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“Alright Waverly, I’m heading in for the night. You should be alright for the rest of the evening, but maybe Champ can help you bring up new kegs for opening tomorrow? We’ve got two that are pretty low.” Gus tells Waverly as she puts on her jacket and grabs her keys.
“Well, Champ’s not here.” Waverly says curtly. She hasn’t talked to, or seen, Champ since she stormed out of his living room over a week ago and Waverly isn’t about to seek his help now. The comment receives a raised eyebrow and a knowing look from Gus. “What? I don’t need to ask him to come out here for that. I’ll figure something out.”
Gus gently sets her keys on the bar and Waverly sees Gus, in her peripherals, lean in closer to where Waverly has resumed traying clean glasses with too much focus. “Waverly.” At the mention of her name, she stops what she’s doing and runs her tongue over her teeth before clenching her jaw a little to keep the resurfaced anger at bay. She finally looks toward her aunt, “You don’t have to stay any place you’re not happy.” Waverly looks at Gus without response, not able to form one steady sentence.
Is she really unhappy?
Is she just talking about Champ? What if she means the curse, and this job, and Purgatory in general?
Waverly’s not that unhappy.
No. She’s finally starting to feel like she can help, and Wynonna seems like she won’t leave at the drop of a hat anymore.
Waverly has to stay now.
She always stays.
Gus leans out of Waverly’s space and gives her a wink, “You do have to stay here until close though.”
Waverly’s shoulders relax and Gus heads for the door. “Ha ha, Gus,” she says sarcastically. “You drive safely and I’ll see you tomorrow morning!”
Gus stops and turns toward Waverly again, “9 o’clock sharp at the municipal building. We’re meeting with Sandra so ask for her. I want this to be fast and efficient — let’s not be there longer than necessary. The whole thing is already ridiculous.” Gus says with firm hand gestures and serious eyes. Waverly nods and confirms her instructions, which gets a nod and a soft smile from Gus who turns to leave again.
Waverly bites her lip, wondering if she should let her lone thought on the matter escape her mouth. She knows Gus doesn’t even want to go over the details of Curtis’ will — let alone in some ‘stuffy, professional building’, but Waverly also thinks Wynonna should at least know about it and have the opportunity to join; Curtis was her uncle too. “You told Wynonna too, or do you want me to let her know?”
She tries to say it as casually as possible, despite planning for the moment Gus wasn’t facing her to ask, knowing that Gus and Wynonna’s relationship has — at its best — been rocky. The hope that Gus has set aside some of their issues for Curtis’ sake is quickly dispelled when, without turning around or stopping, Gus says, “I said I wanted this thing to be fast and efficient.”
And then she’s gone.
“Right.” Waverly mutters under her breath.
She knows Wynonna won’t want to be in that room either, but she hates the way Gus has made her have to choose between them. Wynonna at least deserves to know she has the option to go with them.
Curtis had always wanted better for Wynonna — had always believed her. Waverly remembers Wynonna’s final year of high school; she’d turned 18 at the start of the year, aging out of the system, and Curtis — who never made Gus do anything — demanded that Wynonna be given a place to stay to finish high school.
Gus was harder on Wynonna, but Waverly knows she still cares — she knows what being unloved looked like thanks to her own father. She had overheard many of Gus’ conversations with Curtis over the years, sneaking around like it was her superpower — invisible. Gus was always going on about how if Wynonna wanted to act like an adult all these years than she should act like one now that she was, or she’d end up just like Michelle.
Waverly remembers hearing Curtis tell Gus once that Wynonna was just scared, which surprised Waverly as a child because Wynonna never seemed scared — she could tell the difference now. But whenever Gus talked about Wynonna, she always compared Wynonna to her sister, Michelle — their mama. How Wynonna was always going to wander and be untethered to a fault. Wild. She would always leave.
Gus always said Wynonna would never stay.
Maybe it’s why Waverly clung to Wynonna for those few years she was back — because she was like Mama.
But Waverly isn’t like Mama.
Waverly isn’t really like any of her family; BoBo del Rey had eluded to as much today, that Waverly didn’t know the depths of herself yet.
