Where One Goes(8)

“Oh, and here.” Ginger sets a brown paper bag on the counter. “These are my homemade blueberry muffins. You need to eat, girly. Put a little meat on those bones. That’s what men ‘round here like on a woman.”

“I like big butts and I cannot lie.” I rap like Sir Mix A-Lot and thrust my hips. I see a ghost of a smile on her lips, and I know she wants to laugh at me.

Charlotte smiles at Ginger and takes the bag. “You’re too kind. Thank you so much.”

“I’ll see you later, hon. Oh, and Mrs. Mercer, I call her Susan, said Mr. Mercer had your truck towed in this morning to their gas station. They filled it up and brought it here. She said it’s parked around the side of the motel.”

Charlotte looks right at me. Something I noticed she rarely does in front of other people. “I told you they were nice people,” I shrug. “Come on.”

“Thank you, Ginger.” Charlotte waves before we exit.

“What is this place? Fucking Mayberry? Why is everyone so freaking nice?”

“Not everyone,” I snort. “You’ll meet the town *s soon enough.”





I feel like I’ve officially entered an alternate universe. I immediately drove to the Mercer’s gas station where Mr. Mercer refused to take the hundred dollars. After much pleading, he agreed to hold my necklace until I could repay him, but he said I had to have a job first before he’d take a dime from me. So Ike and I loaded up in my 4Runner and drove two miles south until we parked in front of place called Ike and George’s.

“You own a restaurant?” I ask as I stare up at the sign.

“I did. It’s all George’s now.”

“Ike and George’s? Original,” I try to joke and glance at him. He stares at the sign and shakes his head.

“I had two months left and I was out. I wasn’t going to sign-up for another tour. I was going to come back here and run this place with him. But . . .” He lets out an audible sigh. “Plans change, right?”

“May I ask how a restaurant survives in such a small town?” I try to change the subject.

“My family owns the building so we have no rent, and we’re one of only three bars in town. This is a big tourist spot, especially in the fall, like I told you. The Plantation is that huge place over there.” He points behind us where I see some huge stone pillars leading toward what looks like a gigantic mansion. “We get a lot of business from them as well.”

“I see.” I nod in understanding. “And is this where you think you’ll help me find employment?”

“It is. You can waitress, right?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go in.”

The inside of the restaurant is rustic, with barrels set up and a bar top running along them. The floors have that unfinished-but-worn look, and country music plays over the speakers. I sidle up to the bar, Ike at my side, and take a seat, glancing around, trying to spot someone who works here. There’s a tin bucket of peanuts on the bar and my stomach grumbles. I didn’t eat Ginger’s muffins yet so I grab a handful and begin cracking the shells.

Suddenly, a blonde with way too much eyeliner appears and gives me a toothy grin. “I didn’t hear you come in, hon. How are you?” she asks.

“That’s because she was probably in the back snorting a line of coke or blowing the boss,” Ike adds, and it takes all my strength not to go wide-eyed and look at him.

“I’m good. Thank you,” I answer her after I get past my shock.

“Did you want to see a menu?”

“Tell her you’re here to speak with George,” Ike instructs me.

“Actually, I’m here to speak with George.” Her brows furrow at my words, and she gives me a good once-over.

“Is he expecting you?” she asks, suspicion laced in her tone.

“Stupid bitch,” Ike growls.

“No, he’s not,” I answer quickly.

“And you are?” she asks. Ike is seething beside me, but I don’t understand why. Her questioning is starting to get on my nerves, but I’m not pissed like he is.

“My name is Charlotte. But people call me—”

“Misty!” a deep voice bellows from the kitchen. I turn in its direction and almost fall off my stool when he rounds the corner from the kitchen. “Misty! Where’s the closeout from last night?”

My mouth drops open, and all I can do is stare. It’s Ike. It’s Ike in the flesh.

“Did I mention George was my identical twin?” Ike whispers from behind me as he softly chuckles.

Before I can think about it, I glance back at him, shock written across my entire face. I can’t explain what it’s like to see someone dead and see their mirror image in the flesh. My mind is mush right now.

“George, this little girl says she’d like to speak with you,” Misty ignores his question and jerks her chin toward me, her sudden distaste for me evident in her tone.

Little girl? Did she seriously just call me that? Normally I’d be pissed, but I’m still lost in awe of Ike’s brother looking just like him, so I brush off the insult and focus on the matter at hand.

“Oh yeah?” His gaze meets mine and he cocks his head to the side. “Do I know you?”