Dead Reckoning - Charlaine Harris [58]
Bud resumed his seat while he slowly got his own money out of his worn old wallet.
“Halleigh’s having one, Portia’s having one, Tara’s having two, I hear. Sookie, you need to get you one of those little ’uns,” he said, and took a drink. “Good iced tea.” He set his empty glass down with a little thump.
“I don’t need to have a baby just because other women are doing it,” I said. “I’ll have one when I’m ready.”
“Well, you ain’t having one at all if you keep dating that deader,” Bud said bluntly. “What do you think your gran would say?”
I took the money, turned on my heel, and walked away. I asked Danielle if she’d take Bud his change. I didn’t want to talk to Bud anymore.
Stupid, I know. I had to be thicker-skinned than that. And Bud had only spoken the truth. Of course, he had the perspective that all young women wanted to have children, and he was pointing out to me that I was on the wrong track. As if I didn’t know that! What would Gran have said?
I would have answered without a pause a few days ago. Now, I wasn’t so sure. There’d been so much I hadn’t known about her. But my best guess was that she would have told me to go with my heart. And I loved Eric. As I picked up a burger basket and took it to Maxine Fortenberry’s table (she was having lunch with Elmer Claire Vaudry), I found myself anticipating the moment of dark when he would wake. I looked forward to seeing him with a kind of desperation. I needed the reassurance of his presence, the assurance that he loved me, too, the passionate connection we felt when we touched each other.
As I waited for an order at the hatch, I watched Sam pull a draft. I wondered if he felt the same way about Jannalynn as I felt about Eric. He’d dated her longer than he’d dated anyone since I’d known him. Maybe I figured he was more serious because he was arranging for nights off so he could see her more often, something he’d never done before. Sam smiled at me when his eyes caught mine. It was sure nice to see him happy.
Though Jannalynn was not good enough for him.
I almost clapped a hand over my mouth. I felt as guilty as though I’d said that out loud. Their relationship wasn’t any of my business, I told myself sternly. But a softer voice inside me said that Sam was my friend and that Jannalynn was too ruthless and violent to make him happy in the long run.
Jannalynn had killed people, but I had, too. Maybe I judged her as violent because she sometimes seemed to enjoy the killing. The idea that I might be like Jannalynn at heart—how many people did I want dead?—was another downer. Surely the day had to get better?
Pretty much always a fatal thought.
Sandra Pelt strode into the bar. It had been a long time since I’d seen her—and she’d been trying to kill me then, too. She’d been a teenager then, and she still had yet to turn twenty, I figured; but she looked a little older, her body more mature, and she had a cute shag hairdo that contrasted oddly with the snarl on her face. She brought with her an aura of rage. Though her slim body was appropriately dressed in jeans and a tank top, a loose shirt open and flapping, you could see the crazy in her face. She enjoyed dealing out the damage. You couldn’t see into her head and miss that. Her movements were jerky with tension, and her eyes roved from one person to another until they found mine. They lit up like Fourth of July fireworks. I could see right inside her brain, and I saw she had a gun tucked in the back of her jeans.
“Uh-oh,” I said, very quietly.
“What more do I have to do?” Sandra screamed.
Conversations all over the bar dwindled to silence. From the corner of my eye, I saw Sam reach down under the bar. He wouldn’t make it in time.
“I try to burn you up, and the fire goes out.” She was still at full volume. “I give those jerks free drugs and sex, and send them to grab you, and they bungle it. I try your house, and the magic won’t let me enter. I’ve tried to kill you over and over, and you just won’t