Rough Country

concrete-block foundation, a pea-gravel parking lot, a tin chimney, a low wooden porch outside the front door, and a carved wooden upright black bear guarding the front door, an American flag in its paw.
    There were four other cars in the front lot, and two more that Virgil could see around the side. Probably the bartender’s and the cook’s, around to the side—at most country bars, the employees tried to park where their cars wouldn’t get hit by drunks.
    Inside, the bar was a little softer than most, with lots of booths and only a few freestanding tables, four stools at the bar, and a small stage on the other side of a dance floor; a jukebox. Three of the booths were occupied by women, two in one, three in another, four in the third. One of the bar stools was occupied by an elderly man who was peering into a half-empty beer glass.
    They stopped at the bar, and Zoe said, “Hey, Chuck,” to the bartender, who took a long look at Virgil, not unfriendly, and Zoe ordered a beer and Virgil got a Diet Coke. Zoe asked, eyebrows up, “Little problem with alcohol?”
    “No, I just don’t drink much,” Virgil said.
    The old man at the bar said to Virgil, “If you gotta ask, it’s half empty. Not half full.”
    “Looks more like four-fifths empty to me, partner,” Virgil said. The drinks came, and they carried them to a booth. Virgil checked out the women, and the bar in general, saw the bartender watching.
    “What do you think?” Zoe asked.
    “It’s a bar,” he said, smiling. “Must pick up at night—mostly people from Eagle Point?”
    “Eagle Nest.”
    “Right, Eagle Nest. Mostly women from the Eagle Nest? Or half-and-half with locals, or . . .”
    “More locals than Eagle Nest. It’s just that if you’re at the Eagle Nest and you want to get out, you probably come here.”
    “Gay or straight?”
    “Gay or straight,” Zoe said. “Same with locals—mostly women, gay and straight. They can come down here, do some serious drinking, and not have to put up with being hit on, or pushed around. Chuck keeps all that runnin’ smooth. Most local guys know that this isn’t where they want to go.”
    “You come down here?”
    “Sure. Like I said, it’s safe and friendly,” she said.
    A woman came in the door wearing cutoff jean shorts, a tight halter top, cowboy boots and a cowboy hat, and sunglasses. She was short, but well rounded, with dark hair twisted in a single braid. She had an Andy Warhol “Marilyn” tattoo on one tanned shoulder. She looked around once, scratched herself between her breasts, wandered over to the bar, and asked, “Seen Wendy?”
    “Not in yet.”
    “Ah, man—we were supposed to meet down at the Schoolhouse,” the woman said. She glanced over at Virgil and Zoe, her gaze lingering on Virgil for a moment, then flicking to Zoe, and her mouth turned down. The two women stared at each other for a moment, then the other woman turned back to the bartender. “We’re working up ‘Lover Do.’ If you see her, tell her we’re down there, waiting.”
    Virgil watched her go, and when she was gone, Zoe leaned forward and said, “She’s a drummer.”
    “My type, too,” Virgil said.
    “Not your type,” she said. “She lives with the lead singer.”
    “Yeah? Maybe they’re breaking up,” Virgil said, hitting on the Diet Coke. “Musicians lead tumultuous lives.”
    “The lead singer is Wendy—it’s an all-girl band,” Zoe said.
    Ah, he thought. “Okay.”
    “You’re supposed to say, ‘What a terrible waste.’ ”
    “Hey, I’m sophisticated—I went to college,” Virgil said. “Anyway, the way you sounded, it’s not being wasted.”
    “Ahhh, poop.” Zoe finished her beer in a gulp.
    “Ahhh poop, what?” Virgil asked.
    “Ahhh . . .” She wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Wendy. The singer.”
    “She’s pretty good?”
    “Very good. Country, some crossover jazz stuff,” Zoe said. “Mostly country, though, Dixie Chicks.”
    “ Really not my type, then, even if she wasn’t gay,” Virgil said. “Give me a choice between listening to a whole Dixie Chicks album, or sticking a gun in my ear, I’d have to think about it.”
    “Well, she’s my type,” Zoe said. “And that’s my big problem.”
    Virgil looked at her for a few seconds, then dropped his forehead on his arms. “No.”
    “Well, it was gonna come out sooner or later, Virgil,” Zoe said, laughing. “We’re getting friendly, but I don’t want you to get any