Welcome to Castle Cove

by Kory M. Shrum

  Did that bartender roofy me?

  “Would you like another drink?” the man beside me says. He moves closer, pressing his thigh against my thigh.

  “I sure am thirsty,” the other man says and they both laugh.

  “No,” I say. “I think I’ve had enough.”

  “Are you a lightweight?” one of them asks.

  “Oh, Baltimore can drink,” Katie says, but she sounds just as drunk as I do. “She drinks like my Aunt Clarice.”

  And Katie is right. I’m no lightweight. Something is definitely wrong. I open my mouth to warn her when a familiar figure steps up to the side of our booth.

  At first, I think I’m dreaming. But that scowl is too real.

  I laugh. “Of course you’re here.”

  “I need to speak to you,” Spencer says, his face as cold and full of disdain as usual. At least he’s consistent.

  “Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to you,” the man beside me says. I feel his arm around my shoulder adding the weight already overtaking me.

  “It’s important,” Spencer says, making eye contact with me. “About work.”

  “It’s Friday night. I’m sure the lady just wants to relax,” the man beside me asks, his breath hot on my cheeks and ear.

  “We work together,” I whisper. My voice is distant. It’s like I’m trying to remember something I’ve forgotten.

  “We do,” Spencer insists. “And this is important.”

  “It’s important,” I say.

  “It won’t take long,” Spencer adds.

  Choice 31

  Leave the booth and talk to Spencer

  Blow Spencer off

  Blow Spencer off.

  “No, thank you,” I say and give Spencer a hard, unforgiving stare. He frowns and storms off without another word of explanation.

  I watch him leave with a growing pit in my stomach. Did I just make a mistake?

  “I need to use the bathroom,” I say, and give the man blocking my exit a bit of a nudge.

  For a moment it looks like he isn’t going to let me up.

  “Henry,” the opposite man says, the one Katie is—to my horror—quite snuggled up to, with a dreamy expression on her face. I mean the guy is cute, but he isn’t that cute. “Play nice.”

  Henry forces a smile and slides out of the booth.

  I make it to the bathroom and find a line four women deep. I wait for my turn, take care of my business and decide it’s time for a water, not another drink.

  The one good thing about Spencer’s weird bombardment is that my head feels clear now. I no longer have the drunk, heady feeling consuming me like it did when I was in the booth. That’s good at least.

  The downside however, is that now the situation seems clearer. As I stand by the bar waiting to order a water, I notice the guys in the booth do look pretty shady. I don’t like the predatory way they fawn over Katie, who seems to be soaking in their attention the way one soaks in sunshine on the beach.

  “You want another martini?” a voice asks.

  I turn and see the bartender standing at the edge of the bar, one hand resting on the polished wood.

  “No, I think I’ve had enough,” I say. “That last one went to my head pretty fast.”

  “It wasn’t the drink,” the bartender says with an arched brow. “I mean, I make them strong, but what you were feeling wasn’t the drink.”

  “What do you mean?” I lean across the bar.

  She doesn’t elaborate.

  “Can I get a water?” I ask.

  “Sure. Can I give you some unsolicited advice?” she asks as she fills up a tall glass from the tap. Her frown is sincere at least.

  I shrug, settling my forearms against the bar. “Why not? Everyone else is doing it tonight.”

  “Ditch those guys. They are going to bolt in a minute because they know we’re on to them—and you don’t want to leave with them when they do. You get what I’m saying?”

  My scowl must say it all.

  “I know, I know,” she says. “I don’t know you and I’m telling you what to do. But I do know them, and what they’re after, and I’d hate to see something happen to you. Do what you want, but I didn’t want to go home tonight with that on my head.”

  She seems awfully sincere.

  “How do you know they’re trouble?” I ask.

  She considers how to answer for longer than I think is really necessary. Then she says, “It comes with the territory,” she says.

  “Of being a bartender?”

  “Of being from Castle Cove. Gotta be sharp if you’re going to live here.”

  “I didn’t realize it was such a rough place.”

  “It can be. If you’re not paying attention. Get a move on.”

  She points across the bar at Katie. She’s getting up, all three of them are making for the door.

  “Call if you need help. I’ve got great hearing.”

  I thank her and hurry through the throng of people to catch up to Katie and her escorts. But they’re moving fast. So fast that we’re already on the street before I manage to get a hold of Katie.

  I grab her arm. “Hey! Are you ditching me here?”

  “Baltimore!” she says, looking very very drunk with glassy eyes and a stupid grin. “Where’d you come from?”

  “You only had one drink.” I scoff, unsure what to say. “Come on. We’re going home.”

  I start to pull her away from the guys, but the closest seizes her other arm.

  “Don’t ruin the party,” he says, his breath hot on my cheek. “There’s room enough for both of you.”

  He gestures toward the car on the curb with its dark tint.

  “You don’t get into the car with strangers,” I tell her. I can’t believe I have to say this to an adult.

  “They’re not strangers. This is Henry. He’s Richard.”

  I look from one man to the other, feeling absolutely no better about this.

