Page 20 of The Cowboy's Cabaret

As the chorus starts to play, Tammy slinks onto the stage and drags her arms along Buckwild’s shoulders. Watching them perform together is like watching two twin flames dance, and it helps that they’re madly in love with each other.

Tammy rocks a big faux fur coat, just like Reba in the music video, shimmying in stilettos with each move. Tammy is Leon’s alter ego when he’s not working as a bouncer for the club. The pair dance and laugh as they belt out the lyrics with so much joy in their smiles.

The music is pounding, people are grooving, and drinks are flowing. The performances tonight blew the roof off the place and I’m sure they made a killing in tips, on top of what was raised for the youth shelter.

I hear the familiar sharp guitar riff of Shania Twain, followed by Daphne appearing in front of my bar. “Let’s go girls!” She shouts at me before launching herself up onto the bar top. Her small hand reaches down to help pull me up and before I know itour arms are locked on each other’s shoulders screaming along to the music.

She must have requested this song herself because it’s one of the songs we’d make fake performances to in middle school. Dancing around my grandma’s living room like absolute psychos until Grandma would come and threaten to make us sleep in the backyard if we didn’t quiet down.

The wide smile on Daphne’s face matches mine and I know she’s reminiscing about simpler times, too.

Simone shouts up from behind us, stretching her arms like a toddler asking to be picked up. Daphne chuckles before hauling her up with us, the three of us in all our chaotic glory embracing love and life.

As I look out at the crowd, the joy I see reflected back makes my heart glow in my chest. I love my job here compared to the other shit holes I’ve worked. I’ll be sad when it’s time to move on after grad school.

Working in night clubs, you’re exposed to constant fuckery and rudeness from the general public. Don’t get me wrong, Cunting Season gets its fair share of shit stirrers and the occasional perv, but they are swiftly dealt with by the big ass security guards lining the wall in hunting camo. It’s safe here for everyone, something the owners fight hard to protect.

I love the kitschy feel of Cunting Season. It feels like the warmth of the south—kindness and hospitality—but without the racism, transphobia, homophobia, xenophobia, abelism…the list goes on and on. Regardless, Cunting Season is the bit of peace I get to keep from my old life. So while it may seem like a gay Coyote Ugly, it’s got a whole lot of heart too.

The nightfinally winds down and I’m fucking exhausted. I yell for the last call and ring the antique-looking dinner bell, signaling the transition to the end of the night. Wiping down the sticky bar top, I remember to tell Daphne about my thesis and the farm.

“So, I’ve got a bit of a lead on the direction of my thesis. I’m thinking of exploring equestrian therapy, maybe a program for teen mental health on the farm. I’m not sure just yet.” I’m giddy at the prospect of moving forward on this project.

Not giddy for any other cowboy-related reason. Not at all.

“I have more research to do and Wes offered for us to stay at his place. I can explore the farm and see if a therapy program like this would even work.”

“That’s huge, Dahl! Let me know what comes of it. I’d be down to hit up the farm,” Daphne says, counting her tips.

“Yep. He said he’ll talk to Jasper about it and let me know. I think they’re beefing. Jasper was a dick when they slept over.”

“The girls are fighting,” she drawls. “Jasper’s always a dick, this is not news.”

Daphne leans against the bar with a smirk. “So, research, huh? Are we researching Wes’ bedroom, perhaps?”

“No, you horny bitch. Research. My thesis. Grad school. My livelihood.” I toss a cherry at Daphne’s forehead. “This is important. Wes was excited to help and show us around. He said we could ride the horses.”

“I’m sure he’d love for you to ride his horse.”

“Daphne! I’m serious.”

“I know, I know. Fine, it does sound fun. I’m off this weekend too, no shifts at Purple Rage either. Jasper lives with Wes?” She eyes me suspiciously.

“I think he lives on the property, but I don’t think they share a place, no. Why, you want to harass him?”

“He wishes I’d harass him. No, just wondering what the set up is.” She looks away quickly and I’m curious about her and Jasper’s random rivalry, but not curious enough to dig when my feet are aching from running around all night.

We hurry through the remaining closing responsibilities and pack up to head home. I have class tomorrow morning and while it’s more of a discussion session with my classmates, I’m not looking forward to being awake and forming full sentences that early. Daphne and I head into the night, armed with ole faithful—her neon pink taser and my pocket knife modeled like a lipstick, our little arsenal at the ready for our journey home on the subway. You know, just girly things.

After moving here, we quickly realized late nights on the street in New York were a lot different than the late nights in bum fuck nowhere, Florida.

As we bumpalong on the subway, Daphne asks how I’ve been feeling. I’m ready to white lie my way through a response, but she gives me a look,don’t bullshit the bullshitter, and I fold like a shitty beach chair.

“I’m mostly fine, but you know. Shit happens.” She nods slowly, encouraging me to say more.

“I have a lot of anxiety about what’s next. I’ve always had a plan, always two steps ahead of myself. After high school, we were getting the fuck out of there. I knew we’d move up here, Iknew I’d apply for school. College was the plan, then grad school. Internships, papers, applications, I was planning long before any of it came. Now, school is wrapping up, what the fuck am I supposed to do now? I have no idea what’s next.”

Like a sexy Yoda, she looks at me thoughtfully. “Do you have to know what’s next? Really, what’s going to change? You still have a job, your bills will still be paid. You’ll start looking for a job in your field and go from there. It’s okay to take each day as it comes. There’s no reward for having it all figured out.”