by Gina LaManna
“I can work with this,” Meg gave a firm nod, and high-tailed it towards the far corner where the mic sat amidst an old music player and speakers as ancient as the bouncer. High top bar stools and tables littered the edges of the smoky room; a dance floor took up the center of the smallish facility. It made for a dive bar on a good day, a barn on a bad one. Though Anthony, Meg, and I were the only customers so far, it already reeked of Swisher Sweets and PBR.
Laurelei, however, was busy setting up in the front of the room. She looked to be in the middle of a heated argument with the speaker system.
Meg tapped her on the shoulder. “Need help with that?”
“You’re early!” Laurelei said. “I haven’t even turned the lights on in the diner yet. Lenny, you are such a slacker of a bouncer. Stop being a lazy donkey’s behind and turn on the lights in the diner.”
Lenny grunted.
“He’s not supposed to let people in here before nine,” Laurelei spluttered. “Now y’all are seeing me flustered with this load of junk.”
Meg pressed two wires together, touched the on button, and the speakers crackled to life. Giving a broad smile, she faced the room. “I know my way around a karaoke setup.”
Laurelei’s face morphed into that of the sweet old woman from the diner. I briefly wondered if she had a split personality – kind, funny Laurelei for the diner, and tough-cookie Laurelei for the bar.
“What a dear you are. Here, first drink’s on me.” Laurelei hobbled over to a makeshift corner bar sheathed in the shadows, and pulled four beers from the single tap. “We only have PBR. Hope that’s okay.”
Anthony shook his head when Laurelei offered him a beer. She eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t trust men who don’t drink beer.”
“He’s with us,” Meg whispered loudly. “We even have a team nickname. I call myself Marshmallow. Lacey, she goes by Cracker and he…” Meg gestured to Anthony, “he’s Chocolate. Together we’re Team S’more.”
Anthony spoke in a low voice tinged with concern. “I didn’t agree to this.”
“Just go along with it,” I breathed back. Louder, I turned to Meg, “Please don’t call me Cracker. If we’re doing nicknames, it’s gotta be Graham Cracker.”
“Ah, good point. Guess it could be misinterpreted.” Meg picked up the book of songs. “Whatcha got in here?”
“Anything you want.” Leilani winked. She poured us all double shots of tequila, gave us limes that looked more like lemons, and handed out salt packets that’d clearly been stolen from the diner’s condiment stash. “Let’s rock and roll, girls!”
“Now we’re talking.” Meg smiled broadly. “I like this place. Now, onto business…for songs, let’s see here. You got Journey, Don’t Stop Believing?”
“Done.”
“Spice Girls? Wannabe, in particular?”
“Done.”
“Sweet Caroline, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, Bootylicious?” Meg prattled.
“Yes, yes, and yes.” Laurelei nodded along.
“Well, you should be writing this down, Miss Laurelei. I wasn’t really asking. I was listing off the order of my songs.”
Laurelei frowned. “Usually we only do one song per person until a few people have had a chance…”
“I don’t see any other people here.” Meg looked skeptically around the bar.
“I just meant—”
“She’ll just do one for now.” I grabbed my friend’s arm and pulled her over to a circular table in the corner of the room. “We’ll just wait for the place to fill up over here, and let you continue on with whatever you were doing.”
“I’m going to go slice up some lime wedges, but help yourself to the tap,” the hostess said with a flick of her wrist. “And...I’ll give you a nod if I see our friends.”
I gave her a grateful wink. “Much appreciated.”
Meg and I didn’t have to wait long; the place filled up almost immediately at nine-thirty. It was as if a school bus had rolled up out front and let off a busload of primped and primed karaoke all stars. I watched one character after another file in, realizing that maybe Meg wasn’t as out of place as I’d first expected. There was lots of shimmer and shine, exacerbated by the disco lights.
Even my pseudo-Catwoman costume fit right in with the Elvises and the Britney Spears personas. Though I wouldn’t have minded if Anthony had taken more time to examine all my efforts – or rather Meg’s efforts – to make me look like a fancy human being for once. He’d disappeared as soon as Laurelei set off to cut limes, while Meg and I nursed our beers and people-watched.
