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CRYSTAL MOON

Prologue

Sawyer

“What the hell’s the matter with you? You’re squirming around like a kid about to piss his pants. You got something better to do than explain what the fuck’s been going on with you lately? When did you decide it was okay to piddle ass around on a job instead of finishing it?” I gave the mechanic, Grady Wilks, my don’t screw with me stare. I didn’t waste time on deadbeats, but Grady had always been a friend worth spending time on.

“Hell, Sawyer, you know how it gets sometimes. More bills comin’ in than money. I’m running a little short this month. It’s got me scrambling. Picked up too many jobs trying to cover my ass and they’ve put me behind schedule.”

Grady was putting a lot of attention into scrubbing his hands with a red shop rag. The restless hands, avoiding eye contact, all signs something serious had him twisted up.

“If it’s just money why didn’t you come to me? Wouldn’t be the first time I offered to float you a loan.” And it wouldn’t be the first time his stubborn ass refused my help. I took a guess at what he was trying to not tell me. “I thought you had all those hospital and doctor bills caught up?”

Grady’s dad had passed well over a year ago from lung cancer. It hadn’t been a long drawn out thing only because he’d not gone to see a doctor until it was too late to do anything for him. Short or long, the hospital and doctor bills had been a staggering load for Grady to take on. Plenty of people told him it wasn’t his responsibility to pay his dad’s bills. That’s all good and well, except he would have lost his home and the garage if he didn’t pay up. Both were in his dad’s and his name jointly. He’d taken on his father’s debts and been killing himself ever since paying them off. I sent as much work his way as possible and that was all the help he accepted. A few months back he looked happy as hell when he told me he’d managed to pay off the last debt on his dad. Not many days after that he was more closed off and pinched looking than before.

“Yeah, I’ve got the medical shit handled. Just got screwed up juggling things. Did a few quick jobs for the fast money and it messed with the scheduling.” Grady still wouldn’t look me in the eye.

Something had been going on with Grady ever since he’d told me the medical bills had been taken care of. Whatever he was hiding made him unwilling to ask for help. The rope was dangling right there in front of him, all he had to do was reach out and grab the line. I’d be the first to say a man had a right to his secrets. But I also believed that when a friend lied to my face it was time to figure out what was going on. 

“If you’d gotten your head out of your ass and finished the new traps in Colin’s truck on time your money problems would’ve already been solved. When I send work your way, I sure as hell don’t want them coming back to me bitching because the job is running behind.”

“One more day and I’ll have the job wrapped up. Already have the box installed and the hydraulics that control the back panel are kickass. When that seat slides forward it barely makes a whisper and the compartment behind it is the biggest one I’ve ever put in the cab of a truck before. Once the trim’s replaced ain’t nobody gonna find that bitch. Already finished the false bed in the back, it’s seamless and watertight.” Grady’s enthusiasm over the new hides carried the first honest reaction I’d gotten out of him since dropping by and asking questions.

When it came to mechanics they didn’t come any better than Grady. He also had a real talent when it came to custom paint and body work, but his true genius lay in building hidden compartments called traps. There wasn’t a big demand for them. They were too expensive and not a lot of legitimate reasons to have one installed. Usually when he picked up a job for one he’d be so damn stoked that’d be all he worked on. Not this time, though. He was running two weeks behind on Colin’s truck.

“I don’t want to hear how close you are just finish the damn thing. And you can cut the bullshit and tell me the real reason you’ve been dickin’ around so long with it. You never could lie worth a damn.” I should let it go but we went way back. All the dumbass had to do was come clean, then I’d lend him the money or kick someone’s ass. Problem solved. Money or an ass-kicking solved every problem out there.

The animation in Grady’s face reverted to the pinched mouth and brow he’d been walking around with for weeks. “I ain’t lying. There’s some personal shit been gettin’ in the way. Said I’d take care of it and I will.”

“That personal shit have anything to do with Andrew Webber?” I watched him for a reaction.

Andrew’s old man owned the Chevy dealership on the east side of town and the Ford lot on the west side. He also owned a number of other dealerships in larger cities located both here in Arkansas and across Missouri. Andrew ran the two car lots in Copper Ridge, meaning he had his own mechanics and body guys. Word had gotten back to me he’d been showing up at Grady’s. Since Andrew was a rat bastard, and him and Grady had never been chummy, I couldn’t think of one good reason for the man to be popping up over here. That left only bad reasons that were probably going to screw Grady up.   

“What the hell, Sawyer? You spying on me?” Grady’s glare told me all I needed to know about the who. Now I just needed the why.

“Did you forget this is Copper Ridge? Everyone’s so fuckin’ eager to stick their nose up everyone else’s ass, I’d have to have the whole damn town on my payroll if you want to call it spying. That prick Andrew’s been seen dropping off company trucks out here and everyone’s wondering what that shits about. So, tell me, why in the hell would he do that when he has all those mechanics in those high dollar shops of his daddy’s?” This bit of info wasn’t as well-known as I’d let on to Grady. Sure, Andrew had been seen coming out this way during the day but those trucks of his had all been delivered at night. Just like they were being picked up at night when Grady finished whatever he was doing to them. Not that it was hard to guess what that was. The why was the real mystery.

“What I do in my shop is nobody’s business but mine. You want me to start asking you shit about the bars you own? Or how about I stick my nose in those gambling houses you make a killing off of?”

“You want me to stay the hell out of your business, fine. You know where to find me when you decide to get real with me.” Turning my back on Grady, I headed out the open bay door. You can’t help people until they ask for it. They’re not ready before then. Until that moment they’re willing to look you in the eye and say, “I need help” anything you do for them can come back to bite you in the ass.  

After I climbed on my Harley, I speared Grady with a last look. “Call Colin. Tell him what the hell’s going on with his truck. I ain’t your fuckin’ secretary.”

Chapter 1

Kelli

I pulled to a stop in the gravel parking lot and stared at the building that had starred in some of the most important moments of my life. Funny thing about that, I didn’t even know of its existence until six months ago.

Needing a minute, I took in the mishmash of wood and cement block that made up the structure known as Skeeter’s. The afternoon sunlight spilling across the front of the weathered building didn’t exactly do it any favors. There were no signs attached to the top of the backwoods bar boasting the establishment’s name. Apparently, if you were a local you knew what it was called and if you weren’t, nobody cared if you knew the name or not.

What signs the bar did boast were mostly old rusty metal ones scattered in no particular order across the front of the building. They advertised everything from auto parts to liquor; snuff to pop. An especially classy one next to the entrance proclaimed Get Your Woody Serviced Here. A picture of an old wood panel station wagon was centered in the middle of the words. No doubt that was a laugh that never got old with the drinking crowd.

Skeeter’s definitely wasn’t any kind of place I’d ever pictured working at. Six months ago, my privileged hinny wouldn’t have stepped through the doors of this kind of dive. Funny how at twenty-seven I’d begun to figure out life didn’t necessarily turn out the way you planned.

Shrugging off the what-could-have-beens, I swung the car door open and climbed out. The gravel in the parking lot had me tottering worse than a drunk on my three-inch heels as I crossed to the entrance. Judging solely on the building’s exterior, shoes weren’t the only wrong fashion choice made. Then again, I didn’t own a single pair of Daisy Dukes, or have a stash of halter tops to pull from.

I’d struggled over what to wear before coming out here. Finally settled on something I would have felt comfortable wearing to the boutique I used to manage back home. If the classic black pencil skirt showed off curves and the emerald-green silk shell reflected my eye color, well, those were just bonuses that might help me land a job. Sure, this was a bar, no need for a power suit, but still, I’d wanted to wear something nice. Basic 101 when applying for a job, dress to impress. Okay, the Louboutins might have been going too far, but it was doubtful the red soles would mean anything to anyone in this kind of place. Bitchy? I preferred to call it being realistic. 

