Secrets & Surrender: Part One (3 page)

“Hey, Cody. Mandi.” Buster Mills stepped up to us, a bottle of root beer in his hand. “Like the hair.”

Buster was not your typical guy. Really, how many guys would notice the masterpiece that was my hair? I had worked two hours to get the maximum amount of curl and puff without making it look like a frizzed out cotton ball on my head.

Buster, like Cody, wasn’t much of a talker. It must’ve been a Texas dude thing or something. Despite that, we’d become good friends over our mutual love of food.

Buster was huge. He towered over me and had arms as big as tree trunks. I often wondered why he didn’t play football. He totally seemed like the type, and, in Texas, it was taboo not to even think about playing. For some reason, he preferred to read his poetry books and be left alone. If he weren’t so big, he would’ve gotten picked on just as much as Cody. But even the Baker boys stayed away from Buster.

“Your mom still making those corn tacos?”

My brow furrowed, confused. “Corn tacos?”

“Yeah, the corn leaf tacos.”

“Oh.” I laughed. “You mean tamales. You bet. We’re still trading this year, right?”

His chubby cheeks dimpled when he smiled. “Pink party cake coming at you the first week of classes. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t.” He looked down, rubbing the tip of his black cowboy boots on the floor. His face grew pink as I waited for him to say something. I looked to Cody, puzzled, wondering what was going on. He shrugged.

“I was, uh, wondering if you’d like to dance,” Buster finally said.

“Oh,” I blinked. “Uh, yeah sure. I don’t know how to two-step though.”

His brown eyes sparkled as he placed his bottle on the counter behind us and held out a meaty hand. “Don’t worry ’bout that. I’ve got you covered.”

I glanced at Cody. I didn’t want to leave him hanging.

As if reading my mind, he said, “I told Uncle Mike I’d bring him back the truck before midnight. He’s heading out for another job on an oil rig later tonight.”

As I danced with Buster, I couldn’t help but be impressed. Buster wasn’t kidding. He had some smooth moves on him. He was big, yet so graceful. Best of all, he didn’t seem to mind that my heels kept stomping on his toes. He twirled me around, making me laugh. Who knew that dancing to country music could be so much fun.

It hadn’t even been a minute after I started dancing with Buster before Lynette was by Cody’s side. She whispered something in his ear, rubbing her body up against his arm again. He shook his head. It was times like this when I so wished I could afford a camera. Hell, I’d even settle for the disposable kind because the expression on Lynette’s face was priceless. It was classic mortification. She probably wasn’t used to getting the brush off. Apparently not, because she chased after Cody, saving face by latching her claw onto his arm and walking outside with him.

“Crazy ass girl can’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” I muttered under my breath.

“What?” Buster asked.

“Nothing, just singing along with the song.” What the hell were they playing now?

I was about to ask Buster the name of the song, when I froze at the sight of a tall dark haired guy standing behind him. He was like no one I’d ever seen before in my life. He was drop dead gorgeous. Unlike the flannel and t-shirts most of the guys were wearing, he had on a sport jacket over a loose fitting, pale gray shirt. Very
Miami Vice
. Dark wavy hair fell over his forehead and hung halfway over his eyes. Curly, dark lashes framed teasing hazel eyes.

Those hypnotic eyes held onto mine for a moment, and my stomach went into a free fall. You’d think I’d never seen a cute guy before. But this was different. There was something more to this guy that I couldn’t put my finger on. He stood there looking at me with an aura of confidence. I could feel myself being drawn to him. In that moment, I forgot who I was and what I was doing. And I didn’t like it, not at all.

I moved my foot forward, wanting to shift us away from him so I could pretend that I hadn’t noticed him. Maybe he’d get the hint and go away. My heel landed hard on the top of Buster’s foot.

“Ouch! That one hurt,” Buster said.

“I’m sorry. I was trying to—”

“Excuse me.” When Mr. Miami Vice’s perfectly shaped lips began to move, I knew I was sunk. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him as he spoke to Buster with his eyes still holding mine.

“I was hoping to dance with the most beautiful girl in Koppe, but you happen to be dancing with her. Mind if I cut in?”

“A
re you sure this is the place?”