However, I reminded myself that Anthony’s commenting on my attire was not the point of the evening. Meg, Anthony, and I were Team S’more tonight, and a s’more without its marshmallow was...just crackers and chocolate. We were a team of three, not a team of two.
“Them, there,” Anthony said, reappearing at my shoulder.
I pressed a hand to my chest, startled. “How are you so quiet? I’m half your size and make four times the sound you make when I walk.”
“I saw him coming,” Meg said defensively.
“Then why’d you slosh beer all over your shirt?” I raised an eyebrow at the blooming wet spot on her front.
“Because that girl has the same boots as me.” Meg glared at a young blonde who’d just entered the room. She was probably about our age, in excellent physical shape, and rocked the boots like no other.
“Technically it’s the same boot,” I pointed out. “Only your gold one matches. Your other one is unique.”
“You’re right. I’m a special marshmallow,” Meg said proudly. “Anyway, looks like Laurelei is getting the microphone set up. I gotta get up there and take care of anyone who tries to take my place in line.”
“Please, no violence. Marshmallows are...squishy. And nice!” I called after my friend, though I knew it was no use.
“A s’more?” Anthony raised an eyebrow. “Chocolate?” The two of us stood around the table, close enough to touch, neither of us making a move to do so.
“We all three go together so well,” I explained. “I dunno, I think Meg’s maybe a tiny bit annoyed that our girls’ weekend got disrupted. I think she’s trying to bring us all together – it’s her olive branch to you. Just...go along with it.”
“I’d apologize for ruining your alone time, but I won’t risk your safety by staying away.” Anthony’s eyes caught me in a serious stare. “I care about you.”
“I do too,” I said, swallowing hard as the speakers buzzed with static, interrupting our moment and covering up my words. We couldn’t catch a break this trip. Romantic, it was not. The crackle startled Anthony back to attention, his focus shifting back to a pair of supposed truckers sitting in the corner.
“It’s them, over there.” Two young guys sat at a different high-topped table. One was thick and a little beefy, the other lean with a flat-brimmed cap tipped slightly to the side. They were definitely not farmers from the area. Sticking out like a sore thumb, they had Chicago city boys written all over them.
“For some reason I thought there would be three,” I said. “I can’t remember if Laurelei said so, or if I just imagined it.”
Meg walked back, overhearing the last part of the conversation. “I’m first on the song list. And I asked Laurelei while I was up there…she said that’s them, all right. I’m not sure if there’s a third one or not, but maybe their buddy got sick. Or he could have the runs. Or he’s got a hot date. You never know, the options are endless.”
“I suppose. Two guys, just passing through town and stopping off for a nice, crisp beer.” I glanced down at my warm, flat PBR and wrinkled my nose.
“I’m going to check things out.” Anthony, with one parting glance at my shorts – and all that they contained – slid into the crowd. For all his size and muscle mass, he made vanishing look easy.
“Okay, this investigation thing is all fine and dandy for you and Anthony, but I just confirmed my song will be up soon,” Meg said. “We
can’t leave until my song gets up. I’m not chasing no bad guys when I Will Survive comes on.”
“Fitting song.”
“It’s always fitting. I’m still surviving, right? Until, you know, I die.” Meg guzzled her beer, then turned her attention to my beverage. I slid it across the table happily. I wasn’t normally a beer girl, and I was technically on the job. As Carlos had said, drinking on the job was frowned upon.
Though technically, I wasn’t really working. Carlos had merely asked me to stop by Gabe’s bar and gather gossip. I’d done so and more, but I couldn’t leave it alone now. Not until I figured out whether Facelli had something to do with the Luzzi Family in general, or just me. Or it was all just random, which was the least likely of the options.
“I can’t see Anthony. How does he do that?” I stood and glanced around the bar. The tall, dark-haired Italian should be easy to spot among the characters lining up for karaoke, but he was nowhere to be seen. “I’m gonna go swing by and try to get a read on our trucker friends.”
