Page 1 of Maid in America

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“Barrett,” slurred a shaggy-hairedman in his twenties, swaying as he waited. “Get your ass over here.”

Barrett removed his tan jacket, exposing the tight, muscle-hugging T-shirt beneath, and tossed it onto a wooden bar stool nearby before embracing the man. “What’s up, Anthony? Where’s your better half?”

Anthony groaned, chugged another shot, and slammed the empty glass onto the bar, startling a nearby cluster of women.

Barrett flashed an apologetic glance to a busty blonde across the table sporting a faded black tank with the iconic logo of AC/DC splashed across the front. She winked back at him as Anthony stretched.

“Linda got pissed off. Took the kids and went to her Mom’s in El Paso on Tuesday.”

Barrett tore his eyes away from the thirsty blonde long enough to give Anthony a pointed glare. “Oh yeah? What’d you dothistime?”

“Why are you assuming I was the one to fuck up? You’re supposed to bemyfriend.”

Barrett slung his arm around Anthony’s sagging shoulders. “I am your friend, bud, butgoodfriends sometimes gotta smack the shit outta you when you’re bein’ stupid. What’d you do?”

“She’s actin’ like I screwed someone.”

“Well? Did you?”

“No!”

Barrett sighed and pulled his buddy in tighter. “Look, you and Linda are good together. You’ve been together for a goddamned decade now. Don’t throw it away over you being an ass.”

“Why do you assume I was an ass?”

“Because I know you, Anthony. You are an ass. A lovable ass, but an ass all the same. You want my advice?”

“No.”

“My advice? Sober the hell up, pack a bag and hit the road tomorrow. Grovel, if you have to. And don’t forget to bring a big ass bouquet of flowers. She likes carnations if memory serves.”

Anthony shrugged off Barrett’s comment. “Dude, not you, too.”

“What?” Barrett eyed his friend and subtly scanned the room.

“You, Char, my Dad… everyone’s acting like I’m supposed to chase her down and make some grand gesture.”

“Sodo it, numb nuts!” Barrett shoved him hard but playful.

Anthony regained his stance and frowned. “Barrett, tonight I’m putting that shit out of my head, and I’m cuttin’ loose. No fuckin’ Linda telling me what to do and where I should be. No kids whining and bitching about one wanting the other one’s fuckin’ toy.” He sighed. “Is this what your life’s like all the time? Carefree? On the hunt for undiscovered poon?”

“Yup.” Barrett flashed a brilliant smile at a curvaceous brunette passing by. “Pretty much.”

Barrett inhaled the scent of cheap whiskey, old cedar, discarded peanut shells, and dried hay around him.The Holewas, in his opinion, the only truly authentic western honky tonk joint within at least sixty miles of Jackson. A massive dance floor sat at its center, clustered with smiling cowgirls in wide-brimmed hats and grim-faced men in tight Wranglers and pricey Ariats. Atop the worn wood, a mob of people spun and twirled, line dancing to the upbeat rhythm of the country music blaring through the amps. The dark plank walls bore neon logos of every alcohol brand a Wyomingite could ever desire.

While Jackson Hole was speckled with clubs, a surprising amount for such a small town,The Holewas located in the most tourist-laden area. A rushing current of fresh new faces kept the bar a consistently interesting place to cut loose. It provided a constantly revolving pool of new women for Barrett to charm.

He scanned the faces, on the prowl for someone fresh with whom he could temporarily sate his voracious sexual appetite.

Anthony playfully punched him in the bicep. “See anything you like?”

“Ohhhhh yeah.”

“Which one?”

“All of ’em.” Barrett laughed.

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