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I begin to feel as if I’m on the outside of a private joke between them. “Why?” I ask without thinking.
Hardin gives her a warning glare and waves his hand, dismissing my question. It takes everything in me not to knock him from the barstool. If I weren’t aware that he’s only trying to mask his pain, I would do just that.
“Long story, doll.” The woman waves for the bartender. “Anyway, you look like you could use some tequila.”
“No, I’m okay.” The last thing I want is a drink.
“Lighten up, baby.” Hardin leans closer to me. “You aren’t the one who just found out his entire life is a fucking lie, so lighten up and have a drink with me.”
My heart aches for him, but drinking isn’t the answer. I need to get him out of here. Now.
“Do you prefer your margaritas frozen or on the rocks? This isn’t no fancy place, so you don’t have many choices,” Judy tells me.
“I said I didn’t want a fucking drink,” I snap.
Her eyes widen, but she recovers quickly. I’m almost as surprised by my outburst as she is. I hear Hardin chuckle next to me, but I keep my eyes on this woman, who clearly enjoys her secrets.
“Okay, then. Someone needs to relax.” She digs her hands into her purse. She pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the oversize bag and lights up. “Smoke?” she asks Hardin.
I look at him, and to my surprise he nods. Judy reaches behind me to hand him the lit cigarette from her mouth. Who the hell is this woman?
The disgusting stick is placed between Hardin’s lips, and he takes a puff. Tendrils of smoke swirl between us, and I cover my mouth and nose.
I glare at him. “Since when do you smoke?”
“I’ve always smoked. Just not since I started at WCU.” He takes another drag. The glowing red fire at the end of the cigarette taunts me, and I reach over and snatch it from Hardin’s mouth and drop it into his half-full glass.
“What the fuck?” he half yells and stares down at his ruined drink.
“We are leaving. Now.” I step down from the barstool, grabbing hold of Hardin’s sleeve and pulling at him.
“No. We aren’t.” He twists away from my grip and attempts to get the bartender’s attention.
“He doesn’t want to leave,” Judy chimes in.
My anger is boiling, and this woman is just pissing me off. I stare deep into her mocking eyes, which I can barely find through the anthill of mascara she’s caked on. “I don’t remember asking you. Mind your own business, and find a new drinking partner, because we are leaving!” I shout.
She looks at Hardin, expecting him to defend her—and then the sick history between the two of them comes to me. This isn’t the way a “friend of the family” would behave with the son of her friend who is half her age.
“I said I don’t want to leave,” Hardin insists.
I’ve pulled out all the stops here, and he isn’t listening. My last option is to play on his jealousy—a low blow, especially in the state he’s in, but he’s left me no other choice.
“Well,” I say as I begin scanning the bar exaggeratedly, “if you won’t take me back to the hotel, I will have to find someone else to do it.” My eyes settle on the youngest man in the place, who is at a table with his friends. I give Hardin a few seconds to respond, and when he doesn’t, I begin walking toward the group of young men.
Hardin’s hand is around my arm in mere seconds. “Hell no, you won’t.”
I spin around, taking note of the barstool he’s knocked over in his haste to reach me, and Judy’s ridiculously uncoordinated attempts to get it back upright.
“Then take me back,” I reply with a tilt of my head.
“I’m wasted,” he says, as if that justifies this whole scene.
“I know. We can call a cab to take us to Gabriel’s, and I’ll drive the rental to the hotel.” Inside I say a little prayer that this ruse will work.
Hardin squints at me for a second. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?” he mumbles sarcastically.
“No, but staying here isn’t doing a bit of good, so either you go pay for your drinks and take me out of here, or I will leave with someone else.”
He releases his light grip on my arm and steps close. “Don’t you threaten me. I could just as easily leave with someone else,” he says, only inches from my face.
A sting of jealousy pains me, but I ignore it. “Go ahead. Go home with Judy, then. I know you slept with her before. I can tell.” I keep my back straight and my voice steady as I challenge him.
He looks at me, then to her, and smiles a little. I flinch, and he frowns. “It wasn’t anything too impressive. I barely remember it.” He’s attempting to make me feel better, but his words have the opposite effect.
“Well? What’s it going to be?” I raise my brow.
“Damn it,” he grumbles, then half stumbles back to the bar to pay for his drinks. It looks like he just empties his pockets on the bar, and after the bartender extracts some bills, he shoves the rest in Judy’s direction. She looks at him and then over at me, sinking a little as if something has deflated her spine.
As we exit the bar, Hardin says, “Judy says bye,” and it makes me want to explode.
“Don’t talk to me about her,” I snap.
“Are you jealous, Theresa?” he slurs, wrapping his arm around me. “Fuck, I hate this place, this bar, that house.” He gestures toward the small house across the street. “Oh! You want to know something funny? Vance lived there.” Hardin points to the brick house directly next to the bar. A dim light is on upstairs, and a car is parked in the driveway. “I wonder what he was doing the night that those men came into our fucking house.” Hardin’s eyes scan the ground, and he bends down. Before I realize what’s happening, his arm is raised behind his head, a brick in his hand.
