Page 135 of Property of Whiskey

“You replaced me with some cop and suddenly I’m too dangerous?”

“You were dangerous before Twila set foot in this house.”

Beth’s attention shifts to Twila.

“You think he’s gonna keep you?”

Jesus Christ.

Twila’s eyebrows rise.

I step between them. “Beth.”

“No. She ought to know.”

“Know what?” Twila asks, sounding far too interested.

Beth folds her arms tightly over her middle, but her eyes keep darting to Twila’s bare feet and messy hair like those tell her everything she needs to know.

“He gets bored easily.”

I almost choke. “That’s bullshit.”

“You got bored with me.”

“You disappeared into drugs.”

“I loved you.”

“Wasn’t enough.”

“The club always came first. You cheated how many times?”

Behind me, the floorboard stops creaking. Twila doesn’t move again.

Beth sees that too. She struck gold. Women can detect jealousy the way sharks detect blood.

“You didn’t tell her?”

“There ain’t anything to tell. I didn’t cheat. You left, took Wren, I moved on. We weren’t married.”

“We had a family.”

“We had Wren.”

“We had more.”

“No. Not really. You were in love with getting high. I eventually figured out I came second with you, and Wren came last.”

Her eyes fill again. “You’re fucking cruel.”

“A bastard,” I agree with her.

“You’ll come back when you’re done playing with Sheriff Barbie.”

Twila makes a sound behind me.

I put one hand out without looking, some stupid traffic-stop gesture like I’m separating two women at the Piggly Wiggly.