by Lee Winter
Wait… “Geez! How did you get that bruise?” Alex gasped. “It’s huge.”
The woman lurched around, wrenching her shirt down, and glowered.
Alex found herself in the familiar glare of the woman she’d almost flattened yesterday. “Oh. Right.”
With an annoyed look, Sam flattened the wrinkles out of her T-shirt and reached for her jacket’s zip.
“Did you get a doctor to look at that?” Alex asked.
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry, your money’s safe, in case you’re afraid I’m going to sue.”
“That wasn’t—” Alex started to protest. “Wait, have you been thinking of suing us?” She pictured ‘Shezan Director Almost Kills Local’ headlines in the mix of atrocious press they’d already had.
“And there it is.” Sam washed her hands. “Knew it.” She was leaning over the sink too carefully.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“No.” Sam met her eyes in the mirror. Her words were cool.
“Okay, let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
Sam took a step toward her.
Awkward silence grew as Alex felt the heat being radiated off Sam. She was so damned near, right inside Alex’s space. Why?
“You could get out of my way.” An impatient look flitted across Sam’s face, and that cool gaze darted to the door.
Which Alex was blocking. Oh! Oh shit.
“Right, yep.” Alex gave a tight nod. “Got it. I’ll just…y’know.” She jerked her thumb at a toilet stall. “Get out of your hair. Let you poke over your war wounds or whatever.” She shut the stall door behind her. As she undid her belt, she couldn’t resist calling out: “But you’ve got to get that checked out, okay?”
No reply. A moment later, the bathroom’s main door opened and closed noisily.
“Bye,” Alex said to herself since the woman had plainly left. “Christ, it’s people being so cheerful that keeps me going.” Sam probably thought Alex was the weirdest, nosiest chick around. She could hardly blame her.
The tips of two black boots briefly came into view beneath the door.
Oh fuck. So…not gone then? Someone else must have come in instead.
This time, when the main door opened and shut, Alex didn’t say a peep.
“I like cheerful people, too, darling,” came Skye’s amused voice from near the sinks. “Now then, who was that tower of broodiness who just left? And how many of her kittens did you run over?”
Alex sighed. “Not sure, but I think it was a lot.”
As she washed up a few minutes later, she chose not to dwell on why Sam’s opinion of her even mattered in the first place. Or why she suddenly wanted to fix it. Either way, if they were going to be bumping into each other on the regular, some positive PR might be the go.
Sam was ready to bail. It’d been stupid to agree to come to the pub tonight anyway, but Gina had been so insistent that morning. And if she’d said no, she’d have had to explain why she was in no fit state to be sociable.
She had slept most of the day, woken up late in the afternoon, taken some pain killers, and headed for Te Wharariki Hotel. She’d even felt okay through most of Gina’s sublime Garlic Crumbed Trout Special.
But between being polite with the locals and ignoring the entire Shezan crew that had just poured through the door, the dull ache in her side turned into raw pain.
Retreating to the bathroom for a quiet look at her injuries, she wound up with Alex Levitin in her face instead. Her concern over Sam’s injuries was obviously all about the size of the insurance bill.
Strange woman.
Sam left the bathroom, ready to call it a night. She’d done her duty and put in enough of an appearance to get Gina off her back about her lack of socializing.
“Leaving so soon?” Sid blocked the pub’s rear exit. “Ain’t even seven-thirty.”
“You sound way too perky. And I’m tired.”
“Pity. I was gonna introduce you to Shezan’s new boss. They got their asses one cool director now. Hell, Shezan mightn’t end up so bad, eh?”
“Don’t hold your breath. Anyway, I don’t care. I’m heading off.”
“Nah, stay! Come on, Sam. I might even break out the guitar tonight! Get the place jumping?”
“If that’s the best you can offer, I’m definitely leaving,” she deadpanned.
“You love my singing.” He feigned a hurt look.
“I love my bed more.”
“Kev said you once called my voice smoother than molten caramel.” He showed all his gleaming white teeth in a charming grin.
