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Velma comes up on my side, beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “It’s real hot and heavy between you two, eh?”
“You know the answer to that. You’ve already told me you hear us at night, Velm.”
“What a difference a few weeks can make.”
I shrug. “The girl’s not so bad. I was wrong.”
“Never thought I’d hear those words out of you.” She’s still blowing smoke by the time she’s going for another long drink of her beer. “Do me a favor, will ya? Head into the house and grab some newspaper from the bin. We need more if we’re gonna keep this bonfire going.”
Since Sydney’ll be gone for the foreseeable ten to fifteen minutes, I figure Velma’s request gives me something to do. An excuse to ditch the party even if it’s only temporary.
I leave her where she is and head across the dusty pit of rocks that divides the saloon’s patio and the front of Tom’s house.
The loud music and wild screams from the party slip into the background. Silence surrounds me as I let myself into the house and flick on a light.
Right away, I know something’s off. Someone’s here. I’m not alone.
Call it a sixth sense, but I can tell by the vibe in the air. I walk deeper into the house on guard, ready to do what I’ve got to do if the situation comes down to it. For all I know, it’s Sydney or one of the guys wandering through.
I’m almost right.
I make it to the kitchen before the culprit reveals themself.
Sandie tries and fails at slinking up from behind. The problem is, she wobbles on her heels and squints at the bright light. Tequila’s on her breath when she speaks.
“Hey, baby,” she purrs. Her putrid warm breath blows onto my skin and makes me recoil in disgust. “Happy birthday! How about I suck your cock?”
“Get the fuck off me!” I yell, pushing her off me with my forearm.
She stumbles back on unsteady twigs for legs before losing her balance altogether. Plopping onto the kitchen floor, she glares up at me with bleary raccoon eyes.
“Why would you do that?” she mumbles. “You are such a fucking asshole, Mason Cutler.”
“When’re you gonna get it through your thick skull, Sandie? I don’t fucking want you. It was one time. Get the hell out of here or I’ll toss your bony ass out myself.”
Tears well up in her flaky mascara eyes. “You know she doesn’t even want you. Not like I do. She’s playing you, Mace.”
“Sandie,” I growl, gritting my teeth. “This is the last fucking time I’m tell—”
“See for yourself.”
It’s the first time I notice she’s clutching onto something—some kind of small purple book. She tosses it at my feet.
“Go ahead,” she says with a bitter twist of her lips. “Read for yourself what your precious barmaid’s up to. Find out how she really feels about you.”
21
SYDNEY
Mick thanksme for helping him clean up the saloon. Everybody else is out on the patio partying, including the two other barmaids on shift. Melody’s making out with Ozzie, and Jennifer’s dancing on tabletops alongside some of the club girls.
Mick smiles at me. “You’re a good one. Best barmaid we’ve hired in years. Maybe ever.”
“Just doing my job.”
“You go out of your way to help. You can just as easily do the bare minimum like some of the others. But you really try to make the saloon its best.” The lines bracketed around his eyes deepen with his smile.
I warm at the sentiments he expresses. I haven’t intentionally gone out of my way to do anything special. At least not in my eyes. My reason for working at the saloon is self-serving; nothing more than a quest to find out the truth and get revenge on those who deserve it.