That she was angry.
She’s been accused of being angry and unhappy all in one day — maybe she didn’t know herself after all.
Someone approaches the bar and Waverly is pulled out of her rabbit hole — almost glad, knowing she’s certainly not having productive thoughts by any means. She quickly jots down ‘BoBo’ on her order ticket pad and then smiles at her customer, asking what they’d like to drink. Whatever the customer says, she registers on autopilot, blinking away the remaining thoughts and coming back to herself as she fills the beer stein.
She turns back to her customer to actually get a good look at him and sees that it’s, thankfully, just one of her regulars, “Keeping the tab open, Matt?”
“Yep. Thanks, Waverly.” He says, leaving a single on the bar top. Waverly grabs it after he heads back to the pool table and does a quick survey of the bar to make sure people are doing alright drinks-wise.
She really zoned out there for a minute.
There are some empty plates to bus back to the kitchen since the dinner rush ended. She gathers all the plates, making small talk with everyone and asking for additional drink orders — smiling her best smile as she goes.
She writes a food order down for someone and sees her ‘BoBo’ note again and wonders how many, if any, of her patrons are revenants; does BoBo have Shorty’s occupied?
She tears the ticket off of her pad on her way back and rewrites the order on a new ticket for the kitchen to make. Waverly keeps the ticket with her note on it and sets it next to the clean glasses under the bar while she fills her drink orders for her customers.
How did BoBo even come into power in the revenant circle? Waverly still doesn’t know his pre-demon identity; the long-time outlaws and criminals had been fairly easy to trace as long as there was a newspaper record of the event — or something from her grandfather’s notes.
She puts her filled drinks on a tray and heads out to her customers.
Her father hadn’t kept any notes; he just left his three daughters to fend for themselves. Waverly has 49 names with faces, but Bobo’s isn’t one of them.
Who was he?
She smiles as she sets down two of her drinks at a table with two middle-aged men with dusty jackets hanging on their chairs. The one with the lip of tobacco gets the whiskey, the one with the dirty, old ball cap gets the beer. Waverly hears herself, distantly, ask if they need anything else — she receives a ‘no ma’am’ and a tipped hat, and she’s on to her next table, still thinking about BoBo del Rey.
Maybe he was a smuggler or something underground. How was he killed by Wyatt?
She drops off the last four drinks at a table of some of Purgatory’s volunteer firefighters. They thank her and she heads back toward the bar, pulling out her ticket pad to write quick notes to keep up with her mind.
She hasn’t been able to shake the thought of BoBo del Rey since this morning, while he was cuffed to a table, and she had been brave enough to ask why he sought her out as a child.
She also couldn’t shake the look Wynonna gave her when she walked in, like Waverly didn’t belong — like she was out of line, meddling in affairs only Wynonna was allowed to meddle in.
But Waverly knows more than Wynonna.
Waverly is going to figure out who BoBo del Rey is, and how he is so connected with the Earps, and why he was so fascinated with Waverly.
She looks quickly around the bar, sees that no one needs her attention and pulls the pen out of her back pocket to write down her thoughts.
BoBo del Rey - moniker
Spanish lineage? Of the / belonging to the king or just king
Prominent family (Bo could also be a connection to the bourgeoisie - maybe killed for money)? Religious affiliation? Ego?
First name possibilities? Boris / Beau / Beauregard / Robert / Beaufort / Raymond
Norse lineage? ‘Bo’ derivatives?
Waverly looks at her notes, satisfied with a new starting point for her research. Wynonna is working her way through the Seven, and Waverly can focus on this.
BoBo knows things.
And Waverly needs to know what.
She tears off the ticket with her notes on it and tucks it behind her phone case, folded up. She looks around the room again, remembering she has an actual job to do as well, but everyone is occupied, even her two slightly slumped over regulars at the bar.
Before she puts her phone in her pocket, she starts to type out a reminder to order the prints of the additional photos she took of BoBo when she went back to the trailer park. Waverly doesn’t dare have them developed inside the Ghost River Triangle. The sound of the door opening startles her and she hurriedly puts her phone back in her pocket.
