A Mother Would Know (27)

When I open them, the memory of Mac is gone, replaced by a woman in skinny jeans and a halter top slipping into one of the stalls. Exhaling, I dry off my hands. After regaining composure, I head back out.

Suzanne is now talking with a group of women around a circular table in the corner. I pass her and I’m almost to the bar when I stop short. Hudson is talking with someone. From the back I can’t tell who it is.

“...you and that girl last night?” I catch the tail end of a question the strange young man is asking Hudson.

“What girl?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

“Oh, hey, Mrs. Jacobs,” the young man with the heavy-lidded eyes and shaggy hair says.

“Mom, you remember Browning?” Hudson points to his friend.

“Ah, yes.” How could I forget this kid? He and Hudson were always getting into trouble together when they were younger. Any time I got a call from the principal’s office, I could pretty much guarantee Hudson’s explanation would involve something about Jared Browning. “Hi, Jared.”

Struggling to get back onto the bar stool, I say, “I want to hear all about this girl. I didn’t even know Hudson was dating.”

The annoyed expression on Hudson’s face tells me that he was hoping I’d forget his friend’s question. A fair assumption, lately, I guess. But this is a conversation I’m deeply interested in.

“I’m not.” Hudson subtly shakes his head at Jared.

“C’mon, man, you were with her last night,” Browning says, clearly not taking the hint. “The one at Midtown Saloon. What was her name? Holly, or something.”

Holly. Molly? Heat rushes to my skin. Hudson was with Molly last night.

The night she died.

Hudson’s face is red. It may be from the alcohol or how warm it is in here, or it could be something else.

“It was nothing,” he says more to me than to Jared. “We just ran into each other at the bar.”

“Didn’t look like nothing to me,” Jared said, throwing Hudson a wink.

My stomach sours, and this time it’s not from the sangria.

“Was this before or after the fight?” I ask with a laugh to make it seem like an offhanded question.

“Fight?” Jared looks at Hudson, obviously confused.

“Yeah, you were in the bathroom,” Hudson says. “It’s not a big deal.” Then he catches my eye. “We really need to get going.” He looks pointedly at his friend. “Gotta be up early.”

“Oh, right. The job,” Jared says. “Yeah, you better not let me down. I stuck my neck out for you, bro.”

“I won’t.” Hudson claps Jared on the back, then faces me. “Ready?”

“Yep.” Reaching under the bar, I snatch my purse off the hook and stand. After saying goodbye to Jared, I go in search of Jerry and Suzanne. As I weave my way through the tables, I think about how this place feels both familiar and not at the same time, kind of like Hudson.





10





My head is pounding, my mouth paper-dry. Damn those sangrias. I sit up in bed, rubbing my temples. From Hudson’s room, I hear shuffling, slamming, cursing under his breath. After sliding off the bed, I amble out of my room and down the hallway. His door is open, and he’s on the ground, peeking under his bed.

“Everything okay?”

He gets up too fast and hits the side of his head on the bed frame. “Ouch.” Sitting back, he rubs the spot. “Yeah, I just can’t find my employee parking badge.”

“The tag on your key ring?” I try to picture it, to recall if I’ve seen it lying around. It was small, rectangular, black on one side and a barcode on the other.

He sucks in his cheeks in frustration. “I’ve looked everywhere.”

“Want me to help you look?” I kind of hope he’ll say no. My headache is progressively getting worse. I’d expected him to be gone by now. Thought I’d have a quiet house to myself this morning.

“Nah.” He grants me my silent wish. Clutching the edge of his bed, he pulls himself to a standing position, then rakes his fingers through his hair. “I’m running late. I’ll just have to park somewhere else today.”

After snatching his keys off the dresser, he says goodbye, then hurries down the stairs and out the front door. As I make my way down toward the kitchen, I notice the little specks of gray clay on the stairs and in the entryway. Hudson’s been leaving a trail of them in his wake since getting this job. If only he’d clean them up himself, I think sourly as I pour myself a tall glass of water and take an Advil.

Ahh, the house is finally silent.

I slowly make my way back up the stairs, glass of water in hand, dreaming of a long, hot shower. I’m about to head into the bathroom and turn on the water when my phone blares on the nightstand.

It’s Suzanne. I’m sure she’s calling about last night, and I almost don’t answer, but that’s just delaying the inevitable.

“Hey.” Sinking down onto the edge of my bed, I press the phone to my ear.

“Hey, girl,” Suzanne’s raspy voice fills the line. “How ya feelin’?”

“Been better,” I answer honestly.

“I bet.” She laughs.

I want to join in, but don’t dare. The Advil is just kicking in, but the headache’s not gone yet.