rolled his eyes in disbelief. “Suddenly, you’re Black Power?”
“We brothers have to stick together.”
Graham shook his head in amusement, despite his sick feeling about the impending destruction of his career.
Theo continued in an urgent tone, “And because, my brother, I cannot afford to let you pass up the opportunity that will eventually mean opportunities for me, I’m coming to that flea-bag town tomorrow and I’m dragging you back to Tokyo whether you like it or not.”
Graham felt a surge of panic at the idea of Theo Morgan in Sibleyville.
“Theo, I don’t need you to come here—”
“Too late. A car is waiting downstairs to take me to the airport. I should be in Nowheresville by tomorrow at eleven o’clock. I was told that there is no airport in Sibleyville, so that I have to fly into a town called Bentonville. Trying to get to your town was more difficult than getting to Sri Lanka last year. I have three connections… Anyway, be on time, Graham. I’d hate to imagine what would happen to a Black sitting alone in the middle of the country for too long.”
Without another word, Theo hung up. Graham inwardly groaned, then hung up the receiver. He leaned his forehead on the kitchen wall. Theo Morgan in Sibleyville was not a good idea.
Chapter 6
Whenever Graham and Wyatt wound up at The Bar—capital T and capital B, thank you very much—the only place that could remotely meet the definition of a club in Sibleyville, they usually sat at the bar, joked around with people they had joked around with since childhood, and flirted with the same women they had flirted with since childhood. There was a certain charm to The Bar that even Graham couldn’t deny. It sat just outside the border of Sibleyville on a remote stretch of Highway 2 and attracted farmers and ranchers from over one hundred miles since it had the only live entertainment in the area and the cheapest beers.
Usually, there was a band on stage, with a male singer groaning about heartache and being in love, the place would be packed and the cement floor would be sticky with spilled beer and peanut shells. The Bar’s charm was not necessarily its cleanliness.
The only difference between this night when Graham and Wyatt walked into The Bar versus any other night was that every man in the bar was on one side of the room, every woman in the bar was on the other side of the room and Kendra and Quinn were dancing in the middle. Not just dancing, but… Was striptease too harsh? Both women wore short tight clothes and underneath the bar lights they looked like two goddesses, granting the men of The Bar a special performance.
Wyatt grinned like a man who had found heaven, and stared transfixed at the Sibley sisters. Graham scanned the crowd in search of the other sister. He didn’t see her, not that he would have expected her to be wearing a short skirt in a bar and gyrating next to her sisters, but still… Graham laughed at the roar of male approval as Kendra took her moves to the floor, until she was practically sitting. The singer onstage actually stopped singing to stare transfixed at her.
Meanwhile, Quinn, not to be outdone, was moving her hips in some semblance of an X-rated belly dance while she waved her hands over her head. The only problem—or not problem—was that her already short skirt kept creeping farther and farther up her thighs until… Graham’s eyes widened. A black G-string. The men in the building roared again, while several women stalked out the bar.
Wyatt clamped Graham’s shoulder and his voice was unsteady as he said, “Graham, please, please, please tell me that those are the Sibley sisters.”
Graham grinned, just as the two women turned and spotted him. Both waved energetically, motioning for him to join them. Quinn’s gaze remained on him as she licked her lips and ran her hands over her breasts then down to her slim hips, making no secret of the fact that she wanted his hands to follow the same route. Kendra stepped in front of Quinn, drawing Graham’s attention, and went low to the floor again while gyrating her hips.
Pretending not to notice the looks of pure hatred and envy from the other men in the room, Graham casually waved to the women.
He yelled to Wyatt over the loud music, “Those are the two Sibley sisters I was telling you about. Kendra and Quinn.”
Wyatt cursed softly in appreciation. “Which is which?”
“Kendra is the one who just did the splits. Quinn is the one shaking her behind. Apparently, Quinn is on television.”
“Diamond Valley,” Wyatt said automatically, his gaze still on the women.
“How do you know that?”
Wyatt shrugged in response and seemed no longer capable of conversation. Graham shook his head, realizing that Wyatt was a lost cause, then glanced around the bar once more. Even though the building was packed and the noise level was near deafening, Graham knew he would have spotted the other sister if she had been there. Maybe she had stayed home. Graham frowned at the idea of her staying alone in that death trap she and her sisters had insisted on living in for their visit.
Graham glanced back at Kendra and Quinn. Both women were still watching him. He smiled nervously, suddenly understanding how cows must feel when ranchers stared at them before leading them to slaughter. Both women began to motion to him to join them on the dance floor.
Wyatt gripped Graham’s shoulder and choked out, “One more question, man. Please tell me that you’re taking me out there with you to dance with them.”
“Go out there now, and tell the ladies I’ll be right there with drinks.”
Wyatt actually looked as if he wanted to kiss Graham. Instead, he briefly hugged him then practically ran onto the dance floor. Graham laughed and every other man in the place looked shocked as the women started dancing with Wyatt, whereas before they had turned their backs on all other comers.
Graham walked towards the bar to order a round of drinks and scanned the bar once more. He stopped himself. He had two gorgeous women waiting for him on the dance floor. And, if he played his cards right, he could actually get lucky—something that hadn’t happened, God help him, in six months. And, instead of running onto the dance floor, he was searching for a woman who clearly did not like him, if her look of disdain in the driveway had been any indication.
Graham had just signaled the bartender, when out the corner of his eye, he saw a brown-skinned woman walk out of the bar. Since there were only three Black women in Sibleyville who would have been at The Bar, and two were doing a burlesque number on the dance floor, Graham could guess who she was. Before he even made the decision to follow her, he was making his way through the crowd and towards the exit.
Graham pushed open the door and walked into the cool night air. It was too dark to see much, besides the outlines of the trucks and cars in the parking lot. There was one dim light bulb over the door, but that cast barely enough illumination to see fifty feet in front of him.
Graham finally saw a woman standing on the outskirts of the parking lot, next to a large stallion that had been tied to the wooden fence. The huge horse meant only one thing—Earl McPhee was nearby. Except Earl—all six foot five inches and two hundred and sixty pounds of him—wasn’t just nearby. He was standing in front of Charlie—that was her name!—who was screaming at him, obviously having no idea that she was facing the meanest, cruelest sonofabitch in town. A man that even Boyd Robbins had the good sense to give a wide berth to whenever
