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“I know his sister, Phoenix, but are you sure we can invade his privacy without his knowledge?” Hamlet sounds unsure.
“I remember Retro. Nice guy with dreads. I met him a couple of weeks ago in Texas when I first met Keanu and Levi at Coyote Cooter’s. You know Phoenix too?”
“Oh, you’rethatTucker,” she says to me, sounding disappointed.
Happy chuckles.
I find myself saddened that she’s already disappointed in me. “Whatever are you insinuating, Hamlet?” And might I add, what a small world. Phoenix and Hamlet know each other.
She raises a manicured eyebrow as if to say, “Oh, really?”
I shrug and stay silent.
“Tucker who likes to fu—”
I gently place my hand over her mouth, silencing her. “Now, now, Miss Hamlet, don’t go using that language around my sensitive ears, and don’t go letting that wild imagination you possess to take you for a ride.” I want to gain her trust because she must think I am a man-whore, and I am far from that. Well, it is all consensual, and both parties enjoy themselves, so what’s the harm? “Has Phoenix been tattling on me and telling stories?”
“Oh, I heard about your cocky arse.” She sounds a lot brighter now.You’re welcome.“I heard Phoenix bested you.”
For the love of spitfires and bubble butts. “I let her!”
Happy is living up to his name, smiling joyfully at our back and forth. “I’ve got to get back preparing orders. Please, watch out for Moses when you open the door. He always wants to come down and spend time with me. He’s got separation anxiety from Bear, his best friend, but he’s much better now.”
“Moses? Bear?” I ask Happy. I assume pets.
“Moses is a cat, and Bear is a black Labrador, but you only have to worry about Moses.”
“Thank you, I appreciate your help,” Hamlet says to Happy, who beams a broader smile than I thought possible.
“Go through the saloon doors behind the counter, and you will see the stairs that will take you up to a penthouse apartment above the café. Moses is the gray furball about so big”—the Samoan-looking guy holds his hands up to express the size of said furball—“so, please don’t let him out. I am on babysitting duties until further notice. Slade, his daddy, will kill me if I lose him.”
“Thank you.” I nod to the big guy before crouching down by Hamlet. “Keep your boobies covered, beautiful, and hold the cloth and peas against your gash. I’m about to lift you and get you some privacy.”
She lowers the peas and starts protesting, “Honestly, I can walk myself from here. I’ll be good to leave once I have some more water on my chest. I don’t want to be a bother anymore than I already have been.” She truly believes that she is good to leave without looking in a mirror.
“Humor me,” I say, mustering patience. I’m not about to tell her she’s beginning to resemble an alien’s head, but a beautiful one at that.
“No. It is my right to get up off this floor. I have been down here long enough to know I will be fine on my own two feet.”
“Stubborn woman,” I mutter.
“Independent woman, who prefers to look after herself,” she mutters back.
I watch her slip on my leather jacket. The caveman in me approves.
I stand back while she rolls to her feet, flourishing my hand in front of me dramatically as if to say,lead the way.
Hamlet starts walking. I give her credit; she makes it around the counter and through the saloon doors (which isn’t far) before things aren’t going so well for her.
She looks like a drunken sailor.
“How are you doing, Hamlet?”
“Hunky-dor—”
“Is the room tilting for you, Hamlet?”Don’t worry. I won’t let her fall.
“Whoa…” The realization she’s not hunky-dory is setting in.
