by B. N. Toler
“Yeah, he and Sniper are outside waiting for us.”
Don’t roll your eyes and groan, Charlotte. Why does George have to be going? I’m surprised he didn’t back out the moment he found out I was going.
“And why would I want to impress George?” I ask with a little edge to my voice.
She gives me a knowing look. “Because you have a crush on him.”
Anna and I sit in the back of Sniper’s car while he and George sit up front. I insisted she was wrong about the crush on George, but she just smiled and patted my shoulder, saying, “If you say so, honey,” then hightailed it out to the car.
They all make small talk while I stare out the window, wondering where Ike is. That dance was truly one of the most romantic things I’ve ever experienced. It isn’t until we reach the dance hall that everyone is able to see what I am wearing. George gives me a once-over, his lips flattening, before making a beeline for the bar. Guess he isn’t too impressed, after all. Once Sniper sees my outfit, he—of course—tells me I look sexy as hell. I feel a little awkward as Anna is right beside me, but she doesn’t seem to care. I guess it helps he has his arm around her waist.
Sniper, Anna, and I take a seat at a table near the dance floor. Anna was right, this isn’t a dressy dance, and I wish I would have fought her on making me wear this. I’d feel so much better in my jeans. “I’m going to go get us all a drink.” She stands and scurries off toward the bar.
“You two don’t seem to be getting along too well, lately,” Sniper mentions.
“Have we ever gotten along?” I counter, knowing he’s speaking about George. My gaze moves to find him, and I spot him at the bar, laughing with a guy he’s speaking with.
Sniper’s lips form in to a sad sort of smile before he opens his mouth to respond but Anna appears with our drinks, stopping him. “Sniper, I love this song,” she tells him, obviously hinting she wants to dance. He takes his beer from her and draws a long swig before setting it down, taking her hand, and leading her to the dance floor. “I’d love to dance with the most beautiful woman here,” he tells her.
The song is pretty upbeat, and the two dance together amazingly. They laugh as he twirls her, and while I smile, my heart aches a little. Sometimes I don’t realize how badly I need something until I see someone else with it. I want to be happy and basking in the glow of early love; that prelude to the delicious things to come. I haven’t thought much about it over the past six years; I mean, not really. I’ve been lonely, but it never occurred to me I craved that kind of relationship; mostly because I truly believe no one could deal with me and my gift. My own parents sent me away, so why would any man want to burden himself with me? So I settled into a life where love didn’t exist. At least not until the McDermott brothers came in to my life. Ike has certainly made an impression, which makes me even more pathetic. I can’t have a relationship with him, so why am I allowing myself to even imagine it? Then there’s George. Our relationship to date has been so hot and cold, I’m not sure what to make of it. No matter what, George has some changes to make, and they’re deal breaker changes. I chance a glance at him and see he’s still standing at the bar, facing the back. Misty approaches and rests a hand on his shoulder. I make a gagging motion, not thinking anyone might be watching.
“What’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting over here by yourself?” a voice asks, and when I look up, I see a very tall man with wide, broad shoulders and a beard. He looks like he’s maybe thirty or so, attractive in a rugged and country kind of way. Before I can respond, he takes the seat next to me and scoots closer.
“You must be the new girl in town everyone keeps talking about,” he says, before sipping the bottled beer in his hand.
“I didn’t realize I was gossip worthy,” I reply.
“A beautiful woman shows up and you can be sure the women are talking smack, and the men around here are eager to check you out.”
“Is that so?” I chuckle, slightly humored by his bluntness. A smile sneaks across his face, and I can’t help smiling, too. Although I find him attractive, I wouldn’t say I’m attracted to him. I can admit, however—sad and pathetic as I am for feeling it—I like that he’s flirting with me. Sometimes it’s the little things. Sometimes a woman just needs a man to give her attention so she knows she’s attention worthy.
“You’re serving over at Ike and George’s, right?”
“Wow. I guess everyone does have the 4–1-1 on me, huh?”
