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Chapter Four
“So, what do you think?” Daisy's voice cut into my thoughts.
I turned and glanced over my shoulder to see her smiling up at me. I loved her smile. Her eyes glittered in the low light of the function room.
“You’re beautiful,” I replied. She was and for a moment I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.
“I meant the music?” she clarified, but I didn’t miss the obvious delight she showed in a fleeting expression when I paid her my compliment.
“What music? There’s music? I can only hear your sweet lyrical accent,” I teased.
“You’re such a flirt, J—”
“Baaarney,” I corrected her, stretching my name out and winking. “Seriously though, these guys are the bomb,” I said. I pulled Daisy in front of me, placed my hands on her shoulders and looked back at the band. A small tremor shot through her body in response to my touch.
“They are,” she nodded, staring up at the stage. The drummer, fiddler and tambourine players are brothers; the one on the harmonica is my Uncle Eugene… he’s as old as the hills, as they say. Do you want to dance?”
“I’m a rock star from New York.”
“And that disqualifies you from dancing?”
“No… I’d feel dorky doing that stuff.”
“Dorky? Are you insulting my culture?” Daisy asked playfully as she turned to face me with her hands on her hips and a mock scowl creasing her brow.
“Hey, no,” I shot back with my holding my hands up at my chest, palms facing her. “What I mean is I’m not a great dancer anyway and trying to do all that stuff with the bouncy legs an’ all… I’d probably fall over.”
“Nonsense,” she said through a chuckle, quickly grabbed my hand and led me onto the dance floor. I was about to protest with another excuse when the old dude with the tambourine who had identified himself as the lead vocalist of the group shouted:
“Take your partners for the eight-some reel.”
Now I’d seen some of the mid-west folks attempt something similar, but I felt awkward and clumsy as Daisy began clapping, linking arms with me, and spinning me around.
Next thing I was being dragged down the center of two lines made by the others and running back to tap the next couple. After that it was mainly clapping and tapping my feet until we changed places every so often.
I got this.
If I’m truthful, it was a lot of fun and the pleasure I got from seeing everyone else lose their place or make mistakes helped me forget what a dork I felt.
When the dance finished, Daisy hugged me and whispered, “Damn there’s that smell again,” and pushed me away. “Alright, that’s quite enough; you’re not paid to dance. Get cracking and collect all the glasses up. Anyone would think I’m running a charity here.”
I chuckled when she winked, and my heart groaned because she had felt so fucking good in my arms that I’d immediately felt her loss when she separated from me.
* * *
Dancing with Daisy wasn’t the last time I made an ass of myself that evening. A further four women insisted I did the same with them before my boss interjected and dragged me off, scolding me that I wasn’t there to enjoy myself. I was enjoying all the same.
It was funny to see the jealous side of Daisy considering I’d only just met her that evening.
Once she’d made it clear I was off limits and had a job to do, the offers for dances were politely declined and I definitely earned my keep by washing hundreds of short, tall, and pint-sized glasses throughout the evening.
Gradually, the customer’s drinking slowed, and I seized the opportunity to hit the John. I’d been bursting for about an hour, but every time I’d gone there, someone else was inside. Why venues that hold hundreds of people only ever have one or two cubicles and one urinal beats me.
Once I relieved myself, I washed my hands and pulled on the restroom door to leave, but when I heard my name mentioned I stayed where I was. I couldn’t help my nosy side. Leaning my head on the tiled wall with the door ajar I listened in on the conversation Daisy and someone else were having about me.
“Well you were wrong. It fecking is him. I tell you.”
“No… he just looks a lot like him.”
