The mayor rubbed the back of his neck, frowning. The problem was that they had to find a place that was isolated enough to be private, but not so isolated that some traffic couldn’t be expected. Rural folk were incurably nosy. If they saw headlights where there shouldn’t be any, they’d investigate—and they’d usually be toting at least a .22 rifle. Neighbors looked out for neighbors. That was nice if you were one of the neighbors, but it was a pain in the ass when you were trying not to be noticed. The usual holding pen was an old travel trailer set well back from a dirt road. During dry weather, the road itself was a warning system, with any approaching vehicle sending up clouds of dust that could be seen well before any car came into sight.
“I’ll find something,” he said. “If nothing else, I’ll rent a big U-Haul truck.”
They’d done that before, in a pinch. It was amazing how little attention was paid to the rental trucks. The girls couldn’t take a bath—and God knows they always needed a bath—the way they could in the travel trailer, but if the client had to take delivery of merchandise that was less than sweet-smelling, well, this wasn’t exactly a dating service. But it was also a pain in the ass to use a rental, because if you parked the thing, sooner or later you could expect a deputy to come check it out. So you had to drive around until it was time for the clients to pick up the girls, then meet them somewhere and make a fast exchange. A rental just wasn’t the best arrangement.
The mayor’s pager began to beep. He silenced it and checked the number. “I have to go, but I’ll get back to you about the alternate location. Just find Mitchell, for God’s sake!”
Daisy paused at the closed double doors of the Buffalo Club. After much consideration, she had decided this was the place and now was the time to debut her new look and try her new approach to man-hunting. She was tired from the long day of shopping and being cosmetically tortured, but she was also still riding high on elation. When she had arrived home after the shopping trip, she hadn’t called out a greeting as she usually did, just walked into the kitchen where her mother and Aunt Jo were busy putting up peach preserves for the winter. Her mother had glanced around, then whirled in alarm, sharply saying, “Who are you?”
Daisy had begun giggling. The other women had then squealed in delight and thrown themselves at her, exclaiming over the blond hair and the chic haircut. The peach preserves hadn’t been able to wait, so while they continued with their canning, Daisy had fetched all her shopping bags out of the car and displayed her take, which reached truly amazing proportions.
When she carted all of it upstairs to her room and began hanging the garments in her closet, she couldn’t resist trying everything on again. And though she was tired, when she put on one of her trim new skirts and that classic white sleeveless shirt, then the taupe heels, a thrill ran through her. That stylish, pretty woman was really her. She wasn’t gorgeous, she never would be, but the uncluttered hairstyle made the most of her rather unremarkable features and made her look. . . oh, reserved, maybe, instead of just mousy. And Todd was right: that anklet gleaming on her right ankle was down-right sexy.
It was a shame to waste this look. She might not be able to get her hair in exactly this style again. And she was already made up . . .
With that in mind, she drew in a deep breath and made a decision:
It was now or never.
So here she was at the Buffalo Club, a large, sprawling country music nightclub just over the Madison County line. It had live bands, a big dance floor, and sort of a reputation. The occasional stabbing and fight had been known to happen, but it wasn’t so far gone that women didn’t feel comfortable attending. Another plus was that the cover charge was just two dollars; after the money she had spent that day, economy seemed prudent.
If she gave herself time to think, she knew she’d chicken out, so she just forged ahead. She took her two bucks out of the slim envelope purse swinging from her shoulder on a narrow strap. Her everyday purse was big enough to hold a month’s rations, but Todd had insisted she carry something more elegant. “Don’t carry a lot when you go out,” he’d instructed. “Just enough cash to get by, a tissue, a lipstick, and stick a credit card in your bra.” That was good, because that was about all she could get in the slim little excuse for a purse anyway.
A big guy wearing blue jeans, boots, and a black T-shirt collected her two dollars at the door; then he allowed her to pass and she stepped into a din of colored lights, loud music, and even louder conversation. Voices competed with the band and each other to be heard. The place was jammed. She was bumped from behind, shoving her into a tall redhead with big hair who gave her an irritated look.
Daisy started to mumble an apology, then remembered that she didn’t mumble anymore. Besides, a mumble couldn’t possibly be heard in here. “Pardon me,” she said clearly, her head high as she moved away. Her hair looked better than the redhead’s, she thought with a little thrill. She couldn’t remember ever thinking her hair looked better than someone else’s before.
She squirmed her way to a relatively sheltered spot where she could take stock. The bar, a big square, was lined with stools, and people stood three deep around it. Couples swayed on the dance floor, with colored lights flickering around them, while the lead singer of the band crooned a love song. The band was situated on a small stage behind a protective netting of chicken wire.
The chicken wire worried her. Maybe the Buffalo Club was a little rougher than she’d heard.