It was a relief when I reached the covered porch without a twisted ankle. Happily, there weren’t any spectators loitering around the front of the building to witness my less than graceful approach. Seeing only one other vehicle in the front lot, and it was a monster motorcycle, I guessed there wouldn’t be too many patrons inside. Pausing on the wooden planks, I straightened my skirt and made sure my blouse was still neatly tucked. Satisfied all was in order, I took a deep breath, gripped the door handle and strolled through, owning the place.

The thunderous slam of the door closing had me jumping as if a bomb had just exploded in my panties. I landed with a wild wobble on the heels I was seriously beginning to hate. Apparently, the door didn’t have one of those pneumatic thingys that kept it from waking the dead when it closed. Then again, I might have been a tad too enthusiastic flinging it open. I’d wanted to make a statement with my entrance. Unfortunately, the impression was less Confident Woman and more along the lines of The Clown Has Arrived. Hopefully the room was dark enough it hid the pink tide of embarrassment crawling up my neck.

Having already put on a floor show, I stalled just inside the doorway. Not a bad thing. No sense adding to the spectacle of my entrance by tripping over something and doing a face plant. Taking a moment to allow my eyes to adjust to the dimmer interior had the added benefit of giving me time to check out what I’d slammed my way into.

Back at the motel earlier, I’d asked the elderly manager, Mrs. Whatley, if she’d ever heard of Skeeter’s. The manager had been more than happy to launch into a litany of the shameful shenanigans people got up to in that place. By the time she was through, I’d conjured up a graphic picture of something that was a cross between an old time saloon and a biker’s hangout, with a side of cat-house thrown in for good measure. It was a regular Walmart of manly vices. When I’d asked for directions Mrs. Whatley’s self-righteous sniff was a clear indication my moral compass had dropped a few degrees in value with the woman.

Scanning the room, I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or feel cheated. After preparing for a Den of Iniquity, the place turned out to be more of what I pictured a typical lower-class bar would be. Not as polished as a club you’d find in the city, but neither were there any diseased hookers or drunken bikers littering the floor.

There was nothing sinister about the polished bar that lined the right side of the room. The space between it and a quartet of pool tables was furnished with mismatched four and six-top tables surrounded by equally mismatched chairs. Located in the very back was a raised platform where a band could set up and next to it was a jukebox. They had the music options covered. An open area in front of the low stage provided plenty of room for anyone wanting to show off their footwork. In the back corner was the entrance to a shadowed hallway. Maybe that hallway was the road to damnation? The one Mrs. Whatley claimed everyone was on that entered Skeeter’s.

“Can I help you, Miss?”

The gruff question drew my attention back to the bar and came from a giant of a man owning the space behind it. Inked up arms were attached to massive shoulders, and his thick neck was topped by a face that appeared to have been shaped by more than one fist throughout the years. It would be charitable to call his features “unique”. It was a safe bet he wasn’t one of those slick bartenders who impressed patrons by tossing bottles and glasses in the air while mixing drinks.

He wasn’t alone at the counter. I shifted my attention to a petite brunette standing across the wooden barrier from him. The faint sneer on her lips made me think she wasn’t exactly impressed with me. Customer or employee? If she worked here, she wasn’t the stereotypical waitress I expected to find. Too young was the first thought that pop into my head. But there was something about her eyes that made me think she’d seen some hard truths in her life. Maybe she was older than she looked?

My plan to take a quick peek at the third member of this little gathering stalled out when my eyes landed on the large frame of the man leaning against the bar. He was everything mommas warned their daughters to stay away from, and the very thing those same daughters wanted more than their next breath. I could almost smell the aroma of wild sex and broken hearts rolling off him. If Skeeter’s was the road to damnation, this man was driving the bus. 

There was nothing flashy about his appearance that screamed look at me. Everything he had on said comfort and not style. It was the body encased in the scuffed boots, relaxed jeans, and weathered shirt that snagged my attention. It was eyegasmic pleasure to let my gaze travel the long-sculpted length of him. Corded biceps were exposed by the bunched sleeves of a faded gray Henley. That square jaw of his hadn’t seen the sharp edge of a razor in a day or two and all that stubble surrounded well-formed lips.

Lips were kind of a thing with me. Didn’t you just hate when a guy had lips that were barely there? I mean come on. With thin lips you went in for the kiss and ended up with nothing but the skin between nose and chin. Gross. But these lips were a perfect blend of substance without being puffy. A hint of harshness around the edges teased a woman into wanting to try and soften them. I’d never been a long hair loving kind of gal. While his was too long to be businessman trendy—my personal favorite—the dark waves that brushed the back of his neck were enough to make me a convert to the needing a trim, unruly look.

When I finally got around to looking into his cobalt eyes, an overwhelming urge to slowly back away from his level gaze hit me. With his hip cocked against the wooden counter and an arm resting on the polished surface, he should have come across as relaxed. Should have. Instead there was a sense of coiled readiness about him. I had this crazy Stranger Danger warning screaming in my head. Not a creepy guy vibe, more of a this is not a man you want to cross.  

Dragging my eyes back to the bartender took a conscious effort. He was the one who should have come across as the biggest threat in the room, but he was substantially less threatening than the other male. I sincerely hoped Mr. Bartender was the person I needed to convince to give me a job. While I hadn’t figured out whether the brunette worked here or not I discounted her as being unimportant. As for the one truly formidable presence dominating the room? It’d be a cold day in the corner of hell he ruled before anyone talked him into anything he didn’t want to do.

“Miss, iffin’ you’re lost just say so and I’ll point you in the right direction. But you’re gonna have to speak up, I don’t read minds.” The bartender crossed his muscular arms and rested them on top of his rounded belly. Cocking his bald head and raising an eyebrow, he tacked on, “Ain’t nobody gonna bite.”

The tiny brunette gave an inelegant snort, “Least wise not this early in the day.”

Squaring tense shoulders, I moved closer to the trio and plastered an upbeat, confident smile on my face.

“Please, forgive my rudeness. My name is Kelli Radcliff, Mr. … ?” Taking the necessary step to get close enough to stick out a hand in greeting to the bartender, I held my breath. The wait to see if he would blow me off or actually take the offering, stretched and stretched.

The pause seemed to last forever, but he unwound his arms and completely engulfed my fingers in his huge paw. He carefully gave my hand a gentle shake before releasing it. “No mister. Just Charlie.”

While I’d dismissed the girl as not being useful, it was never a good idea to ignore someone who might end up being a co-worker. Flashing a smile in her direction, I again extended my hand for another shake. After half a beat the girl offered up a hand and name, “Zanie Mae. Most just call me Zane unless they’re pissed at me or want me pissed at them.”

The tinkly little laugh I trotted out, as if Zane was the cutest thing ever, had me cringing inside at its falseness. These people weren’t the type to practice social niceties, much less appreciate them. The eye-roll the brunette flashed at Charlie was a good indicator I wasn’t scoring any points.     

Turning to the one person left to be introduced, I suppressed a shiver of awareness. Down girl. I reminded myself I was here to find a missing piece of my past, not to become sidetracked by some macho piece of manliness. Still, I had this crazy desire to hear him speak. I will admit to being curious whether his voice would do justice to the image he projected. What a crime against nature if a nasally lisp came out of those sinful lips.

Cranking up the wattage on my smile, I extended a hand to Mister Badass. He ignored my hand. Instead, he let his hooded eyes travel the length of my body in a parody of my earlier scrutiny of him. He just reversed the order, starting at my blonde hair and let his eyes scorch a path to my feet. When he got to my heels he lingered on them before returning to his detached role of observer. I got the feeling I’d been a lot more affected by his eyes traveling over my body than he’d been.

