Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [59]
“Yeah, I am. Why?”
“He around here?”
“No. Why do you care?”
Her chapped lips twisted. “Unfinished business.”
“Wrong. You’ve got no business with him.”
“You wish.”
“Stay away from him and keep your filthy fucking paws off him.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll rearrange your ugly face.”
She sneered. “Think you’re so fuckin’ tough. Lemme tell you somethin’.”
“This oughta be stellar advice from a crank head.”
A cheer rose from the dance floor when the band started playing; Nyla’s mouth moved but the words were lost in the music and drunken revelry.
“—be getting in touch with you.”
“What? I didn’t hear you.”
I squinted at Kevin because I was seeing two of Nyla, and that was two too many. I yelled, “What’d she say?”
“Hell if I know.”
205
Closing one eye against my double vision, I looked up and Nyla was gone. “Hey, where’d skanky-ho go?”
“I have no idea. She seems out of place here. What did she want?”
“I think she wanted to fight me.”
“You wish.” He moved my half-empty beer next to the wall. “I think it’s time you switched to coffee, babe.”
“I think it’s time we danced.” I grabbed his hand and tugged, lost my balance, and slipped down in the booth, knocking a couple of empty beer cans to the floor. I laughed hysterically. “Come on, partner, I love this song.”
“You don’t even know what song it is.”
“Sure, I do.”
“Name it.”
I stopped and listened. He was right. I didn’t know. “Something about mattress dancing?”
“You’re drunk,” Kevin said.
“No shit,” I slurred.
“Feel like you’re gonna barf?”
“Hell, no. Barfing is for lightweights.”
He laughed.
Whoa. Room spinning. Head rush. Maybe it
would be easier to concentrate if I closed my eyes. And set my forehead on the table.
“Is she okay?” Carla asked somewhere above my head.
“Bring us a couple of Cokes—no ice—and a cup 206
of coffee.”
Sleep beckoned like the perfect lover.
“Jules, you’d never live it down if you passed out in Dusty’s.”
“True.” I lifted my head very slowly.
Kevin’s familiar face swam into view. Made me happy and sad. “Sorry I’m such a sucky time.”
“You are not a sucky time. For Christsake, don’t say ‘I love you, man’ and get teary eyed.”
“Fuck you. I’m not gonna cry.”
“Then why are you sniffling?”
Because I love you, man. “’Cause I got a piece of lime up my nose.” I fumbled with my cigarettes. Kevin snatched my lighter. “Let me. Don’t want you to start your hair on fire.”
“I’m not that drunk.”
“Right.”
Carla dropped off the drinks. I sucked down both Cokes, popped three Excedrin, and suffered through the black sludge known as Dusty’s coffee. Even asked for a refill. Twice.
After a bit, don’t know how long—hours blur
living on tequila time—I felt more in control, but nowhere near totally sober. I needed a distraction.
“Tell me what’s going on with you and Amery.”
It appeared he wanted to hedge, but he finally said, “I’ve been with her since she returned from Vegas. One minute she’s fine; the next she’s hysterical. Yeah, she’s burying her grandfather tomorrow, so that’s to 207
be expected, but honestly? I needed a break from her tonight.” Kevin actually looked embarrassed. “Then there’s her whole rant about suing the pants off Prairie Gardens because it’s their fault he’s dead.”
“You know she probably has a good case.”
“No argument from me. She could probably own that place if she gets the right lawyer.”
“Much as we need the work, I certainly hope you aren’t planning to help her with this case and her pursuit of justice in the form of cash.”
A shadow fell across the table. We both glanced up expecting Carla.
But Big Mike towered over me. “Sorry to interrupt, but bossman would like to see you.”
“He’s back from Denver? Since when?”
“Just now.”
“How the hell did he find me?”
Big Mike said nothing.
“Did those fucking sneaky goons of his follow me here?”
“I don’t know. He wants to talk to you. Outside.”
I snorted; it smelled like limes. “If he wants to talk to me, he can come in here.”
“Not an option.” He