“Who are you calling crazy? And just what are you implying about me and Becca? I’m not the one two-timing her with this Mexican slut! “

“Prandi’s not a slut and she’s not Mexican either. Oh, and I’ve seen the way you look at Becca, Sassy, so don’t even try to worm your way out of that one. Just accept yourself for the psychotic lesbian that you are.”

Sassy was starting to turn an alarming shade of puce. Jameson was worried she was going to explode. He took a few steps back, pulling Prandi back with him. Then Old Bess quickly walked up to the ancient jukebox standing in the corner and hit some buttons until the strains of “I’ve had the time of my life” could be heard filling the bar.

Sassy turned slowly, eyes watering and hands trembling. “Oh, I love that song…”

Old Bess held out her arms, beckoning Sassy. “Come to mama, Sassy.” Sassy ran to Old Bess.

Jameson didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He turned to Prandi and saw her shaking her head. “This sure is one crazy country,” she mumbled.