She looks up to greet her new customer and sees Officer Haught walking in, huffing out a sigh.
“Evening, Officer Haught,” Waverly says warmly. She notices the exasperation lift into a small smile on the officer’s face at her greeting. “You aren’t one of my Thursday evening usuals. Can I get you a drink?”
The smile turns into a brief chuckle as she places her Stetson on the bar before sitting heavily on a barstool and taking another long breath to settle herself. After a moment she looks up to meet Waverly’s eyes, before responding lightheartedly, “You can, but only if you start calling me Nicole — I thought we talked about this.” Her dimples flash as she smiles through her jesting and Waverly smiles back easily.
“Deal.” Waverly says in a mock-serious tone. Officer Haught reciprocates the feigned seriousness with a short nod of her head before her smile returns.
Waverly hasn’t seen her since she brought Officer Haught coffee while she was on duty a week prior, and now questions why she didn’t make a point to stop and see her new friend at the cop shop this week. Waverly wonders how they’d not crossed paths at all — and wishes they had; she’s forgotten how nice it feels to meet new people; maybe Purgatory isn’t the source of her apparent unhappiness after all.
“Good,” Officer Haught continues, “the station had some kind of carbon monoxide leak, so I was shuffled out of the building and Nedley told me to go home — but I’ve had a hell of a day and thought maybe I’d see what Happy Hour at Shorty’s was like.”
“Well you missed Happy Hour by about two hours — it ends at 5 — but I think I can make an exception just this once,” Waverly says, winking at Officer Haught. She’s surprised by her own bravado, but continues before she can overthink it, “so what can I get for you?”
“God, I’ll take anything at this point. What do you drink when you’ve had an exhaustingly frustrating day?” She says with a sigh, and — being a bit caught off guard — Waverly almost misses the way that the officer’s exhaustion belies the note of genuine interest that lingers between them for a moment before Waverly composes herself.
She wants to respond to the question with the fact that when she’s frustrated she likes to drink whiskey so she can sit in her own anger or pity and let those feelings smolder like the way the alcohol burns down her throat, but when she’s feeling alone she prefers tequila because it makes her feel that false, warm happiness, and it was the one thing her father wouldn’t drink — and he was the source of so much of her loneliness that it feels like she’s somehow winning over him. But she never talks about those things — emotions are the only thing Earps can keep bottled up, and Waverly doesn’t make herself that vulnerable; not anymore.
But for this person, this stranger — Nicole, she wants to unravel herself.
It scares her.
Maybe Waverly’s unconsciously avoided her this past week, because there’s something about Nicole that makes Waverly want to know more. She makes Waverly forget about all of the ridiculous tragedies and comedies of her life — and that is dangerous.
So she heeds the warnings in her mind that wave all their red flags and Waverly says, with her trademark smile, “I’m an Earp, we’re whiskey drinkers.”
“So it would seem.”
It isn’t said in a rude way, but Waverly immediately knows the reference to Wynonna. “I’m sorry,” Waverly says before she can stop herself. “She’s good about keeping it under wraps, I promise.” Officer Haught looks at her in a way that almost completely disarms Waverly. There’s confusion on her face at Waverly’s statement, but the pity or resentment that normally follows Wynonna’s mention is missing; she sees something warm and genuine, and Waverly immediately waves her hands in front of her in hopes of somehow backtracking. “I’m sorry. What was it you wanted to drink?”
“That’s a lot of apologizing for someone who’s done nothing wrong.” Is all that’s said in response, but Waverly feels understood in the way that Officer Haught looks at her with those soft, brown eyes. There’s a beat between them of something that makes Waverly’s throat tighten and she looks away from the woman opposite her at the bar so that the tears can’t reach her eyes.
“You know,” Officer Haught says, and Waverly knows that the woman opposite her must recognize that whatever just settled between them a moment ago, has passed. She lets Waverly meet her eyes again before continuing, “You know, I think I’ll take you up on the whiskey if you don’t have any decent gin lying around.”
