"Just try some" Cook sighed impatiently and pointed his bottle of liqueur towards my face " A sip?"
"I said no, Cook" I protested and palmed the bottle back to him. "My pageant is tomorrow. I'm not going to throw away all our hard work for a night of drinking with you"
"You said 'our'" Cook smirked and swigged from the bottle.
"Huh?"
"Just now. You said 'our hard work'" He shook his head and swallowed a large mouthful of scotch. "How much work does your old man really put into your contests?" I turned away from him to watch the hustle and bustle of the drive in movie theatre. "I bet he wouldn't turn down…"
" Stop! " I cut him off mid-sentence and snapped my head back to face him. " Look, I know what you must think of him but he's always supported me and believed in me…"
"…and drinks away all of your winnings" Cook interrupted with another smirk. I scoffed at him and started to gather up my jacket and bag from the backseat of his car. " Stop" He moaned and reached across his hand to my legs. "I'm sorry". I reached for the door handle. "Debbie, I said I'm sorry. I don't mean to grate on your old man. I just wish you didn't take those competitions so seriously is all" He continued, his hand clasped around my knee.
"Cook, I've been preparing for tomorrow for 2 whole months. I'm sorry if I'm a little serious about it tonight" I explained brushing his hand off me.
"So what happens if you lose tomorrow? Will your Dad let you out to see me?" Cook retorted finishing the last of his drink and throwing the bottle carelessly from his window.
"That was one time, and it was different" I replied impatiently "I hadn't prepared enough and I wasn't focused so we both agreed that I needed to concentrate more. It had nothing to do with you"
"It has nothing to do with me, Debbie? Am I supposed to just sit and wait until my girlfriend decides when she has time for me?" He spat. "I'm sick of always being second best. I can't do it anymore"
"You're breaking up with me? Can't we talk about this tomorrow after my…"
"Your pageant! Your pageant! Your pageant! Your pageant!" Cook snapped repeatedly beating his hand against the driving wheel.
"Ok, I get it" I replied as softly as I could before pulling the car door handle and stepping out. "I'm sorry, Cook". I leaned back in through the passenger window and watched as he turned the ignition.
"I hope you win all the same" he said without looking at me and began reversing the car. I stood in the same spot and watched him drive away through the rows of parked cars in the drive- in. The cinema was packed and I knew that if I began to cry then everybody would know that Cook had just dumped me. Cook and I had been dating all through high school. I was his head cheerleader; he was my prom king. It made sense for us to be a couple then, but since graduation our relationship began to fall apart. Cook never got his scholarship for Oklahoma State and packed in his football career all together. He never understood why I would want to continue with beauty pageants and accused me of trying to hold on to a version of myself in High school. He always wanted to know why I needed the approval of a row of judges to feel beautiful when he could tell me every day. What he only recently discovered was that my Father was the driving force behind my pageantry; with emphasis on the force. I loved competing back in high school but after moving on to the national stage, the stakes got higher. A week after graduation, I competed for the title of Miss Tulsa and won the grand prize of $2, 000. Unfortunately, I never got see any of it as my father took his "cut". Before long he was entering me into every competition he could and compelled me to take part by buying me new dresses and then making me feel guilty for accepting them. After a series of pageants I learned my Father was both my biggest fan and my worst enemy, especially after each pageant that I didn't get placed in. This was when Cook started to disapprove of the whole thing as he could see the unhealthy hold my Father had over me. "He's got you brain washed" he would tell me repeatedly. The problem was I knew just as much as Cook how bad it looked but I didn't know how to stop my Father, and I couldn't let on to Cook just how bad it had really become.
"Hey Look, it's Debbie the beauty queen all on her lonesome" a voice behind me broke my train of thought. I turned around on my heels and was met by a tall figure dressed in a leather jacket and jeans. His eyebrows furrowed over his dark eyes and a cigarette hung casually from the side of his smirk. "You looking for Cock?, he asked taking the cigarette from his mouth "Sorry, Sorry, I mean Cook".
"When will that joke get old?" I asked displeasingly.
"Never"
"He left" I answered before he could say another word. I slung my bag over my shoulder and started to walk away.
"Hey, come back" the voice began again as they followed me among the crowds "Debbie, Debbie. What will it take for you to get over one little mistake I made" He said in a mocking tone "Your boyfriend already did". I spun on my heels again.
"I am over it, Dallas. And I'm not sure if Cook ever got over it more he has to get on with it, thanks to you" I replied.
"Get Over, Get on: same thing" Dallas shrugged.
"Stop following me" I huffed.
"I'm not" He shrugged again, catching up with me and placing his arm around my shoulder. "We are going in the same direction."
"Oh, where are you going?" I said, rolling my eyes and pushing his arm away.
"Dunno, where are you headed?"
"My house" I replied trying to keep my distance.
"What a coincidence" He grinned and put his arm over me for a second time, "Oh come on, Lighten up".
I had also known Dallas since High School, not that he attended much at all. I wouldn't say we had been friends but I didn't have a problem with him like most of the cheerleading squad did. I believe he spared me years of torment since the day I walked in on him urinating over the Coach's office and never ratted him out. Dallas and his friends would regularly play pranks on the cheerleaders and Jocks for fun which led to a common hatred of the 'greasers'. However, in Dallas's mind I had black marked him the night of the biggest football game our School had seen. It was also one of the most important nights for Cook as Scouts from Oklahoma State were watching from the side-line. His Coach had assured him that after the game, he would have a scholarship in the bag. Five minutes in and Dallas appeared at the far end of the field. He had 1500 people's eyes fixed on him instead of the game. From behind his back emerged his hand holding a lit match between his fingers, he flicked in onto the grass and in seconds a trail blazed along the field in an obvious pattern marked out by gasoline. The players scattered and spectators ran screaming from their seats. The game was cancelled; Dallas was expelled.
"I'm not in the mood tonight " I faked a smile "I gotta get home"
"Let me guess, Cookie didn't break up with you did he?" Dallas mocked again, Pretending to sob into his t-shirt.
"As a matter of fact" I nodded. Dallas feigned another dramatic gasp and smacked his hand over his mouth.
"Oh my, my". He said as we continued to walk through the crowds towards the rear exit of the movie theatre. "I never thought I'd see the day"
"Well I'm glad you find it so amusing" I replied "I forgot you revel in other people's misery".
"Debbie" Dallas groaned, stopping in his tracks to open his arms "Do you want a hug?". He let out a lazy laugh and hurried to catch up with me again. "come on, get over it"
"Getting over it is your answer to everything" I retorted, hanging my head down as I felt tears about to prick my eyes. "You must get over things real quickly, especially a guilty conscious."
"Hey, cut me some slack man." Dallas groaned again "That was two years ago. I said I was sorry"
"Are you on crack? You had a fight with him in the parking lot on the Monday after it; you pulled a knife on him" I spat back hurrying my pace.
"Yeah but I apologised afterwards man" He flicked his cigarette away. "Hey come on, slowdown will you"
"I told you I gotta get home Dallas" I said as we reached the exit gate. Streams of cars passed us packed with teenagers inside laughing and cheering.
"What the hell happened to you" Dallas scoffed, lighting another cigarette and leaning into the metal fence. "Didn't you used to be fun? Or maybe I should be asking Cook". I glared at him and sighed as he took a long drag on his cigarette with a wink.
"Goodnight Dallas" I said sadly and started to walk away. As I glanced around to the drive-in behind me, I could see Dallas running alongside a car that was entering the cinema and attempting to open its door to a chorus of screaming girls inside.
