I nod, then turn my attention back to the phone. “I gotta go. Club business.”
Her sigh crackles over the line, long-suffering and unsurprised. “When isn’t it? Will you at least talk to Tabby next time you have her?”
“Promise,” I say. “I’ll sit her down and make sure she knows she won’t be getting a car or her license ’til she brings those grades up. I’m talking at least a B average again.”
We hang up on only a minimally less frosty note than when the call began. I shove the phone into my back pocket, my jaw clenched tight enough for my teeth to ache.
Just another day in paradise.
Just about the last guy I wanted to see right now.
I follow Big Eddie’s hulking frame out of the office with my mind drifting from the phone call I just had with Rachel. It ran the gamut between topics like the residual bitterness from our divorce, Tabby’s poor grades, the babysitter situation for Jack…
…and now as I head onto the barroom floor with Ed, I’m reminded about yesterday morning.
Less than twenty-four hours ago, I was playing white knight to his niece. She called me above anybody else she knows, asking in a distressed tone if I could pick her up.
How could I turn her down when she sounded so vulnerable and upset?
When I pulled up outside the address she gave, I found a young woman who looked like she’d been through it—dress torn, mascara smeared down her cheeks, bruises visible on her knees and throat and probably other places not in view.
Every instinct in me had demanded I park the truck, bust up through the door, and start cracking skulls ’til somebody told me what the fuck happened to my friend’s niece.
But I’d made a promise. I swore to her I’d keep it between us, whatever it was. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this life, it’s that a man’s word is his bond.
Even if it means lying to the man standing in front of me now.
“You think Peña’s gonna be happy to see us?” Eddie chuckles as we walk into the barroom.
“We sure as hell are about to find out one way or another.”
Mace is leaning against the bar counter when we emerge, shooting the breeze with Mick whose eyes are bright as he tells him about some date he’s going on.
“About time,” Mace drawls when he sees us coming. He jerks his thumb over at Mick. “This one’s been yapping about some dating app for old people.”
“You’d be surprised,” Mick cackles, slapping his dishrag over his shoulder. “You think those of us in our golden years ain’t getting it on? I’ve got a pocket full of magic beans to sell ya!”
I humor him, cracking half of a grin. “Let’s hope those dating sites are still around in twenty years when I need ’em. C’mon, let’s head out.”
The three of us walk out of the saloon and start toward the behemoth of a Hummer parked near all the bikes.
It makes sense this would be Eddie’s ride when he’s not on his bike—he’s as tall and broad as a redwood tree and needs something to accommodate his size.
The sky’s a dreary gray with the drizzle coming and going every other hour. As we pile into Eddie’s car and hit the road, it’s returned again. The windshield wiper slides back and forth as conversation quickly turns to yesterday’s game.
“Heard the Falcons got massacred yesterday,” Mace says, casual as can be. “What was the final score again? Forty-something to jack shit?”
Eddie’s laugh is a rumble of distant thunder. “Big talk from a Longhorns fan. How’s that 5-7 record treating you, huh?”
“That’s college ball, Ed. Stick to the subject at hand. Like your sorry excuse for an NFL team getting absolutely destroyed by a bunch of California pretty boys.”
Their shit talk goes on for a while. I’m amused listening along at first.
Then their voices fade into the background as my thoughts drift back to Solana. She obviously hasn’t told Eddie about what happened. He wouldn’t be in such a relaxed mood otherwise.
But she’d looked like she’d run into real trouble; she really seemed like something was seriously wrong.
I can’t get the image of her watery eyes and torn dress out of my head.
