was gonna be nasty.

“To Finn,” Rusty said, clinking my glass.

“To Finn,” I echoed. For a brief second I wondered what he’d think of this. Then I licked the salt off my hand, just like Rusty did, which was gross, but that was nothing compared to the nasty burn of the tequila I threw down my throat. Everything in me shivered and tried to gag it back up, but I forced it down, then jammed the lime in my mouth, hard.

“
Nicely
done,” Rusty said from across the table. He licked his lips and went for his beer.

I kept the lime pressed to my teeth and breathed through my nose, willing the shot to stay in my stomach, where it now swam around all warm and tingly. When I was pretty sure it was gonna stay put, I took the lime out.

“That,” I said, grabbing for my beer, “was horrible.” I took a good, long gulp that washed away the last of the burn and gave me a new appreciation for beer, then I set the half-empty bottle on the table and shook my head at Rusty. “Ugh. No tequila. Ever again.”

24

“YOU SHOULD TRY SOME MORE TEQUILA!” I yell across the table to Rusty. “IT’LL CHANGE YOUR LIFE!”

He laughs and says something I can’t hear because the music is so loud. Who cares. Wade Bowen’s up on the stage with his cute raspy twang and his guitar, and out on the dance floor everyone’s spinning and girls are flying up in the air and I’m gonna go out there too. I belong out there.

I scooch around the curve of the booth to Rusty’s side so he can hear me, then loop my arm through his and pull. “WE SHOULD DANCE! C’MON!” I twirl my finger around in the air. “BECAUSE
THIS
IS A REALLY GOOD SONG!”

Rusty leans away from me, laughing. “Goddamn, you’re drunk. And loud. You should maybe test out standing up first.” He nods at the couple, maybe three, empty rounds on the table.

“Whatever, I’m fine.” I take my arm back. “You’re no fun. I’m gonna go get one of those cowboys to dance with.” I go to scoot out of the booth for the guy I’ve been watching all night. He’s tall and cute and does this little move where he flips his hat off his head whenever he spins a girl. I want him to spin me and flip his hat.

Rusty grabs my arm. “Lemme finish this beer. Then we’ll dance.”

“Promise? I don’t believe you.”

“I promise.”

“Fine.” I grab his beer out of his hand and take a drink, and he just shakes his head. “What? I’m helping you. So we can dance.”

“Okay, have at it then.”

I go for another drink, and it’s kinda warm and not very good. But Rusty hits me with those green eyes of his and smiles, and
that
is very good. I wonder if he knows I just thought that. Oh crap, he does know. That’s why he’s still smiling. I should change the subject.

“I have a question for you,” I say, very serious, like I’ve been thinking it over forever. Because I have, actually. “Why do you—and Finn did it too. . . . Why do you guys talk about the Pala like it’s a girl? Why do guys
do
that with things? Do you know how dumb it sounds?”

Rusty just looks at me for a second, then cracks up. And then I do too, and I don’t even know what’s so funny except that he’s laughing and trying to catch his breath and every time he’s about to, it starts all over again.

“Really,” I ask through tears. “Why do you
do
that?”

Rusty leans back and breathes in deep, still on the edge of laughing. “Oh, goddamn, that’s funny.”

“What?”
I’m about to start up with the giggles again, and I still don’t know what was funny in the first place.

“It’s not ‘the Pala,’ it’s Paula.”

“Huh?”

“Finn’s car. We named it after a girl—Paula.”

“No. You’re wrong.” I poke him in the chest for emphasis. “Pala . . . is short for
Im
pala. Duh. Finn never knew anyone named Paula.”

Rusty crumbles into a laugh again. “That’s what you thought this whole time?”

“Yeah . . .” Is he . . . he’s laughing at
me
.

“No . . .” He catches his breath again. “Paula’s short for Paula Peaches. Who the car is named after.”

“Who’s
that
? That’s the dumbest name I’ve ever heard. Who would name their kid that?”

“I’m pretty sure she named herself that.” Rusty takes his beer back from me and finishes it in one gulp, then smiles. “Paula Peaches . . . is one of Texas’s
finest . . .
actresses.”

“I’ve never heard of her.”

“No reason you should have.” I can tell he’s trying not to laugh.

I think about it, hard, then something dawns on me. “Is she”—I look around to make sure no one’s listening and lower my voice to a whisper—“an
adult
actress?” I make air quotes around the word “adult.”

Rusty gives a proud nod.

“That is so dirty! You guys were just . . . dirty . . . dirty guys.”

Rusty grins like I just gave him a compliment. “Not as dirty as Paula Peaches.”

Shana walks up to the table before I can think of something clever to say back to him. “You two need another round?” She looks at me. “You doin’ okay?” Of course I’m okay. Except I’ve been driving around in a dirty porn-star car.

“Yeesss,” I say. “I would please like another round. But something fruity this time. With peaches, maybe.”

Rusty snorts. I work to keep a straight face. Hard. Shana shakes her head and points at Rusty. “You better not get too drunk to dance. That’s the only reason I let you in here.”

She leans down and whispers to me like we’re old friends. “J.D.’s not much of a dancer, so I have to get my fix from your boy here every once in a while. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” I say. “But you better take him now.” I scoot out of the booth and whisper to her this time. “Because I
think
we might be startin’ to get drunk soon. And right now I gotta go pee. Where’s your girls’ room?”