Johnny Jaybird seethed from a seat with a ringside view of the dance floor. A peanut bowl went untouched on the tabletop in front of him. A bottle of cheap whiskey was getting a workout, though. Pouring himself a hefty glass, Johnny looked as miserable as I felt. It’s a bitch when the person you care about doesn't care about your feelings.

“Mind if I sit?’’ Savannah stood at an empty barstool beside me.

“It’s a free country.’’ I slid the peanut bowl her way. I’d already made a small mountain of shells on the barroom floor.

She settled on the stool, and waved a five-dollar bill at the bartender, an older man I didn’t recognize. He hustled toward us with another ice-filled bucket of beer.

“These are on me.’’ She plucked out the first bottle, and twisted off the cap. “I feel like an idiot for making such a fuss at Jesse’s trailer.’’

I wondered if you calculated the distance in the barroom between Johnny, Savannah, and me, would it form a perfect triangle of crushed hearts? I gave her a shrug. “Love makes people do strange things.’’

Face reddening, she studied her hands. I realized I’d over-stepped.

“Sorry, Savannah. Jesse told us about the relationship between you two.’’

“Jesse has a very big mouth.’’

I noticed she didn’t deny it. Silence settled between us like a long stretch of empty road. The jukebox switched to an oldie by Freddy Fender, “Before the Next Teardrop Falls.’’ The pounding boots turned to a slow shuffle.

She slid a plastic-wrapped praline toward me on the bar. I read the label: Savannah City Confections. I placed it in my top pocket, and then clinked my bottle to hers. “Here’s hoping for better luck in love for the both of us.’’

The corners of her mouth crooked into a grin. “Trouble with the police detective?’’

“You do not want to know,’’ I said.

I glanced over at Toby again. Savannah’s gaze followed mine. He had an arm draped around one beauty; another nuzzled his neck. The third playfully snatched the cowboy hat off his head. Perching it atop her own blond locks, she tugged at Toby’s collar to pull him close for a sloppy kiss.

“Poor Johnny Jaybird doesn’t look like he’s enjoying the floor show,’’ I said.

“It’s sad. He has tender feelings for Toby. He’d probably be a good protector, if Toby would come oout. But Hollywood makes people hide who they really are.’’ She raised her bottle to take a sip. The enormous diamond on her wedding ring winked in the blue glow of a neon beer sign.

“People in Hollywood seem to hide a lot of secrets,’’ I said, leadingly.

The thought ran through my mind: What else might Savannah be hiding?

“Give the detecting a rest, would you?’’ I thought I heard a hint of irritation, but when she spun a half-turn toward me, she was smiling. “Speaking of secrets, what’s the deal between your mama and my husband?’’

“There’s absolutely nothing between them.’’ I hoped I sounded reassuring. “Mama is happily married.’’

She took another swallow, and turned her back to the room. “It doesn’t matter, Mace. Paul is married to me in name only.’’

I wanted to tell her it mattered a great deal to Sal, who had nearly pounded her husband into dust defending Mama’s honor. Instead, I asked, “How long has Paul known about you and Jesse?’’

She waved a graceful hand. “Jesse’s not the first. Paul’s known I was into girls since before we got married. He wanted a wife who wouldn’t care if he played around; I wanted a husband who would give me nice things and not ask too many questions.’’

“Is that what you got?’’

Her eyes met mine in the mirror behind the bar. “He doesn’t ask and I don’t tell; and vice versa.’’

“So you ask no questions about Paul and Barbara Sydney? Maybe her husband Norman didn’t subscribe to the same policy.’’

She rolled her eyes and shelled a peanut.

“That whole mess between the Sydneys was more dysfunctional than anything I’ve ever been involved in. Barbara is stone-cold crazy. There’s no telling what that woman is capable of.’’

I didn’t mention that Jesse had said the same thing about Savannah. “Dysfunctional, how?’’ I asked.

She pressed her lips together. “I’m not going to speak ill of the dead. Let’s just say Paul made a pact with two devils to get this picture done.’’

“But …”

She made the lip-zipping motion. “Not to be rude, but it’s none of your business. Ask Barbara or Paul if you want to know more about their relationship.’’

“Why …’’

She cut me off. “Don’t try to weasel it out of me, Mace. I’m not that drunk.’’

I looked at her in the mirror. Her serious expression and the stiffness of her spine told me she was right. She wasn’t at all drunk.

“Okay then,’’ I said. “So what about the ‘nice things’ part of your bargain with Paul?’’ I leaned close to her hand to admire the diamond. “Looks like he came through on your ring.’’

She held her hand to the light. “He did. I also got a little ranch out near Jackson, Wyoming. I’d always wanted to be a cattlewoman.’’

“We had a ranch when I was young, but my daddy made some bad business decisions. We lost it.’’ I took a slug from my beer. “He died not too long after that. Everybody said the stress of losing everything brought on his heart attack.’’

“I’m so sorry.’’ She patted my knee. “Tell you what, you can come out to Wyoming anytime you want. The two of us will saddle up and work the cattle together. Sound good?’’

I gave her a sideways glance. She laughed and shook her head. “Don’t worry. No strings attached. You’re a little too masculine to be my type.’’

I didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted. I was curious though. “So, is Kelly Conover your type?’’

Savannah snorted. “Hardly. She’s too girly.’’

“I don’t know. She’s part Gypsy. Very hot-blooded.’’

Savannah cocked her head. “You didn’t really believe that load of crap she tries to sell, did you? The woman’s family roots go back generations in Fort Wayne, Indiana.’’

“You’re kidding.’’

“Nope; she’s a hundred-percent, milk-fed Midwesterner. You gotta be careful, Mace. Stick with the Hollywood people who don’t lie. Like me. Just as friends, of course.’’

“What the hell?’’ I finally said. “Working cattle in Wyoming sounds pretty good.’’

I tipped my bottle to hers. We clinked to seal the deal.

_____

The hands on the bucking bronc clock behind the bar were almost at midnight. Suddenly, I felt the weight of the day’s events dragging me down toward exhaustion. I still had a long drive ahead of me to my cottage.

I yelled down the bar. “Can I get a Coke over here?’’

The bartender brought me a tall glass with ice, and two cans of soda. “Drink ’em both, Mace. I want you wide awake driving way out there on State Road 98.’’

I peered at his face. His cheeks were ruddy. Broken veins crisscrossed his bulbous nose. He had a lot of miles on him. If I had to guess, I’d say a lot of them had been driven drunk.

“I’m sorry.’’ I smiled. “Do I know you?’’

“Name’s Clyde, from down in Clewiston. I used to date your mama.’’

“Who didn’t?’’

The activity at the bar was winding down. Savannah was about to depart. “I have to be up early to pack,’’ she said. “The shoot’s almost over. I’m leaving in the morning.’’

Toby had abandoned the girls on the dance floor. He sat now at Johnny’s table, leaning close and listening to the assistant director. Toby’s presence made Johnny look so absurdly happy that I felt sorry for him. I hoped the young star decided who he wanted to be before he broke the poor guy’s heart.

An excited murmur moved through the bar, heralding the arrival of a Hollywood VIP. Poised at the open door, Kelly Conover prepared to make a dramatic entrance. Stealing a glance at himself in the mirror, the bartender spit on his thumb and then used it to smooth his unruly unibrow. Too bad he didn’t have time to trim the stray hairs from his nose and ears, too.