“Small town, small minds. What else is there to do around here?” he asks.
“Apparently, dancing is an option.” That feeling of warmth spreads across my back, and I get the sense someone is watching me. Darting my eyes to the bar, I see George watching my interaction with the man before me. His mouth is set in a hard, flat line and he’s almost glaring. Misty follows his line of sight and her brows touch her hairline when she realizes he’s looking at me.
“Well then,” the stranger stands, chugging the last few sips of his beer and setting the bottle down. “May I have this dance?”
My gaze moves from George to the handsome man before me. Chugging a few sips of my own beer—liquid courage in a bottle—I take his hand and let him lead me onto the dance floor. We pass by Sniper and Anna on the way and they stop to watch us before glancing at one another. Another upbeat song starts playing and without discussion, my dance partner and I fall into a two-step and we’re nailing it. He’s a great dancer, and I’m laughing the entire time, not remembering the last time I danced like this; so carefree.
When the song ends, a slow one comes on and he pulls me to him, taking my arms and draping them over his shoulders, putting his hands at my waist, his fingers applying gentle pressure. This is a little more intimate than I’d like, but I don’t want to offend him so I try to make conversation, but he starts to speak first.
“You got something going on with George McDermott?” My expression must indicate I’m floored by his question because he quickly adds, “He’s been watching you since you arrived.” Has he? That’s news to me and obviously this guy is mistaking glaring at me for watching me in appreciation.
“We work together, that’s all,” I respond, unsure of why George is even bothering to stare at me at all. “You’re a pretty good dancer,” I tell him, trying desperately to change the subject.
“You’re not so bad yourself, Char,” he replies, and I’m stunned he knows my name until I remember that apparently I’m the town gossip.
“You know my name. Do I get to know yours?”
“Roger,” a voice interrupts, and I nearly choke. It’s Misty, and she’s attempting the daunting task of trying to shoot fire from her eyes at me and obliterate me to nothing but ashes. This bitch has some nerve acting like she’s jealous when she’s cheating on Roger with George. And then the thought hits me; this is Roger; her drug-dealing boyfriend she’s cheating on with George. I’ve been dancing with a drug dealer.
“May I cut in?” George asks from behind me. And as Misty glares at me, Roger eyes George with a look that says, I know; at least, that’s what it looks like to me.
“Um . . . sure,” I say, completely thrown by the last few seconds. “Do you mind, Roger?”
“No. Not at all.” Taking my hand, he kisses it and Misty’s eyes are as big as saucers. “Lovely to meet you, Char. I’ll see you around.” With that, he saunters off the dance floor, Misty scurrying behind him in a huff.
Looking back to George, he steps toward me, but waits for me to meet him halfway. His gaze is almost blank, as if he’s just going through the motions and he doesn’t really want to dance with me. “I’ll spare you the grief, boss. I know you two were just trying to break it up. I didn’t know that was Roger, okay? I wouldn’t have said anything about you two even if I had known. And now they’re gone so you don’t have to torture yourself and dance with me.” As I step around him, he takes my wrist and pulls me back, slamming my body against his. God, he smells really fucking good.
“I asked you
to dance because like every other guy here, I want to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room.” My mouth falls open with shock.
“Was that a compliment?” I ask sarcastically. “I’m waiting for the punch line.”
“Do you always have to be such a pain in the ass?” he questions, earning a lethal glare from me.
“Forgive me, but you’re the one giving me whiplash with your hot and cold mood swings,” I pipe back. “The other day I was a girl you wouldn’t waste a minute on because of my issues. Now I’m the most beautiful girl in the room.” The band starts playing I Believe in Love by Don Williams when George snakes one arm around me, resting a firm hand on the small of my back. His other hand finds mine and holds it to his chest. My traitorous body simply, and stupidly, falls into rhythm with him as he begins to sway.
As he pulls me closer, his mouth is next to my ear. “Let’s put our crazy away for three minutes and just dance, Charlotte. Okay?”
