Kristen Ashley - Play It Safe

Her head tilted sharply to the side and her brows drew together.

Then her head straightened, her brows drifted apart and she flat out smiled.

“Veterans of Foreign Wars,” she answered.

What on earth?

Janie kept talking.

“They got a lodge here. Veterans commune, they do shit, make money, give it to charity, have picnics, I don’t know, shit like that. And they make a mean steak. Do it as a fundraiser every Friday but also so they’ll have more reason to commune, eat meat and drink beer.”

“So, is it fancy?” I asked carefully.

She shook her head and leaned in closer, both arms on the bar. “No, babe. The steak is to die for, to kill for but it’s just a night out. Everyone’ll be there. Cool. Casual.” Her eyes held mine and she said softly, “You’re good just as you are.”

I wasn’t sure I was a big fan of “everyone’ll be there” but I still nodded.

Then she weirdly begged, “Please tell me it’s Gray.”

“Tell you what’s Gray?”

“Tell me it’s Gray who’s takin’ you to the VFW tonight.”

“It’s Gray,” I whispered.

She smiled huge.

I was surprised. I was also pleased I had her endorsement. But I was lastly confused.

“Why do you want me to tell you it’s Gray?”

She shrugged. “Don’t know. He’s Gray.”

“What’s that mean?” I asked and it was then Janie studied me.

Then she leaned in even deeper and stated. “Good people in this town, a lot of them. Bad people too but that’s the way of the world and luckily, in Mustang, there’s fewer than most places. Everywhere, there’s always that someone who’s better than the good people, better than most anyone and in Mustang, that someone is Gray.”

My breath flew clean out of me.

“So,” she went on, “you got a guy like Gray, everyone, not just me, but everyone hopes he’ll find somethin’ great. Somethin’ awesome. Somethin’ else. Lotsa sweet girls in town, gotta say, but none of them’d do the trick.” Eyes glued to mine, she finished, “Has to be someone great. Someone awesome. Someone who’s somethin’ else. Like a twenty-two year old girl who walks into a bar thinkin’ she’s invisible and not havin’ the first clue she’s movie star gorgeous. Like a twenty-two year old girl that makes scuffed cowboy boots, faded jeans and a tight henley look like haute couture. Like a twenty-two year old girl who’s sweet to cooks in a bar she’s never gonna meet because she needs food but she don’t wanna put ‘em out when it’s almost quittin’ time. Like a twenty-two year old girl that sizes Bud Sharp up, sees his fancy-ass clothes, knows, she takes a good look in the mirror, she could bring him to his knees and make him beg and live the big life even if it’s in a small town, and she wants no part of a dick like him. Like a twenty-two year old girl who’s got her secrets and holds ‘em close but cares enough about Grayson Cody, she lays out her cards to make sure, when he asks her on a date, she doesn’t go out on his arm and make him look bad. Like you, who could open your door to Gray tonight lookin’ exactly like you look, wearin’ exactly what you’re wearin’, and, I’m tellin’ you, he won’t be disappointed and no one, not Gray, not anyone in this town, not anyone on this goddamned planet would take a look at you two and not think you belong together.”

I’d had a lot of experience hiding behind a guard that was unshakable.

But not enough not to be left breathing heavy with my hand flat on the bar and my eyes trembling with wet as I stared at a woman I did not know who said the nicest things to me that I’d ever heard in my twenty-two years.

“I’ll end with this, babe,” she whispered. “I don’t know what you got goin’ on, it’s a small town, you look the way you look, you play pool the way you play pool, you catch Gray Cody’s eye and he steps up for you, word’s gonna spread. Everyone’s talkin’. You decide to let go whatever you got goin’ on, I was close on puttin’ up a sign in my window. I need help. I don’t know what you do but I do know men in seven counties would come to The Rambler to buy a beer from you. You want the job, it’s yours. You need a place to hang ‘til you get your shit together, I own this joint including up top. Mostly storage and the rest ain’t much, but it’s got a kitchenette and a bathroom. You’re welcome to it until you get on your feet. A month, two. Then, you wanna stay, we talk rent. You wanna find somethin’ nicer, you keep smilin’, lookin’ as flat out gorgeous as you are and sellin’ the hell outta beer, we’re good. You don’t want that and take off, I get that. Life is life. But that offer is on the table. Yeah?”

I was still breathing heavily to stop the wet from spilling over when I nodded.

“Diet’s on the house,” she muttered then grinned.

I pulled my lips in and bit them.

Then I let them go and grinned back.

Then I pulled in a heavy breath.

Then I grabbed my diet and took a sip.

Then I set it down with great care, my eyes on the glass and my hand executing this maneuver like judges were sitting at the end of the bar who would flip up numbers that would grade my performance.

Then I tipped my eyes to Janie’s and whispered, “Thank you, Janie.”

“Thank me with your name,” she returned.

“Ivey.” I was still whispering.

“Ivey,” she shoved her hand at me, “nice to meet ‘cha.”

I looked at her hand. Then I took it. Then I looked back at her.

“You too.”

Then I smiled.

Two hours and forty-five minutes later…

“Hey, Gray!”

“Hi, Gray!”

“Yo, Cody!”

We were walking through the VFW which was what Janie said it was, a lodge. A full lodge. Long tables and lots of them with bench seats full of people, oldies, young couples, entire families.

Gray had his hand at the small of my back guiding me through.

He knew everybody and they knew him. Thus the called out greetings. He also got a lot of smiles, head tips (women), chin jerks (men) and waves (kids).

I just got a lot of looks and every last one was curious. Friendly, but curious.

Except for a few of the younger women. Their looks were minus the friendly.

Gray led me to the last table where there were two seats available at the end of the benches, the rest of the table full.

I slid on the bench across from Gray thinking I couldn’t do this.

I could hustle big, bad, bearded bikers who could break me in two, take their money and clear out of town with Casey driving, gun in his hand, me riding, my baseball bat in mine but this… this I couldn’t do.

But I had no choice. I was there so I had to find a way to do it.

I took off my coat feeling self-conscious. Janie said I didn’t have to change. But I had a tank that had some nice lace at the top and my cardigan was kind of cute. So I’d put both on. I’d also refreshed my makeup and perfume. I’d lastly added a couple of pretty necklaces and some bigger than usual earrings. It wasn’t much but it said something and Gray deserved to have a girl open the door to him who made an effort.

So I made that effort.

And, looking around, no one was in ballroom gowns. In fact, even though it wasn’t much, I was dressed better than most.

This gave me relief.

Gray had on what I’d seen him in this morning and afternoon. Dark blue turtleneck, jeans, boots. He didn’t look any different at all.

He didn’t need to. Gray Cody didn’t need to make any effort. He was naturally spectacular.

He shrugged off his leather coat, unwrapped his scarf and, like me, tucked it on the bench between himself and the person next to him.