Yep, his callous rejection stung. I was used to men being a little more excited to meet me. That was the only excuse I had to offer for what I did next.

Pulling my hand back, I examined it with a tiny frown, making it clear I was checking to see what was wrong with it. After a thorough examination, I spit in the palm then proceeded to give it a vigorous scrubbing against my hip. After examining it one more time, I nodded as if satisfied and again offered it with a brilliant smile. Momma would have been horrified by such an unladylike action, which only made the performance that much sweeter.

A moment of silence, so complete it had me worried I’d gone too far, was broken when Charlie and Zane busted out laughing. Zane belted out her amusement, making no attempt to sound cutesy or girlie. Charlie had the deep chested, booming laughter a man his size was bound to have. While there was satisfaction in having achieved my goal of breaking the ice with at least two of the three, I never took my eyes off the beautiful stranger. The one who’d initiated my less than delicate approach to getting him to introduce himself.

I didn’t have to wait long this time for a response. His body didn’t so much straighten from where he leaned against the bar as uncoiled its long form in a sensuous bunching and flexing of muscle. A hint of interest flashed in his eyes, where before they’d been cold, and those beautiful lips had the barest lift to one corner. I was determined to remain rock steady. My hand never wavered, although, I was starting to worry my toothy smile was beginning to appear maniacal. But momma dogs would have kittens before I dropped either the smile or the hand.

“Sawyer.”

One word and it was worth all the effort put into dragging it out of him. The deep huskiness of his voice sent a shiver of appreciation down my spine, goosebumps skittered across my arms. He took a firm hold of my hand, but instead of shaking it he did the oddest thing. Turning it over he examined the palm as carefully as I had done. Thankfully, he didn’t spit in it. He ran the roughened pad of his index finger over the unblemished smoothness. Realizing I was holding my breath, I gracelessly snatched my hand back from him. The burn left behind couldn’t have been any hotter than if he’d traced across my palm using hot coal instead of his finger. A low rumbling chuckle made me think he’d accomplished his goal, also.

Chapter 2

Kelli

Wanting to maintain a pretense of control, I acted as though nothing unusual had taken place. I backed up resisting the urge to again scrub my hand against my skirt. The need to erase the stain of awareness left by his touch was difficult to ignore. I could have kissed Charlie’s ugly mug when he started talking and broke the staring contest between Sawyer and me.

“Miss, iffin’ you’re here for something to eat or drink, we ain’t open yet. And iffin’ you’re here tryin’ to sell something we ain’t buying.” He crossed his arms back across his chest.

“Oh, I don’t know, Charlie. Someone here might be lookin’ to buy whatever she’s sellin’,” Zane popped in with a smirk. She tipped her head in Sawyer’s direction. “Or at least rent it for a while.”

Sawyer drawled, “Shut the hell up, Zanie,” in an offhand manner that carried no heat, then returned to leaning against the bar. If there’d been a spark of interest in him a moment ago it was gone now. 

“Zane, ain’t you got something you need to be doin’ ‘sides embarrassing the hell out of folks?” Charlie’s complaint sounded more resigned than angry.   

I ignored her less than subtle remarks. Crude as they were, they weren’t going to derail me from doing what I’d come here for. Raising my chin the tiniest fraction, I addressed Charlie, “Actually, I’m hoping you might be in need of help.”

“Help doing what?” Charlie managed to sound both puzzled and suspicious.

“I would like to put in an application.”

He continued to look puzzled.

“A job. I want a job working here.”

You’d have thought I was speaking some kind of foreign language from all the blank stares. Zane was the first to react and it wasn’t exactly positive. She doubled over laughing. Charlie dropped the confused look and started his own rounds of chuckles while he eyeballed me like, yeah, right. Sawyer reacted the least but managed to convey the most by simply narrowing his eyes. He was the only one taking me serious.

Before anyone could deliver a no, I launched into the speech I’d rehearsed over and over on the drive here. “I have wonderful assets to share, Mr. Charlie. I have several years of experience working with the public as a general manager of a very popular upscale boutique in Little Rock. Close contact on a daily basis with the most demanding of customers has taught me the necessary skills to satisfy the most difficult clients. But please don’t think I’m just some white-collar snob because when it comes to getting dirty, I’m not squeamish. I’ll preform quite enthusiastically no matter what position I’m placed in.”

My verbal resume set off another peal of laughter from Zane. And Charlie? He no longer looked amused but appeared stunned. I couldn’t resist glancing at Sawyer. Oh yeah, the bored detachment was definitely gone.

“Charlie, you gotta hire her after that speech.” Zane didn’t even try to control her giggles. “You ain’t never gonna find another one like her around these parts.”

“No.”

One word from Sawyer and we all turned in his direction. He had eyes for no one but me. It wasn’t difficult to read the finality of that no in the steeliness of his gaze. I turned to Charlie hoping he might be more favorable to the idea, but he just shrugged his shoulders.  

“Aww, come on Sawyer. Give her a chance. You know Sue Ann’s boyfriend is making her quit now he’s got her knocked up.” Help arrived from the one person I’d written off as being of no importance. Zane was pleading my case.

“Besides, she’s worth having around for a good laugh now and then.” 

Or not. 

If any of them thought it was going to be easy to dismiss me, then disappointment was about to rear its ugly head. “This is not a joke, and neither am I. I need a job. Miss Zane stated you’re in need of a new employee. I demand to be taken seriously.” 

“Don’t go gettin’ your panties in a twist. I’m just funnin’ with you, but I’m serious as a heart-attack, too.” Zane might have been talking to me, but she stared down both men while doing it. “Sawyer needs to stop being so damn paranoid about strangers and let Charlie hire you.”

I wasn’t sure whether to trust Zane or not. I wanted to. Desperately. But I was having a hard time believing she wasn’t setting me up for another round of funnin’. 

“Zane.” Sawyer shot her a warning glare. “The fuckin’ men will eat her alive and the women around here will rip her to shreds. Nobody’s got time to babysit a fuckin’ debutante.” 

“I’m saying she won’t be a problem and she’ll solve one of ours. By the time she’s had her fill of working here we can have somebody else lined up.” Zane directed an assessing eye at me. “You ain’t planning on tryin’ to make a little side money, are you?”

Asking her to clarify her question felt wrong. I had a sneaky suspicion it had something to do with me joining the ranks of the diseased whores I’d expected to find thanks to Mrs. Whatley. Shaking my head hard enough to give myself a headache I strangled out a, “No.” 

Maybe it was wrong to let this strange girl do the fighting to gain me a job, but she had Sawyer listening. Something I chalked up to a minor miracle. It made me wonder if they were more intimate than simply boss and employee.   

“See? She ain’t gonna want in on no side action. That’ll keep the regulars happy and out of her face. You know how bitchy they get when they have to compete with someone new. Besides, even if we did find someone from around here to replace Sue Ann, ain’t none of them gonna have her classy ass… ets.” Zane grinned and did this big hand swoop, showcasing my body in a classic Vanna White move.  

As far as resumes went, I wouldn’t be asking Zane to write me one anytime soon, but what she said seemed to carry more weight than the speech I’d prepared. Charlie was nodding his head. He appeared to be warming to the idea, which left Sawyer to convince. He was impossible to read.

Sawyer

What the hell was Zane up to? She’d normally be first in line to give some socialite a kick in the ass to help them out the door. But right now she was doing her damnedest to talk me into hiring this one. There were damn good reasons not to bring in some stranger who didn’t have connections with anyone local. She knew what every one of them were. This Kelli person didn’t realize it, but Zane had taken a liking to her.

From the moment the woman exploded through the doors my inner radar had been firing off all sorts of warnings. Course, those alarms were more to remind me it would be stupid as hell to get tangled up with a female who would be nothing but a pain in the ass. It wasn’t until she started talking shit about wanting a job that I looked at her as a serious threat.

