As I looked around The Dirty Pigeon, I was surprised to see that Colin McCoy had transformed the rundown townie bar into a bona fide dance hall in just three years. Despite its upscale improvements, including a stage and a dance floor, it still maintained that small-town charm. Judging by the crowd, it remained a popular spot.
When I got back home, I learned that Wednesday nights were dedicated to Ladies’ Night, which meant people came early to learn line dancing and two-stepping. Naturally, this attracted a swarm of college guys hoping for some action. It was clear that the place was packed with dancers, and I quickly decided that Wednesday nights at The Pidge were not for me. Given the choice, I’d rather be at my cabin, sipping scotch in solitude.
On a Friday night, the bar had a lively mix of college students and locals, all seeming to enjoy the local bands and get along well. I couldn’t help but scan the exits—old habits die hard, and I felt more comfortable knowing I had several escape routes if needed. The pulsating guitars and the raucous laughter of a few drunken patrons suddenly made me uneasy. My skin felt tight, and my mouth seemed to dry up. When someone dropped a beer bottle, the crowd’s collective groan seemed to amplify the sound. I watched in slow motion as the bottle rolled back, the scraping of glass against the floor growing louder until it bumped into my stool.
“Dude, you all right?”
Finn’s hand on my shoulder and his look of concern made me realize I’d jumped out of my seat, wild-eyed and ready to fight. My heart was pumping, ears ringing, and I felt like everyone was looking at me. Finn
squeezed my shoulder, and I listened to my ragged breathing vibrate through my ears.
“Hey,” he said. “Relax, man. Someone just dropped a bottle.”
“Yeah . . .” I exhaled, but the tension stayed lodged in my chest and back. This was why I preferred to stay at home, I couldn’t last five minutes without acting like a psycho.
Hearing the bottle and seeing me leap to my feet, Colin left the band he was talking with to head over to us. “Finn. Linc. Any trouble?”
Colin and I were the same age, friends from high school, and we’d always been close. His no-bullshit attitude was one of my favorite things about him. On and off the football field, he was always ready to throw down at the first sign of trouble. He was a solid dude with a lopsided grin he’d had since he was sixteen.
“‘Course not, man. We are all goooood.” Finn drawled it out and downed a shot of whiskey lined up on the small high-top table.
Colin turned to me and grinned. “Glad you made it out. Tonight’s a great band, some pretty girls in here . . .”
At that, Finn draped his arm around my neck and winked at Colin. “Oooooohhhhweeee, boys. Maybe Lincoln will get a pretty little thing to dance with tonight.”
I shrugged his arm off my back. “Not tonight.”
I took a drag of my beer and looked around. I may have kept to myself, but coming into town when I needed a quick fuck was the simplest part of my week. In this town, there was no shortage of women who didn’t need to know the details, just that you were a Marine, and they were ready to jump in the back of your truck. I preferred it that way. No strings, no bullshit. Fuck, sometimes they didn’t even ask me what my name was.
Could she be here? Would I even know it if I saw her?
My hand dropped to my pocket. I still couldn’t get out of the habit of carrying her letter with me on the hard days. I was fully aware that made me creepy as fuck, but I didn’t care.
When I moved back to Chikalu after the service, I’d looked for her. I asked around if anyone knew a Joanna. There were a couple of Jos, a Josephine, a JoBeth, but no Joanna. A last name would be helpful. But for all my asking around the college, library searches, and late-night Google searches, nothing.
She was a ghost.
Colin added, “Well, it’s Friday night so I’m sure you two’ll have your pick. We’re really tight with IDs so everyone’s over twenty-one.” He winked.
I noticed his eyes squinted fractionally at Finn who’d suddenly looked away uncomfortably. Finn was looking over at the main bar, at no one in particular, completely ignoring Colin’s comment.
When I turned my shoulders to face Finn, he shifted back to the conversation and smiled. The kid’s dimples made him a charmer with the ladies, I was sure of it, and the gleam in his eyes was either mischief or a little too much booze. Probably both.
“Well, I gotta get back to it. If you’re around later, let’s have another.
Deck should be coming by after his shift.”
In addition to Finn and Colin, Cole Decker was my closest friend. As much as I tried to avoid other people, our monthly poker games helped to keep me from drowning in my thoughts or living too long in my darkest places.
Colin drained his beer and landed a loud smack on the table. “Good to see you out, Linc. Drinks are on me tonight.” He pointed at us as he walked back behind the bar.
A song later, a pretty blond waitress dropped off another two beers and looked at Finn and me. She held my gaze just long enough to let me know she liked what she saw.
“Hey there. I’m Marissa. I’m taking over for Kris, so I’ll be serving you the rest of tonight.”
She licked her shiny pink lips and smiled back and forth between the two of us. I’d been on leave in enough places to know the international signals for “I’m down to fuck,” and she was putting off some major DTF vibes. Finn’s face was in his phone so he was completely fucking oblivious to what was happening right now.