“I had no idea your little brother was suffering from delusions. Tell him to get that checked out. Speaking of Kevin, where’s he been hiding? I haven’t seen him around.”
“He got a new job.” Sid shifted uneasily.
“Oh great.” She exhaled. “A job?”
“No, not like that. It’s legit.” Sid’s eyes darted about.
“If it’s legit, then why didn’t I hear about it on GNN?” Gina’s informal gossip network was legion, after all.
Sid smirked. “Because he hasn’t told Mum yet. He doesn’t want to jinx it.”
“Oh sure, that’s why.” Sam slapped his enormous barrel chest. “Come on, that boy’s got stickier fingers than a lizard. Spent half my life hauling his ass out of trouble, and you know it.”
“But—”
“Mac’s Three Wolves Pale Ale,” a voice said near Sam’s ear, followed by the appearance of a large, frothy beer. “That’s your drink, right?” Alex Levitin’s hopeful face greeted her.
Sid embraced the interruption. “Right-ho, I’ll leave you guys to catch up!” He made good his escape before she could argue.
“I asked Gina what you like,” Alex said. “Did you know she knows every single type of drink you love? That’s amazing.”
“You think so?”
“Well, sure. It’s a level of customer service I’ve never seen.”
Sam eyed her cautiously, wondering what the catch was.
“So?” Alex said, arm still holding out the now-wobbling drink. “I think we’ve already established that I’m a weakling, unable to shift large motorcycles from desperate damsels. And this glass is huge and heavy.” She quirked her lips. “So…”
“I don’t recall ever being a desperate damsel. In fact, I seem to recall rescuing myself.” Sam reluctantly relieved Alex of the beer. With a sigh, she said, “Can we just say I accept your apology for everything you’ve ever done to me and leave it at that? You don’t need to bribe me.”
“It’s not a bribe. It’s a ‘Hey, look at this beer I found, I better get it to its rightful owner’ thing.” She grinned.
“Uh-huh.” Sam became aware of several locals watching them, curiosity burning in their expressions. Her gaze slid about the pub. A table at the back corner between the fire escape exit and the dart board seemed deserted. Maybe she could dispense with the pleasantries and this persistent woman out of the line of sight of the other patrons.
“Great idea.” Alex nodded and started heading for the corner table.
“No, it’s not! I did not suggest—” Sam couldn’t help but notice her feet were following.
“Didn’t have to.” Alex slid into the chair and waved Sam closer. “Sit.” She smiled. “Come on, one drink.”
Sam slid slowly into the seat opposite. One drink wouldn’t kill her, she conceded.
“Why did you choose this table?” Alex asked curiously. “Is it because you don’t like being the center of attention?”
Am I that obvious? Sam took a sip of her beer before answering. “I suppose.”
“Do you know you’re rare as hen’s teeth in my world?”
“I am?”
“Everyone I meet in LA’s dying to get noticed. Makes for a long day.”
/> Sam scowled at the reminder of the woman’s work on Shezan. “What do you do in the movies? What’s your job, exactly?”
“Ah, there you are!” Gina bustled over to Alex. “Thought I’d lost you.” She slapped a small bottle of beer in front of her, along with a clean glass and a salad.
“Um, I didn’t order this.” Alex pointed to the beer.
“It’s on the house. Your friend Skye—lovely woman, by the way—tells me this is your second-favorite beer, but we don’t have your favorite. Stay long enough, though, and maybe I’ll order some in.” She beamed, pouring amber fluid into the glass, the frothy white head a perfect inch at the top. “Enjoy.” She took off again, her wide arms pumping.
“I dread to ask what I did to deserve this from the pub owner.” Alex took a sip.
“You prevented me from fleeing tonight. Gina’s mighty grateful,” Sam drawled.
“Why does she care what you do?”
“She’s called Mumma G for a reason. She fusses over everyone.”
“She worries about you especially. The way she talks about you is filled with affection.”
