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A couple of women arguing near the bar catch my attention. It’s the birthday girl herself along with Crane Mitchel. And boy, do they look as if they’re going at it.
The brunette looker, Marlena, steps in and quickly breaks things up, and thankfully so.
I’d hate to have a fistfight break out, especially between two women.
The woman with dark-rimmed glasses, Danya, steps in between them, and she pulls Bella off to the side.
Shockingly, they, too, look as if they’re going at it.
So much for a nice birthday dinner. Poor thing looks as if she’s getting scolded at every turn.
Another hour passes in a blur as I bus tables and deliver lasagna with the best of them—the best of them being Lily and Suze. Yes, Noah’s mama is moonlighting. It turns out, Suze loves to make money as much as she hates to spend it.
A loud bang goes off in the kitchen, and everyone in the restaurant cheers as if a stack of dishes just exploded over the makeshift dance floor.
It seems every night right about this time the middle of the restaurant turns into a discothèque.
Not that I mind.
The club vibe is a part of Rizzo’s charming appeal.
Once the patrons have eaten their fill, they still manage to hit the bar pretty hard, which means more revenue for this place.
It’s a total plus.
And I’m hoping the next owner sees that as a plus as well.
Then they dance their feet off, head back to the bar for more drinks, and repeat the entire exhausting process until we kick them out just shy of midnight.
Forest and the rest of the firemen seated with him all get up to leave at once, and I dash over to meet them at the door.
“What’s going on?” I ask, a bit worried seeing that a few of the wives were left behind.
“There’s a blaze at an abandoned building down the street,” Forest says, handing me a large bill. “Sorry to dine and dash.”
“It’s on me,” I say, refusing his money. “You go put out that fire.”
Lou strides up, panting. “Thank you, Lottie. Nice to meet you,” he says as the entire crew bolts out the door.
That’s something.
Another fire.
Just the thought makes me shudder.
I certainly hope this place doesn’t burn down before I catch the lowlife peddling poison through this place.
Speaking of this place, I’d better go see what caused that horrible racket in the kitchen.
I make a beeline that way, but not a soul in the cramped kitchen seems to know what I’m talking about.
I’ll have to find Charlie. I bet she’ll know what shook the place.
I spot the back door slightly ajar and head on out, but it’s not Charlie I see.
Lying on her back with a bullet through her chest, a slice of my pineapple upside-down cake just inches from her hand, is a familiar brunette with her red lips frozen in a silent scream.
Bella won’t be having another birthday—Bella Hall is dead.