Everything about the woman screamed she didn’t belong in a country honky-tonk. From the way she talked to the way she dressed. She might as well have a neon sign hung around her neck flashing the words High Class. There was no denying she was southern with every soft word that rolled from her tongue, but she sure as hell wasn’t country.

I’d been surprised as hell at how she’d stood up to me when I ignored her obvious maneuvers to find out my name. It’d been hard to keep from laughing when she’d spit in her hand then scrubbed it on that sexy as hell skirt of hers. For me, that bit of sassiness added to the appeal of a beautiful face and a body made for sin. If she worked at the bar she’d be a temptation hard to ignore. I’d never been big on resisting temptation.

I’d learned my lesson that women from her level weren’t worth the trouble. They started out thinking they wanted some nasty from a bad boy but it was only a matter of time before they went to work trying to smooth away all those hard edges that had attracted them in the first place. I stuck to women who were hard in their own ways.  

To have a princess show up asking for a job didn’t make a lot of sense. I wasn’t a big fan of mysteries involving a stranger hanging around one of my businesses. Thanks to Zane’s big mouth this woman knew we needed to hire someone. Gotta hand it to her, she had balls to use that knowledge to her advantage despite being halfway afraid of me. I’d seen the heat in those fuckin’ green eyes when she was checking me out. But I’d also seen the distrust. I gave her points for having enough sense to be leery of me. She had good reason to be. But, she didn’t let fear rule her and demanded she be given a job. Damn. I liked that about her.

Like her or not, the lady had an agenda. I would guaran-damn-tee it had nothing to do with a lifelong, burning ambition to work in a rough ass bar. When a woman as classy as her showed up in a roughneck bar it was a safe bet she was either hiding from someone or searching for something. The big question? If she was on the hunt, was she hunting for herself or someone else? Might be interesting to keep her around until I figured out what the hell she was up to. And when the hell did I start lying to myself and making excuses to keep a woman around? Especially one that was going to end up being a damn nightmare.

She wanted to insert herself into my world? Fine. But nothing said I had to make it easy.  

“You ever wait a fuckin’ table in your life?” 

Kelli

“As a matter of fact I have.” I couldn’t help feeling smug after his question. Obviously, he was searching for a legitimate reason not to hire me. I couldn’t wait to knock that particular prop out from under him. “I’ll admit it’s been a while, but in high school I was a cheerleader and worked the Sport’s Banquet every year. Then in college my sorority hosted countless social mixers and charity events. I served at each and every one of them.” When I completed my list of experiences I might as well have added “so there.” It was certainly implied in my tone.

“We don’t host fuckin’ tea parties around here.” Sawyer’s derisive drawl made it plain he wasn’t impressed.

A groan erupted from Zane. “Hon, not helping. Maybe you should zip-it and let me do the talking.”

What had I said that was so bad? I’d simply pointed out I wasn’t a complete stranger to delivering food and drink. Granted, it’d been a few years ago but being a waitress wasn’t exactly brain surgery.

Zane jumped in like she was afraid of what might come out of my mouth next. “Bottom line, guys, we need someone and she’s here. I’ll teach her everything she needs to know and keep an eye on her. You gotta admit, she’s got nice tits and don’t forget her ass… ets.” She cracked up again. Good to see she was getting so much mileage out of that word. “That right there’s enough to keep the male customers so distracted they won’t even notice when she screws up. How bad can it be?”

That was it? My biggest recommendations were body parts and a, “how bad can it be?”

“She’s got a point, Sawyer. Sue Ann’s already told me she ain’t coming back no more. The woman’s here and iffin’ Zane’s willing to work with her, how bad can it be?” Charlie chimed in with his support, sounding more stoic than enthusiastic. “Between the two of us, we’ll keep her nose out of places it don’t belong. She probably won’t last long but it’ll give us a little breathing room and time to find someone else.”

“Sorry help beats no help.” Zane summed up her pitch with a triumphant flourish.

I gritted my teeth and smiled as if Zane’s and in the end Charlie’s less than rousing words of support were the highest of praise.

Sawyer took turns leveling a stare at each of them. His harsh gaze lingered on me the longest. Not going to lie; sweat was running down the middle of my back. When he started walking in my direction my smile faltered. When he passed by without a word my shoulders drop in defeat.

Convinced it was all over I was shocked when, without turning around, he announced before walking out, “Hire her if you want. But if she becomes a problem, I’ll be the one taking care of it.”

I had no illusions. What I heard in his voice was not an idle threat but a promise.

Chapter 3

Kelli

Silence dominated the room after Sawyer walked out, leaving me to wonder if I had the job or not. I turned to Charlie, his expression wasn’t encouraging.

Zane was the first to break the silence. “He can be such an ass.” She sounded a lot more cheerful than I felt at the moment. Popping hands on hips, she grinned and said, “Hope you have something with you other than what you’ve got on. Those shoes are gonna be killers after the first thirty minutes. Lucky for you it’s Monday and everyone gets kicked out at eleven on weekdays. Weekends are a different story. We don’t close ‘til one but there’ll be a lot more help. If they’re not too busy working the back rooms. And just like the good lord you get to rest on Sundays. For the next few days you’ll be working same schedule as me so I can keep an eye on you. That means you work six days this week and four next one. Any questions?”

Her barrage of information flew over my head. I was still trying to figure out what had just happened. “Does this mean I’m hired, and you want me to start right now?” Again, I looked to Charlie. 

“Of course you’re hired. Ain’t that right, Charlie? Sawyer gave the okay even if he had a piss-poor way of doing it.” Zane appealed to him to back her up. 

He rubbed a slab of a hand back and forth across his bald dome before huffing out a sigh. “Yeah, I reckon so. We need someone and she’s here. Just remember, she causes any headaches it ain’t just gonna be her ass on the line.”

After giving his grudging agreement he made for the swinging doors set in the wall at the end of the bar. Sounds of pans clattering and a greeting called out could be heard when he pushed through them. I imagined he was already complaining about the new girl to whoever was working back there.

“See? You’re in. Now, about those shoes, any options?” Again Zane sounded way more cheerful than she should after Charlie’s dire warning. 

“No, not with me. I didn’t expect everything to happen so fast. Is there time for me to drive back to the motel and change?” I crossed my fingers that the answer would be yes. The drive there and back would allow time for what just happened to sink in. It felt as if I’d been caught in an undertow and was being dragged out of safe harbor into dangerous waters. Yes, this is what I wanted but I’d been so focused on finding a way to work at Skeeter’s I hadn’t planned beyond getting hired.

“Best not. It’s already three-thirty and we open at four. Don’t want to give Charlie a chance to start second guessing hiring you. He might change his mind. Don’t worry, I always keep extra clothes here. Never know when somebody’s gonna spill something, or worse, some light weight can’t hold his liquor and you end up wearing whatever he’d stuffed in his stomach that day.” Zane shrugged off my fish-eyed grimace of disgust with, “Hey, it happens. Not often, but a girl’s gotta be prepared.”

Oh, lordy. What had I gotten myself into? 

“I’d say we’re about the same size.” Zane narrowed her eyes. I could feel her mentally measuring me. “My jeans might be a little loose in the ass. I’ve got more ham in the hocks than you.” She slapped herself on the butt. They’ll be short in the leg, too, but ain’t nobody gonna notice once you put the boots on. That is, if you can manage get them on. What size do you wear?”

“Do they run the same as shoe sizes?” The thought of wearing some stranger’s clothes wasn’t exactly thrilling. I was especially doubtfully about the cowboy boots after studying the rather flamboyant blue ones Zane had on. 

“You have got to be shittin’ me, girl! You ain’t never worn a pair of boots before?”

