“I have a question for you,” I say, very serious, like I’ve been thinking it over forever. Because I have, actually. “Why do you—and Finn did it too. . . . Why do you guys talk about the Pala like it’s a girl? Why do guys do that with things? Do you know how dumb it sounds?”
Rusty just looks at me for a second, then cracks up. And then I do too, and I don’t even know what’s so funny except that he’s laughing and trying to catch his breath and every time he’s about to, it starts all over again.
“Really,” I ask through tears. “Why do you do that?”
Rusty leans back and breathes in deep, still on the edge of laughing. “Oh, goddamn, that’s funny.”
“What?” I’m about to start up with the giggles again, and I still don’t know what was funny in the first place.
“It’s not ‘the Pala,’ it’s Paula.”
“Huh?”
“Finn’s car. We named it after a girl—Paula.”
“No. You’re wrong.” I poke him in the chest for emphasis. “Pala . . . is short for Impala. Duh. Finn never knew anyone named Paula.”
Rusty crumbles into a laugh again. “That’s what you thought this whole time?”
“Yeah . . .” Is he . . . he’s laughing at me.
“No . . .” He catches his breath again. “Paula’s short for Paula Peaches. Who the car is named after.”
“Who’s that? That’s the dumbest name I’ve ever heard. Who would name their kid that?”
“I’m pretty sure she named herself that.” Rusty takes his beer back from me and finishes it in one gulp, then smiles. “Paula Peaches . . . is one of Texas’s finest . . . actresses.”
“I’ve never heard of her.”
“No reason you should have.” I can tell he’s trying not to laugh.
I think about it, hard, then something dawns on me. “Is she”—I look around to make sure no one’s listening and lower my voice to a whisper—“an adult actress?” I make air quotes around the word “adult.”
Rusty gives a proud nod.
“That is so dirty! You guys were just . . . dirty . . . dirty guys.”
Rusty grins like I just gave him a compliment. “Not as dirty as Paula Peaches.”
Shana walks up to the table before I can think of something clever to say back to him. “You two need another round?” She looks at me. “You doin’ okay?” Of course I’m okay. Except I’ve been driving around in a dirty porn-star car.
“Yeesss,” I say. “I would please like another round. But something fruity this time. With peaches, maybe.”
Rusty snorts. I work to keep a straight face. Hard. Shana shakes her head and points at Rusty. “You better not get too drunk to dance. That’s the only reason I let you in here.”
She leans down and whispers to me like we’re old friends. “J.D.’s not much of a dancer, so I have to get my fix from your boy here every once in a while. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all,” I say. “But you better take him now.” I scoot out of the booth and whisper to her this time. “Because I think we might be startin’ to get drunk soon. And right now I gotta go pee. Where’s your girls’ room?”
Shana points, and I remember I’ve been there before. “Never mind.” I smile. “I know where it is.” I start to walk away but then turn around and point at the both of them. “You two. Go dance.”
Rusty nods, and Shana winks, and as I weave my way across the dance floor to the bathroom, I decide I really, really like her. I like that she called Rusty my boy, and I wonder if she really thinks he is. ’Cuz he could be my boy, maybe. I don’t know, I never thought of it. Well, that’s not true. I thought of it when he saved us from crashing Paula, the dirty porn-star car, and when he was in his underwear in the monsoon. And then when we went swimming today and he jumped off that swing—
“Which guy are you talking about?” The voice startles me. Oh my god, was I actually talking out loud just then? I think I might’ve been. There’s a girl standing next to me holding a beer, and we’re in line for the bathroom, and she looks really interested, and I’m pointing across the room to our booth. Holy crap, I’m drunk. “Um . . . nobody,” I say quickly. “Nobody at all.”
The bathroom door opens up, and I’m so glad it’s my turn because I have to pee worse than I can ever remember. A girl comes out, then a guy trying to look all casual, and I give them a dirty look because they were probably making out in the bathroom, or worse, which is so dirty. I would never make out in a bathroom. Why’s everyone so dirty?
I take care of my business as quick as I can, then check myself over in the mirror as I wash my hands. It’s easier to see if I squeeze one eye shut, so I do, and I don’t look half-bad. I look pretty good, in fact, and that’s good, ’cuz it’s time to find my boy and go dance. Ha. My boy.
Guitar and drums rush loud at me when I open the door, and everyone on the dance floor spins crazy and wild, and Rusty and Shana are right in the middle of it. And oh my god, she was right! How did I never know he could dance like that? He spins her fast, so her hair and the towel tucked in her back pocket both swing out behind her, then he ducks under her arm and turns her around so they’re chest to chest for a second, all sexy and close, like the people on those dance shows.