“Gin!?” Waverly scoffs, letting the sensitive moment completely dissolve as she puts a hand over her chest in mock disgust. “Officer Haught-“
“Ah! Nicole.” She says with a playful smile, pointing at Waverly like she’s broken the rules of a secret game.
Waverly chuckles and leans on the bar top, tilting her head, “Nicole,” she draws out the name dramatically, hoping that she’s playing their game right.
“That’s so much better, don’t you think?” She says with that slightly flirty edge in her voice. Waverly has heard it a few times now, she always denies the idea that what she’s hearing is flirtation — despite their first encounter — but she’s finding it harder to deny.
Even still, Waverly doesn’t stop Nicole or remind her that she’s with Champ — like she so easily does to anyone else who so much suggests that she might be looking nice. Waverly doesn’t want to ruin their budding friendship; she likes Officer Haught.
Nicole.
“I think,” Waverly starts, composing herself despite the blush she’s sure is rising on her cheeks — she must be plying their game right after all, “that gin is disgusting.”
“I’ve never been more offended.” Officer Haught says sadly while her dimple peaks against her cheek as she smiles.
“It tastes like a pine cone sitting at the bottom of some lumberjack’s dirty laundry basket.” Waverly says, her lip curling slightly.
She’s startled by the bark of laughter that escapes the woman across from her and can’t help but think that she’d like to see more of that kind of happiness. “That’s very specific.”
“What kind of esteemed bartender would I be if I didn’t provide knowledge and recommendations to my respected patrons?” Waverly points to the ‘Drink where Wyatt Earp drank!’ sign over her shoulder. “Wyatt certainly wouldn’t drink gin. I would know,” Waverly stands taller in mock pride and smiles to herself when she hears Nicole’s laughter again. “But if you must partake, please tell me you’ll at least have some with tonic water and a lime wedge.” Waverly says smiling. She turns her back to Officer Haught, hands up in surrender before grabbing her best bottle of gin.
“If I must.” Waverly hears from the voice behind her, that flirtatious edge back — Nicole’s tone, softer than normal, but with a sharp matter-of-factness that feels confident and genuine all at once. Waverly is glad that she’s looking the other way this time, so that redness she feels coloring her cheeks is hidden.
“Oh you must,” Waverly says as she finishes mixing the drink and brings it to Officer Haught smiling, “because of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, you walked in to mine,” Waverly chuckles a little at the joke and sets the drink in front of the deputy.
Waverly’s smile falters a little when she meets Officer Haught’s eyes, though. Whatever else she’d planned on saying after handing over the drink is quickly forgotten because the way Waverly’s being looked at has her heart in her stomach. “I - it’s from Casablanca.” She manages to get out, as she replays what she’s said over and over, feeling like she crossed some imaginary line, still not quite able to break her gaze.
“I’ve never seen it.” Nicole says, voice soft.
Waverly wants to apologize, or take it all back — she realizes how flirtatious it came off, seeing Nicole’s response. She wants to pull all of her walls back up, surely someone else at the bar needs a drink, but Officer Haught just smiles and Waverly can’t help but keep talking — opening up.
“My Uncle Curtis loved that movie,” Waverly says. She’s hardly talked about him with anyone outside of Gus and Champ. Wynonna hasn’t ever mentioned Curtis’ death outside of how it related to the curse — never what he meant to her, or anything like that, but now that she’s mentioned Curtis, Waverly wants to keep talking about him. “He would say that quote every time my Aunt Gus drank gin — which wasn’t too, too frequently, but he always thought it was the most clever thing in the world. I thought it was kind of sweet of him, even if it was kind of silly.” That’s enough. The red flags wave faster in her head and Waverly stops talking, “Sorry. Enjoy your gin — if that’s something that can be done.”
She tries to put on her signature smile, but it feels thin.
“Don’t apologize; I bet you’re a lot like him.” Officer Haught says, and Waverly wonders how Nicole can see right through her. She starts to shake her head, but Officer Haught continues — raising her drink, “Thank you, by the way. Maybe we can watch that movie sometime.”
