Page 62 of Maid in America

Barrett used the neck of his beer to point to a man dressed head-to-toe in a hot dog costume. “See the wiener?”

Chastity snickered at the question and sucked down more of her drink through the straw.

“His wife is a bottle of mustard. She’s runnin’ around somewhere here. She’s besties with the councilman. Got the invite from her. Mrs. Mustard is a client.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah. Monday, she had me clean in a full Delta pilot outfit. Guess back in the day, she was a flight attendant. She said when she was younger, she met Mr. Weiner over there and couldn’t keep her hands off him. She’s got a thing for the uniform now, I guess.”

“Wild.” She shook her head. “Does Mr. Weiner know?”

“About what? That I come to dust her vents wearing only baby oil and half a pilot’s uniform?”

“Yeah.”

“Who do you think signs mychecks?”

“No wayyyyy.”

“Yes, way. He wants a spotless house, and he wants to see his wife happy. As long as I keep my dick in my pants, he’s fine with it.”

Barrett pointed to a woman in the middle of a line dance. She was beaming in her fringe shirt and rhinestone studded pants with a cowboy hat on her head.

“Seems like the councilman’s wife is havin’ a ball.”

Chastity grinned at Barrett.

“What?”

“You just have a handsome smile. That’s all.”

“You think so?”

Chastity shook her head. “Ugh, I’m making your massive head bigger, aren’t I? Forget I said anything.”

Barrett placed his hand on her knee and stroked it gently with his thumb. “When it comes to you, Aphrodite, I forget nothing.”

The music changed, and the line dancers dispersed.

“Well, then you surely remember how well I dance.”

“That I do.” He stood, extending his hand to her.

She placed her still-half-full glass on the bar and followed Barrett to the dance floor. Peeling back her red hood, Chastity’s hand slipped into his. He pulled her body flush against him, and they gently swayed to the slow tempo with a slight embarrassment neither had expected.

Neither said a word, exchanging only glances, letting their bodies move together in harmony once again.

Finally, Barrett spoke.

“What is this?”

“I think it might be Keith Urban,” she mumbled.

“No. What isthis? Thisthingbetween us. I can’t seem to stay away from you,” he said softly enough that only she could hear. “Or am I the only one feeling it?”

She shook her head, deep orange eyes peering into his soul. “It’s not just you. I feel it, too.”

She laid her head against his shoulder and swayed for a while. As the song waned, Barrett’s body stiffened, freezing in place as others moved about.

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