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But it was kinda fun to watch and beat the tense quiet.
There was another way to work off stress. Even though he could certainly imagine her in a fuck-the-frustration away scenario, in reality, he had a hard time picturing the stiff woman letting go enough to enjoy sex.
“Okay, I’m back, sorry,” Ronnie said as she stood on the opposite side of the bar. “You two making nice?”
“Yes, of course,” Michaela said. “We’re good.”
Keith just snorted, which made Ronnie cast him some serious side-eye.
“Mmm,” she said. “Well, what can I get you, Michaela? Not sure you seem like a beer drinker or whiskey shooter, but I gotta tell you what little wine we do offer here totally sucks.”
Across the room, a table full of guys Keith went to high school with started cheering. Michaela jumped and glanced over her shoulder.
“Baseball playoffs,” Ronnie said, as though the woman had any idea about sports.
“Fun,” she said, totally unconvincingly. “I’ll just have a diet soda, please.”
“No way,” Ronnie said, shaking her head. She had the same black hair all of the Benson kids did, only about a hundred times more of it. When working, she kept it up in a long ponytail. His sister was pretty, though she’d never seemed to recognize it in herself. “You need a real drink to celebrate your first few days in town.”
“Thanks, but I’ll stick to soda if you don’t mind. I, uh, have had some issues with—” She cleared her throat as though the words stuck.
Christ, don’t say it.
“Just, issues with it. So, I steer clear these days. Just wanted to stop by and see where Ronnie worked.”
“Good for you,” Ronnie said with a smile. “That’s not an easy battle to fight. Diet Coke it is.” She grabbed a clean glass and filled it with ice.
Just what he needed, another fucking addict in his life. “Typical,” he muttered under his breath. Rich woman with no job probably spent her days drinking her boredom away. Bet she was someone’s trophy wife. Probably took some shmuck to the cleaners with complaints about infidelity while she was frigid as an iceberg in bed.
“Keith! Jesus, you’re an ass.” Ronnie tossed him a scathing look before focusing on Michaela. “How about food, hon? You hungry? I can get you a menu.”
She’d gone pale, but Keith refused to feel guilty. Maybe having someone not fawn all over her would keep her from falling off the wagon as they all seemed to do.
“Uh, yeah, I’ll take a menu,” she said in a measured tone. “But first, can you point me toward the restroom?”
She stood, and Keith chose to ignore the slight tremor in her hand.
“Back right corner,” Ronnie said, pointing.
“Thanks,” Michaela whispered.
As she walked away, Ronnie seared him with a death glare. The second Michela was out of earshot, his sister let loose. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Seriously, why are you such an asshole to her?”
“Hey!” He set his beer down. Ronnie didn’t understand. She was younger, less jaded by the world. “I’m not an asshole. Just telling it like it is. She’s a cliché. A rich woman with a drinking problem. I give her a month before she’s in here tossing ’em back. But don’t worry, she won’t be eating the pretzels. Too many cooties for her sterile hands.”
Ronnie’s mouth hung open and she shook her head. “You’re right, Keith. You’re not an asshole. You’re a fucking asshole.” She leaned over the bar. “You know, no one makes it through life without some struggles. And not everyone with a drinking problem is like our father. Some people work hard to overcome their demons.” She lifted her hands and took two steps back. “But I guess we can’t all be as perfect as you without any vices, huh?” She turned to storm away then spun back. “And you know what? I wouldn’t eat from that goddammed cesspool of a bowl either,” she almost yelled, pointing to the pretzels. “And not just because I saw Bud scratch his ass then eat one.”
Anger rose swift and sharp. “I don’t need this shit. Not after the shit I’ve had to deal with the past few days.” The stool scraped across the floor with a cringe-worthy screech as he shoved to his feet.
The place had gone quiet. All the patrons stared at the low-class Bensons making a scene. Surprise, surprise. Fuck, he should have left this goddammed town years ago.
Ronnie’s shoulders sagged as she stepped against the bar. “One of these days, you’re going to realize you have five siblings who love you and would help you any time you asked, Keith. Dad is not a problem you should have to deal with alone.”
He stilled.
What the fuck?
She knew?
All the secrets and lies to keep them from realizing what havoc their father still caused had been for nothing? Guilt ate at him. He should have done better. Should have devised a stronger cover story.