How…perceptive. But to hell Sam was going to explain that Gina had raised her for six years with her own family. “That’s just Gina. So this month she’s decided I should get out more. So what?”
“Oh, right.” Alex grinned. She lifted her glass. “Well, cheers.”
Sam couldn’t bring herself to clink glasses, even for politeness. She was worn out. Why was she even here, enduring this stranger and her third degree?
“So…” Alex took another sip of beer, watching her. “She thinks you don’t get out much?”
“Of course I do!” What an idea.
“No argument from me. We met because you do get out, didn’t we?”
“True.” Sam suppressed her annoyance at the reminder. Roger at A1 Mechanics still hadn’t been able to give her a date for getting her bike back. He’d finished writing her up a quote, though. When he’d told her the amount, she’d almost choked on all the zeroes. “Special custom paint had to be ordered in,” he’d explained. Good thing she wasn’t paying.
“Tell me about your beloved Tiger. Had it long?”
“Three years.”
“It’s a passion for you, trail-bike riding?”
“Yes.”
“Do you go out often? Is it always the same trails?”
“It varies.”
“Which is your favorite?”
“Why? You’re not planning on riding the trails, are you?”
“Oh God, no. That’s not my thing,” Alex said. “Besides, if I went down, unlike you, I’d stay pinned.” She laughed.
Sam was inclined to agree. There wasn’t much to her; a sparrow was right. She studied her glass. Three more gulps and she could thank Alex for the beer and leave. Actually, why had she even agreed to sit with this annoying woman?
“Have you always lived in Ika Whenu?”
Sam shrugged in response, sighed, then took a great gulp of beer until the glass was almost drained. Sooner this was over, the better.
“Okay, easier one. What do you do for a living?” Alex asked.
She finished the beer. “I’m surprised the locals haven’t filled you in by now.” She really was. Sam banged her now empty glass on the table.
“I never asked. Should I have? This sounds interesting.”
Sam studied her glass, white foam remnants sliding down the inside. People never found the answer to that question interesting. They clammed up, stepped back, got guarded, and then the awkward jokes started. Don’t arrest me, okay? Her jaw tightened.
“Hmm, no comment, huh?” Alex studied her. “Okay then, let me guess.” Her gaze slipped appreciatively over Sam’s figure. “Personal trainer?”
“Out here? People would laugh if a gym ever opened up.”
“Army drill sergeant?” Alex’s eyes glittered. “You know, running a soft bunch of recruits into the ground, screaming out orders.”
“People who have to scream to get respect have already lost it.”
“Deep.” Alex’s eyes sparkled. “Lumberjack, fire fighter, construction worker, oil rigger, or mountain climber?”
“I’m sensing a theme.” Sam almost smiled. “And no.”
“Well then, that just leaves Amazon.”
“Excuse me?”
“You look like an Amazon. So…what other conclusion do I have left?” She gave her an innocent look. “Want to come audition to be an Amazon extra?”
Distaste coated her tongue. “Hell. No.”
Alex burst out laughing. “How did I know you were going to say that?”
“I hide my love for your film so well.” Sam firmly repressed a lip twitch. She absolutely was not amused. No, siree.
“So what do you do? And if you refuse to answer again, I’ll be pretty disappointed.” Her smile was wide and a little infectious.
Sam resisted her charms. Typical Hollywood schmoozing, no doubt. But she wasn’t easily buttered up by a cute face or a cheeky smile… She blinked. Not that Alex Levitin is cute or cheeky. Alex was a manipulator, and Sam didn’t owe anyone explanations. “Feel free to leave if you don’t like the company. I won’t be offended,” she said indifferently and waved at the Exit door near them.
Alex put her elbow on the table, formed a fist and rested her chin on it, and sized her up. “Nope. I like a challenge.”
“Or you just like badgering strangers.”
“That, too.” Alex’s roaming gaze settled on the dart board. “Do you play ‘martial arts?’”
Sam blinked.
“Darts? Do you play?”
