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“Actually, I’m trying real hard to stay alive,” Jackson said, giving him a hint of a smile.
Damon didn’t return it. “There are other bars in town. You should check them out,” he said.
Jackson nodded. “Maybe tomorrow night,” he said, taking a mouthful of his drink, the burn of the amber liquid soothing in an odd way.
Someone else came to sit at the bar and Damon’s attention shifted. Jackson didn’t look at the other person, but he could tell by Damon’s relaxed posture that the other patron wasn’t pointing a weapon at Jackson’s head.
He waited a few moments, appearing casual, then raised his eyes to the mirror, seeing a woman sitting next to him: a woman with red hair and nails that were so impossibly long Jackson couldn’t even imagine how she tied her shoelaces.
He turned to face her, and she looked to him in turn. Looking him up and down, she smiled.
“You’re new,” she said, like he was the latest flavor of potato chips.
Jackson gave her his most charming smile. He swiveled on his bar stool and extended his hand. “Axel,” he said, using his alias.
She grinned wider. “Becky,” she said, shaking his hand. A fleeting thought urged him to watch out for those nails. They were shaped like the end of a coffin, and he wondered if that was some kind of omen or sign from God.
“Nice to meet you. You come here often? I heard it’s a good place to grab a drink. The hospitality could be improved somewhat,” Jackson said, letting his eyes sweep over the patrons.
She chuckled. “Same crowd most nights, I’m afraid. They don’t like new people.”
Jackson looked back to her, a sly grin sliding over his lips. “But you do.”
She laughed. “I like hot, mysterious men without wedding rings, drinking whiskey alone.”
He chuckled quietly. “Are you here most nights?”
“Most nights,” Becky said coyly. “I’ve been coming here most my life,” she said.
Is that so?Now Jackson was really interested.
Jackson raised an eyebrow. “You should keep better company,” he joked, and she winked.
Damon slid her a glass. Jackson had no idea what she was drinking, but it looked like a cocktail of some sort. He noted that Damon had never asked her, so she obviously drank the same thing frequently. Jackson would bet his life she knew Anna.
“I don’t come for the company. Papa owns the bar,” she said, looking toward Damon.
Jackson turned to look at Damon, who seemed amused by the fact that he’d managed to surprise Jackson.
“He’s all right. It’s the ones this side of the bar I’m more concerned about,” Jackson said, gesturing toward the pool table.
Becky didn’t need to look. She knew who was there.
“You new in town?” she asked.
“I’ve been here about six months, working at the glass factory about thirty minutes out of town,” Jackson said, giving her his story. He looked toward Damon and noticed he was making a call. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, but he couldn’t exactly say why. Damon nodded, then hung up the phone before disappearing out of view.
“So, you grew up working here then, right?” Jackson asked, turning his attention to Becky as he quickly glanced in the spotted mirror behind the bar to check his back.
She chuckled softly. “I was cleaning these floors as soon as I was big enough to hold a broom and mop. I worked here through college, and occasionally I pick up a shift when my father needs help.”
Jackson smiled. “What did you study?”
“Computer science and engineering,” she said proudly.
“I’m impressed,” he said genuinely, giving her a big smile. “Smart woman. And where do you work when you’re not helping here?” he asked.
“Actually, I went into cyber security. It’s not the most traditional path from computer science, but I like the game of it,” she said with a wink. “I work for a private company... can’t say much about it.”
