Where One Goes(11)

I move to another table and slide in the booth to put the shakers in their place. “Well, don’t get me hurt trying. He looked like he wanted to hit something.”

“He would never hit you. I swear it.”

“He’ll probably fire me.”

“No. But he will be thinking about you.”

“Yeah. Like how I remind him of you and how much it hurts.”

“He’s a drug addict, Charlotte. Misty is his dealer. I need to get her away from him before he kills himself by overdosing.”


I close my eyes. This deal we made gets more complicated by the second. Now I’m helping Ike settle his affairs by saving his junkie brother and somehow sending the drug dealer girlfriend away. “Look, Ike. You can give me pointers and intel, but you have to let me control this. I do have a little experience in these situations.”

“Okay,” he huffs in defeat. “We’ll try it your way for now.”

“Thank you.” I smile and head toward the bar where I see Misty staring at me. She just saw me talking to Ike, except he’s invisible to her so she saw me talking to myself. I decide to ignore that little fact and act like I don’t notice her staring at me.

“What can I do now, Misty?”



The afternoon bleeds into the evening and the bar actually gets crowded with the happy hour folks on their way home from work and tourists from around the county. Other than Ike and George’s, the only other places to eat in town are a restaurant named Sam Snead’s and a tiny place called Lindsay’s Roost Bar & Grill. There are a few other pizza and sub places around, but not in town. I follow another waitress, Anna, so she can show me the ropes. She also fills me in on all the gossip.

“So Misty and George are screwing,” she whispers as we stand out back by the dumpster while she smokes a cigarette. Her curly, blond hair is in a tight ponytail and her lipstick is a deep shade of bright red. It’s not a very flattering color on her, even though she’s very pretty with bright blue eyes and perfect white teeth. “Misty dates Roger and she’s running around behind his back, but he doesn’t know,” she says, in her Southern accent. “He’d be real mad if he found out.”

“And no one tells him?” I mean, seriously, this town is the size of a needle point, and I imagine this is the kind of juicy gossip to get all the town hens clucking.

“You know how they say, ‘don’t kill the messenger’? Well, Roger would kill the messenger.” Anna’s eyes go wide in emphasis.

“Really? You think he’d murder George if he found out?” I ask, somewhat alarmed, wondering if, yet again, I’m faced with another dilemma in helping George.

“No,” Ike shakes his head.

“Well maybe not that, but he’d definitely beat the shit out of him. And poor George.” Anna shakes her head. “He’s just been a mess since his brother died. His brother, Ike, was his twin, ya know? Fine piece of man, too. It really is a shame.”

“I broke a lot of young ladies hearts when I died,” Ike jokes, and I smile sadly. I believe he did.

“I didn’t know he had a twin brother,” I lie. “And how does this Roger stay oblivious?”

She takes a drag of her cigarette and answers me as smoke billows out of her mouth. “Well, between us, he’s the town drug dealer, and he owns a mechanic shop on Berkley. I guess he’s been too busy to notice his whore of a girlfriend is running around on him. She’s not my favorite person, if I’m being honest, and she thinks because she’s banging the boss she runs this place.”

“Misty is a whore,” Ike agrees.

“I don’t think she thinks much of me,” I admit.

“That’s because you’re pretty and new in town. Don’t sweat her, girl.” Anna flicks her cigarette under the dumpster. “Anyway, don’t tell a soul what I just told you. I don’t normally gossip, but you got me going tonight.”

“She’s a vault. You should totally confide all of your deepest, darkest secrets in her,” Ike says, dryly, and I smile against my will.

“Your secrets are safe with me.”

When we reenter the bar, George catches sight of me and narrows his gaze. He’s suspicious of me, and other than the Johnny Cash song thing I’m not sure why. I give a bright smile, but he looks away.

“So you’re the new girl?” A tall man with piercing blue eyes approaches me. I recognize him from the kitchen, but we weren’t introduced, and I haven’t been able to get a good look at him. His accent is Scottish, or Irish—something foreign. I know he works here as he’s wearing the Ike and George’s T-shirt, which is stretched across his massive, muscular chest. In fact, it’s so tight, I can see his nipple rings poking out of his shirt.

“Could you close your mouth, love? You’re drooling,” Ike warns, and I quickly adjust my posture and close my gaping mouth.

“Um, yeah,” I answer as I turn to face him.

“You didn’t tell me she was bloody hot,” he yells across the bar to George, who cuts him a warning look as I blush. Some of the patrons at the bar turn their heads in our direction and chuckle; the men’s eyes roaming my body. My cheeks flame with heat and embarrassment. “I’m Sniper. I’m the other manager here, and if you’re sensitive to sexual harassment, you should probably quit now because if I think you’re sexy, I’m going to tell you.” He extends his hand and I take it, noticing how little and dainty my hand seems in his.