Shaking off the annoyance at Theo’s choice of communication, I head toward the entrance, enter the screen door, pull the solid door outward, and step inside. As before, I’m greeted with the offensive odor of stale smoke, but just as quickly it fades. Lifting my sunglasses to the top of my head, I let my eyes adjust to the dim lighting, stark in contrast to the sunshine. The twang of something a little too country fills the air with a tune about trucks, trains, and momma.
Standing near the entrance, I scan the large room.
As I suspected, this time of day, patrons are sparse. There are a few stragglers scattered on barstools and two tables with older gentlemen and tall beers. It’s the time of day to prepare for the night ahead as shown by a dark-haired waitress filling salt and pepper shakers and a blond one filling napkin dispensers and checking condiments.
The sound of billiard balls colliding beckons my attention. The boys around the pool table remind me of the ones playing football at the park. It could be them. It’s after four in the afternoon and the high school dismissed over an hour ago.
One of the young men looks up and nods. I immediately recognize him as Austin, Julie’s ex. The recognition comes more from my search of Julie’s pictures than from any personal introduction. It’s then that I spot Theo, seated at one of the booths, with a stack of papers and a laptop in front of him.
Walking over to him, I place the note on the table. “Thanks for the scare. I thought I got a ticket.”
A grin creeps across his face. “What bar would prohibit overnight parking? I’d rather have a parking lot full of cars than dead or arrested patrons.”
I tilt my head. “I’m fine, Theo. Thanks for checking.”
“Hey, that’s what friends do.”
“Are we friends? Last night, I got the impression you were telling me to get out of Blue Gil, that I wasn’t wanted.”
“Jillian, this is your hometown. You belong. It’s Coach’s brother who needs to go.”
I step up and take the seat across from Theo. “You know, it’s amazing that Blue Gil gets so many outsiders in the summer—with all your welcoming personalities.”
Theo shakes his head. “That guy is different, and you’re right, the seasonal outsiders are coming soon. It would be better if they didn’t see him snooping around.”
Make it all disappear.
Keith’s assessment of Sheriff Manes’s intent comes back. Instead of saying that, I say, “Honestly, Theo, he seems nice.”
As Theo responds, I decide that he doesn’t believe in combs. His wavy brown hair seems to remain in a permanent state of disarray, whether at an early-in-the-day, town-wide search or here at his business. Theo’s blue eyes narrow my direction. “I’d askhow nicehe is, but it’s none of my business, and after last night, I assume that if I had a shot in hell, you would have ended up with me. Since I woke alone...”
I woke alone too, but it’s none of Theo Morton’s oranyone else’s business. I shake my head. “God, this town is unbeliev?—”
“Jillian” —my name is elongated— “can I get you anything?” a dark-haired waitress interrupts.
There’s something about the way she said my name and her stance, as if she’s offended by my presence. When I turn, I take a closer look. The woman before us is of average height and weight, with an unflattering shade of dark lipstick. Maybe it’s average for Blue Gil. It’s then I realize I know her. “Candace?”
Candace Jennings, or at least it was Jennings, is the same age and grade as Becky and me. Though we didn’t hang out in the same circles, I remember her as someone who was born and raised, and apparently stayed, right here.
She hasn’t changed that much. Hell, she might have waited tables here back in high school too. You don’t have to be twenty-one to wait tables, only to serve alcohol. “Gosh,” I say, “how are you doing?”
She stands straighter. “Good. I married Buck Stevens.” She wrinkles her nose. “He’s a piece of shit, and I kicked his ass to the curb. But we have two beautiful boys.”
Make that Candace Stevens.
“Oh.”
If I recall, Buck and Hank were good friends when we were younger. Up until yesterday morning, I would have given the same description of Hank—a piece of shit. Right now, I’m more interested in not continuing this conversation. In the grand scheme of life, I don’t care to learn more about her children or her failed marriage.
“How’s life out in California?” she asks, “You know, I was going to talk to you last night, but I didn’t get the chance.” Candace shifts her feet on the concrete floor before looking up at Theo and smugly back to me. “You were busy.”
The small hairs on my arms stand to attention as I glance between the two of them. Theo’s attention focused on his laptop, but clearly, Candace has an interest in him. It doesn’t take a psychic to sense that after last night, she sees me as a threat.
I’m not.
If she wants Theo, I’m the least of her concerns.
Instead of going down that road, I reply, “Yeah, it’s been a rough few days with Julie and Marty.”