Swallowing hard, I nod twice, and allow myself to get lost in the moment, drowning in the feel of him against me, the beautiful song playing, and his enticing scent. The song plays on and for a moment, I think George is whispering the words, but so quietly I can barely hear them. I know he’s only singing just for the purpose of singing, not singing to me, but I find myself trying to catch every word. When the song ends, George pulls away; his dark eyes meeting mine and he smiles faintly. “Thanks for the dance.” Then he’s gone. What the fuck?
“Ladies’ room. Now.” Anna appears out of nowhere and drags me away. I’m relieved she did because otherwise I’d still be standing in the middle of the dance floor looking like an idiot. When we enter the ladies’ room, she quickly checks the stalls to make sure we’re alone before taking me by the shoulders.
“Dude,” she says, simply. “You have just somehow created a love square.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“It was a triangle with Misty, Roger, and George. You just changed it to a square.”
“What? No.” I shake my head adamantly in disagreement. “I just danced with them. That hardly qualifies as me infiltrating their fucked up love triangle, or whatever.” In fact, that thought makes me ill. I can’t quite figure out why I detest the thought of George with Misty. I mean, we’re not together, hell . . . he thinks I have issues, and he definitely doesn’t like me. But when I see her smile at him or him smile back, it makes me queasy.
“Roger approached you to fuck with them, ya know?”
“Who? George and Misty?”
“I would bet my life he did it to piss both of them off.”
“So you think he knows . . . ?”
“I bet he’s had suspicions.” Anna pulls out a tube of her infamous red lipstick and begins applying it.
“I’m not interested,” I tell her. “In either of them.” Not entirely true, but I’d rather not think about George in that way at all. “I didn’t even know that was Roger. A guy asked me to dance, so I danced.”
Anna rubs her lips together and tosses the tube back in her purse. “You keep telling yourself that, sugar,” she chuckles and leads me out of the bathroom.
The rest of the night at the dance was calm and enjoyable. George’s parents showed up and hugged and fussed over me, which I loved. They’re amazing people. His dad and I did a line dance, and he begged me to marry George, and if I couldn’t, would I wait until Cameron was of age. George ignored me and chose not to ride back with Anna, Sniper, and I when we left. I assume his parents took him home. My consolation after the dramatic evening was that Ike was waiting for me when I got back to my room, and I found great comfort in that.
The next day, the first half of my double shift is rather drama free. George and Misty are both off. I imagine sniffing coke and boinking like rabbits. I hate how ill the thought makes me. I shouldn’t care; this is business, after all. I’m only helping George so Ike can crossover. At least without George and Misty at the restaurant, I had a day of peace; no nasty looks from her and no attitude from him. Ike wanted me to go to George’s house and make up some excuse for being there, but I couldn’t do that. Not after what happened the other night. I know I’ll see him and Misty tomorrow at work.
Today has been slow and awkward. Misty is pretending to be nice to me, and I despise her for it. I don’t want her fakeness, mostly because she’s so much better at it than me. Very rarely can I smile at a person I dislike and speak to them without my every thought being obvious, and I have no doubt my distaste for the white trash princess is evident every time we speak. George is working the back line with Sniper and Greg, avoiding me for the most part.
But I’ve noticed him.
Unfortunately.
He’s wearing a tight, black T-shirt, showcasing his amazing body and muscular arms. Since I met him, he’s always been slightly thinner than Ike, but still ripped. I wonder if it’s only the drugs that have made him smaller, because other than the slight difference in their size, haircuts, and shades of eye color, they are identical. I find myself ogling him, forgetting what an ass he is for a mere second until he speaks.
“How’s your ass?” he chuckles, snapping me out of my state of admiration. Sniper bites his lip to keep from laughing as he winks at me. Damn him. I blush with embarrassment. I can’t believe I had my ass in George’s face. It’s no secret he likes to get a rise out of me and he’s succeeded. Score one for George. Two can play at this game.
“I don’t know.” I bite my lip seductively. “Might need you to check it out for me again. Would you mind?”
