Honkytonk Hell: A Dark and Twisted Urban Fantasy (The Broken Bard Chronicles Book 1) by eden Hudson (ebook reader with highlight function .TXT) 📗

“Hey, Tough, want to go to the bar?” She had on one of those sparkly black halter tops. The way it gapped away from her stomach showed off her all-over tan and bellybutton ring.

Even if I hadn’t wanted to go, she probably could’ve talked me into it looking like that.

***

As far back as I could remember, there had never been a slow night at Rowdy’s. Even before we started playing there, it’d always had a band cranking out some real old country and the place was packed. Cover was eight bucks for anybody without a protector, but the bouncer, Cris, let me in free since that rule was mostly for tourists.

Dodge nodded at me from up on stage, then went back to singing “Six Days on the Road.” Dodge was Addison’s cousin. He couldn’t growl, but he had a decent voice and he was a hell of a bass player. Someone had to step up and take over the band and I was glad it was him. They had Brandt Gilbert filling in on drums and Willow was doing her best to play rhythm on my Gibson. She shrugged when she saw me, like she was apologizing for not being very good. I gave her a smile, but I was wondering why they didn’t just get a new guitar player instead of moving Willow. She was a drummer all the way down to her bones.

I danced with Harper for a while—the kind of honky-tonk dancing you do with your friend who’s your best friend’s girlfriend—and tried not to think too much about how the band sounded without me. Dodge didn’t play any of my songs, maybe because he thought it’d piss me off. Maybe it would have.

Music used to be this thing I could do with everything I had—sing, play, dance. I’d get so high on it that nothing else mattered. Ryder could whoop my ass up one side of the yard and down the other while Colt stood by and hollered at me to keep my stance open. Harper could fall in love with Jax and dress up like his favorite video game chicks when they had sex in the room right across from mine. Even knowing I was trapped in Halo for the rest of my life didn’t used to matter because when the music started, I’d get it all out. I’d bang on the strings and wail and pretty soon it’d just be me and the sound.

But that was before Jason Gudehaus stole my voice and ran off to win that fucking singing show. A month wasn’t as much time as it seemed like, but everything was different and it kind of made me sick.

Then I saw Harper look at me like she was about to cry and I realized I was mouthing the words to the song. I shook my head like it wasn’t a big deal.

She hugged me and whispered, “Tough, I’m so sorry.”

I had to force a big smile to get her to stop. Thank God Dodge started “Redneck Woman,” Harper’s favorite song. The way she danced to “Redneck Woman” is the way I wished girls would dance to every song—plus, it always made people laugh when a guy sang lead.

We were still on the floor a little later when Harper saw someone over my shoulder.

“Scout’s here.” She bounced up on her tiptoes and waved at her sister. “Hey, Scout!”

I ducked my head and pulled my hat down tight like that would help. Scout had a crush on me. It was funny when she was a kid and we were in high school, but about the time she started wearing way too short skirts and lipstick that always looked wet, it started to feel weird. Like, your-little-sister-is-jailbait weird. If her parents were still alive—if my dad hadn’t gotten everyone’s parents in Halo killed—maybe they could’ve straightened her out.

I got Harper’s attention and pointed to the bar, but I didn’t make it a step before I ran smack into Scout.

“Looking for me?” Scout’s voice was deep down in her throat, but she leaned in close so I could hear it over the music.

I shook my head and tried to go around, but she caught me with one hand in my jeans’ waistband and slid her other hand into my back pocket. It made me want to scratch my skin off when she did stuff like that.

I nodded at the bar so she’d get the message.

“I’m thirsty, too,” she said, wrapping her arm around my waist and sticking herself to my side. “I’ll come get a drink with you.”

I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her toward Harper, giving her my best big brother glare. Because, dammit, I practically was her big brother. I didn’t want her throwing herself at me or any other loser in the bar.

“Come on, Scout,” Harper said. “We’ll catch up to Tough later.”

Scout looked just like Harper when she pouted. But I didn’t look back and, thank God, she didn’t follow me.

Desty

I raked my bangs out of my eyes and snuck another look at the guy who had walked off the dance floor and taken the barstool next to me.

Faded jeans, Skoal ring, John Deere ball cap. The kind of durr-Chevy-kid that Tempie and I used to make fun of in school. His skin was red-brown and every time he lifted his shot glass, I expected to see the pale side of his farmer’s tan under his t-shirt sleeve. Nothing. He was dark all the way up.

Must be the kind of douche who usually wears cut-off sleeves, I thought. Or no shirt at all to show off his abs.

John Deere killed his third tequila and signaled the bartender with the shot glass.

“If you’re trying to drown your problems, you’d better tell him to leave the