Waverly sees one of the guys from the pool table, Scott, head over to the bar and thanks the stars above for an easy out to that question — that conversation was dangerous. She doesn’t exactly know how she would have responded, but Nicole makes her feel uncertain — like something deep that she can’t see the bottom of.
“Sorry,” Waverly says, gesturing to the person approaching the bar. Officer Haught waves off her unnecessary apology and takes a sip of her drink.
Waverly takes her leave and addresses her new customer wanting another beer. She bends down to grab a clean glass from under the bar, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she does so, before angling it just right under the tap to get the perfect pour — making sure not to look toward Officer Haught at all. She looks at Scott instead as the glass fills, “You know, it would be cheaper to just get a pitcher, the way you four drink,” she shrugs and smiles, “just saying.”
“But then I wouldn’t get to come talk to you five times a night.” He says.
Waverly raises her eyebrow at him as she shuts off the tap. “If you say that loud enough for Champ to hear I’ll be out a lot of tip money.” She sets the drink in front of him and he puts two singles down and takes his beer. “Enjoy your game, Scott.” She says lightly, her smile worn perfectly on her face like it was made for him. She doesn’t wait to see him leave before returning her attention immediately to Officer Haught, and fixing her hair again.
“So things are better with you and Champ then?” She says before taking a drink.
“Oh,” Waverly watches the way Officer Haught slowly rotates her glass on the bar in small increments. “Yeah, I mean I’m still mad at him, but I’ll get over it.”
“Did he apologize?” Officer Haught asks slowly, keeping her eyes on her drink. Waverly continues to watch the rotating glass, listening to the sound against the bar and tries not to think of the slur that Champ had so nonchalantly used about Nicole a week ago.
Champ should apologize to Nicole — Waverly doesn’t need the apology, she just wants him to learn from it.
“He has not, but there’s not much to say, really.” Waverly meets Officer Haught’s eyes as she looks up from her drink — her expression unreadable. It doesn’t feel like pity or disappointment, but something close to it that Waverly just can’t put her finger on; it makes her want to keep talking — justifying, “I’ll get over it, though. He was just being super insensitive,” Waverly catches a raised eyebrow from Officer Haught, followed by a muffled scoff into the remainder of the drink she quickly finished.
Waverly recognizes the feeling now, but it seems out of place and almost confusing. Nicole is jealous? Waverly must be giving her a certain look because Officer Haught puts her hands up in surrender. “Sorry.” She says and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Hmm, I’m not sure I quite believe you,” Waverly says, still trying to read the woman opposite her.
“I just think-“
“I’m going to stop you there,” Waverly knows exactly how to read this conversation. The welcome, new feeling that had been settling between them has twisted, and it’s all too familiar for Waverly. She’s heard it a thousand times, but Officer Haught looked surprised, “Champ is a lot of things, but he is always consistent. Sometimes that means consistently annoying, but more importantly, he consistently stays. He has been by my side longer than any stretch of time I’ve shared with my sister, longer than either of my parents. When everyone else has left and gone, he’s stayed, and as silly as it sounds, it’s just not a common theme for me.” Waverly taps her hands on the bar top and points to Officer Haught’s empty glass. “So! Would you like another drink?”
“I’m sorry, Waverly. Talk about insensitive, huh?” Officer Haught says with a sigh.
“It’s okay,” Waverly says, and she means it. “Maybe when we get coffee again, we can get to know each other better.” She offers a small smile to Officer Haught.
“I really am sorry.”
“I believe you this time — I think it was the gin talking,” Waverly says with a wink and she watches the weight visibly lift off of Officer Haught’s shoulders.
“Maybe I’ll just have a beer then.”
“A safe choice.” Waverly says and Officer Haught’s dimpled smile returns, setting Waverly at ease and allowing the tension between them to pass while Waverly moves to fill a beer for her friend.
She remembers Gus mentioning the almost empty kegs and thinks that maybe she will finally text Champ.
She has some forgiving to do.
But she’ll wait until Officer Haught leaves. Champ will be there when Waverly comes calling, but she wants to continue having some time with Nicole.
After all, good friends are hard to find.