Rachel Gibson - Tangled Up in You

The glowing white neon above Morts Bar pulsed and vibrated

Mick Hennessy slipped a rubber band about a stack of

Maddie closed her eyes and leaned her head back in

Fire in the hole! Louie shouted and set off several

Maddie reached for a bottle of Diet Coke sitting on

Maddie stood with her hands sticking straight out from her

Maddie tossed her overnight bag on her bed and unzipped

The fishing at upper Payette Lake had been so good,

Youre crazy.

It took Maddie a little over a week to track

I thought you were going to keep your tongue out

The voice of Trina Olsen-Hays filled Maddies office as she

The little collar had pink sparkles and a tiny pink

After he got off work that night, Mick showed up

Maddie sat on her sofa, Snowball curled up in her

Meg raised her fingers to her temples and pushed, like

Maddie lay curled up in bed. She didnt have the

The night before Clares wedding, the four friends got together

T he glowing white neon above Morts Bar pulsed and vibrated and attracted the thirsty masses of Truly, Idaho, like a bug light. But Morts was more than a beer magnet. More than just a place to drink cold Coors and get into a fight on Friday nights. Morts had historical significancekind of like the Alamo. While other establishments came and went in the small town, Morts had always stayed the same.

Until about a year ago when the new owner had spruced the place up with gallons of Lysol and paint and had instituted a strict no-panty-tossing policy. Before that, throwing undies like a ring-toss up onto the row of antlers above the bar had been encouraged as a sort of indoor sporting event. Now, if a woman felt the urge to toss, she got tossed out on her bare ass.

Ah, the good old days.

Maddie Jones stood on the sidewalk in front of Morts and stared up at the sign, completely immune to the subliminal lure that the light sent out through the impending darkness. An indistinguishable hum of voices and music leached through the cracks in the old building sandwiched between Ace Hardware and the Panda Restaurant.

A couple in jeans and tank tops brushed past Maddie. The door opened and the sound of voices and the unmistakable twang of country music spilled out onto Main Street. The door closed and Maddie remained standing outside. She adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder, then pulled up the zipper on her bulky blue sweater. She hadnt lived in Truly for twenty-nine years, and shed forgotten how cool it got at night. Even in July.

Her hand lifted toward the old door, then dropped to her side. A surprising rush of apprehension raised the hair on the back of her neck and tilted her stomach. Shed done this dozens of times. So why the apprehension? Why now? she asked herself, even though she knew the answer. Because it was personal this time, and once she opened that door, once she took the first step, there was no going back.

If her friends could see her, standing there as if her feet were set in the concrete, theyd be shocked. Shed interviewed serial killers and cold-blooded murderers, but chatting up nut jobs with antisocial personality disorders was a piece of cake compared to what waited for her inside Morts. Beyond the no one under 21 sign, her past waited for her, and as shed learned recently, digging into other peoples pasts was a hell of a lot easier than digging into her own.

For Gods sake, she muttered and reached for the door. She was a little disgusted with herself for being such a wimp and a weenie, and she squelched her apprehension under the heavy fist of her strong will. Nothing was going to happen that she did not want to happen. She was in control. As always.

The heavy thump of the jukebox and the smell of hops and tobacco assaulted her as she stepped inside. The door shut behind her and she paused to let her eyes adjust to the dim light. Morts was just a bar. Like a thousand others shed been in across the country. Nothing special, not even the array of antlers hanging above the long mahogany bar was anything out of the ordinary.

Maddie didnt like bars. Especially cowboy bars. The smoke, the music, the steady stream of beer. She didnt particularly care for cowboys either. As far as she was concerned, a pair of snug Wranglers on a tight cowboy butt couldnt quite make up for the boots, the buckles, the wads of chew. She liked her men in suits and Italian leather shoes. Not that shed had a man, or even a date, in about four years.

She studied the crowd as she wove her way to the middle of the long oak bar and the only empty stool. Her gaze took in cowboy hats and trucker caps, a few crew cuts, and a mullet or two. She noticed ponytails, shoulder-length bobs, and some of the worst perms and flipped bangs to ever come out of the eighties. What she didnt see was the one person shed come searching for, although she didnt really expect to see him sitting at one of the tables.

She wedged herself onto the stool between a man in a blue T-shirt and a woman with overprocessed hair. Behind the cash register and bottles of alcohol, a mirror ran the length of the bar while two bartenders pulled beers and blended drinks. Neither was the owner of this fine establishment.

That little gal was into AC/DC, if you know what I mean, said the man on her left, and Maddie figured he wasnt talking about Back in Black or Highway to Hell . The guy in question was about sixty, sported a battered truckers hat and a beer belly the size of a pony keg. Through the mirror Maddie watched several men down the row nod, paying rapt attention to beer-belly guy.

One of the bartenders set a napkin in front of her and asked what shed like to drink. He looked to be about nineteen, although she supposed he had to be at least twenty-one. Old enough to pour liquor within the layers of tobacco smoke and knee-deep bullshit.

Sapphire martini. Extra dry, three olives, she said, calculating the carbs in the olives. She pulled her purse into her lap and watched the bartender turn and reach for the good gin and vermouth.

I told that little gal she could keep her girlfriend, so long as she brought her over once in a while, the guy on her left added.

Damn right!

Thats what Im talking about!

Then again, this was small-town Idaho, where things like liquor laws were sometimes overlooked and some people considered a good bullshit story a form of literature.

Maddie rolled her eyes and bit her lip to keep her comments to herself. She had a habit of saying what she thought. She didnt necessarily consider it a bad habit, but not everyone appreciated it.

Through the mirror, her gaze moved up, then down the bar, searching for the owner, not that she thought shed see him plopped down on a stool any more than sitting at a table. When shed called the other bar he owned in town, shed been told that he would be here tonight, and she figured he was probably in his office examining his books or, if he was like his father, the inner thigh of a barmaid.

I pay for everything, the woman on Maddies opposite side wailed to her friend. I even bought my own birthday card and had J.W. sign it, thinking hed feel bad and get the hint.

Oh, geez, Maddie couldnt help but mutter and looked at the woman through the mirror. Between bottles of Absolut and Skyy vodka, she could make out big blond hair falling to chubby shoulders and breasts spilling out of a red tank top with rhinestones on it.

He didnt feel bad at all! Just complained that he didnt like mushy cards like the one I bought. She took a drink of something with an umbrella in it. He wants me to come over when his mother goes out of town next weekend and make him dinner. She brushed moisture from beneath her eyes and sniffed. Im thinking of telling him no.