The Next Night
When I walk into Rusty Nail Tavern, I wrinkle my nose at the scent of cigarette smoke wafting through the air. Even though customers aren’t allowed to light up inside, the smell clings to their clothes.
It doesn’t help that the smoking area is outside the side door, and no one abides by the 5’ rule so anytime the doors open, which is about every two minutes, a waft of smoke floods through the bar.
That’s if the smoking patron even bothers to shut the door. Most of the customers hold the door open while blowing puffs of smoke behind them in the middle of their ongoing conversation with someone else in the bar.
The Rusty Nail Tavern’s owner, Joe Parkhurst, made the mistake of arguing with City Hall over the number of patrons he could have. He wanted more business and petitioned for 75 customers versus his previous 50. He won, but the joke was on him. The next year, the city banned smoking in all buildings with more than 50 customers.
I scan the room looking for Ruby, finding her talking to Joe at the end of the bar. Joe is in his late 50’s, embarrassingly considers himself a lady’s man, and is eyeing her up and down like she’s a tasty treat.
The lights are dim, making it hard to see into the corners of the bar and the music pipes over the loudspeakers blaring in all directions, making it impossible to hear a conversation from across the room.
Ruby shifts backward as he reaches out his arm, letting it drop down to his side versus laying it over her shoulders and hauling her to him as he intended. She smiles as he leans sideways and stumbles. Gotta love a smalltown bar and its resident overachievers.
A rock song comes to a rousing conclusion as Ruby says, “Be careful.” She grabs his upper arm and rights him onto his feet. “You don’t want to fall on your face and black an eye.”
“It would be worth it for you, baby girl.” His glassy eyes rove over her again.
“Now, Joe, be good.” She pats his bicep.
Moments later, she notices me. “Over here.” She waves her hand toward a booth on the outside of the room. Between the bar and the line of booths are two rows of pool tables with some random out-of-towners racking the balls and hitting a cue ball.
The men are wearing dirty jeans and T-shirts with a construction company logo on the backs of them. It’s a different company than Xavier’s father operates.
I make my way through the mostly empty tables that are haphazardly strewn about the room. With each step, the boards pop under my shoes.
As Ruby walks toward me, the next song picks up where the last one left off and Joe elbows the man beside him, sayingsomething. Clearly it was something lewd due the way they’re laughing and watching her ass.
I slump into the seat opposite her as she flops down into her seat. The cracked cushions whoosh as they accept our weight. “Why in the hell are we here exactly?”
“Because you wouldn’t answer my calls yesterday.”
We rarely come to Rusty Nail Tavern, preferring to go to Callahan’s Bar in the city. This place is filled with creepy old drunks who prey on young girls. That’s not to say there aren’t jerks in the city, because there are. But there, people don’t turn to the door every time it opens to see who’s coming in.
“I’ve been busy.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Doing?”
“Stuff.” I shrug my shoulder and avoid making eye contact with her. Yesterday, I promised myself I’d never utter a word to anyone about my night with Jake, and I intend to live up to that promise.
“Emily,” she growls under her breath. “Spill it.”
I cross my arms over my chest and meet her gaze head on. “I had to work, we were busy, then I went to Mom’s house to check on her because Kaleb couldn’t. She’s doing well by the way. Thank you for asking.”
“Oh no, you don’t.” Her eyes flash with irritation as she shakes her head. “You’re not going to use your mom to make me feel guilty with the sole purpose of distracting me. Those crude forms of manipulation don’t work on me. Josephine said she saw you coming from my street at four o’clock in the morning. Inwrinkled clothes.” She blinks and pins me with a pointed stare. “And you weren’t coming from my house.”
I hate small towns. “I was taking a walk.”
“At four o’clock in the morning?”
“Yes.” I cross my legs and tilt my head sideways giving her a smirk even though it’s not doing any good. She’s not believing a word that I’m saying. But at this point, I’ve made my stand and I’m sticking to it.
“With your hair a mess like you’d just climbed out of bed from a very thorough headboard banging session?”
“My hair wasn’t a mess. I brushed it down…” I inhale through my nose as I slam my mouth shut.The rest of the words peter out as I realize how close I was to spilling everything.
Ruby leans forward. “So, was he any good?”
