It was 7 p.m. by the time I stood, overnight bag in hand, outside The Wharf. It was a bar with accommodation above, located on the edge of a pier. The area had a wide cobblestone road dotted with restaurants, bars, and boutique shops. It was bustling with people, many of them tourists, if the picture taking was anything to go by. It was a stark contrast to the quiet streets and mountaintops of Church Heights.
An easy place to hide.
The bar’s double doors were open, the place full of early drinkers. It had a relaxed vibe, with exposed red-brick walls, soft music, and seats in the corner—not unlike The Hollow. It was easy to imagine Karson sitting there.
The barmaid was a young girl in her early twenties, with curly, long blond hair. She smiled as I approached. “What can I get you?”
“I’m looking for Karson Worthington.”
Her smile died on her lips. “Not for a few weeks now. He stayed here while his house was being renovated, then he moved out.”
“Oh.”
I’d traveled all this way for nothing. Deflated, I dropped my bag on the floor. “I don’t suppose you know where he lives?”
She stared at me, her expression assessing. “No idea, sorry.” She dipped her head to my bag. “Are you from out of town?”
“I am. I also need somewhere to stay, so if you could point me in the direction of reception, please.”
“We have accommodation upstairs. It’s sixty per night.” She pointed through some side doors. “Reception’s around the corner.”
“Thanks,” I said, disheartened. I collected my bag from the floor.
“You could try The Bite later,” she said almost hesitantly. “I know he used to go there a lot.”
I straightened. “The Bite—where’s that?”
“Tressle Lane, on the corner of Main St. Go to the end, big red doors. It’s not signed, and usually you must be invited to get in, but I’ve heard of some girls making it through the doors without one.”
“Thank you...” I paused, not sure what to call her.
“Mackenzie,” she said.
“Amy.”
She beckoned me a little closer with her finger, leaned forward and spoke quietly as if she were sharing a highly classified secret. “If you’re going to get in, jeans and a T-shirt won’t cut it. You need to dress as sexy as possible and wear makeup. They only let certain looks in.”
“Thanks again, Mackenzie.” I turned away.
“Wait, Amy.” She stopped me, I turned back. “I’m not sure what you’re expecting, but if you care for him, you should prepare yourself to see him with someone.”
My chest panged with an irrational flare of jealousy. “He has a girlfriend?”
She grimaced. “Not exactly. Well, not as far as I know. But there’s always someone different hanging off him.”
I faltered. Karson was a player. Was all his behavior in Church Heights just one big act?
“One day, if you allow me, I’d like to take you there.”
He’d played me. And like a desperate fool, I’d fallen for it. I wanted to believe he thought I was special. Because I was pathetic and weak.
“When I first saw you in the bar, you looked like a wounded butterfly. Delicate, beautiful, and broken.”
He’d spotted my insecurities and preyed upon it.
My jaw clenched. I realized Mackenzie was staring at me with sympathy in her eyes.
I swallowed and forced a smile. “I might come down for a drink before I go.”