Many hours of her misspent youth had been in here with that dart board. There wasn’t a lot to do in Ika Whenu as a kid, so, by fifteen, she’d become the best player in town. “Some.”
“So I have a challenge then: We do the best of three rounds. And if I win, you answer my question in no less than fifty words. None of these monosyllabic, too-cool-for-this-conversation answers.”
Surely Sam’s job wasn’t that interesting to Alex? “And what do I get if I win?”
“Name it.” Alex grinned.
That was a tempting prospect. “If I win, you stop this.” Sam waved her hand between them.
“Stop what?”
“Badgering me.”
“No one forced you to sit with me.” Alex’s shoulders tensed. Her brows drew together. “Is that really how you see this?”
Was it? Sam was no longer entirely certain. It was true she had sat down here under her own steam. Probably just needed a break after her damned ribs had started aching again. That’s all it was. And it certainly didn’t mean she wanted this…peculiar, persistent woman all up in her face. “I meant stop trying to know me. I don’t like it when people do that.”
“You don’t like when people try to make friends with you?” Alex’s eyes widened in surprise.
Sam shook her head. “It’s when they grill me to figure out what makes me tick. I’m not a science project. People only ever want to know me because they’re nosy. Then they get their answers and fixate on someone else. That’s life in a small town. Don’t need it from strangers, too.” She shrugged as if to say, This doesn’t bother me one bit.
It did, though. Always had. She was only ever interesting until people got to know her. Then they got bored because she wasn’t what they wanted her to be. She’d never be much of a conversationalist, for instance. She’d always been too introspective, too brooding, too tough, too tall, too closed off. And she’d never be the life of a party. If you wanted someone to singlehandedly kick out a dozen rowdy gatecrashers, though, Sam was your gal.
“I’m not people,” Alex protested. “I’m genuinely trying to find out more about you. You’re interesting to me.”
“Or, more likely, I’m some curious
itch to be scratched.” Sam rolled her eyes. “I’ll agree to your challenge, but only one round.”
“Two rounds,” Alex said. “And I’m interested in people.”
“Well, there’s a depressing hobby if ever I heard one. In my experience, people tend to disappoint.” Sam finished the last of her beer. “And only one round.”
“As if you could ever disappoint,” Alex scoffed, mischief in her eye.
Is she…flirting? Sam started. No. Surely not.
“Two rounds,” Alex continued. “Non-negotiable. And before you say no, imagine winning. You’ll finally be rid of me.”
“Good point.” Sam rose instantly.
“Wow, you agreed to that pretty fast. Should I be offended?” Alex’s eyes teased her.
“Probably.” This time, Sam allowed a small smile. “I’ll get the darts.”
Returning a few minutes later, she laid out a tray of three darts, then pointed behind her. “See where that rug ends? That’s what we use as the toe line. Want to go first?”
“It’s been years since I tossed a dart. I’ll probably nail one into the brick work. Why don’t you start?” Alex pushed the darts Sam’s way. “Show me how it’s done.”
“I haven’t played in years, either.” But it’s like riding a bike. Sam rose, fingers stroking the familiar roughness of the knurling pattern on the grip. To her surprise, she felt a little skip of excitement as she headed for the line.
Aiming, she tossed the first dart. A little off target, it embedded in the twenty wedge. Pain shot up her side. Damn it.
She surreptitiously rubbed her side, then threw the second dart. It shot a little left and hit the five. Rusty. Also, that really hurt. Biting hard on her lip, she tried again.
Her third dart dug into the outer ring of the bullseye. Not quite on target, but satisfyingly close. She extracted the darts and glanced back at Alex, who was watching with an inscrutable expression.
“Pretty good for someone who hasn’t played in years.” Alex sounded amused. “You’re not pulling a con on me, are you?”
“Don’t believe in cons.”
“Interesting to know.” Alex waved at the dart board. “Have your second round. I want to try this salad first.” She picked up the fork, spearing lettuce and tomato.
