Free Experiment in Terror 05.6 The Dex-Files by Karina Halle Page A

Amanda was watching me and looking confused at my expression. I smiled at her again, all good vibes and good sex, and let her select some shitty songs first before I requested mine.
    We had just gotten back to the table (where Bird was trying to give Cheri a very polite GTFO) when Max and Perry finally removed themselves from the floor. I wanted to make some cutting remark to him and cut him down a peg but there was a weird aura of tension just steaming off. Something had gone down between them and even though it soothed the spite in me, I was a bit concerned for Perry.
    Apparently, so was Amanda. The minute she saw Perry’s sweet, worried face she grabbed my arm, sinking her Pepto Bismol–colored talons into my skin.
    “You’re dancing with me, sugar,” she commanded. She was surprisingly strong for her size and her sun-raped arms had no problem dragging me to my feet.
    “Like I have a choice,” I said, trying not to laugh. This was one hungry cougar.
    I gave Perry a quick wink as we went past and decided to give Amanda what she’d been waiting for: Someone young. Someone fun. I grabbed a cowboy hat off of some random Joe Blow and gave “Crocodile Rock” my best moves.
    It had been a while since I was able to use some of my theatre school skills, other than fucking Michelle in the orchestra pit and taking hits between monologues. I knew it didn’t matter if I screwed up or looked like a retard because that wasn’t the point, but I was surprised how easily it came back to me. Again, all I could think about was how deep I felt the music, how deep I was feeling…everything. Though I was swinging Amanda around, my mind dwelled on what my medication was hiding half the time. Besides the very obvious.
    “You’re good,” Amanda said to me, holding me close to her, trying to take back the control. People were clapping and watching us with amusement and she was basking in the glow.
    “It comes naturally. But so does being bad,” I said with a smirk.
    “I can see that. Your wife must be pretty pissed.”
    Wife? Oh right. Fuckity fuck. I didn’t need to eye the ring on my finger to remember the whole charade. Not that the town of Red Fox gave two shits whether I was really married to Perry or pretend married, but it didn’t hurt to keep up appearances.
    “She’s pretty understanding,” I said.
    Amanda nodded. I noticed her earrings were clipons and dangerously close to slipping off. This was one sweaty, stanky ass bar.
    “You’re the understanding one. Most men here would be all macho about it if their wife was dancing with another man. But I could see he wasn’t a threat at all.”
    Oh really? I wanted to pry her for her cougarly wisdom but I bit my lip instead. We danced some more and then we were interrupted by another woman. She said her name was Mary Sue (naturally) and she was years younger (possibly even underage) with desperate eyes that screamed at me, like dancing with Dex Foray was the most excitement she’d ever get. That made me really fucking sad. How pathetic this town must be to find a fuckup like me as their savior.
    I danced with Mary Sue, going through the motions, thinking about the fake wedding band on my ring finger. When the song ended again and I could see more women approaching me (look, I get that I can look pretty hot, but no one should attract this many rednecks), I decided I had enough. I knew what song was next and I knew who I was dancing with. My wife.
    I walked toward her, ignoring the women and focused on her face until her big blue eyes met mine. She looked so small and dainty sitting there among Max and Bird, drinking and trying to have fun even though a world of danger whirled around her. I could see the strain on her face, I knew she was always hyper-aware of what lurked in the dark. I knew because Bird was right. We were too much the same.
    I stopped in front of her and tipped my hat in the most awkward imitation of a cowboy.
    “It’s our song,” I said to her over