“Dale!” Debbie stood up, reaching up to hug her fiance even as she scolded him. “You’re not supposed to be here! This is my night to let loose and have a little fun, remember?”
“Oh, I remember,” Dale said, grinning. “And I’m not stayin’. I’m just here to let all these yahoos know you’re already taken.” He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him, raising his voice to be heard above Tammy Wynette’s whiny singing. “Listen up, fellas!” Dale looked around the room, making certain he had everyone’s attention. “This here’s my future bride, so don’t any of you bone-heads be getting any ideas! I’ll kick the ass of anybody who tries anything!” The idiot grin on his face made it hard to take him too seriously. “Her friends are fair game,”—to my horror, he nodded toward the table where Gina, Darlene, and I still sat—“but I done got me the pick of the litter!” Then he swooped down and bent Debbie backwards in a big, sloppy kiss, while his friend—and everybody else in the bar—looked on.
“Woo-hoo!” Somebody shouted, “Get ’er, Dale! Show the little lady who’s boss!”
“Yeah!” shouted somebody else. “It’s the last chance you’ll ever get! After Saturday, she’ll be the one wearing the pants in the family.”
Dale broke off his kiss long enough to raise his head and shout back, “Fuck that! After Saturday, ain’t neither of us gonna be wearing pants for a while!”
The room erupted into laughter, while I cringed inwardly at his crudeness. Debbie buried her face in Dale’s shirt, embarrassed but laughing.
I looked for Debbie’s ghostly friend Michelle, but she was gone.
“Hoo-ee,” said Dale’s friend, a skinny guy with a buzz haircut and a belt buckle the size of a small hubcap. He was eyeing me like I was a prize heifer at the county fair, and I didn’t like it. “Who’s your friend, Debbie?”
“This is my cousin Nicki,” Debbie said, turning to face me. “She’s gonna be one of my bridesmaids. Isn’t she pretty?”
“She sure is,” Buzzcut said, leering. He pulled out Debbie’s chair without asking and took a seat at the table next to me. “Nice to meet you, Nicki. My name’s Randy. Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”
“Oh by all means, Randy,” I answered sweetly. “Then keep on walking.”
Randy and Dale burst out laughing like that was the funniest thing they’d ever heard, and I got my first real whiff of whisky breath. These two guys had been partying long before we girls had even started.
“C’mon, darlin’, don’t be like that. Lemme buy you a drink.”
“I’ve got one, thanks.” I looked away, taking a sip of beer to prove it. Maybe if I ignored him, he’d leave me alone.
“You’re one of them dead girls, aren’t ya?”
That got my attention. “Excuse me?”
“You know, one of them girls that’s all into death and doom and gloom. Crosses and seances and all that shit.” Randy waggled his fingers in what was supposed to be a spooky way, I guess. “I hear dead girls are easy—so why you making it so hard, baby?”
The way he was leering at me made it clear he thought his little double entendre was very clever.
“You’re drunk, Randy,” Debbie said flatly. “Leave Nicki alone.”
I appreciated Debbie’s effort, but I could take care of myself. I looked Randy in the eye and asked, “Are you always this stupid, or is today a special occasion?”
Dale let out another whoop of laughter, causing heads to turn our way yet again. “Randy’s got a real way with the ladies,” Dale said to me, when he’d stopped laughing. “You better watch yourself.”
“Great idea,” I said sourly, rising from the table. “I think I’ll go look for a mirror.”
“You going to the little girl’s room, Nicki?” Darlene stood up, too. “I’ll go with you.”
I didn’t answer, having to squeeze by a too-close-for-comfort Randy and a still-entwined Debbie/Dale sandwich before I could even start looking for the restroom.
“It’s over here,” Darlene said, with a tilt of her red head toward the back.
I followed her, weaving my way past tables full of blue-collar guys with shit-eating grins on their faces. Women seemed to be scarce at the Long Branch, or maybe they were just all at home with the kids while their husbands whooped it up over a cold brew.
Not that there was anything wrong with blue-collar men, mind you—as long as they weren’t blue-collar jerks. But I had a feeling that the jerk factor in this particular bar was pretty high.
