But now, all he wanted was cold, hard cash.
He folded his arms over his chest and performatively flexed until his biceps strained against the fabric of his sleeves. “The number is fifty. If you’re not interested, I have some more serious buyers I can call.”
She bit down on the insides of her cheeks and waited for Timber Creeks’ own Joe Exotic to respond.
The snake rippled over his shoulders like a cresting wave. Seconds passed. She wasn’t sure how long Elliot could maintain his resolve. Since she was slightly behind him, she reached out and pressed her hand to his back in a tiny show of support that he’d probably misinterpret for condescension or possibly drowsiness, but it was worth the risk.
Tension released from Elliot’s shoulders like a faucet. Hers, too.
“Fine. Fifty it is,” the man relented.
Lainey dropped her hand, and the two men shook on the deal.
“Someone else is coming to look at them tomorrow, so if you want them, you have to take them off our hands today,” Lainey added. It was always good to put a clock on legally questionable activities.
Elliot and Snake Man discussed logistics, but Lainey watched the door. It was opening slowly. Laboriously. As though the person behind it had their hands full and was using their hip to push it open. When the door finally swung free, a strawberry-haired man in his early fifties ambled through the threshold carrying stacked cases of Milwaukee’s Best.
The man recognized her instantly. Of course he did—they had the same hair.
Chapter 11
A Man Wearing a Literal Boa
49 Days until Busy Season
“Nee-Nee?” the manasked, three cases of beer in his arms. His mouth was agape, like a lake trout on a fish hook.
“That’s not my name,” she corrected, her jaw stiff.
“I know. I just remember…You used to have a hard time with theLsound.”
His implied familiarity with a version of herself she couldn’t remember made her skin crawl.
“That was a long time ago, Tobin.” She tried not to look at him too closely. She didn’t want him to misinterpret this run-in in the back of his bar as anything more than a chance meeting.
Well, the chanceshadbeen high, because, again, this washisestablishment.
Snake Man—Monty as he introduced himself in the handshake deal with Elliot—had already gone out the back door toward the alley to “see a man about a van.” Tobin, on the other hand, was staring at Lainey like a ghost.
“Do you need help with those?” Elliot asked, pointing to the beer in his hands.
Tobin shook his head and then set his load on the desk,revealing an Alice in Chains T-shirt. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been wearing a green bowling shirt, and the time before that it had been aScarfacegraphic tee. It was odd knowing someone’s personality exclusively by what they wore. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I’m not…We have some turtles we’re looking to sell. That’s the only reason we’re here.”
Tobin exhaled with either relief or disappointment. Possibly both. “You shouldn’t be doing any deals with Monty. The guy’s sketchy as fuck.”
“Well, so is everyone else here, so…” At that, he looked wounded.
She felt Elliot hovering protectively behind her. It took everything she had not to collapse into him. Seeing Tobin wasn’tmeaningful, she reminded herself. There was a fifty percent chance he wasn’t anyone to her. Just a man her mom used to know.
They all stood there in awkward silence, waiting for Monty to walk back into the room.
“I’m Elliot, by the way.” He extended his hand to Tobin. It did nothing to break the tension.
“Tobin Collier. I’m a friend of Lainey’s mom.” The wordfriendsounded strangled.
Elliot nodded, then pressed his hand firmly to her lower back. She was grateful to feel his support, even if the man in front of them didn’t matter to her. Or possibly, it was the other way around, but she had little interest in following that thread to its natural end.
