“Yes, well, the bar is full of wankers tonight. I suppose a run-in is inevitable. You girls ready to order?”
“Nachos,” huffs a boisterous brunette with her lips painted a caustic shade of hot pink. Her bridal gown has a dark brown stain running down the front as if her own Long Island Iced Tea didn’t quite make it to her fuchsia-stained pie hole.
“You bet.”
Bride Number One waves her pink little member in the air as if it were a flag. “Need hot honey.” Her eyes invert a moment as she shakes her head belligerently. “I can’t believe it, Belinny,” she bleats to Fuchsia Lips.
“Belinda!” The brunette next to her looks up at me, laughing so hard it comes out in a hiss. My God, they’re all blitzed out of their minds—which, of course, is fine by me as long as they’re ready to part with all of the green in their wallet. “I’m her sister,” she practically mouths the words before letting out a braying laugh—so loud, so sharp, so very annoying I’m sure I’ll be hearing this in my sleep. Hell, if she goes up another octave, I’ll be hearing it well after I’m dead. Her octave rises, and there goes any hope of a peaceful eternity. Looks as if I’m damned after all.
Bride Number One lifts a finger, her eyes all but sealed shut. “Get me some hot honey. Hot honey’s gonna make it all better.” She sobs before face-planting onto the table, and the brunette wastes no time in pulling her right back up. Soon, every bride in the establishment is seated back at the table, and they’re singing the battle cry of jilted brides everywhere, Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive.” Sure, it’s heavily out of key—but hell, even I’m tempted to sing along. The band joins in, and it’s one great party.
I head over to Cole. “A round of hot honey for our friends in white.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t serve it. Never heard of it. Besides, even if we did, I wouldn’t dare give them another drink. They’re about five minutes from getting the boot.”
“No way. They want nachos—lots andlotsof nachos. I’m sure all that artery clogging ooey, gooey goodness will sober them up quick—at least long enough for them to leave a big fat tip.”
I make another quick loop between my tables and run smack-dab into Big Bird, aka the Incredibly Angry Hulk who looks as if someone just set his hair on fire, and I’m not talking the hair on his head.
“Hey,” he roars over at me, and I blink back in horror. My body freezes, and I can’t seem to duck and cover to save my life. “Are you Shirley Filer?”
My mouth opens and closes. Yes, it was a brilliant,brilliantmove to use a pseudonym when setting up my own homicide. Shirley was a close second to Serena. And Filer—well, I may have been filing my nails at the time I was talked into meeting up with the homicidal maniac before me. The only enclave of hope I have is to propagate the lies I’ve ruthlessly, yet wisely, set in motion.
“Why no, I’m not.” I offer a pleasant smile along with thetruth. “Can I help you get a seat and maybe a burger to start with?” And maybe a Taser and a pickax through the forehead? That gives me plenty of time to call Marlin and the rest of the boys in blue that this great nation of ours has to offer. Marlin technically works in Jepson, not Hollow Brook, but I’m sure he’d break a few rules and kneecaps for his sweet baby sis.
“The hell you’re not. I got your picture right here.” He flashes his screen my way and, sure enough, there I am smiling like an idiot about to meet her maker by way of a psychotic blind date. I’ve always suspected my life would turn into a cautionary tale. I just never realized that I would so willingly walk into the danger zone. I blame my mother for my lack of dating knowledge and zero fear of strangers. If she would have hung around long enough to teach me a few basic survival skills, I might have actually lived to see the rest of my twenties.
Shep shows up like a knight in shining Armani armor with his chest expanding like a baboon and, at the moment, I happen to be very damn appreciative of those testosterone-laced mammals.
“Is there a problem?”
“Ha!” I’m quick to wrap my arms around Shep and plant a big, fat kiss to his cheek. “No problem! It seems my twin sister,Shirley, is at it again—breaking hearts while swiping right. She’s gone to Mexico for the weekend—I mean, year.” I have a feeling the only panacea to keep this beast away from me is a geographical cure. “It’s just Shep and me, my big, bad attorney-at-law boy toy who knows how to whip up a restraining order with the best of them. Maybe try The Sloppy Pelican? I hear they have an abundance of cougars looking for dates with questionable fashion sense. Rumor has it, if you pop your collar, you’re bound to get lucky within the hour.”
“No kidding? But then, who wouldn’t want to get laid by me?” The Hulk wastes no time in popping said collar while simultaneously displaying his ideological shortcomings.
“I’m outta here.” He leans in close, his eyes crossing ever so slightly as he narrows in on me. “If I get lucky, I’ll have you to thank for it,” he says it like a threat, and I let out a little yelp.
“And if you don’t?”
“And if I don’t, I’m coming back for Shirley,” he openly growls before weaving through the crowd and speeding for the exit.
My eyes close with relief as I exhale the breath I’ve been holding all night. “I’m going to kill Harley.”
“Never confess to a homicide before it actually occurs.” Shep is quick to lecture me. “You do realize I’d be obligated to turn you in.”
“Oh, there will be a murder tonight. Just you wait and see.”
I’m about to exit stage left when Shep slips his arm around my waist once again, this time drawing me in close, and before I can punish him properly, his own lady in white—the ex with the nipple stain—comes up with a toothy grin. She’s pleasant on the eyes, a little shorter than me, a smile that sparkles as if she’s got a secret.
“Who is this little ditty?” She winks my way while razzing Shep.
Ditty? I smacked Dirty Boy for less than that about an hour ago. This chick and her wine-stained boob has severely underestimated what I’m capable of.
“I’m Serena.” I hold out a hand like a civilized human and she shakes it, cold fish, limp as can be. So very unimpressive. It’s no wonder Shep dumped her. He did do the dumping, right?
Her fair hair softens her features, cut just below the jawline in a cute summery style I’ve wanted to try out myself, but I’m too afraid.
“Carmella.” Her eyes flash wide as if her name doubled as a warning. “How long have the two of you been…” She seems uncertain how to frame it. “How long has Shep been making you ditch homeroom?” She offers him a wink at the scholastic dig.