Darlene led the way down a narrow corridor toward two doors marked “Bulls” and “Heifers,” and pushed open the door to ladies room. It smelled like cheap perfume and sour vomit—exactly what I’d expected. A coin-operated vending machine hung on the wall, displaying condoms, tampons, and breath mints.
Prerequisites in a place like this, I suppose. One never knows when one will be kissing, cramping, or canoodling with the redneck of your dreams.
“That Randy is such a creep. He thinks he’s a real stud,” Darlene said, heading into one of the stalls. “Don’t let him get to you.”
“Thanks,” I said, glad my initial impression had been confirmed, “but I think you just insulted a horse.”
I could hear Darlene chuckling through the stall door. “You got spunk,” she said. “I’ll give you that.”
Since I’d only come into the bathroom to get away from Randy, I put my purse on the counter and started digging for my lipstick. When I glanced up, my heart nearly stopped at what I saw reflected in the mirror.
Michelle was standing behind me, soaking wet again. Her lips looked blue, and her skin had taken on a waxy tone.
“You have to get out of here,” she said, “or you’ll be next.”
“You are creeping me out,” I answered, frozen in place with a tube of lipstick in my hand.
“What?” Darlene’s voice came from the stall. “Did you say something?”
Flustered, I stuck my lipstick back in my purse. “I said Randy creeps me out,” I lied, loudly.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. He’s been sniffin’ around Debbie like a dog in heat ever since high school, but she ain’t never give him the time of day. Don’t know how Dale can stand hanging around a low-life like him, but there ya go.”
The toilet flushed, and Darlene opened the stall door. “Must be a guy thing, I guess, or else Dale’s just used to it. They work together at the garage.”
She came over to the sink to wash her hands, narrowly missing walking right through Michelle, who didn’t bother to move out of the way.
In fact, Michelle looked lost in thought, and very, very sad. Her gaze had turned inward, and she paid no attention to Darlene whatsoever. Water dripped from her clothes and hair.
Stalling, I fumbled in my purse again, this time bringing out a tube of eyeliner along with the lipstick.
“Don’t you get tired of getting all glammed up everyday?” Darlene eyed me curiously in the mirror as I touched up my lips. “It takes me forever to put on makeup and strap myself into a push-up bra.”
I shrugged, not understanding women who didn’t want to make the effort to look good. “It doesn’t take me that long.” Which was true. “Besides, I deal with the public all day. It pays to look good when you sell fashion for a living.” Then I paid her an honest compliment. “You look great, by the way—however long it took you tonight, it was worth it.”
Darlene looked surprised, but pleased. “Thanks. I guess it don’t hurt to get fixed up now and then.” She eyed herself in the mirror and stood up straighter, drying her hands with a paper towel. “Well, I’m going back out. You comin’?”
“In a minute. You go ahead.”
“Well, hurry up,” Darlene said as she left. “Karaoke starts in five minutes.”
Gee, I can hardly wait.
“He’s here,” Michelle said, before the bathroom door had even swung shut. “You have to go.”
“Who’s here?” I turned to face her, doing my b
est to control a shudder of distaste. Michelle looked different every time I saw her, but this time was definitely the worst.
She looked…well…dead. Really dead. As in several days dead.
“When I saw him, I remembered,” Michelle said, twisting her hands together nervously. The memory obviously upset her. “He followed me from the restaurant after the fight I had with Debbie—he must’ve seen me in the parking lot or something. I should never have pulled over.”
“Who followed you?”
Michelle kept glancing toward the door as if she was afraid whoever she was talking about was going to walk in any minute.
“Randy. It was Randy—he was waving and flashing his lights—I thought there was something wrong. When I pulled over he got out of his car and told me my rear tire was almost flat. Offered to fix it for me.” Michelle was shaking now, very agitated. “I was so stupid; I should’ve known better than to trust him. I thought since he was a friend of Dale’s it’d be okay.”
The bathroom door swung open to the sound of giggles and the blare of country music. Three women I didn’t know spilled into the room, laughing at something someone had just said.
