Disclaimer: I don't own DWP, or the song 'Straight Tequila Nigh' by John Anderson. I'm just playing.
Heart Like A Country Song
Chapter 1: Straight Tequila Night
She normally wouldn't be caught dead in such an establishment. It was dimly lit with crude neon signs gracing the walls. It smelled of sawdust, beer, smoke, and too many perfumes and aftershaves. The dance floor wasn't nearly large enough conduct proper dances, and was particularly crowded. Not to mention the peanut shells crunching under her Jimmy Choos that made her inwardly cringe with every step. The music pouring out of the jukebox held the distinctive twang of country music which was definitely not her cup of tea. However the redeeming feature of the place, which could aptly be called a joint, was that it had a friendly and surprisingly anonymous atmosphere that lent itself to the extremely subtle and almost non-existent charm of the place. She stepped up to the bar and ordered a glass scotch. The bartender gave her a nod, and a quick once over, most likely taking in how out of place she was in such a place. Thankfully he said nothing, and slid a tumbler in front of her.
She perused the patrons from her perch at the bar, sipping at her drink. Her eyes travelled over cowboys in button downs and tight jeans held up with large belt buckles. They held little appeal, other than that fact that their simple dress fit them well from a fashion standpoint. The girls they twirled around the dance floor were like copies of the men, just a different gender. She tracked some of the other people around her, noting that she stood out even in her own jeans (True Religion) and button down (Tom Ford). Her eyes finally took in the others occupying the bar stools next to her, finally coming to rest on a dark-headed girl at the other end. Andrea. The bartender placed a glass of white wine in front of the girl and received a small smile in return. The warmth in her eyes, made them look like warm chocolate and they seemed to sparkle a bit with humor. She was distracted from her perusal by the bartender returning to freshen her drink. He followed her gaze and offered her a knowing smile.
"I've seen that look many times over the last year, since she started coming in here." He said offhandedly, and she turned her full attention to him.
"What look?" She asked.
"Gobsmacked and breathless."
"I don't know what you're talking about." The bartender chuckled softly, but nodded in acceptance of her comment. He wandered away to check on his other patrons before returning to her. She watched as Andrea got up and danced with some unknown man and she lost sight of the girl in the crowd.
"She comes in a lot. She likes the music and is never short of dance partners."
"I would imagine not." Andrea had always been exceptionally beautiful and she had a charm and presence that drew in everyone around her, even without their consent, or in some cases their knowledge of if happening. And others still flocked to her of their own free will. She had been one of the former, and hadn't even known it was happening until the girl walked out of her life in Paris. She handed the bartender a few bills to pay for her drinks, as the young woman returned to her barstool. The bartender slid her change back in quarters.
"She's never really been interested in the men that surround her, well other than as dance partners. K-13 is her favorite song. If you play it, who knows what will happen. A small word of advice though. If you come back, don't ask her on a straight tequila night. Someone hurt her, bad, and she'd as soon as kill you, as look at you on those nights." She nodded and sipped the last of her drink as the bartender wandered away again. She sent one last look in Andrea's direction before she walked out. She wasn't about to get into something with her ex-assistant, no matter what the bartender thought. The bartender in question shook his head sadly as he watched her go.
Andrea looked up and around. She'd felt eyes on her for a moment, a familiar set of eyes, that she was sure would never be caught dead in a place like the one she was currently in. As her gaze swept across the room to the door, she saw the iconic coif of silver exiting through the crowd.
"Miranda…" She breathed, her shock evident in her expression and her voice.
"Need anything, Andy?" The bartender asked appearing in front of her. Her gaze lost its warmth and she seemed harden, as if someone had poured ice into her soul. He could almost swear the temperature dropped a good ten degrees, and that there was frost forming on the edge of her wine glass where she brushed it with her fingers.
"A shot of tequila." The bartender sighed silently and nodded, setting a shot glass in front of her.
If you really want to know, she comes here a lot
She just loves to hear the music and dance
K13 is her favorite song
If you play it you might have a chance
Tonight she's only sipping white wine
She's friendly and fun-lovin most of the time
But don't ask her on a straight tequila night
She'll start thinkin about him, then she's ready to fight
Blames her broken heart on every man in sight
On a straight tequila night
Here's a glass of Chablis, some quarters and change
Maybe you can turn her love life around
Then she won't need the salt and the lime anymore
To shoot that old memory down
Just remember her hearts on the mend
If you ever come back to see her again
Don't ask her on a straight tequila night
She'll start thinkin about him, then she's ready to fight
Blames her broken heart on every man in sight
On a straight tequila night.