“Coffee?” I asked the new couple as they pulled menus from between the salt and pepper shakers. It was the Cooks. Lord, help us all.
They were good friends with Levi’s parents. Rich Cole and Dennis Cook had been running in the same circles since they were kids. Now the two of them practically owned this town. Not in the proper ways, mind you. They weren’t elected officials or anything. They just had all the money and influence to get whatever they wanted.
The Cooks were most recently responsible for the latest Clark City High School jumbotron, making them practically small-town saints.
“Please,” Dennis mumbled.
“Do you have creamer?” Carol Cook asked sweetly.
I filled up their mugs and pointed to the dish already on the table. “We just have what’s in front of you already, ma’am.”
Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “How about milk or half and half? Surely you have real half and half?”
I swallowed down a tart reply. “I’m happy to check for you.”
“Do that,” she answered. “And when you get back, we’ll be ready to order.”
I smiled, but it was paper thin. “Be right back.”
Turning around, I heard Carol Cook drop her voice and whisper to her husband, “That’s the daughter of that stripper. The one with the kid.”
“Hmph,” was his reply. “At least she’s found more suitable work.”
“That we know about,” Carol sighed.
Biting my tongue, I just managed to keep from turning around and clarifying. “Manager,” I wanted to say. “She’s a strip clubmanager. She hasn’t taken her clothes off for money in twenty years.”
I blinked at the hot plate where I returned the half-full coffee pot. “Now she does it for free,” I whispered.
The bells on the door jingled again and I escaped into the kitchen before I had to greet another judgmental shrew. I didn’t care who it was at this point. They were all the same.
How exactly did they think a strip club existed so close to Clark City anyway? Who did they think frequented the establishment? It wasn’t like a hot spot for tourism.
Besides, it wasn’t even completely nude. That wasn’t allowed in Nebraska. Technically, they had to keep some clothing on—or at least that’s what local law enforcement said.
But I was sure Dennis Cook knew more about that than I did.
“What are you looking for?” Reggie demanded as I rummaged through the cooler.
“Half and half? Do we have any?
“Half and half? Why?”
I turned around, so he could see the look on my face and know not to mess with me. “One of our patrons demands half and half for her coffee. I’m not asking you to solve world hunger. I’m just trying not to piss people off this morning, Reg. Please tell me we have some.”
He made a sound in the back of his throat. “Maybe it’s time you start pissing people off,Rube. Might do those wrinkles in your forehead some good.”
“Did you want to die today?” I asked him calmly. Thunder boomed outside, mimicking my mood. “Better call the wife and tell her you love her because I swear I will put you in the ground if you talk about my forehead wrinkles one more time.”
The kitchen staff snickered at my threat, but Reggie just rolled his eyes. He was roughly twice my size and had arm muscles bigger than my head. Yeah, I was probably not going to be able to take him out today.
Or any day.
“The half and half is on the top shelf. The saucer is in the—”
“I know where the saucer is. Thank you.”
He made another humming noise. “You’re welcome.” When I left the kitchen I heard him say, “Woman’s on the rampage today. Damn.”