I pulled the beamer up to the front of the strangest looking building I’d ever seen. We appeared to be out in the middle of nowhere. It looked like a movie set for
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
. I studied the hand drawn map Mr. Fletcher had given me. Turning it upside down and then right side up again. How did I get myself into this?

I glanced over at my little sister, Bianca, who was staring into the sun visor mirror, putting on pink lipstick.

Oh, right. Daddy’s girl got pretty much everything she wanted and she wanted to party.

If I’d known that dinner with Mr. Fletcher was going to turn into an invitation to what appeared to be the strangest place to hold a birthday party, I wouldn’t have bothered coming home on time. Football practice was wearing me out as it was. And it wasn’t because of all the hits I was taking either. It was hard to lead a team when all they gave you was the cold shoulder. Then there was Dillon’s brother, Seth, who waited on the sidelines at every practice. It was unnerving. Shit, it wasn’t my fault that Dillon couldn’t throw worth a flip. And if it weren’t for my father ragging on me to be on the team, I wouldn’t have even bothered. “You need to uphold the Marcelli name. The Marcelli legend needs to be kept alive,” he’d say to me on almost a daily basis. I finally gave in just to get him off my back. Being the only son in a high achieving family was a lot of pressure I didn’t want. Every time the old man looked at me, I knew it was with disappointment. He expected better. I guess he was embarrassed I wasn’t a trophy son he could show off to his friends.

“Bianca?”

“What? Oh my God. Don’t tell me we’re lost. Don’t make me go into that shed over there and ask for directions.” She eyed the building warily.

“No. I think this is the place.” I jumped out of the car, walking over to a dust-covered sign.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” She slammed the car door shut.

I wiped the dust off the sign, revealing the words. “Dixie Bar & Grille: Home of the Best Fried Pickles in Texas.”

“Nope, this is the place.” I wiped my hands on my slacks.

“Fried pickles? Eww. I’ve changed my mind. Let’s go.”

“No way. You begged Father to make me bring you here. So now we’re here. We’re going in.”

I opened the door, and a cowbell rang as we walked in.

“Why does everyone have big hair?” Bianca yelled over the blaring country music.

There were several girls in a corner. They giggled as Bianca and I walked to the bar, where a person was serving sodas.

I rolled my eyes. Bianca asked the strangest questions. It’s not like I knew anything about Texas fashion. “I think it’s for the same reason almost every guy here is wearing a cowboy hat.”

Bianca and I were the only ones not wearing blue jeans, and everyone seemed to notice, not that all the staring bothered me. But being the new kid in town was hard enough without sticking out like a sore thumb. I should’ve been used to it by now. Even in New York, we stood out because of our family name. In New York, the Marcellis were known in social circles for their political ambition as well as some of the family’s shady past in bad business dealings. Some of those dealing walked a fine line between legal and not so legal. Somehow, my father managed to separate himself from the negative publicity of the Marcelli name and become the president of a major university. Though, it was controversial on how he’d gotten the position, especially since he’d never been a faculty member or worked his way up the ranks, like most university administrators. That had pissed off a lot of people at Texas University. But the Marcelli name carried a lot of weight in Texas, something to do with our family’s close ties with heads of oil companies and some politicians. Needless to say, a lot of strings were pulled.

We stood in the corner drinking something called “Big Red.” It was pretty good. I noticed a couple of the guys from the football team. They studied me, not saying a word. I gave them a nod. It wasn’t going to be easy winning them over. Everyone seemed to know everyone else. People were in their cliques, and Bianca and I seemed to be the odd men out.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, a harmonica shrieked from the speakers and some guy started singing about being born on the bayou near the Texas border and being born to boogie. It must’ve been a really popular song because girls squealed and dragged some of the guys toward the dance floor. I was about to make a bolt for the door when some dude in black cowboy hat asked Bianca to dance. I was surprised when she actually said, “yes.” The guy resembled a younger version of John Travolta in
Urban Cowboy
and Bianca’s crush on the movie star helped his case, despite the odd looking clothing.

I searched the room, hoping for something harder than the red soda I was drinking. I was in serious need of alcohol. That’s when I saw her.