“Ew,” said one. “It smells like somebody died in here.”
“Yeah,” said one of the others, wrinkling her nose, “and watch out—there’s a puddle of water on the floor. Don’t they ever clean this place?”
Michelle’s face twisted, and she started crying, tears lost on her already wet cheeks. She faded away to nothing as I watched, powerless to say or do anything to stop her.
“You two go ahead,” said the third girl, stepping gingerly toward the sink. There were only two stalls in the ladies room, and not much room at the sink, either.
Since I didn’t feel like standing there like an idiot, I snatched up my purse and left the bathroom.
“Fire on the mountain; run, boys, run; the devil’s in the house of the rising sun.” Charlie Daniels singing about how the devil came down to Georgia sounded weirdly appropriate at the moment, and the urgency of the song fit my mood.
I needed to get the hell out of the Long Branch Saloon, for more reasons than I cared to think about.
Unfortunately for me, Debbie and her sisters had other ideas. I had to sit through an excruciating round of karaoke music, which included a very tipsy Debbie mangling Madonna’s “Like A Virgin,” and a tone-deaf Diane singing “Hey, Good-Lookin’” to the guys playing pool.
Luckily, Randy and Dale were nowhere to be seen, and I could only assume they’d moved on to do their drinking elsewhere. The whole time my ears were being assaulted, my brain was working—how could I accuse some guy I just met of murdering somebody? Where was Michelle’s body? Where was my proof?
Darlene did a passable version of Shania Twain’s “I Feel Like A Woman,” but by the time Gina got up to sing “I Will Survive,” I’d had enough, and pulled the old fake phone call routine, scrabbling in my purse for a phone that wasn’t ringing.
“Hello?” I put a finger in my ear like I was having trouble hearing the person on the other end. “The store alarm?” I glanced at my watch, pretending to care what time it was. “No, it’s after closing. Nobody should be there at this hour. Okay, Evan, I’ll meet you there.” Darlene gave me a sour look across the table, which told me she wasn’t buying it, but Debbie was working on her fifth beer and singing along with Gina, so she wasn’t paying attention anyway.
“That was my partner, Evan,” I said to Darlene. “There’s an emergency at the store. I gotta go.”
Darlene merely shrugged and took another sip of beer, but as soon as I stood up, Debbie grabbed my arm. “Where ya goin’, Nicki?” Her voice was definitely slurred, but her face was flushed and happy. “The party’s just getting started.”
I looked down at her, knowing why her friend Michelle wanted me to keep quiet until after the wedding, but not liking it. Still, I knew she was right—Debbie deserved to have a little fun before she married Dale and gave birth to a litter of little rednecks.
And there was no saving Michelle, because what happened to her had already happened.
“I’m sorry, Debbie, but the alarm’s going off at the store. I have to go.”
She looked disappointed, but a wild whoop from the direction of the stage distracted her long enough not to argue. Instead, she rose to her feet and threw her arms around my neck in a farewell hug. “Bye! See you at the church on Saturday!”
“Hoo-ee,” somebody shouted, “girl-on-girl action! When’s the wet t-shirt contest?”
“In your dreams, buddy,” I muttered, returning Debbie’s overenthusiastic squeeze. Then I waved a good-bye to the rest of my cousins and headed toward the door.
Chapter 4
The parking lot was full, and so was the moon. It hung low in the sky, reminding me that the evening was still young. If I drove fast, Joe and I would have plenty of time to rustle up some real fun when I got home.
I’d just slid my key into the door of my car when I heard a man’s voice say, “Mmm, mmm, mmm.”
I whirled, gasping, and saw a shadow disengage itself from a pickup truck parked nearby.
“You are one fine-lookin’ woman.” The shadow raised a hand, and I saw it was clutching a bottle—too big to be a beer bottle. “Ready for that drink yet?”
The man took a step forward, while I shrank closer to my car. The moonlight gleamed on a big, shiny belt buckle.
Randy.
I took refuge in bravado, though my heart was pounding so hard I was afraid he’d hear it. “What the hell are you doing out here? You scared me shitless!”
