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Whitley
“Whitley! This food is dying in the window, come the fuck on!” Kolby shouts from the kitchen and I swear on my gramma’s grave that I’m going to drag him across that food window and pummel him to death.
I grab the food from the window, slamming my hand down on the bell repeatedly, earning me the kitchen’s full attention.
“Y’all are gonna listen, and you’re gonna listen good. This ticket has a table number on it. If the food is ‘dying in the window’,” I narrow my eyes at Kolby and he grins, “then maybe, just MAYBE, you could fuckin’ run it for me!” I spin on my heels and march the plates over to table nine. I’m back behind the bar, pouring a Jack and Coke, when the door opens and Ford and Lex stride in, hand and hand.
It has been a wild month and a half. Let me catch you up. First, Ford’s student and babysitter, Sophie, had a psychotic break, broke into Lex’s house and was waiting on her when she got home. She drugged and attacked Lex, claiming she’s in love with Ford, and Lex was just in the way. Lex got away, thankfully, but Sophie was nowhere to be found when the police went looking for her. Fast forward a few weeks, Lex is kidnapped by her then-still-husband, Jason Crenshaw. He had Sophie the entire time, waiting for the moment he could use her as leverage to get Lex to go with him, and that’s just what he did. He drove her upstate a few hours and eventually Ford and his brother, Zander, were able to find where he was holding her, go there and kill Jason, but not before Jason got a shot off at Ford. That was touch and go and we weren’t sure he’d pull through.
But he woke up, proposed, and now the two lovebirds are seated in front of me. I pour them both a draft and drop the glasses in front of them.
“So, when’s the wedding?” Jim-Billy asks from his seat three stools down.
“We haven’t set a date yet,” Lex says, staring dreamily into Ford's eyes.
“We’re in no rush. I’m just happy she agreed to spend the rest of her life putting up with my shit.” Ford says, grabbing Lex by the back of her neck and pressing a kiss to her lips.
“Barf.” Jim-Billy mutters and I crack up.
“Speaking of ‘spending the rest of your life’ with someone, where’s Deeeaaan?” Lex singsongs and I roll my eyes. We may be best friends but I’m not above hitting her.
“He’s in the office doin’ payroll.” And I know that, because twenty minutes ago he was in the office doing me. I swear, I will never get enough of that man. I never thought I’d like dirty sex, but when he had me bent over the sink in the bathroom off of the office and he was pullin’ my hair and slapping my ass, I was so out of my mind with want that I thought I’d die before he let me come. A shiver works its way through my body.
“There’s the man himself!” Ford calls out and I spin, ready to say something sassy, when I see the look on Dean’s face. Devastation and pain are etched all over it.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” I ask him when he hits the bar, staring at the phone in his hand. He drags his eyes from it to me and swallows.
“I just got off the phone with some lawyer in Colorado,” his voice cracks, “Jim’s dead.”
****
Colorado is beautiful. Mountains as far as the eye can see, jutting out across the landscape. The sun peeking up between them, casting shades of orange and yellow across the open land. It’s early, around seven a.m., and we drove all day to get here, leaving early yesterday morning. Once I was able to get Dean to tell me exactly what was going on, we packed our bags, closed the bar, and dropped Ranger off to Ford and Lex.
Apparently, Jim, the owner of the bar that Dean worked at before he came back, died peacefully in his sleep three nights ago. He had recently updated his will and had given the lawyer strict instructions that if anything happened, he was to contact Dean immediately.
“I should have called him,” he says, his voice monotone as he stares out the passenger side window, the countryside flying by. “I was going to, last week, but a vendor showed up and needed me to sign off on an order, and I fuckin’ forgot.” His voice cracks again. Dean’s dad was never around and from what I can tell, this Jim guy meant a lot to him.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” I say, dropping my hand to his knee and squeezing. He shoots me a sad smile, lacing his fingers with mine and bringing my hand up to his mouth.
“Thank you,” he says, pressing a kiss to fingers, “for dropping everything to come with me.”
“Of course. I’d do anything for you, Dean. You know that.” At least, I hope he knows that. I’m head over heels in love with him, and it’s better than it was when we were kids. I slow the car as we approach the bar and pull into the parking lot, parking next to a Cadillac Escalade. We drag ourselves out of the car, stretching. The hours of being cooped up in the car taking its toll on our bodies. Dean tags my hand while we walk to the front of the bar. The door swings open and we are met by a man with salt and pepper hair. He’s tall, but not as tall as Dean. Broad shoulders, you can tell he works out and he’s noticeably older than the both of us.
“Dean,” his deep voice rumbles, extending his hand as Dean shakes it.
“Slim,” Dean greets him, “this is my girlfriend, Whitley.” This man, Slim, shakes my hand and gives me a small smile.
“Wish we were meeting under different circumstances, but it’s a pleasure to meet ya,” he says, ushering the both of us inside. It’s dark and musty inside and you can tell it’s a biker bar. There are some dart games at the back of the bar, pool tables, and different Motorcycle cuts hanging on the walls. Dean steers me over to the bar where he pulls a stool out for me, helping me up, and then settling himself next to me. Slim makes his way behind the bar, grabbing some papers from the open briefcase in front of him.
“I’ll try not to take up too much of your time. Jim came to me about a month ago, wanting to update his will. Damn good thing he did, considering the situation we are in now. I’m sure you’re aware that he had no living relatives?” Slim asks Dean.
“I knew his wife and son had died a long time ago, but I just assumed he had at least some family left,” Dean says, his hands gripping the countertop.
“He was an only child. His parents, also only children. They died a handful of years back and no other family to be found.” He arranges a few papers in front of Dean and continues talking. “The updated will leaves everything to you,” and my breath catches in my throat.
“What?” Dean grits out, his eyes scanning the documents in front of him, which look to be a deed to the house and the bar.
“Everything. The bar, the house, all his savings. All yours,” Slim says, placing a pen in front of Dean. “Jim’s estate, with everything included, is worth around three million dollars.”