“Of course I’ve worn boots. Just not the type you have on.” That came out way more defensive than I’d planned. But for the first time in my life I understood how it felt to be the only kid on the block that didn’t have the cool stuff everyone else sported. Which was ridiculous. My heels alone cost more than a closet filled to bursting with the type of no-name clothes Zane had on. There I went being bitchy again. Years of judging everyone through the eyes of my momma was going to be a hard habit to break.

“Never mind, I’ll just run and get my backups. I’ve got an old pair of flip flops out in my car that for sure you can wear if the boots don’t fit. Don’t worry, we’ll figure out what works and what doesn’t.” Zane didn’t wait for a yay or nay, just took off in the same direction Charlie had gone. Indecision glued my feet to the floor and left me wondering if I was supposed to follow or wait for Zane to return with the clothes.

As Zane walked away she started rattling off something about introducing me to the cook but stopped when she noticed she was talking to empty air. Looking back, she called out, “Well, come on. We ain’t got a lot of time to get you fixed up and run through some of the basics around here. Good thing we’ve got a few days to get you geared up before the weekend.”

That answered my question and motivated me into a fast walk to catch up. For someone as young as Zane appeared to be she certainly had no problem ordering people around. I followed her into the kitchen where a wiry, older man was slicing tomatoes. He quit what he was doing when we stopped beside him.

“Lonnie, meet our new waitress. This here is Kelli.” Waving a hand at the cook, Zane said, “Lonnie’s been here longer than anybody. He can fill you in on a few things while I run out to my car and grab those clothes.” She took off for the back door not giving either one of us a chance to protest.

There was a moment of awkward silence as Lonnie took his time checking me out. There wasn’t anything that screamed dirty old man in his scrutiny, though. More of a well, I’ll be damned glint of amusement flickered in his eyes.

“So, you’re what’s got Charlie mumbling to himself as he shot through here.” Lonnie chuckled. “Don’t pay him no mind. He’s a hell of a lot more bark than he is bite.”

I decided it was going to be easy to like Skeeter’s cook. The jury was still out on Charlie. He’d seemed nice enough, despite his scary size, until I’d asked for a job. Once Sawyer had made it clear he didn’t want me working here Charlie’s whole demeanor had changed. He’d made it plain it didn’t sit well with him, going against Sawyer’s wishes, despite having sided with Zane in the end.

Flashing a grin at Lonnie, I said, “Bark or bite, he’s got me now.”

Lonnie returned my grin, “You’re gonna get on just fine here. Charlie might’a been fooled by them fancy duds you’re suited up in, but you’ve got grit, girlie. You just remember that.”

Lonnie’s vote of confidence had me swallowing a lump in my throat. Funny how a few words of praise from a stranger meant more than anything I’d heard in a long time from people who were supposed to love me. Pushing memories to the back of my mind, I thought now was as good a time as any to start asking a few of the questions that had brought me to Skeeter’s in the first place.

“How long have you been working here, Mr. Lonnie?”

“Now, none of that mister nonsense, girlie. It’s Lonnie to a pretty little thang like you.” He winked. “I’ve been here goin’ on thirty-two years. Started out workin’ for the original owner, Skeeter Louis. Course he’d opened this here place years ‘fore I ever showed up. When Louis decided to retire a few years back Sawyer bought him out, and I stayed on.”

A buzz of excitement shot through me. The old cook had been working here during the time-period I was interested in.        

“You must have seen a lot of changes over the years.”

“Not as many as you’d think. The people that work here come and go. Most of the customers that have been coming here for years are being replaced by their kids now. Lot more strangers around since they paved the county road.” He frowned as if he didn’t much care for the idea of the strangers coming around. “Been a few upgrades in entertainment since Sawyer bought it, but we still have the same food now we had when I first started. Folks around here reckon it’s the best burger you can sink your teeth into. Sawyer had enough sense to know you don’t go fixin’ something that ain’t broke.” A lot of pride was evident in his words.

“You mean Skeeter’s has had the same menu for the last thirty-two years?”  

“No menu ever been necessary, girlie, and that was true long before I ever started working in the kitchen. People have two choices, hamburger or cheeseburger. They want something to go with it they can have chips or fries. Kitchen closes at ten. Can’t get much simpler than that.” Lonnie nodded at me.

“See here, girlie. This is mainly a bar, pure and simple. But we make a damn fine burger, always have, so we get a lot of folk in for supper. Families who show up with kids in tow generally clear out well before nine. Much later than that and it can get excitin’ around here.”

From the stories Mrs. Whatley had been eager to share, pure and simple were the last words I would’ve used to describe Skeeter’s. That it got excitin’ around the place was easier to believe. Still, it was a relief to find out there wasn’t an extensive dinner menu to memorize. Before I could steer Lonnie back around to the topic that really interested me Zane was heading back in our direction.

She showed up holding a pair of boots with flip flops sticking out of the top of one of the boot shafts. In her other hand was a pair of jeans and a neon tee. I did my best to control a grimace at the screaming pink color of the shirt.

“Lonnie, I gotta steal your new friend and get her ready for tonight.” Zane didn’t even slow down as she walked past us.

Before hurrying after her, I flashed a smile at Lonnie. “I’d love to hear some of your stories about Skeeter’s. Maybe if I get a break later tonight we can talk?”

“Girlie, once them doors open for the night I ain’t gonna have a minute to call my own. Mondays and Tuesdays I man the kitchen by my lonesome. You’re gonna have to catch me earlier in the day and later in the week iffin’ you’re wantin’ any stories. Now git. I’ve got work to do. You’re gonna have your hands full keeping up with that one.” He jerked a thumb in Zane’s direction. Then he gave me another wink before turning back to the prep table.

Chapter 4

Sawyer

The scene was one I’d stood in the middle of before. It might be on the other side of the county but it shared the same destruction we’d found at Luther Hinks’ operation last month, only on a much smaller scale. It was the fourth busted up site I’d been to over the last year and followed the same pattern as the others. Every bit of copper that had gone into the making of the moonshine still was missing. Only difference between this one and the Hinks’ site had been the number of kettles being cooked off. Harlen only had one large pot cooking compared to Hinks’ half dozen.

There was nothing left of the main kettle but the cooked mash that’d been splattered across the dirt. Beer from the busted thumper barrel soaked the ground, leaving a sour smell in the air that stung the nose. What couldn’t be absorbed by the soil lay on top of the dirt like something someone had spewed after a hard night of drinking.

“How’d they manage to get the drop on you, Harlen?” I shifted eyes from what was left of the still to the less than steady moonshiner, the owner of the mangled mess. Harlen was as tough an old codger as I’d ever laid eyes on. That was the problem. The man was old. Took a special kind of asshole to beat up on someone in their seventies. I’d known one such cocksucker who’d had no problems pounding on old men. I knew for a fact that bastard was dead and couldn’t have been part of this.

“Ain’t never had no trouble in all the years been settin’ up out here. Most thieving bastards ain’t willing to work this hard for the amount of copper only one still will get ‘em. Ain’t rightly sure what time of night it was when I heard a noise outside the tent. Sum’bitches knocked me upside the head while I was crawling out to see what kind of varmint was prowling around. Next thing I knew I’m waking up hog-tied with a sack over my head and listenin’ to them tear shit to hell and back.” Harlen leaned over and spit a long stream of brown tobacco juice on the ruined mash. Joey, the grandson who’d found Harlen, made a grab for his grandpa, afraid the old man would follow the spit to the ground. Harlen shook him off with a peevish, “Git your hands offa me! I ain’t worm meal yet, boy.”

Joey threw his hands up and took a step back. Far enough away to appease the elder shiner, close enough to be in grabbing range.  

