A Fallow Heart (Tommy Creek #2)(84)

As soon as Rio placed the glass in front of him, Coop commenced to chug. One after another.

Above the bar, the television played 48 Hours Mystery, and he experienced a niggle of guilt, wondering if he should’ve stayed home with Mama. She was probably lonely as all get out, just like him. He’d been so busy picking corn, leaving the house each morning before daybreak and stumbling in around midnight, she hadn’t even had him to talk to these past few weeks.

But the edgy restlessness inside him drew him out of the house. He just needed a drink. So that’s what he ordered again and again as soon as his previous glass ran dry. He wasn’t sure how many times he re-ordered, but poor Rio had long lost hope of trying to shoot the shit with him. He obviously recognized how much Cooper wanted solitude.

The evening waned on, and his Evan Williams finally started to go to his head, fogging his thoughts into pleasant fuzz. Just a couple more and he’d find that happy, numb void where he could escape from even himself.

“Yo, Coop,” a female voice called across the room. “We’re starting a new game over here. You want in?”

He glanced over and made eye contact with B.J. Gilmore. She stood next to Junkyard Ralphie Smardo and pressed an impatient hand to her hip as she waited for him to answer.

He swiveled his alcohol-pickled gaze toward the dartboard she motioned to, then back, blinking until he saw one B.J., not three. A second later, he instructed his head to give a negative shake.

“No thanks.” He turned away and concentrated on his drink, needing to rest his forearms on the bar to keep himself upright.

Though Rio had been by to refill him only a few minutes ago, the waitress who’d been roaming the room paused by his stool. “Hey there, Cooper. You need another drink, sweetie?”

He nodded and nudged his empty glass across the counter.

She disappeared with it only to reappear in his line of sight with a new one, sloshed full to the rim with ice and that dark amber he craved. He fumbled for his wallet and thrust a bill at her.

“No change,” he slurred.

Her bright red painted lips spread wide. “Why, thank ya, sugar. You’re too good to me, you know that.” She playfully tapped him under the chin with the bill he’d given her and sauntered off.

His brow wrinkled as he wondered just how much he’d tipped her, but he couldn’t drum up the oomph to care.

A moment later, B.J. hopped onto the stool adjacent to his.

After ordering a long neck, she pivoted on her seat to study him. “Coop,” she finally said. “I think this is about the saddest as I’ve ever seen you.”

He blinked, and then managed to greet her. “B.J.”

A couple years behind him in school, B.J. and he had always gotten along. She had to be the biggest tomboy he’d ever met, yet the girl had a heart of pure gold.

“How’s Thad?” she asked after getting her order from Rio and downing a healthy slug.

“’Bout the same.” He let out a weighty sigh. “Mama went to see him today and said he was having some bladder trouble. But that’s it.”

“Your sisters?” she asked next.

He shrugged, hadn’t heard from Stacia or Brendel in a while, though he was sure Loren kept updated fairly often.

“And Loren’s okay?”

“Same as ever.”

“Well, then, what the hell? Did your dog die?”

He finally lifted his attention. “Huh?”

“I’m trying to figure out what’s bothering you. And I’m running on empty here. Give me a hand, will you, and tell me what the trouble is. Your girlfriend break up with you or what?”

Cooper snorted out a bitter sound and ducked his head down to rest his forehead on the edge of the bar. “Don’t you have to actually get the girl before she can break up with you?”

“Ah, so that’s the deal. You done got women trouble, huh?” She leaned back as if she was some kind of voice of experience before taking another drink and letting out a wise sigh. “Yep, women are nothing but a gossiping nest of busybodies who can’t mind their own damn business. I’ve never had much use for them myself.”

Cooper lifted a brow as he glanced at her. “Are you allowed to bash your own gender like that?”

She frowned. “I can do whatever the hell I want.” Then she leaned closer to murmur, “Tell anyone I said that, though, and I’ll have to kick the piss outta you.” She patted him companionably on the back after making her threat, then pulled back and lifted her voice back to normal. “But I ain’t the kind of woman you’re moping on about, neither. No, you men like to get yourselves tangled up with them girly girls who don’t know what she wants half the time.”

Coop squinted thoughtfully before slapping his hand to his forehead. “Good God, you’re right. What the hell is wrong with me?”

B.J. sighed sadly. “You’re a man, darling. There’s something sick and twisted inside you, making you relish girly torture. I don’t understand it myself. Never did.”

“Me neither,” he muttered.

“Come on,” B.J. nudged his arm. “Play me a game of pool and I’ll try to help you figure out how to get over her.”

He shook his head at the mere thought of trying to successfully find his way off the barstool. “Naw. Too drunk.”