They are gone. My exhale is long and loud.
My shaking hand shifts into drive, thinking over what just happened, and my idea to place a phone call.
Perhaps it would be a good idea to put Sheriff Monroe's cell phone number in my phone. Just in case.
I’m sure Wyatt has it.
10
Jessie
By the timeI reach Bar N, I’ve pushed the hunters out of my mind. All I want is a drink, and lucky for me, I’m in the right place.
It’s no fun ordering a drink here, now that I can do so legally. I've been sneaking into this place for two years, using a fake ID in the most flagrant of ways. The bartender, Paula, knew exactly who I was and that I was not of legal drinking age. But, like my ID stated, I was Bailey Johnson, a fresh-faced twenty-two-year-old from Ohio.
"Hi Paula. Can I have a vodka soda, please?"
She nods. Her head is partially shaven, and she has the unshaven part flipped over her head and pinned back with an elaborate barrette. "I have to ID you."
I hand over my real ID. The slight uptick of her eyebrows is my only confirmation of just how fake she always knew my previous ID was. Paula hands me my drink and I hand her cash, then head for my best friend.
Marlowe sits at a far table, her back to the entrance. She stands and her eyes light up when she sees me. She weaves through tables and chairs, arms open and her purse out on the table. This isn't the kind of place where you need to worry about your belongings. It's just as likely the person at the neighboring table is also your real neighbor. So, unless you’re an inconsiderate asshole who blares loud music in the middle of the night or refuses to trim your lawn, your personal belongings are safe.
"Hey, lovely lady," Marlowe croons, wrapping me in a hug.
I smile into her wavy brown hair. "Hey there."
She gives me an extra squeeze and I try to keep my drink from spilling over. We settle down at the table and she sips her beer. “Tell me everything," she instructs, pointing the lip of her bottle at me when she’s finished drinking from it. "Don't leave anything out."
So I do. She already knew I was seeing Austin, and she's almost as shocked to learn he's a husband and a father as I was.
"I don't understand how a person can be so duplicitous. It's hard enough to live one life, who wants the headache of juggling two?" She makes a face. "Are you going to tell the wife?"
I poke at the ice in my drink with the tiny red straw Paula included. "What's the point?"
Marlowe's nose wrinkles. She looks disappointed in me. "You have a duty to save her from a man who, let’s be honest here, is very likely to be a serial philanderer. No offense," she adds.
"None taken. I know I'm not special." It stings a little, this tiny truth. My ego would prefer it if I were just so irresistible Austin couldn't help but stray, but it’s far more likely the thrill was the drug.
Marlowe gives me a look. "You know that's not what I meant. Of course you're special. I just don't believe you're the last."
My next thought is icky, and it makes the corners of my lips turn down. "Maybe I wasn't the first either." It's the first time since I caught Austin that I actually feel sad. I didn't love him, but I did like him. We had a good thing going. I shrug off the bad feeling. "Doesn't matter. It's over now. Onward and upward." At those words, Sawyer’s image pokes into my mind. I open my mouth to mention him, but Marlowe is already speaking.
"Hear, hear," she bellows playfully, tapping the bottom of her bottle against the bottom of my glass. “You’ll have to confront him eventually though. I mean, youarein his class.”
I make a bare-teeth face and shake my head. “Not anymore.” The whole story spills out, and various expressions flit across Marlowe’s face as the story progresses.
“Jessie…” My name is spoken as an exasperation.
“I know,” I sigh. “It was stupid.”
Marlowe’s head tips to the side. “It was actually really smart. But very foolish.”
A reluctant smile lifts one corner of my mouth. “It was fun. Until I got in trouble for it, anyway.”
“What's next for you?"
"Trying to talk my parents into letting me work on the HCC."