“Ain’t many of us old shiners left here abouts. This right here hammers the nail in the coffin for me.” Wagging his head back and forth Harlen resembled an old hound with his saggy jowls and sorrowful eyes. “I’m gettin’ too old for this. Ain’t a single one of my kids or grandkids care nothin’ ‘bout carrying on the shine business.” Harlen sent a resentful glare his grandson’s way. “I’m gettin’ out before I find myself on the wrong side of the grass same as my ol’ friend Donley went and did.”

Wade had made the trip out with me to check on the damage. He kicked a clump of dirt over the nasty mix on the ground before opening his mouth and complaining, “Well, hell, Harlen. If you’re getting out of the shine business why’d you bother to call us out here? There ain’t any money in tracking your stolen copper.”

Harlen puffed his thin chest out and pointed a finger, twisted with arthritis, at Wade. “I don’t rightly recall you being the one I got a hold of. Sawyer’s the one I made the deal with for the shine. He damn shor’ had a right to know there weren’t no way I could keep up my end of the bargain. Seems to me you dragged your sorry ass out here without me asking.”

One look from me had Wade rethinking the sarcastic words he was about to fire back. I’d become his boss right out of high school. There were times he could speak his mind and get away with it, then there were times it was healthier to put a sock in it. This was a prime example of when to keep his trap shut.

Turning back to the old man, I told him, “I appreciate the call, Harlen. Figure you’ve heard you’re not the only supplier I buy from who’s been hit hard this last year. Wanted to check what happened here for myself.”

Wade was angry about losing another source for shine and being a dick because of it. My next words were as much for him as Harlen. “This is my problem same as yours. It’d be a fuckin’ insult if you offered to pay me to find the bastards behind this.” 

Harlen snagged the waistband of his pants and tugged them higher up his skinny frame. He spit another stream of ropy tobacco juice, barely missing the toe of Wade’s boot, causing him to jerk his foot back. “Reckon you’re better suited to figure out what the hell’s goin’ on than anybody else around these parts. Ain’t none of us shiners gonna call the Sheriff to track down the sum’bitches doing this.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be handled.” After making the promise, I made my way to the faint trail that would take Wade and me back to where we’d left the truck.

It was a long hike through woods snarled with tangled vines and a short climb up a limestone bluff before reaching anything that resembled a dirt track you might be able to drive a truck down. Exactly as Harlen said, it wasn’t the sort of place metal scrappers came looking to steal copper. It damn sure wasn’t the kind of place you just happened to stumble on.

Harlen made quality shine in small batches that went for big money. He wasn’t a major player in the world of moonshiners, which added to the mystery of why anyone would want to put him out of business. For the last five years I’d been his only buyer. Others that sold to me had been hit, but I hadn’t been their only buyer. This latest had the feel of a personal attack against my operation. If someone was aiming to hurt me by taking out my suppliers, they were shooting up the wrong tree.

Losing another source for moonshine wasn’t as crippling as they might be aiming for. In the last few years, I’d started to make adjustments to the line of services provided to men and women who didn’t mind dipping their toes in the grayer areas of having a good time. Illegal gambling houses were way more profitable than illegal whiskey. It was almost a joke to call them illegal with the number of loop holes in the laws governing the playing of cards in private homes. Having the Sheriff show up every Sunday after church to join in a high stakes cash game of Texas Hold’em was a damn good insurance policy to boot.

I’d also been channeling money into one hundred percent legal businesses. Not as much fun but the country was changing. I could either change with it or go down trying to preserve a way of life that simply wasn’t possible anymore. 

Hell, even the old moonshiner, Donley, had been smart enough to realize those days of making a living by working stills hidden in the woods were over. According to Char, Donley’s granddaughter, he’d been on the last liquor run he ever planned to deliver when he’d been killed. Only stupid dickheads like the one who’d murdered Donley were too ignorant to figure out that way of life was ancient history. Not to say there wouldn’t always be a handful of men willing to work their asses off trying to keep the tradition of illegal shine alive. Because there would. For those few, I’d always provide them with an outlet to sell their liquor.

It was the sort of gray area that a stranger working in any of my bars or gambling houses could easily stumble across and report to the authorities. As long as it was the local Sheriff, it wouldn’t be a problem. Bill Cantrell was more than happy to take the money I paid to make sure he turned a blind eye when needed. We both profited, but money wasn’t the only glue keeping our arrangement from shattering. A secret that involved murder and Cantrell’s family kept the Sheriff on my payroll as surely as his gambling debts did.

The death of large moonshine operations had been coming for a while. For it to happen this way didn’t make a lot of sense. I’d warned Donley’s granddaughter, Char, over a year ago that there was going to be a major shift in the shine business. It wasn’t going to be shiner against shiner, or even shiner against the law. There was a new breed of bootlegger out there. One who had nothing to do with moonshine. One who provided a cheaper, deadlier high for those that the high was all they cared about.  

Meth was sounding the death knell to a way of life that had been handed down with pride through generations of families. Now-a-days any halfwit with a list of ingredients and YouTube could cook a batch of Crystal. A high that could be produced a hell of a lot quicker than moonshine could ever be brewed with none of the hard labor involved. Hardest part to making Meth was coming up with a couple of the ingredients. But just like anything illegal that made people rich there was always a way to get the materials needed.

There was no reason for a war between the people who cooked meth and the men who cooked mash. Meth was winning. Old traditions and the men who kept them were dying out. The running and distribution of moonshine had made my family rich. I had no interest in expanding into drugs to make us richer.

“What the hell got you so jacked back there? Didn’t think it was a big deal tellin’ ol’ man Harlen the truth.”

I counted it a minor miracle Wade had waited to start bitching until after we’d put some distance between us and the still site.

“You have a fuckin’ problem when it comes to thinking. All those thoughts spill out your damn mouth.”    

“Shit, Sawyer, losing another still sucks ass. That old man closing up shop is damn sure gonna cut into profits.” Wade slapped a branch out of his way. He was rewarded by the backswing knocking him across the back of the head as he passed. I was enough of an asshole to enjoy listening to him cuss as he rubbed the sore spot. Having grown up running wild in the woods, I was managing to move through them silently with none of the flailing and stumbling Wade had going on. He may have grown up in Arkansas, but he was a Copper Ridge towny.

“You missed any paydays lately? Been shorted any money that was supposed to come your way?” I asked the questions when he finally stopped swearing at the branch.

 “Hell, no. I’m just saying, that with your connections you could— ”

“Then shut up. I don’t wanna listen to a whiny pussy.” Time to cut Wade off before he got started with his big ideas.

Ever since I’d put Vernon in charge of a couple poker houses Wade has had a bug up his ass. He wanted a territory of his own. With Vernon not around as much, I’d been letting Wade tag along more. The idea had been to give him more responsibility but it wasn’t happening anytime in the near future. Shit, who was I kidding? He was loyal to a fault, but the more I was around the dumbass the more I realized he couldn’t run a free blow job stand in a prison.

For the next few minutes the only sounds breaking the silence were the crunching of dried leaves and the snapping of dead branches under Wade’s boots. Silence was a problem for Wade. He hated it.

“Heard Charlie hired a new waitress. Boys say she’s got a body on her that’ll knock a man to his knees. Course, I’d rather sweet talk her into dropping to hers.” Wade thought he was a real ladies man. He was always bragging about the women he screwed. And even though Wade didn’t mention her by name, Kelli was the only new waitress he could be talking about. It pissed me off that the guys were “discussing” her and it pissed me off even more that I cared.

“She’s out of your class and theirs. I told those assholes to keep an eye on her, not stand around flapping their lips, trying to figure out ways to fuck her.”

Wade threw his hands up in the air, “Whoa, if you want to call dibs just say so.”

“I’m not calling fuckin’ dibs. What are you, ten?” I could feel Wade’s overdeveloped sense of curiosity snap to attention. My overreaction to the normal bullshit tossed around by the guys was going to send the bastard straight to Skeeter’s to check her out.

