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7
Wilder
“You looklike you could use a drink.”
Lana Turner looked up from staring into the depths of an empty wine glass to shoot me a glare – at least, at first. Once shesawme, that scowl shifted to a grin, and she pushed a handful of sandy hair behind her ear.
“Well, that’s usually what people come to the bar for, honey,” she drawled, playfully slapping a hand against my thigh – and leaving it there.
I played into her flirtatiousness, leaning in. “You’re right – I guess I should say, you look like you could useanotherdrink. May I?”
“Do I look like the kind of woman that complains about a handsome man buying her a drink?”
No.
She didn’t.
The thing was though, with her sky-high heels, and even higher hemline, professionally done hair and makeup… shealsodidn’t look like a grieving widow.
Because she wasn’t.
After just a day and a half of surveillance, that much was abundantly clear – Lana Turner was acting more a newly minted lotto winner than the heartbroken wife.
It wasn’t surprising.
Digging into their lives, it was clear that Lana and Tommy weren’t exactlyhashtag relationship goals.Maybe they’d started that way, but Turner’s inability to keep his dick to himself had slowly degraded their relationship to the point that any pleasantries between them were purely for public show.
Theydespisedeach other.
And Lana Turner had done something about it.
Watching the footage from the gala hadn’t revealed anything obvious in her interaction with Tommy – in May’s interaction with him either. The police had released May after some questioning about the incident at her house and now the thing with Tommy – they’d held her as long as they could without pinning any charges on her, but it was more than clear there was something going on.
Somehow, we were gonna get this shit figured out.
“You look like a lemon drop kinda girl,” I told Lana, flagging the bartender to order one for her, and a bourbon and cola for myself.
“What does that even mean?” she asked, grinning as the bartender walked off to prepare the drinks. “What does alemon dropkinda girl look like?”
I shot her another smile. “Sunny.” I answered, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth for a second as I gave her a once-over – not that hard to fake, actually, since Lana was an attractive woman.
Just like May.
Money had done Tommy Turner alotof favors in terms of the caliber of woman he could pull.
“I’ve heard that before,” Lana nodded, graciously accepting her drink as the bartender returned. “Especially growing up. Hazel eyes, light skin, freckles, sandy hair – my parents called me their littlegolden child.”
I nodded too. “Yeah, I could see that. But, I have to admit – it’s not just your looks that made me say that. You’ve got a vibe about you,” I told her. “Like life has been good to you.”
“Well, that’s because it has.”
“Oh really now? Well, let’s drink to that then,” I said, once I had my own drink in hand. She tapped her glass to mine, and then swallowed most of the pale liquid in one gulp, making my eyes go wide. “Damn.”
She giggled, then finished off the rest before putting the empty glass back on the counter. “That was delicious. Thank you… what did you say your name was?”
“I hadn’t yet, actually. But I’m Wilder – and you are…?”
“Erica,” she lied, with a smile on her face, then turned to wave the bartender back in our direction. “Can I have another one of those? Like double the size though?”
