“Passing through?” She asks.
“For now.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “That sounds suspicious.”
“It should.”
That answer seems to satisfy her more than a real explanation would have. Her mouth curves again, the expression part amusement and part approval.
“Well,” she says, lifting her bottle slightly in my direction, “whoever you are, Wayne’s going to sleep a lot easier tonight.”
I take a slow drink before answering. “They won’t be back.”
She watches me over the rim of her bottle. “Confident.”
“They’re not that stupid.”
“People surprise me all the time.”
“Not those three.”
She considers that for a second before nodding once like she believes me.
The moment stretches between us quietly, the noise of the bar fading into the background while we sit there across the counter from each other.
Then Rae leans forward slightly, resting her elbows on the bar as she studies my face like she’s returning to the original mystery. “So,” she says. Her eyes flick briefly over my cut again. “Ghost.” She taps her bottle against the bar once. “That a nickname, or are you actually this weird all the time?”
FOUR
RAE
The man sittingacross from me doesn’t move much, which somehow makes him more noticeable than everyone else in the room combined. He sits like a man who’s used to being patient, like stillness is something he practices. Broad shoulders, rough hands around the neck of his beer, dark eyes that don’t wander around the room the way most men’s do when they sit at a bar.
No. His attention stays on me. Which is… interesting.
“So,” I say, tapping my bottle lightly against the bar. “Ghost.”
He watches me for a second like he’s deciding whether the conversation is worth continuing. I get the feeling most people don’t get very far with him. Eventually he exhales slowly and shakes his head once. “That’s just what people call me.”
“Ah,” I say. “So you do have a real name.”
Another pause. Then he says it. “Cole.”
Just a regular guy name attached to a man who just dropped three grown men in a parking lot like it was light exercise.“Cole,” I repeat, rolling the word around like I’m testing it. “I like that better than Cole. Sounds less like you’re about to haunt someone’s attic.”
His mouth twitches slightly, which I’m starting to realize is the closest thing this man has to a smile. Then he takes a slow drink of his beer and sets the bottle down again. “You’ve worked here a long time,” he says.
“Since I was sixteen,” I answer easily.
His eyes flick briefly toward Wayne down the bar, then back to me again. “He’s your boss?”
“Yeah.” The word comes out simple, but something must show in my expression because Cole studies me a little closer.
“You stepped in pretty fast back there.”
I shrug, but there’s no humor in it this time. “They’ve been coming in for a few weeks,” I say. “First it was little comments. Then they started hanging around closing time. Tonight they decided to get bold.”
His jaw tightens slightly. “They ask Wayne for money?”