  “Come on, Baltimore. Don’t be a buzz kill.” Katie wraps one hand on the car door and starts to climb inside. “We’re going up to the Heights.”

  Choice 32

  Get into the car with Katie

  Call for Kristine’s help

  Leave the booth and talk to Spencer.

  “Excuse me for a minute,” I say, and give the man blocking my exit a bit of a nudge.

  At first, it looks like he isn’t going to let me up.

  “Henry,” the opposite man says, the one Katie sits quite snuggled up to with a dreamy expression on her face. “Play nice, brother. We don’t want to make a scene.”

  “Of course not.” Henry forces a smile and slides out of the booth. Spencer and Henry glare at one another while I shimmy out.

  “It’ll take just a minute,” Spencer says again, showing more courtesy and politeness in this one weird exchange than he has all week.

  I follow him across the bar to the opposite wall. He stops beside a pool table where a woman racks up the balls for a game of eight ball. Those chalking up their hands and cues give us curious sideways looks, but most let their gazes politely slide away.

  I feel like the room has shifted ten degrees in temperature. I was too warm in the booth, the heat making me sleepy. And now this newfound coolness seems to be clearing my head. “What’s going on?”

  “You’re in danger,” he says.

  I snort. “You’re kidding. First of all, I’m not some pathetic damsel. I should be able to go to a bar on Friday night and not be harassed by the jerk from work.”

  He flinches at my use of jerk. Okay maybe I shouldn’t have called him names. I still have to work with this guy for the foreseeable future. But I’m tired of this. And suddenly I’m tired of this place. I’m cold and shivering and I feel like my adrenaline has tanked.

  “This jerk just wanted to warn you to stay away from those guys.”

  “Spencer,” I say. My anger and frustration clear my head. At least I can thank Spencer for that. “Listen, you’re a total shit to me all we
ek and now you just come in here and try to tell me who I can and can’t talk to? No. That is not cool.”

  He grits his teeth and runs his hand through his hair. “Okay, yes. I was a shit this week. I’m sorry. But this is serious.”

  The apology totally catches me off guard. “What?”

  “I’m sorry. I thought maybe he was on to me and replaced me with one of his own, but I can see now that’s not possible.”

  “Who is on to you?” Replaced him with what? Is this guy off his meds or what? I search his eyes, but I see clear, focused determination. Intense, sure. But not strung out or drunk. “What are you talking about?”

  Spencer’s gaze sweeps the room. “I can’t talk about it here.”

  I glance around the bar and note ta lot of eyes are on us, watching us with a mix of emotions. Suspicion, curiosity. And those who aren’t watching us are watching the only other entertainment in the room—Katie and the two mystery men. Katie is laughing loudly—too loudly—at some joke that the men have made.

  “Do you see the tension at least?” Spencer asks. “The way everyone in the bar is on alert?”

  I scan the faces again. Everyone who is preoccupied with the mystery men look worried. Their bodies were coiled like springs ready to loose. They’re waiting for something to happen. And they don’t look like they expect it to be good.

  “It’s because they aren’t supposed to be here, in this bar, and everyone knows it. They targeted you because you don’t know any better.”

  I scowl at Spencer. “Excuse me?”

  He holds his palms up in surrender. “I’m not trying to insult you. But it’s true. You’re human, and you don’t know a damn thing about Castle Cove. You were the best targets in this place. Just look at how everyone else is staying away.”

  He’s right. There is a halo around the booth, an invisible distance that seems like it should close as the bar fills up with more and more patrons. But everyone is staying back.

  Katie had walked right up to them, hadn’t she? She had wanted to introduce herself. Was that the first mistake?

  “Who are they?” I ask.

  “It’s a long story. I really can’t talk here. We need to step outside,” Spencer says. His blue eyes are bright behind his black-framed glasses.

  “So dramatic.”

  “I’m serious. We can go to my car.”

  “You sure know how to make a creepy suggestion creepier.”

  “Fine, do what you want, but don’t leave with them or you’ll be dead by morning.” Spencer turns and marches toward the exit.

  Choice 33

  Follow Spencer out

  Let him go

  Follow Spencer out.

  I jog after him, catching up to him on the sidewalk outside the bar. I probably shouldn’t leave Katie alone in there, but she’s in a public place and probably safe. And Spencer’s words are eating me up. I have to know what is going on here.

  “Where did you park?” I ask. He motions toward the garage and I fall into step beside him.

  He doesn’t say anything until after we arrive at his sedan. Not brand new, not too old. But perfectly maintained on the inside. We climb inside and he turns on the car and heater before I even have to ask. He must see me clutching my fingers, trying to warm them.

  “Okay, tell me what’s going on,” I say, aware of the quiet surrounding us. The empty garage without a single soul in sight.

  He wraps his hand around the steering wheel and says, “I owe you an explanation and an apology.”

  “I’m listening.”

  The heater continues to blow warm air across my arms and face. The car is cozy, and a shroud of sleepiness is wrapping itself around me again. But it isn’t enough to fully suppress my curiosity.