“When we get back to town I want you to head out and hit the salvage yards over in Ash Flat. Nose around and see if they’ve had anyone showing up with used copper in the last few months. You don’t find anything check out that big one over by Ravenden. And don’t call the sum’bitches. I want you on site letting them know who’s asking.”

“Thought you’d already checked all the salvage and scrap places within a hundred miles of us?”

“And now I want them checked again. You got a problem with that?”

“Nope.” He gave me a shit-eatin’ grin.

Fuck. The one time I wanted him to pitch a fit, so I could throw a punch, he decides to get agreeable.

Chapter 5

Kelli

 “How’d you ever find your way to Skeeter’s?” Zane set two glasses on the polished surface of the bar. She was on the working side and I plopped my butt on one of the wooden stools across from her. I watched as she reached under the counter and pulled out a dark bottle with no label on it. Tipping it, she poured a clear liquid into one of the heavy tumblers. We were the last two souls out front. Charlie was in the back tallying up the night’s take. A soft glow from a single pendant hanging above us was the only illumination in the deserted room.

 The last thing I was interested in was hanging around and answering a bunch of questions. But it was a minor miracle the feisty brunette had been able to hold back this long before digging into my past. In an attempt to put off the interrogation I placed a hand over the top of the empty glass. “Thanks, but nothing for me. Really need to head back to the motel. I’m beat.” 

Watching the last customer stagger out the door a few minutes after closing had been mind-numbingly beautiful. A sad observation considering it was only the fourth night on the job. A bed and oblivion were the only things I was interested in. Feet were whimpering, arms and back were screaming why are you doing this to us?

Carrying trays loaded with drinks while dodging groping hands made for one grueling workout. Turned out dropping my pricey health club membership wasn’t going to be such a big deal after all. My biceps, triceps, quadriceps, I’m talking all my ‘ceps, have never been worked this hard at a gym. Brain surgery was beginning to look easier in comparison. Over the last few days I’d developed a whole new respect for women who worked in taverns.

“Aww, come on. Share a drink with me. Consider this an atta girl for sticking it out for more than one night. You’re a freaking natural. Surprised the hell out of me, considering how prissy you looked when you first showed up.” She set the squatty, half-full tumbler in front of me and jerked the empty one out from under my hand. She flashed a smirky smile before splashing some of the liquor in the empty glass for herself.

“Girl, I about pissed my pants at the look on your face that first night. When you realized you had to wear my Salvation Army rejects your nose did this wrinkle thing and your eyes got this glazed look. But damn if you didn’t keep smiling. You made those rags look like a million bucks.” She picked up her glass and held it aloft in a toast.

I knew Zane loved to tease, and she probably really had thought my reaction was funny. Probably. Hopefully. That didn’t stop me from feeling terrible for letting her see my disgust that day. I settled back on the bar stool. If she wanted to talk, I’d stay and talk.

Picking up the heavy tumbler, I sniffed the colorless liquid. No noxious fumes burned the lining of my nose, so I figured it was safe to drink. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Zane roll hers. Afraid I might have offended my new friend I tossed back a much larger swallow than was strictly ladylike. Hell’s molten fire landed on my tongue and scorched a path down my throat. Deep racking coughs had me falling across the bar as I braced myself against the wood. Pretty sure I was about to deliver a lung. 

Zane reached across and pounded on my back. “Damn girl! That ain’t water. I’d’ve givin’ you a warning to sip it if I’d known you were gonna chug it. Burns a little bit, don’t it?”

When I was able to form a sentence I wheezed out, “What is that?”

“Another one of those things you’re not supposed to ask questions about.” She gave an exaggerated wink. “It’s getting harder and harder for Sawyer to get his hands on the really good stuff. Give it a chance and don’t guzzle it next time.” She let a much smaller measure of liquid slide down her own throat then hummed in appreciation.

While I wiped tears from my cheeks with the back of my hands I nodded in silent agreement to keep mum about the mystery liquor. The list of things not to ask questions about was growing.

On the first night I’d worked, she’d mentioned the three rooms out back, whimsically called furnished apartments. They’d been number one on the list of things to turn a blind eye to. My private speculation on their use was confirmed after one night of watching couples wander over to talk to Charlie or one of the bouncers. The discussion always ended with a key being passed and the couple heading for the dimly lit hallway at the back of the building. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they weren’t going back there to play tiddlywinks.

“You were about to tell me how you ended up working here.” She ran a finger around the rim of her drink. 

“It’s a long story and not much fun.”

“Give me the short version. It doesn’t have to be fun. Not all stories are.” Her voice softened.

“The short version…” the words faded as I wondered how much of the past to reveal to satisfy Zane’s curiosity. Giving a mental shrug, I decided that if she wanted a story I could give her a doozy. I hadn’t planned on keeping why I was there a secret forever. So, what if the story was humiliating? That just made it more interesting for the listener.

“You know what?” I dredged up a smile for my newest bestie then carefully sipped more of the liquid fire. Huh, didn’t burn near as bad and it was setting up nice warm fuzzies in my tummy.

“What?” 

“On second thought, it’s a really funny story. One big joke and it was all on me.”

“Wait.” Zane threw her hands up as if she was going to physically stop any more words from spilling out of my mouth. “Why do I get the feeling you’re about to rip a big ol’ scab off a major hurt?”

“Maybe because it’s the only way to get to the truth.” I shrugged. No bitterness this time, just a nice numb blank space.  

“But you have to promise me something.” Leaning in closer I dropped my voice to a stage whisper. “You can’t tell your boyfriend or anyone else.”

She leaned towards me and in the same stage whisper said, “Not a problem. I don’t have a boyfriend—yet.”

“What about Sawyer? I got the feeling you two had something special.” I dropped the whisper and tipped my head sideways in surprise. That made me start sliding in that direction, so I jerked back to a, more or less, upright position. 

“That would be a big hell no.” She rolled her eyes.

“But you talked him in to hiring me. He must have some feelings for you. Sawyer doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy that lets just anyone dictate to him.” Why was I trying to insist they had something going on? I should be relieved. Every time my thoughts drifted to him I gave myself a lecture to stop being a creeper because he belonged to Zane.

“Puh-lease!” She dragged the word out while rolling her eyes. “I may have pushed for him to hire you, but if he really didn’t want you here nothing I said would have changed his mind. He saved my ass when I was younger and gave me a job when I needed it but that’s about as special as it gets between us. Just because he let me put my two cents in doesn’t mean diddly-squat. You should have figured out by now that it’s hard to shut me up.” Zane flashed a big grin at me. “You being here has nothing to do with me other than he knows I’m a pain in the ass if I don’t get my way when I want something.”

Having seen her in action, she had a point.

“Okay, then. Guess it’s story time.” I slapped my hands on the bar and shot her a big grin.

After my big build up I just sat there and stared off into the darkest part of the room. This was going to be harder than I thought. Heaving a sigh, I twisted a loose strand of hair around my index finger. “Now I know why stories start with ‘once upon a time.’ You have to tell the juicy parts of the past so your audience can understand the now parts.”

“Hey, I’m good with however you want to start.” Zane settled into a more comfortable position as she leaned into her elbows.

Pulling my gaze back to her, I began, “I guess you could say I ended up at Skeeter’s by following in my momma’s footsteps.”

Zane cocked her head and gave me a skeptical look. “Say what? From the way you talk, to the way you dress, it’s pretty clear you come from money. I ain’t never seen a waitress make enough to afford a daughter classy as you.”

“If that waitress marries a rich man old enough to be her daddy then she can raise her daughter anyway she wants with his money.” You just had to be more interested in that money than who you hurt. 