“I’ve been waiting for you, baby.” Randy took another step toward me. “No need to play hard to get—ain’t nobody here to see. Just you and me and the moon.” Waving the bottle toward the sky, Randy threw back his head and howled drunkenly, like the beast he was.
If Michelle was telling the truth—and I had no reason to believe she wasn’t—this guy was a murderer. And he was here, alone with me, in a dark parking lot.
“You’re drunk,” I said flatly. “Leave me alone.”
“Hell, yeah, I’m drunk,” he said, grinning widely. “Drunk on loooove, baby. Don’t you feel it?”
I fumbled with my car keys, twisting then pulling as I tugged on the door handle.
Randy came up behind me so fast I couldn’t avoid him. In two seconds he had me pushed up against the car, his body pressed hard against me, pinning me in place. “I said, don’t you feel it?”
Problem was, I did. His erection pressed against my hip, frightening me more than I cared to admit.
Without thinking, I elbowed him, hard.
His breath left him with a whoosh, drowning me in the sour smell of whisky. He stumbled back, but not far enough. There was a sloshy thud as the bottle he’d been holding hit the ground.
I barely managed to get the car door cracked open before he slammed me against it again.
“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that, bitch.” His breath made me want to retch, and this time he wrapped his arms around me, tight. “Think you’re too good for old Randy, don’tcha?”
I squirmed and twisted, trying to break free, but I had no room to maneuver. One short squeal was all I managed before Randy’s hand clamped over my mouth. The scent of oil and gasoline rose from his skin.
“Uh, uh, uh,” he said, breath rasping in my ear. “You city bitches are all alike.” Then he laughed, and my blood ran cold. “But you’re all the same under them fancy panties.”
“Let her go!” Another man’s voice, saying words I’d never been so glad to hear in my entire life.
Randy barely even flinched. He didn’t even bother to turn around, just spoke over his shoulder. “Mind your own damn business. This is between me and the little lady.”
“The hell it is.”
A sudden wrench as Randy’s shoulder was grabbed and pulled in the direction of the newcomer. I twisted and squirmed even harder than before, managing to raise a foot against the car and kick backward.
Randy stumbled back, but didn’t loosen his grip, keeping me pinned with my arms at my sides. Frantically, I flailed my legs, feeling my heels connect against his feet and ankles.
Damn cowboy boots.
Desperate, I jerked my head backward, hearing Randy’s grunt of pain as my skull connected with his chin. Despite the sudden flare of stars, it was worth it to know I’d hurt him.
Then I felt myself ripped from Randy’s painful embrace, and pushed away. Shaken and unsteady, I fell to the ground a few feet away.
“You okay, babe?” A little distance and some moonlight showed my rescuer clearly. His face looked like thunder, and his eyes were trained on Randy.
“Joe,” I whimpered, hating how shaky I sounded. Thank God.
Further conversation was impossible as Randy launched himself at Joe, tackling him to the ground. I rose to my feet, heart racing, as the two men rolled and grappled in the dirt of the parking lot. One second Randy was on top, then Joe would get the upper hand. I wanted to cheer when Joe’s fist connected with Randy’s ribs, and cry when Randy’s return blow drew a grunt of pain from Joe. Then Joe kicked himself free of Randy’s grip and gained his feet, cracking Randy a good one on the chin on his way up.
Randy fell backward, momentarily stunned. Between the liquor he’d obviously consumed and the blows he’d taken, his head had to be spinning.
“You sorry bastard,” Joe said, breathing hard. “Attacking defenseless women in dark parking lots. Is that the only way you can get a date?”
“Defenseless, my ass,” I said. To prove it, I snatched up the discarded whisky bottle at my feet and wielded it like a club. I was shaking with fear and rage, but the fear had definitely lessened since Joe showed up. “He just caught me off guard.”
“I’m gonna kick yore ass,” Randy moaned, twisting to the side to push himself up.
“Bring it on, Cornpone,” Joe taunted, clearly furious and ready to go another round.
I’d never seen Joe like this—his job was to heal people, not hurt them—but he obviously had no trouble inflicting pain when he needed to.
Weddings From Hell Page 18