All three men on the line stop what they’re doing and stare at me. I chance a glance at Ike and he rolls his eyes as if he’s annoyed. I resist the urge to toss a lemon at him. What’s his problem? It’s only a joke.
“Uh, sure. I could—”
“It was a joke, George,” I interrupt him as I laugh. He glares at me as his perfect lips flatten into a hard line. “You will not have the pleasure of having this ass,” I turn slightly and point to my butt, “in your face again,” I tease. I know I shouldn’t. George hates me, but I can’t deny I’m attracted to him and his brother. The McDermott twins are good-looking men. And as much as I know George dislikes me, I can feel his dark eyes on me every so often. The attraction is mutual.
Before he responds, I take the two hot plates from the line and head out to drop them at Peyton’s table. As I exit the kitchen, I hear Sniper say, “You’re a lucky wanker, you got to see that ass.” They all laugh in response, and I smile to myself because I’m an idiot.
After that, Ike leaves me alone most of the night, which I’m grateful for. The fact he’s dead and tries to talk to me—constantly—is distracting enough, but add in his good looks, and I can’t focus on anything. Even though the lack of his presence helps in some ways, I find myself looking for him, scanning the restaurant and the kitchen just to make sure he’s still with me. Sounds stupid when I’ve asked him to give me space, but some part of me needs to know he’s near. I’ve mentally scolded myself for that feeling. Becoming dependent on his presence is bad news; it is an infinite fact Ike will leave this world for good soon. Then what will I do? But for now, as long as I know his soul still lingers in this world, I need to have him close as much as I need to breathe. He’s the one and only thing I can count on right now, and I know how absurd that is since he’s dead and can do absolutely nothing for me other than hang out, basically.
Peyton and Libby are standing at the bar watching the television when I join them, my gaze moving to the screen to see what they’re so entranced by. It only takes a glance at the news segment playing to send my heart catapulting into my throat.
Police are looking for the driver of this vehicle in connection with the murder of Casey Purcell. Purcell’s body was found under a bridge in Charlottesville, Virginia and authorities would like to speak with the driver of this 1996 Toyota 4Runnner. Due to poor video footage, authorities were unable to make out the license plate, but they do know the vehicle was gray and believe a female o
perated the vehicle. Investigators have also retrieved evidence they’re using to aid in locating the owner of the vehicle. If you have any information, please contact . . .
The words are drowned out by the beating of my own heart. Evidence retrieved? What evidence? I didn’t murder Casey, but that doesn’t mean I want to go in for questioning. How would I explain how I found her? It’s highly unlikely they would believe Casey’s soul directed me there. Shit. I thought I had been careful.
“You okay, Char?” Libby asks, laying a hand on my shoulder, making me jolt.
“Uh, yeah,” I shake my head and swallow. “Think I just need a break.” My fourth table is just getting up, and I know now is the perfect time for that break after I check my other two tables, making sure they have everything they need and their drinks are full. I don’t smoke, but I head to the back, planning on getting some fresh air where Anna and I chatted the other night.
“Where are you sneaking off to, love?” Sniper calls.
“Just taking a quick break,” I answer.
“Be careful out back by yourself, Char,” Greg warns. “Make sure you leave the door open so if you need us, we can hear you.”
That’s a strange warning. Is this town dangerous for women? My expression must indicate my thoughts because Sniper explains, “Greg used to be a police officer in Chicago. I can’t seem to make him understand that Warm Springs is nothing like Chicago.”
“Always better to be safe than sorry,” Greg adds as he tosses the vegetables in the frying pan he’s holding.
“I appreciate your concern, Greg.” I smile. “Thank you.”
When I take my first step to head out back, Ike morphs in front of me and my heart nearly bursts from my chest as I stumble back. Goddamn it, I’m going to kill him if he doesn’t stop doing this shit to me. But my plans for his demise are quickly obliterated when his wide panicked eyes meet mine.
“What is it?” I ask instinctively.