In between a blur of cowboy hats and blue jeans was a girl who seemed to be dancing in a world all her own. Dark curls cascaded onto a bare shoulder. Large hoop earrings tapped against flawless tan skin. Shapely legs spun on three-inch heels, and even with the extra height of her shoes, her head barely reached the tip of her dance partner’s chin.

I placed the bottle on the bar counter and walked toward her. She was different from the other girls in the room, not because of the hot pink mini skirt or the lacey gloves or the dozen necklaces around her neck. It was something in her eyes. Those dark eyes sparkled whenever she tossed her head back and laughed. I loved the way she moved her hips to the beat, not dancing like the others and not caring who saw her.

I brushed my hands over my hair and nervously pushed up the sleeves of my jacket. The lights danced on my white blazer, reflecting the colors of the rainbow as I moved toward the dark haired beauty. I wasn’t sure why my stomach was suddenly tied in knots. I’d never had them before and always thought it was a chick thing. She wasn’t the first girl I’d asked to dance. And based on all the gawking the girls were doing as I walked to the center of the dance floor, Texas girls seemed to like what they saw just as much as the girls in New York.

The knots were forgotten the moment her dark eyes locked with mine. I smiled confidently as I tapped her dance partner’s back without even giving a second thought that this huge guy could probably beat me to a pulp in two seconds flat.

“Excuse me. I was hoping to dance with the most beautiful girl in Koppe, and you happen to be dancing with her. Mind if I cut in?”

The guy blinked, surprised at my interruption. He eyed me curiously. “Uh, I don’t know, Mandi?”

Mandi.
I smiled at the sound of her name.

She stared at me for a moment with that deer-in-the-headlights look. I grinned. Now
that
was something I was used to seeing. I relaxed knowing that, at least in Texas, some things hadn’t changed.

Then she blinked as she looked from her dance partner and back to me, her eyes narrowing.

“I don’t think so. Come on, Buster,” she said, dragging her friend away.

That was not what I had expected. I stood alone, surrounded by couples stepping or two stepping or whatever the hell they were doing while Mandi kept dancing with this Buster dude. I was confused. If she didn’t want to dance with me, why did she keep peeking around Buster’s shoulder to look back at me?

Taking a breath, I went up to them again. “I’m sorry. Maybe I said it wrong. I’m new here. My name’s Nic Marcelli.”

“Hey, you’re the guy who replaced Dillon on the team. Sweet.” Buster held out his fist, waiting for a fist bump. “I’m Buster Mills.”

“Yeah, that would be me.” I gazed at Mandi, giving her my best grin. “I’ll be starting quarterback for the season. I was wondering if—”

“Yeah, whatevers.” Mandi twirled around, doing a fancy dance move and lead Buster away.

She brushed me off...again! I was flabbergasted. What was I doing wrong?

I scanned the dance floor and marched over to Bianca when I spotted her still dancing with Urban Cowboy. “Come on. I need your help. Sorry, dude.”

“Hey! I was dancing with Barry,” she squealed when I ripped her from Urban Cowboy’s arms.

“You need to dance with that guy. His name’s Buster.” I pointed out Mandi’s dance partner.

“Why?”

“Never mind why. Just do it. You owe me.”

She placed her hands on her hips. “I don’t think so.”

“Come on, Bianca.” She waited, tapping her foot. She was so stubborn sometimes. She definitely got that trait from Father. “Fine. I want to dance with the girl he’s dancing with.”

She turned and checked out Mandi, who looked like she was having way too much fun with Buster. “Ooh, I love her outfit. She’s pretty too. Why don’t you just ask her to dance?”

I cleared my throat. “I did. Twice.”

“Shut up! The Great Nic Marcelli was turned down? I gotta call Blair and Kristie when we get home. They’re totally gonna flip out.”

Great, all the phone lines in New York were going to be tied up tonight once Bianca and her friends got going. What was it with this small town? Everything seemed to be going wrong since we’d moved here. I’d never let Bianca get the upper hand like that. I threw a glance at Mandi. No one ever turned me down like Mandi had either.

“Knock it off, Bianca. Are you going to help me or not?”

“Okay, fifty bucks.”

“No way!”

“Way. I’ve got a rep to protect. I can’t just dance with anyone.”

“We just moved here. You don’t have a rep.”

“Even more of a reason to not start off on the wrong foot. How do I know if he’s one of the cool kids?”