by Gina LaManna
There were a lot of words I’d use to describe Meg at the moment, but cute was not one of them. Sassy, scandalous, or...bright might have worked, but cute? No.
“You’re adorable,” I said, instead.
“You know, why don’t you wear that more often? You could even probably get a job as a stripper again.”
“I’m happy in my career choice.” I looked at my reflection in the window. “On second thought, I do not have enough confidence to wear this in public.”
“Let’s come up with fake names.” Meg raised a pink-taloned hand to scratch her forehead in thought. “It helped your mom be a stripper. Maybe it’ll help us channel our karaoke goddesses.”
“Okay...”
“Call me Marshmallow.” Meg looked proud.
“That was fast.”
“I been thinkin’ about it for a while. You think you could hook me up as a part-timer at TANGO? I mean, I love Shotz, but it’d be nice to switch things up a bit and let my inner exotic dancer break free.”
“I can try. And I don’t need a name. You can have two – one for me.”
“Nope, you definitely get one. Let’s see...how do you like Ice?”
“No.”
“Frost.”
“What is with all the cold names?” I asked.
“I’m stuck on Sugar,” Meg said. “But that’s your stripper one. You need a singer one. I was thinkin’ Frosting, but that’s too smooth. You’re not smooth. You need something grittier. You could be Chocolate.”
I glanced down at my un-sun-kissed skin. “I’m not sure that’s fitting.”
“What about Graham Cracker? Graham Cracker and Marshmallow go great together! Maybe we could get Anthony to be Chocolate – then we’d, us three, be a s’more! Just the three of us, like the best friends we’ve always been.”
“Or, you could just call me Lacey,” I said. “Let’s hit the road...in the Fiat.”
“We’re taking the Lumina.”
“No! There was someone killed back there.”
“Look, it’s all clean.” Meg popped the trunk open, and I had to admit, it was spotless. Apparently Anthony also had a contact who could make a crime scene and taco sauce disappear like they were nothing.
“If you don’t take your car now, you’ll never get over your irrational fear. And we gotta drive this sucker home.” Meg slammed the trunk shut. “And I sure ain’t walking nowhere in these boots. Getting up on stage is going to be enough of a physical challenge without walking to Gabe’s.”
I took a deep breath, opened the front door, and slid into the driver’s seat. “I am so unhappy with everything that is happening right now.”
“Cheer up, girlfriend. Anthony’s there now doing his surveillance thing at the bar. When you show up, his eyes are gonna pop out of his head.” Meg grinned. “You won’t be worried about s’moring any more, if you know what I mean.”
“You think so?”
“Oh, I know so.”
Chapter 28
“THIS PLACE IS NICE,” Meg said, strutting proudly into the diner. “I like the ambiance. Or maybe it’s just the leftover syrup I’m smelling.”
A light waffle and whipped cream scent lingered in the air. I followed close behind, the sun setting behind us. Anthony should already be here, somewhere, and Nora’s three stooges hadn’t been seen lately, so I hadn’t had the opportunity to kick them out yet. I had left a note kindly asking them to pack up, but I doubted they would acknowledge it.
“Laurelei?” I called. The front of the diner was a ghost town. The ripped seats along the counter were empty, the room devoid of any light except for the glow of the moon and stars that were just beginning to peek out from the dusky sky.
“I bet they’re back there.” Meg pointed towards the far end of the diner, close to the corner where I’d noticed the microphone during our breakfast chat with Laurelei.
“Back to the right,” Anthony said, appearing soundlessly behind us. “There’s a door. There’s also a rear door out the back in case of emergency – keep in mind it looks like a janitor’s closet. Worst case scenario, there’s a window in the bathroom.”
“Cripes, why are you sneaking around like that?” I started. “Why all the talk about the secret exits?”
“Never hurts to be prepared,” Meg said, moving towards the door full steam ahead.
I paused for a moment, feeling Anthony’s eyes raking over my figure.
“What are you looking at?” I asked, twisting slightly so he could get a full view.
Anthony’s eyes roved over me, taking in every inch, every stitch of fabric. Granted, there wasn’t a ton of fabric to go around, but it seemed as though he noticed every detail. His gaze lingered around my shorts in particular, the back of them, and I felt my cheeks heat.
“You look...” Anthony gave one shake of his head.
“I dressed her.” Meg reappeared at my shoulder. “Now stop ogling and show this nice man your IDs. Anthony, how do I look?”
Anthony made a confused noise in his throat. “Nice.”
“Nice?” Meg screeched. “Nice?”
“Uh...” Anthony took a step back. “Very nice.”
“I’m not nice looking, Anthony.” Meg stepped forward and poked him in the chest. “Cute, maybe. But not nice. Sassy. Sexy. Glamorous as all heck, but not nice.”
“I’m...um, I’m sorry?” Anthony glanced in my direction, his eyes wild.
“You’d better be,” Meg hissed. Gesturing towards me, she spoke to Anthony. “What do you think of her?”
“Um...cute?” Anthony guessed, looking at Meg.
“You’re talking to your girlfriend, not to me,” Meg said. “Look her in the eye. And she’s not cute. She’s sexy.”
“It’s okay, Meg,” I said. “Shouldn’t we go into the bar? I thought you wanted to get your name down first on the list. I’ve still got that one song stuck in my head that you played seven times on the way over here. What’s it called?”
“I dunno, the piña colada song. Everyone knows it.” Immediately distracted, Meg whipped out her ID from a secret pocket I didn’t dare ask about.
A bouncer, who looked more likely to crumble into dust than throw someone out of the bar, sat guarding a thick, black curtain. He glanced at Meg’s Minnesota ID, taking a long time to find the birthday. I guess Minnesota IDs were harder to decipher than Wisconsin’s. Either that, or he took a twenty-second nap while holding Meg’s license.
Eventually, the man let us in with a grunt. We filed past him, emerging from the other side of the black curtain into a doorway. Passing through the doorway, we entered a room where the ceiling appeared to be made from disco balls. Lights of all colors bounced off the twirling silver contraptions. The joint was a seizure waiting to happen.
“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 mo
rphed 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 m
e 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.”