“Your momma married some old rich dude and your daddy is a millionaire? Was she able to make everyone forget where she came from?” Zane stared at me as if my answers could change her world.

“Real life isn’t quite so tidy. When you lie and cheat to get a rich husband you don’t actually deserve a fairytale ending. Unfortunately, it’s usually the ones lied to who end up paying.”

“Are you paying for your momma’s lies?”

“Me and others. Best part? I didn’t realize what a lie my life was until a few months ago.”

“What happened?” Zane reached for my glass, splashed more of the “good stuff” in then refilled her own.  

The numb feeling was fading so a fortifying sip was just what I needed to help ease the story out. “Jackson Radcliff married my momma when I was around two years old. Momma not only managed to hook a very rich, very old man, but she talked him into adopting me. The adoption was never a secret and he insisted that I called him Jackson.”

In second grade, I’d desperately wanted to be like all the other boys and girls. I’d wanted a Daddy, not a Jackson. During art I’d drawn a picture of a man holding a child’s hand. Remembered how hard I’d worked to form the perfect letters in Daddy. I hadn’t had the courage to simply start calling him Daddy. I’d been positive he’d understand when I presented him with the picture. He’d taken one look, torn the paper in half and handed the pieces back to me. Lesson learned without a word being spoken.

My voice went flat. “He died a little over six months ago.”

Zane immediately launched into exclamations of sympathy, but I talked over her to drown her out. “By the time he passed the two of us didn’t share a whole lot of good feelings. Not that we ever had. I found out just how little he thought of me the day the lawyer showed up.”

I snorted thinking about that day. Snorted? Might be time to cut back on the liquor. “The reading of the will was a real show. It could have been something out of the movies with the lawyer coming to the house to inform us of Jackson’s last wishes.”

Jackson’s brother, sister-in-law, two nephews and their wives had been all smiles. Momma declared them to be horribly vulgar to me later. But they had a right to the smiles as it turned out.

“Before the lawyer got down to business with the will he handed me a file. As he passed it over he told me it was the only item left to me by Jackson. He’d been instructed to inform me that it was the last help I would ever receive from the Radcliff family.” I’d actually felt sorry for the man at the time. He’d looked uncomfortable as he carried out Jackson’s final instructions.

“He said it contained information that might help me find my biological father, should I be interested. Which was a bit confusing since I’d grown up believing that my real daddy had died before I was born.” Confused didn’t come close to covering what I’d felt sitting in that room, hearing those words. I’d turned to Momma, expecting her to somehow fix everything. But as I’d watched the blood drain from Momma’s face I’d known she wouldn’t be fixing anything.

“Son-of-a-bitch! Why would a man, that’d been your daddy for all those years, do that to you? I don’t care if you called him Daddy or Jackass. The bastard took you as his own and should have been a daddy to you.” Zane jerked to rigid attention.

I couldn’t help laughing at Zane’s outrage. It felt good to have my foul-mouthed friend so furious on my behalf. 

“Sure, it hurt having the lawyer pull a skeleton out and rattle bones in front of the gathered vultures. But later, it was actually sort of… I don’t know… freeing. It felt right that I hadn’t called him daddy all those years when I had a real one out there somewhere.”

“Did your momma fess up to lying?” Zane narrowed her eyes. 

“Momma was too busy throwing a hissy fit to admit anything. After the lawyer dropped the Daddy File on me, he proceeded to tear the doodles out of Momma’s plans for the future. Come to find out, she hadn’t been the only one keeping secrets. The mansion, all of the businesses, a lot of the money, shoot, just about everything she thought Jackson owned, was tied up in a Radcliff family trust. After he died the administration of the trust passed to his younger brother. She was put on a monthly allowance and it was a whole lot less than what she was used to spending.”

While Momma wailed over how she’d been cheated, I’d went through the only thing Jackson left me. There hadn’t been a lot in the Daddy File other than directions to a town called Copper Ridge and the only name in the file wasn’t my dad’s, but a bar called Skeeter’s. A short-handwritten note stated that my momma used to work at Skeeter’s and if I wanted to learn more it was up to her to tell me.  

“I tried to talk to Momma a few weeks after the meeting with the lawyer and it turned ugly. She was furious Jackson told me about her working at Skeeter’s and my father being a whole lot more alive than she’d let on. She refused to tell me anything about my real father. Said if I insisted on looking for him it would be without her help. As far as she was concerned the past was dead and buried and she wanted it to stay that way. She told me to stick to the plan and I’d be better off than chasing after some broke hick mechanic just so I could call him daddy.” 

“Your momma’s plan, what was it?” Zane sounded suspicious, angry, which struck me as odd, but a lot of things Zane said and did seemed odd. It was part of her charm. 

“Momma had been grooming me ever since I was a teeny-tiny, little girl-child,” I hovered my hand a short distance above the floor, “to marry a rich man.”

“And you just went along with it?” Zane scrunched up her face as if she’d just gotten a whiff of a rotten egg. “I understand having a goal in life. I’ve got one. Had it for years. What I can’t understand, is letting someone else make goals and plans for you.” She then murmured, “Especially if it’s your momma.”

“Momma’s a lot like you—a force of nature. It doesn’t matter what others say or think, you get to rolling and you’re this big ol’ tsunami, nothing can stand against you.” I grinned at my new friend to lessen any sting Zane might feel.

“Besides, the plan was fun for me growing up. Cheerleading, dance classes, pageants, riding lessons. You name it, Momma put me in it. Once I went to college, it didn’t matter what classes I took as long as I made it into the right sorority.” If I came off being that spoiled rich girl, I wasn’t going to apologize. I’d enjoyed growing up the way I had. 

“What about control? Didn’t you ever want to be the one in control of your life?”     

“I never even knew what real control was until I quit my job, broke up with the family approved fiancé and defied Momma by moving to Copper Ridge to look for my daddy.”

“Wait?! You were engaged? How the hell are you just now mentioning that?” 

Zane had a good point. How had Bradley become such a non-issue that he didn’t rate top billing in my life story. I’d thought he was perfect at one time. He was good-looking, successful, his family and the Radcliffs were old friends. Momma had been thrilled and for once Jackson had approved of something that involved me.

Having no real answer, I just shrugged. “Guess that shows just how much not in love I was. Besides, when Bradley learned I’d been cut out of the Radcliff money his affections noticeably cooled. He had this way of looking at me as if he’d been cheated. We were both relieved when I gave the ring back. Momma took it way harder than I did.”   

Zane stared into her empty glass for so long I couldn’t help wondering what was going on in her head. An awkward feeling of having over shared personal drama had me tapping my scarlet nails on the polished wood surface of the bar. “Okay then, it’s late we probably should— ” 

“So, what’s the next step? How are we gonna find your daddy?” Zane cut me off and the matter of fact questions threw me. Events over the last few months had taught me that when things got rough so called friends disappeared faster than Jimmy Choos during a half-price sale at the boutique.  

“It’s taken me over six months to even make the move to try and find out who my father is. I don’t really have any plans beyond asking Lonnie about the time Momma worked here. Stands to reason he’d know who my daddy is. I want to find out who he is and what’s going on in his life first. It would be wrong to just show up on his doorstep. What if he doesn’t want me messing with his life?”

Standing, I lifted my glass and tossed back the tiny amount left in the bottom. More than ready to call an end to the night, I rounded the bar to wash my glass before drying and putting it back in the stack. Zane gave a token protest, but she was as beat as me. She didn’t put up much of a fight when I grabbed her glass and gave it the same treatment.

As we made our way to the office to gather our purses, Zane slipped an arm around my waist and bumped hips with me, “You don’t have to do this alone you know?”

“No, I didn’t know, but I do now.” I gave a little hip bump of my own in a show of silent gratitude.

So sit back. Enjoy a look at my writing partner. And I'll fuddle my way through figuring out a blog.