And the Hits Just Keep on Coming

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Driving away from the Starlight Club, Bobby put his driver's window down, sticking his elbow in the open window, holding onto the roof of the SUV

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Driving away from the Starlight Club, Bobby put his driver's window down, sticking his elbow in the open window, holding onto the roof of the SUV. He inhaled a deep breath of the fresh night air. That son of a bitch. If Amos hadn't stepped in, he would have pulverized his ass. His heart pounded in his chest, up through his neck.

"What's gotten into you?" April slammed her purse on the floorboard as they fishtailed out of the parking lot, gravel flying. "That was the most embarrassing moment of my life."

"Get over it."

"You have got to get past this Tillie obsession! And put the window up!" She was fighting her long hair whipping all around.

He didn't respond. Bobby thought he'd gotten over it. Thought he'd accepted things for what they were. He'd never seen her hanging on anyone. Them dancing all hugged up. He wanted to rip the asshole's throat out. He raced toward Alpine, the speedometer pegging a hundred miles an hour.

"Close the damned window!" April screamed at him. "And slow down!"

He glanced at her—hair flying all around—and chuckled. He punched the button, and the window closed.

She flipped on the radio, fumbling in her purse, finding a hairbrush. Willie Nelson was on Sirius XM. "Whiskey River, take my mind..."

"You know, Willie Nelson has some deep lyrics," April began. "He puts—"

"Oh, God, April. Shut the fuck up."

She froze, brushing her wind-tangled hair. If looks could kill.

Bobby sneered. "Damn, I've had enough of your lectures on poetry and literature. As if somehow knowing that artsy-fartsy shit makes you smarter than everybody else."

"I am smarter than everyone else." She sniffed. "Around here, anyway."

"Yeah? What's a fair price for mohair today, April? What do you think the drought's going to do to the price of corn? Because you know, the price of corn affects the profit margin on beef. Right?" He glanced at her. "Shove your highbrow bullshit up your ass."

They rode on in silence for miles.

"I'll take you home," he said.

"No! I want to dance." She stomped her foot on the floorboard, flounced around, staring out the window. She was so demonstrative.

"Okay." He slowed the vehicle. "Let's go back and dance."

April twirled around. If there'd been a knife in the car, he'd have been scared, looking into those wild eyes. "You've got to be kidding me," she said. "After that humiliation?"

"What humiliation?"

"You were a complete ass back there," she said. "Don't you get it? You made a fool of yourself over the little twit again. Not because you love her." She jabbed her index finger at him as she spoke. "Because you can't accept the fact that she left you." She reached into her purse, pulling out lip gloss. "Face it." She smeared the shiny finish on her plump lips. "You didn't love her anyway, Bobby. You screwed around behind her back for at least a year that I know of. I heard about you and Lydia. Hell, I heard Jamie was telling people you were going to leave Tillie for her." She jeered. "Whatever happened to that?"

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