“Colin said drinks are on the house and to take care of you boys, so if there’s anything,” she paused, leaning her elbows on the table, tits on full display, “anything at all you need, just holler.”
I looked at what she was offering, not caring that I was staring. She giggled, turned, and did that strange girl finger-wave over her shoulder. She must’ve thought it was cute, and it probably worked for her most nights, but I couldn’t get myself interested tonight. When you spend eight years in the Marines, you learn pretty quickly that sex, let alone a good fuck, is few and
far between. Some of the guys on leave took whatever they could get, but that was never my style. Unless you’re up for the worst STD test on the planet—a bore punch, which, trust me, you are not—you were better off keeping your dick in your pants. There wasn’t an itch I had to scratch tonight so I was going to have to disappoint this one.
Still in his phone, Finn clearly wasn’t helping me out here, so I just called to her, “Thanks, we’ll let you know,” and turned my attention back to the band, which was midway through a song about a Voodoo lady down in Louisiana. I scanned the crowd again, letting my thoughts drift back to Joanna.
What does she look like? What if she’s married?
Fuck, what if she’s really Nana’s age?
I’d had to imagine all sorts of details about Joanna’s life. While her letters included some things, a lot of it was a mystery, and I’d had to fill in the gaps with my own imagination. I knew she worked hard in college when she’d gone. She’d taken all sorts of classes from medieval lit to agriculture.
She liked poetry and music. I knew she loved being outdoors. She’d mentioned it in some way in every letter. She talked about her family, but never by name, and I got the feeling they weren’t really close. She was closest with her grandpa, but he’d died a year into her letters. That was a strange one, feeling deep sadness for someone you’d never actually met.
I kept every letter in my footlocker and read most of them until the edges were crinkled and torn. At night I’d lain awake, staring at the green ceiling of our tents and think about meeting her. I wanted her to know that her letters kept me sane. Connected me to the outside world and helped keep me from losing myself when I was faced with what needed to be done. Nights were also when I could imagine what life could be like after we met. I’d fantasize about her lips on my skin, dragging her tongue lower down my body as she grabbed my cock. I could never clearly see her, but in the lonely nights, I tried to feel her against my skin. A few times on leave, random hookups became poor substitutes for Joanna, but they left me feeling shittier than I had before, so I’d given up trying. Thinking about the fact that I could finally meet her in my very hometown had my blood pumping hard through my veins. I could feel my cock twitch and had to
shift uncomfortably so I didn’t end up with a raging boner in the middle of the bar.
The worst of it was that I’d never written her back. I’d wanted to—I’d even written a few drafts to send to the Women’s Club in hopes she’d get them, but I never sent a single one. I didn’t want her to freak out and stop writing. Didn’t want her to know how fucked up I was or that I didn’t deserve her kindness. When the letters kept coming despite my lack of reply, I’d let it go and told myself that if I ever made it home, I’d find her and tell her how much her letters had meant to me.
I gave the side-eye to Finn as he smiled into his phone. “Your latest conquest?” I teased.
“Uh, not exactly.” He smirked. “Jo may be able to help us with the guide next week.”
I hadn’t met Jo, but I knew she was a pretty big part of Finn’s life. I’d asked him about her once, given her name, but he said she was from Butte. Not my Joanna. They had worked together and spent a lot of time outside of the guide service with each other. Based on how much he went on about her, I was pretty sure the poor guy had been holding a torch for this chick.
It was surprising he wasn’t able to close the deal with this girl. Finn was a good-looking guy, tall and fit. Plus, he was always making someone laugh. The thought that he didn’t have his pick of women in this small college town was mind-blowing to me. Maybe this girl was batshit crazy.
“So what’s the deal with you two?” I asked, curious to know why he wasn’t going for her.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, are you just friends or what?”
Finn eyed me suspiciously but went on. “Jo’s amazing. No asshole in this town will ever be good enough for her. She’s tough as nails too.”
Yeah, he definitely had it bad.
“And you fish with her? She working with another outfitter or something?” I asked.
“No, Linc. Jo’s a solo guide.” His voice was full of reverence. “In fact, she’s the only female fishing guide in the whole fucking county. How do you not know this? This girl knows her shit—when the fish are biting, what bait to use, where they’ll be based on the weather. You’d think that she’d have every asshole in town lining up to camp with her because she’s also hot as fuck.”
He shook his head in disbelief and downed another gulp of beer.
“Ok . . .so what’s the deal?” I couldn’t see what the problem was here.
“This county is old-school, you know that. None of the good ol’ boys want to admit that they’ve got a woman showing them the ropes, let alone one who’ll outfish them.”
“Mmm,” I grunted. That sounded about right for around here. While we’d grown up with plenty of strong women who could handle their own, including Mom, it wasn’t really typical for them to go hunt and fish alone. Our small town had certainly never been progressive. But when it came to our business, I trusted Finn’s instincts. If he said Jo was the best, then she was the best, and we needed the help.
“Al rright, set up the meeting and we can work out the details,” I said. Still feeling pissy, I drained my beer and walked out to my truck without saying goodbye.
