Page 78 of Cherry Tree Ranch
No one’s eyes are on Cash and me like I imagined they would be. And even when a bunch of guys pile up next to us, none of them treat me differently. Cash lights up when one of his friends jumps on his back.
“Hey, bro,” his friend says.
“Dahlia, this is my friend Hank I was telling you about. Hank, Dahlia.”
Hank looks at me with kind eyes and pulls me in for a gentle hug.
“Girl, it’s so nice to meet you. My boy here can’t stop talking about you.” Then he turns. “And this is my boyfriend, Joseph.”
Cash shakes Joseph’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” he says, and I hug him too.
Joseph points at me with one hand on his hip. “You slay in that fit.”
“Thank you.”
We’re all startled when a guy in a brown cowboy hat comes up behind Cash and slaps him on the shoulder. “Hey, pemmican boy!” He says it so loudly everyone freezes and stares.
I watch as Cash winces at the nickname. The guy wraps a drunken arm round Cash and twists a knuckle into his cheek.
“Y’all havin’ fun?” He looks between us. “Ready to get rowdy?”
Cash peels him off. “It’s not that kind of party, man.”
“Sure it is.” He takes a swig of his beer and looks me up and down. “Damn… How come we haven’t met yet?” He snaps his fingers and points at me. “Wait… You’re the girl from the videos, huh?”
Cash balls his fists. His biceps flex and Hank grabs his arm to steady him.
Cash nods at Hank in thanks and grunts at the other guy, “Time for you to leave.”
He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Fine! I just hope there’ll be more videos,” he says, and winks at me.
Hank and Joseph follow him out, making sure he gets a ride with someone sober.
“Jeez. Sorry about that.” Cash shakes his head and takes a swig of his drink. I try to shake off the uncomfortable thought of being watched on video by people I don’t even know. “We never ate dinner,” I say. “How about we get some food?”
Cash follows me to where we laid out food for Emery’s birthday – not including the cherry-chocolate ice-cream cake I made. I planned on that for later, so it’s still in the freezer.
“What was that about back there?” I ask. “Why did that jerk call you ‘pemmican boy’? Isn’t that a mixture of berries and meat?”
“Yeah, nomadic indigenous people ate it when they were travelling.” Cash turns, not meeting my eyes. “He’s drunk. It’s a stupid nickname he gave me a long time ago.”
“It is a stupid nickname. Cash, he shouldn’t call you that.”
“I know. He can be an idiot. But I’ve known him for ever, and he doesn’t mean anything by it.”
“Uh, OK,” I say, trying to catch his gaze, and I hand him a paper plate. “That’s no excuse. He called you a super inappropriate name and objectified me.”
“No, you’re right. It’s not OK.” He looks off towards the party. “Most of the rodeo guys are the typical cowboy type. They’re real nice at first, charming and all, but…”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know… A lot of them get off on their need to tame the wild – animals, nature and women, of course. The old ‘love ’em and leave ’em’ thing … it’s real. So, with that attitude, it’s not like he’s going to care about whether or not a nickname offends me.”
“What about Hank?”
“Hank gets even more shit than I do. He likes rodeoing, though, so he puts up with their bullshit. He’s also part of the Gay Rodeo Association.”
“What else happens to you?”
