Page 48 of Rough Ride

“But yes, you’re far from the worst kind of customer we see in there. Most are… more aggressive.”

“Lots of guys try to stuff money into our cleavage,” Liz said with disgust. “And when we’re out waitressing, rather than serving at the bar, we get our asses grabbed every five minutes.”

“More like everytwominutes,” I muttered.

Eli’s face grew serious. “If that happens and I’m nearby, just holler and I’ll come help.”

“That’s nice of you to offer, but I can take care of myself,” I replied.

“You’ve gotI can take care of myselfwritten all over you, darlin’,” Eli said. “But everyone needs some backup now and then.”

“Where’d you learn to play guitar?” I asked.

“Well, I was in the band in high school,” Eli explained. “But I didn’t play guitar. My mom made me learn the clarinet. Now, I don’t know if you lovely ladies know this, but clarinet is the least cool instrument a man can play. Even less cool than the tuba. So I taught myself to play the guitar on the side. I’d be better if I had real training.”

“I thought you sounded amazing,” I said.

He nodded. “Appreciate the compliment, but my guitar playin’ isn’t anything to write home about. I make up for it with my voice, whichismighty fine, if I do say so myself.”

“You could make a living singing Britney covers,” Liz suggested.

Eli chuckled. “Nah, that’s not the path for me. I only play for fun. I don’t want to turn my hobby into a career, even if Iwasgood enough.”

“So you taught yourself how to play the guitar as a way to impress women?” I teased.

“Eh. Partly.” Eli paused to sip his beer. “The real reason is it gave me a distraction when I was a teenager. My parents were always fightin’. As soon as they came home from work, they were at each other’s throats. Every damn day. So I’d lock myself in my room, put on a pair of headphones, and practice my chords.”

Liz’s eyes immediately cut to me.

“Sounds like my house growing up,” I chimed in. “My parents hated each other. I think they were trying to keep the familytogether until I graduated high school, but they didn’t make it. They got divorced my senior year.”

Eli’s smile was bitter for a change. “Wish mine would’ve done that. They were too stubborn to tear up their marriage license, and kept on hatin’ with all their hearts until Dad passed away last year.”

“Ah, I’m sorry,” I said.

He shrugged. “I’m not. He wasn’t much of a father, beyond putting a roof over my head and food on the table. The only time I’d see him was when he walked through the front door. Then he’d pour himself a drink and go straight to the living room to watch TV.” He flashed a boyish grin. “I’ll tell you one thing, though. He showed me whatnotto do.”

“Cheers to that,” I said, tapping my glass to his.

“Your parents are still around?” Eli asked.

I nodded. “Mom lives in Burleson, a twenty minute drive south of here. After the divorce, Dad moved to Milwaukee. Said he was sick of the heat down here.”

“Can’t blame him. Texas summers are somethin’ else,” Eli said. “Hell, even the spring can be rough. A few years back, at the Houston Rodeo, the temperature hit triple digits. And that was in March!”

“Welcome to Texas,” Liz said, raising her glass. “Come for the barbecue, and stay because it’s too hot to leave the air conditioning.”

Music began playing in the other room. Eli perked up and said, “I’m gonna get a closer listen to this guy. Maybe pick up a few pointers. You two can go back to your girl’s night without this rude cowboy interruptin’.”

He slid out of the booth, put on his cowboy hat, and then tipped it toward us. “Have a fine night, ladies.”

Both of us watched him go.

“That’s actually my cue,” Liz said, glancing at her watch. “Travis will be done with his game by now, and I intend to try to get at leasthalfas many orgasms as you did last night.”

I followed her out of the booth and into the next room, then hugged her goodbye at the door. But rather than leave, I lingered. Eli was easy to spot standing near the back of the crowd; he was several inches taller than anyone else in the room, and that cowboy hat was like a giant neon sign pointing me toward him.

“He’s good,” I said, joining Eli in the crowd. “But you were better.”

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