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“Maybe, but I’m a dork with a hot date for Sunday. So assuming you don’t spot me stalking you before then, I’ll see you on Sunday night. I’ll even pick you up to make it official. Seven-thirty?”
After agreeing, Lori hung up and jumped from the couch, her exhaustion vanished under the flood of adrenaline. She raced to the computer and sat down to do some serious research on Quinn’s friends.
* * *
“LOOK, MRS. BRIMLEY, I promise your wheel is not about to fall off. You just need new brake pads.” Lori rubbed her forehead and glanced at the clock. Molly had probably arrived at The Bar by now. Mrs. Brimley continued to squawk.
“Ma’am, surely you’ve had bad brakes before? It’s a totally normal sound, just bring it by in the morning and—Yes, I am a girl, but I’ve been working on cars since I could walk. The only time wheels ever ‘fall off’ is during a serious accident,and—” she cut off the old biddy’s high-pitched squeal “—I really don’t think that bumping the curb at the grocery store qualifies.”
The squawking turned to grumbling. God, Lori had hated this woman when she’d run the old movie theater and she was quickly remembering why. Lori glanced at the clock again. “Okay, fine. If you really want me to come tow you in the morning, I will. But it’ll be thirty bucks and your insurance will not cover it, I swear. Call me on Monday after seven-thirty, all right? We’ll do it your way.”
Slamming down the phone, Lori grabbed her keys and darted for the door, glad she’d forgone heels for tonight. Her flip-flops would make faster time on the sidewalk, and they had little fabric roses on them that matched the red polish on her toenails. She actually felt cute tonight, regardless that she’d reverted back to jeans. The jeans were tight, her scarlet tank dipped low, and she knew for a fact there was an extra sway in her hips. All in all, she felt far too cheerful for a woman with her problems.
After carefully picking her way across the rocky lot, she hopped triumphantly onto the sidewalk and started the short two-block trek to The Bar—otherwise known as T-Bar, since thehin the sign had long ago burned out. The place was run-down and decorated in the same style as Lori’s house, but it was the only game in town, and she and Molly had cavorted there often since Molly’s return to town the year before.
Up to that point, Lori had only dropped by occasionally, since she hadn’t had a good friend to hang out with. All the women in town had either left after high school and stayed gone, or they’d married young and started families. Strangely enough, the good housewives of Tumble Creek had a marked disinterest in hitting the town with the community’s lesbian mechanic.
Just as she stepped off the curb to cross the street, a vibration rumbled through Lori’s lower pelvic area, bringing her to an abrupt halt. “Yikes!” she gasped, pressing a hand to her belly. Maybe she should find a better place to keep her cell phone. Or maybe not.
Assuming it was Molly, Lori flipped open the phone and sprinted across the street. “Hello?”
“Lori, wherewereyou last night?” For a moment, she couldn’t place the frantic female voice, and the vandalism popped immediately into her head. Was this the person who’d trashed her garage? But then she heard the caller draw a deep breath. “I went to The Bar, but you guys didn’t show!”
“Helen?”
“You said you and Molly would be there!”
“Oh, jeez.” She smacked her forehead and stopped in the street. “Helen, I’m so sorry.” An approaching pickup honked, the male occupants whistling as they eased past. Only one guy didn’t whistle. He was James Webster, nephew of Miles, the town reporter. She’d fired James a few months before because he’d called her a bitch when she wouldn’t advance his pay. His eyes watched her as the truck rolled past, but he didn’t quite glare.
“How could you leave me alone there?” Helen cried.
“I’m sorry,” Lori muttered. “I had to cancel, and I totally spaced on calling you. Did you and Juan have an argument?”
“Well, no…”
“Regardless, I didn’t mean to leave you just sitting there looking lonely.”
“Yeah…” Her outrage had faded to a suspicious reticence.
Lori stopped dead in her tracks. “Helen?Didyou sit there looking lonely?”
“For a little while.”
“And then?” Raising her eyebrows, she waited for Helen to end the long silence. She waited in vain. “Helen, did you and Juan get back together?”
“No! No, we did not. But I drank that first beer a little fast. I was nervous, and Juan kept glaring at me. And then…I don’t know what happened. I started drinking screwdrivers and you know how those get to me. And then I was crying and Juan was so nice, and I…I woke up in his bed this morning!”
“I see.”
“And then I woke up again in the afternoon, and he was gone, and I think he thinks we’re back together!”
Lori walked the last few yards to the establishment in question, then leaned up against the wall, trying not to think of the last wall she’d leaned against. “Areyou back together?”
“We can’t be!” Helen shouted. “I’m too old for him!”
“Mmm-hmm. Funny, it sounds like you were just the right age a few hours ago.”
“Shut up.”
