I tuck a handful of bills into the donation jar and toast her with the plate. “I most certainly will.”
The three women animatedly chat as Kelsey and I settle at the end of a long table lined with chairs.
“You’re going to charm the bloomers off the ladies,” Kelsey says.
“And that will make clear that I’m on the lookout, and you’re devoted to their favored son Randy.”
She sinks her fork into the cake. “Smart. This is why I brought you.”
We’ve made it most of the way through the desserts when Randy shows up. “You’re here!” He leans down to kiss her hair.
I avert my eyes, concentrating on a wayward pecan.
“Thank you for bringing her, Zach,” he says.
“Of course.”
“You sure you don’t want me to help out?” Kelsey asks. “I totally can.”
“You’ve done too much already. Enjoy yourself. Zach, you’ll dance with her, right? Keep any other prospects off my girl?”
I stuff down fifty dark responses. “Of course.”
“Great.” He squeezes Kelsey’s shoulders. “Save a slow dance for me, all right?”
“Of course.” She watches him disappear through a side door.
“What does he have to go do?” I ask, pushing the pie away. I no longer have any appetite for it.
“He and Jack are taking turns patrolling the parking lot for fights.”
That gets my attention. “Fights?”
“These events tend to bring out hostility.”
“Okay, then.”
She shrugs. “It was the same in Alabama. Farmers and cowboys, blowing off steam.”
The square dancing comes to an end. “Now for a line dance!” the man onstage announces. A new song begins.
Kelsey groans. “This was a staple at every school dance and wedding where I grew up.”
“What is it?”
Her eyes get wide. “The Chicken Dance. You don’t know it?”
“Should I?”
She laughs and jumps up, pulling on my arm. “Come on. You have to learn it.”
She leads me to the center of the room, where mostly older people and little kids have congregated.
They start making weird motions with their hands, then flap their elbows like a bird.
Oh, I get it. Chickens.
There there’s a hip wiggle and four claps.