“Why?” Meg looked bored. “You know, if you don’t put your name down on that karaoke list, I’m gonna have to take your spot. This place is filling up quickly. And probably the crowd’ll love me so much they’ll give me standing ovations all night long. What will you do then? You can’t just walk up in between standing ovations, they’d boo you right off the stage.”
“You’re representing Team S’more on the stage tonight.” I patted my friend’s shoulder. “I know they’ll love you. And I’m your biggest fan.”
“Technically, I’m my own biggest fan.” Meg set my empty glass down on the table with a loud clink. “Because I love myself. And I’m bigger than you. Physically. So there you have it – I’m my own biggest fan.”
I cocked my head to the side. “Well, I support you in your endeavors. I’ll be right back.”
Meg turned her attention to the stage, whooping and hollering as Laurelei walked up and grabbed the microphone, getting ready to announce the order of songs. I, on the other hand, took the opportunity to slip away. I’d grab Meg another beer from the bar like a good second-biggest-fan, and then en route back, I could check out the truckers. I didn’t think they’d seen me when I walked in, and I wanted to gauge their reactions on first sight. If they gave signs of recognition when I introduced myself, there was a good possibility they’d been hanging around the Luzzi cabin...and possibly shoving bodies in my trunk.
I took a route that could only lead me right past the table where the Chicago-ians leisurely sipped beers, their eyes alternating between scanning the crowds and watching what was happening on stage.
I kept them in my line of sight as I emerged from the shadowy outskirts of the room. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the dark exteriors and under the disco ball lights. Almost immediately, the beefier of the two caught a glimpse of me, and did a quick double take. It was so fast, I wasn’t sure whether he recognized me, or if my sneaky presence had just caught him by surprise.
The leaner man followed his friend’s gaze, and now they were both looking at me, but I couldn’t tell if it was a gaze of recognition, or just the fact that I was one of the only women in the bar under thirty. But their gazes didn’t waver, and I needed to act fast. I only had one chance at a first meeting.
Sauntering up and pretending I had Meg’s level of confidence, I rested a hand on their table while the other cradled a Bud Light. “Say, I’m halfway done with my beer. Do you guys know where I can get a shot around here? I think my song’s up next, and I need a bit of liquid courage, if you know what I’m saying.”
“Yeah, bar’s over in the corner.” Beefcake was sizing me up, but turned his attention to his own beer when the lean one gave him a look. “But then again you already knew that, seeing as you have a drink.”
“Thanks,” I purred, ignoring the fact that my pickup line had completely flopped. “You two coming up and singing tonight?”
“Uh…” Beefcake resumed staring at the parts of my body not covered by floss or boots. Dang it, Meg.
“No, we’re not,” said the lean one, scowling. “We’re just grabbing a drink after work.”
“That’s nice,” I said. “What do you do? You look…strong.”
I reached over and squeezed Beefcake’s bicep just a little bit. In all honesty, it wasn’t that strong, and I wasn’t impressed. Then again, I compared everyone to Anthony, which was like comparing a mere human being to a Greek god.
“Trucker,” Beefcake grunted. This grunt sounded the slightest bit warmer. Maybe he was flattered.
“Awesome.” I was running out of things to say. I’d never maintained a more difficult conversation in my life, and I’d interacted with Carlos and Anthony, which was saying something. “Well, great. Nice to meet you, guess I’ll see you around.”
The men watched as I spun away and headed back towards my table. At the last second, I remembered I’d asked them where I could grab a shot, which meant I should be heading to the bar. I twisted around, making a beeline towards the dark corner to grab Meg another pint.
But I didn’t make it to the bar.
An arm snaked out from the crowd and pulled me off to the side. Anthony tucked me close to his body, pulling me behind yet another black, velvet curtain covering a doorway. This time, it appeared to be the janitor’s closet.
“You and me have a thing for closets this trip, huh?” I asked, seeing his eyes didn’t look all that happy. Anthony shook his head, unamused.
