Sunset Beach(80)

She watched the bartender as he worked at the back bar. “He’s so fine,” she said, a little too loudly. “I do like a white boy with a good ass. How ’bout you?”

Drue almost choked on her club soda. “Same,” she said finally. “So, did you say you’re a hairdresser?”

“Cosmetology student,” Neesa said. “I been doing hair since I was twelve. Soon as I get my license, I’m gonna open my own salon. Hair, nails, eyelashes, all of it. How ’bout you?”

Drue made a face. “I work for my dad. Nothing very exciting. What’d you do before you started cosmetology school?”

“You know. Whatever. I was working at a dry cleaner’s, but me and the owner didn’t see eye to eye. Before that, I worked at a hotel, out at Sunset Beach.”

“I live at the beach,” Drue said. “Which hotel?”

“Gulf Vista. You know the place?”

“It’s right down the street from my place,” Drue said. She’d been waiting for this moment, hoping for an opening. “Hey, isn’t that where that girl was killed a couple years ago?”

Neesa toyed with a tiny gold cross that hung from a thin chain around her neck. “Mmm-hmm. That was my friend. Jazmin. Real sad.”

“I’m so sorry,” Drue said. “I lost my best friend in April.”

Not exactly a lie. Her mother really was her best friend.

“Ooh. I’m sorry. What happened to her?” Neesa asked.

“Hit-and-run accident,” Drue lied. “She died on the way to the hospital.”

“That’s terrible,” Neesa said indignantly. “Did they ever catch the guy?”

Drue shook her head sadly, silently begging her mother’s forgiveness.

“No. Did they ever find out who killed your friend?”

Neesa stared down into her drink. “No. It was probably some freak. You get a lot of freaks staying in hotels, you know.”

“What kind of work did you do at the hotel?” Drue asked.

“I was a housekeeper. Jazmin was too. That’s how we met. I miss that girl, you know? I mean, we fussed at each other sometimes, but ain’t nobody could stay mad with that girl for long. Jaz, she had a way about her. Always laughing and cutting up.”

“She sounds like she was fun,” Drue said.

“Mmm-hmm.” Neesa tossed back half of her drink, leaving faint traces of the creamy Kahlúa on her vividly painted lips, which she dabbed with her fingertip. “You know, I was working that night.”

“The night she was killed?” Drue tried to sound uninterested, but wasn’t sure she could pull it off.

“We always took our dinner breaks together, if we could. We met up that night, I guess it was around seven. So hot that night. September, you know? Neither of us felt like eating, so we just got a couple of Dr Peppers from the Coke machine and sat around talking, until it was time to get back to work.”

“Was that the last time you saw her alive?”

“Yeah,” Neesa said. She drained the rest of her glass, then suddenly stood up, grasping the edge of the bar with both hands to steady herself. “I gotta go. Got class tomorrow morning, and we’re doing razor cuts.”

She swayed a little, then sat back down abruptly. “Whoa. Cowboy mighta made that last drink a little stout.” She dug in her pocketbook and brought out her phone.

“How are you getting home?” Drue asked. “You’re not driving, right?”

Neesa looked around the crowded bar. “I thought I had me a ride home, but looks like his friend made him leave already. Guess I’ll see about a cab.”

“Where do you live?” Drue asked quickly. “I can give you a ride. I was just about to leave, myself.”

“Down the road a ways,” Neesa said. “You sure you don’t mind?”

“Positive.”



* * *



It had started to rain while they were inside Mister B’s. Neesa stood next to Drue with shoulders hunched under the shelter of the club’s covered entryway, looking up at the sky. “Girl, I hope the rain don’t mess up this wig. I kinda borrowed it from school.”

“I’ll go get my car and pick you up,” Drue said. “Stay here and I’ll be right back.”

Her bad knee protested as she sprinted through the deepening puddles in the parking lot, but she didn’t care. She found OJ, jumped in the driver’s seat and pulled out the ashtray, where she carefully positioned her cell phone. Then she drove through the downpour to the club’s entry, blinking her headlights to let her passenger know her ride had arrived.

Drue watched while Neesa wobbled toward the Bronco, teetering precariously atop her spike-heeled metal-studded boots. As Neesa approached, Drue tapped the Record button on the phone and slid the ashtray back into the dashboard.

“Where to?” she asked, as they pulled out of the parking lot.

Neesa yawned widely. “Straight down this road for ten miles, then when you get to the Walmart shopping center, take a left at the light. My complex is behind there.” She leaned back in the seat, her neck lolling against the headrest.

Drue was afraid the other woman was about to nod off. “What’s it like, working in a big hotel?” she blurted. “Do the guests, like, hit on you? Stuff like that?”