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What the heck was that?
She added, “He’s only got two VIP passes, but maybe he can pull somestringsfor a regular admission.” She grinned, playing an invisible banjo.
Oh. Strings. I get it. “That’s okay. I can pay for my own ticket.”
“Great. Then come along.” She paused. “But who’s going to close up?”
“I talked to Jimmie. Told him I needed a night off.” It was true. Things felt pretty chaotic lately, in both good and bad ways. “He said he’d swing by and lock up.” It was Jimmie’s poker night anyway. He’d be up until three at least.
“Woohoo! I’ll tell Beau. Oh, and some of his buddies are coming.” She grinned. “You’re gonnalooovethem.” Meaning, I wasn’t.
“What’s wrong with his friends?” I asked.
“Let’s just say they like to get a little rowdy, but they’re all puppy dogs on the inside.”
Sounded perfect.Because Masie Kicklighter is looking for trouble tonight!Of course, the trouble would be in my head and lead to irrational drama.
But would my plan turn out to be the lure I hoped?
“Wow, Masie.” Ashley eyed my yawning face as we stood near one of the concession stands at the very back of the indoor mini-arena. The third band had just left the stage, and by band, I meant it was two dudes playing Beethoven on banjos, Banjoven. “How many drinks you had, girl?”
Not nearly enough.Tonight, I would need all the liquid courage I could get, though I never drank. To be real here, I’d sampled beer, wine, and your standard whiskeys at work, but sipping wasn’t the same as drinking. I just didn’t do it.Except tonight.
Tonight, I also wore tight jeans, my brown and turquoise Dan Posts, and a snug black tank to show off the ladies. My long black hair was up in a high ponytail to expose my neck. Vampire bait. Yes, there was a method to my madness.
“I dunno. Three or four beers, maybe. Lost count after they played ‘Symphony Number Five.’”
I never went to college, but I had a curious mind. Anything foreign to my world in Leiper’s Fork usually piqued my interest. I once spent an entire week watching sumo wrestling on YouTube just because one of my customers mentioned he’d gone to Japan over the summer and saw a match. One mention of “men in giant thongs, giving each other wedgies,” and I was all in.
I also knew how to change my oil, fix a flat, and turn used cooking oil into biodiesel—ChrisFix fan here. I followed the MeatEater and could skin a deer or make jerky. Didn’t taste so great, but I could do it. I’d also spent several months sampling classical music—too dramatic for my taste, but I knew the major composers, just like I knew that banjo music hurt my ears.Like listening to a cat suck lemons.
“Well, you should slow down,” said Ashley. “We still have five more bands before the main event.”
“I was thinking of heading to the taco place across the street.” I pressed my hand over my empty stomach.
“Alone?”
“It’s fine. The place is ten seconds away.” I swiped a hand through the air, thinking it was best if we went our separate ways for the remainder of the night while I carried out my plan. “But you did kinda catch me. I’m not so good at drinking.” I fake hiccupped. “I might just take off after I eat—catch an Uber home.”
“All that way? Let me see if one of Beau’s friends can take…” She whooshed out a breath. “Never mind. They’re all trashed. You sure about the Uber?”
“Yep. I’ll text when I leave—give you the driver’s name and plates and everything.”
“Okay.” Ashley crinkled her nose, seeming conflicted. Here I was tagging along, and now I was taking off early, forcing her to break the sister code. Never let your girls leave alone drunk. But honestly, it was perfectly safe.Minus the vampire stalking me.
“By the way, have you seen any of Beau’s friends?” Ashley asked. “He wanted them to come up front so they could take pictures of him peeking out from the curtain backstage.”
I pointed toward the last row of seats in front of us. “Just follow the trail of angry women.” Beau’s friends had been hitting on anything with melons since we arrived, which was why I’d immediately ditched the idea of using one of them for my plan tonight.
I needed someone I could flirt with and who would reject me because I was too trashed. I.e., men with standards.
Then I could pretend to be a wounded little bird, shot down off her perch. Montgomery Stark, who I hoped was already here watching me like he’d been doing, would swoop in for the rescue. After a nice little “drunken” meltdown and some requisite fake crying about my messed-up life, I would pretend to see how he wasn’t so bad after all. Our friendship would begin. Each day after that, I would warm up to him and start asking questions, learning what I could to defeat my enemy. But it all had to come off as organic, starting with my fake breakdown tonight.
Unfortunately, I was ninety-nine percent sure that Beau’s friends would absolutely hook up with me, sober or not. All they cared about was getting some puddin’.
“I’m sorry the music’s not your thing.” Ashley gave me a hug goodbye. “Don’t forget to text me, ’kay?”
“You got it. Have fun.” I watched her disappear into the crowd, and then put on my best drunk-girl act. I mean, I was pretty tipsy—a must to sell my act in case vampires truly had a superior sense of smell—but I wasn’t wasted.