Turns out, it wasn’t a closet. Anthony led me down a short hallway to a door that opened into the chilly night, the fresh air licking against my skin. Goosebumps popped up on my legs and a shiver slid down my spine.
“Brrr! It’s cold out here, what are you doing?” I asked.
“What are you doing is the better question!” Anthony used his I’m-not-happy tone of voice.
“I was trying to see if the guys recognized me, jeesh. I thought it might be telling.”
“And?”
“And what?” I paused. “Oh. The bigger guy did a double take, but I couldn’t tell if it was because he knew me or…”
“Or these?” Anthony’s fingers slid down from where he’d been gripping my wrist. He skimmed a hand over my booty shorts. A tremor shook my body, and not because of the cold.
“You look nice, by the way,” he said, his voice steaming against my neck. “Er, not nice. Sexy.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Meg dressed me.”
Anthony slid his finger over the front of my shirt and played with the neckline, tracing it all the way down. I shut my eyes and held my breath, leaning into him. Both because it felt delicious, and because he radiated warmth like a furnace. When his fingers reached my stomach, I nearly melted.
“More?” Anthony asked. His voice shook me awake.
“Ah, no, thanks. That was plenty.” I took a moment to catch my breath. “Why’d you pull me out here anyway?”
Anthony took a moment to survey my face, my eyes, my lips. “Because you were drooling over them.”
“Were you jealous?” I put my hand against his chest.
“I just wanted a private glimpse of you.” Anthony’s eyes twinkled devilishly. “I figured since Meg’s up for karaoke, that gives me a solid two minutes alone with you.”
“Meg’s up? Oh, crap. I promised I’d watch.” My mind told me to step away from Anthony, but my body rebelled against my brain, and my feet remained glued to the ground.
Anthony pressed his lips to my ear, his murmurs sending a tingle all the way to my core. But before I could understand what he was saying, the bar’s side door opened again, and voices spilled outside.
Anthony and I backed away from each other, glancing up at the people who’d joined us behind Gabe’s. Two guys, one girl. The latter was the blonde who had “stolen” Meg’s look. She wore knee high boots, gold and sparkly, and a cute jean skirt with a red and white plaid shirt. Her whole look said cute country girl, and I refused to glance down at my own latex outfit
– courtesy of Meg – in comparison.
A flash of jealousy bolted through my veins, mostly because I wished I was wearing her outfit instead of mine. Plus, she looked great in it. I turned back to Anthony and, to his credit, he didn’t appear to notice.
His eyes fixed on me, he smiled. “It’s getting busy out here anyway. Should we go in and watch Meg?”
I nodded. “We might need earplugs, do you have any?”
Anthony opened his mouth to respond, but never got around to it. His eyes widened slightly at something – or someone – over my shoulder. I turned to look, but that wasn’t necessary.
The someone was already here.
“Anthony, hello! Fancy meeting you here,” the cute blonde said, resting her arm over his shoulder. My blood ran cold, and all of the sudden I hated her boots. And the mile-long legs inside of them.
Anthony didn’t smile.
“It was great to see you last night.” She smiled knowingly at Anthony, her mouth uncomfortably close to his cheek. As if just now realizing I existed, she turned towards me. “Hi, I’m Leanne. Great to meet you …”
“I’m Lacey.” I extended a hand, my voice as welcoming as a block of ice. “How do you two know each other?”
“We go way back.” Leanne waved a hand and, finally, removed her arm from Anthony’s shoulder.
“Colleagues, of a sort,” Anthony said, his voice level as he took a step away from Leanne. “From a while back.”
“Great.” My face might have smiled, but I couldn’t tell. My insides were frozen solid. Confusion, anger, jealousy...I couldn’t tell which was which as my face struggled to arrange itself in a pleasant expression. “I...my friend’s on stage. I’ll let you guys catch up. Um, more catching up, I guess.”
“Lacey, wait,” Anthony gestured as I began striding as fast as absolutely possible back towards the bar.
“I have to talk to you,” Leanne said, clearly speaking to Anthony, and Anthony alone. “It’s important.”
