Page 22 of Second Chance

“Where’s James?” I cringe the second I ask, recalling Dolores’s cryptic comments about him.

“He’s doing his own thing now,” Giant offers of his younger brother, and Charlie lowers his head. I don’t understand their expressions, but a judge’s gavel just sentenced this conversation to life in prison.

“Oh, fuck.” Billy immediately lowers behind the bar, slithering down the interior, and disappearing from view. Charlie and I both lean forward, looking over the wooden counter, as Giant lets out a deep breath beside me.

Charlie and I return to our stools and swivel in time to see an angry woman walking into the bar, and she’s furrowing a straight line through the crowd for me.

“What’s Billy’s beef with her?” I ask, knowing before I finish asking what might have happened.

“Tapped that one too many times,” Giant offers behind me, and I nod. I totally understand.

Kristy Moseley is my ex-wife, stalker extraordinaire, and a thorough pain in my ass. With her in high school—tapping that one too many times as Charlie just said of his brother—we were hardly high school sweethearts. More like the Bickersons. We had a constant love-hate relationship, leading to hate sex, and long spells of not talking to one another. When I cut Mati from the road trip across the country, Kristy decided to hop in instead. I thought she’d be a good distraction from what happened with Mati.

Then she got pregnant.

I married her as the band started, but when she miscarried, we fell apart. Not because of a lost baby, but because we were lost souls in a city that welcomes them. Kristy wanted the fame of a rockstar husband but didn’t want the reality of it, which included long stretches without one another. There were months of disconnect between my life on the road and hers in an unforgiving city. We were a statistic like other young couples at the birth of a band. Our divorce was inevitable.

I’d heard she came home eventually.

“Well, well, well. The prodigal star returns.” Kristy saunters up to me in her heeled boots and skinny jeans. She hasn’t aged well, and I feel a little sorry for her. Bleach-blonde hair fried on the ends from product overuse. Skin tight from too much sun—possibly fake. Thick false eyelashes and a touch too much makeup on her lids. She looks like a woman trying too hard, which reminds me of her as a teenager.

“Kristy,” I mutter, wondering how Billy’s doing behind the bar.

“And what does Blue Ridge owe the pleasure of the infamous rockstar’s return?”

“My mother’s dying,” I blurt, harsh and quick. As much as I mean to hurt Kristy, a shooting pain stabs back at me.

Kristy’s hard face softens as much as it can under her thick foundation, and she offers subtle grace with her sympathy. “I’m sorry. I’d heard.”

In a small town, gossip could never remain quiet. The former mayor’s widowed wife dying would be news.

However, Kristy’s sympathy passes rapidly. “You’re looking good, Denton,” she says, and I want to hide behind the bar with Billy as she steps forward. I will never tap that again. Kristy has no boundaries, though, and her hand comes to rest on my T-shirt, inside my jacket. She slips it down my chest, heading for my waist, as her eyes close. A quiet tiger rawr escapes and I shiver, knowing her thoughts. This is her signature move, hinting at what she wants. How did I ever find this woman attractive?

A little cheer goes up near the door and my head lifts to see Mati walking in with her assistant coach. Our eyes meet instantly, but hers quickly turn away. A tight smile forms on her lips as she greets someone, probably congratulating her on her win.

As I stare, I realize Kristy still stands before me, her fingers hooked into the waistband of my jeans.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I mumble under my breath, directing my irritation at my ex-wife. She tugs, and I stumble toward her, placing my hands on her shoulders to steady myself.

“I’m actually looking for Billy.”

“Billy?” I repeat, my voice rising a bit.

“We haven’t seen him yet tonight,” Charlie offers. Giant’s presence fills the space behind me as if he’s blocking something happening at my back—aka, his brother hiding behind the bar.

Kristy glances between us. “You’re protecting him.”

“How could I protect him? I haven’t seen him,” I say, offering the protection I refuted.

“You were always one of them.” Her eyes narrow and I have no idea what she’s talking about. I gently press her back from me, but she still has her fingers over my belt. My hand lowers to hers, prying her grip from me.

“Nice seeing you again,” I say, acting as if I’m shaking her hand, a casual acquaintance instead of my ex-wife. Kristy doesn’t shake back but pushes my palm off hers.

She turns to Charlie. “You tell Billy I’m looking for him.” Then she spins on her too-high heels and stumbles. I can’t help the curl to my lips and I hear Giant stifle a chuckle behind me. Charlie’s the only one gentleman enough to reach forward and assist her. As Kristy rights herself, she walks toward a corner with a pool table, and Charlie twists back to the bar.

“In what polar universe does that woman think I take orders from her?” He lifts his glass and drains his beer.

Billy raises up from his haunches, only the top of his head peeking up from behind the wood counter. “Is the coast clear?”