  Spencer considers the dark garage for a moment, looking out over the illuminated pavement, his hands on the steering wheel. I can tell he’s gathering himself or considering where to start his explanation.

  I know that face, unfortunately. The pursed lips, the cocked head. He’s trying to figure out how to tell me the truth. It’s the face Greg made the night he broke up with me.

  He taps the steering wheel nervously. “I misjudged you. I made some assumptions when you got hired, that were, as I obviously see now, wrong.”

  The muscles in my back stiffen. I can only imagine what kind of assumptions. That I slept with Ethan for the job? Or hell, with Laura?

  I’m not sure I want to know what these assumptions are, and yet I hear myself asking, “What did you assume?”

  “That you were one of them.” Spencer meets my gaze. “You showed up out of nowhere and were given one of Ethan’s very own accounts. That doesn’t just happen.”

  A torrent of questions swarmed the forefront of my mind. I don’t even know where to start. One of them?

  Instead I say, “I didn’t show up out of nowhere. I’m from Baltimore.”

  He laughs. A sudden sharp sound. “I know. I checked you out. And I started to think that if you were one of them, you were very young. Hell, maybe you were an accident and they brought you here to protect you. But tonight, I saw you with those guys. And I realized that you have no freaking idea what’s going on.”

  There’s a lot of double speak in this sentence. “You sound like a stalker, Spencer.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’m making this worse. But you deserve to know because if you aren’t one of them, then you’re prey.”

  My heart speeds up in my chest.

  He runs a hand through his hair. “The only way I know how to make this perfectly clear is to show you.”

  I find my fingers closing on the handle of the door, ready to bolt.

  “I can give you a tour and show you the real Castle Cove. Maybe then you’ll stop looking at me like I’m crazy…”

  Too late, man.

  “— but you deserve to know the truth of this town and what you’re up against.”

  Those brilliant blue eyes meet mine again. I realize he’s been careful to keep his hands on his side of the car, on the steering wheel even except for the occasional brush of his hair.

  “Do you want to go back to your friend? Or do you want to know the truth about Castle Cove?”

  Choice 34

  Go back to the bar

  Find out the truth about Castle Cove

  Go back to the bar

  “I need to check on Katie,” I tell him. “I appreciate the apology, but I can’t leave her here.”

  “Just keep your eyes open,” Spencer says, as I climb out of the car. “Don’t trust anyone.”

  Paranoid much?

  I thank him and hurry back to the bar. My worst fear is confirmed as soon as I walk in. Katie is nowhere to be seen.

  “Damn,” I say.

  “She left about five minutes ago,” Kristine says. “Are you going after her?”

  “I wouldn’t even know where to start,” I say. And I realize it’s true. Katie drove us here, so I wouldn’t get very far even if I chased after her. Where would I be chasing her to exactly? It’s not like she left an address. I don’t know where they went.

  “I reported those guys,” she says. “They’ll look for her.”

  That settles it. I won’t be able to find her, but I can look after myself. “I need a cab.”

  “Then let’s call you a cab,” Kristine says, uncrossing the arms folded over her chest.

  I slide into an empty bar seat across from Kristine, just left of the register. I don’t miss the serious shift in the room’s energy. With those guys gone, the mood has relaxed. Laughter reverberates off the walls and the space actually feels warmer. Cozier.

  Of course, this only makes me worry more about Katie.

  What did you get yourself into? I wonder.

  “Hydrate,” Kristine commands when I only arch an eyebrow at the water she places in front of me.

  “Are you this nice to everyone?” I ask.

  The bartender with the black-tipped pigtails laughs like I’ve just made the best joke in
the world.

  “No,” Kristine says, exchanging a grin with the other bartender.

  “Then why help me?” I ask. I try not to sound ungrateful, but something about this evening just has me questioning everyone’s motives. Even if Kristine’s motives seem kind enough.

  The other bartender can’t hide her curiosity as Kristine leans her hip into the bar and considers my question seriously.

  “Maybe I think you’re cute,” she says at last. “And maybe I don’t like men who prey on women.”

  My face warms.

  “Whatever happens to your friend tonight, it’s not your fault. Or hers,” Kristine says, pressing her cell phone to her ear.

  I did try. I can’t help but have a horrible feeling all the same.

  “Yeah, Dwayne, I need a cab. No, not me,” Kristine says into the phone. “Where do you live?”

  “Old Town,” I reply.

  Kristine repeats this to whomever is on the line. She listens for a moment and then hangs up. “Five minutes.”

  “That’s fast.”

  “Dwayne was already on his way to drop some folks off here.”

  “Does everyone know everyone’s name around here?”

  “Dwayne is my brother. And everyone knows him because he used to date Ethan Benedict.”

  I choke on my water. The cold stinging my nose.

  Kristine smiles. “Heard of him already, have you?”

  “He’s my boss.”

  She grins. “Have you met him in person?”

  “No. I’m supposed to meet him tomorrow night actually.”

  The bartender with black-tipped ponytails says, “You’re in for a treat.”

  Kristine huffs. “If you’re into that sort of thing.”