Dirty Page 7

  Right now, however, it just all seemed phenomenally shit.

  "Okay, here's what we do," said Nell, her spine snapping straight. "You come work for us at the Dive Bar."

  "But--" An imperious hand halted him.

  "No, Vaughan," she said. "You need money, we need a new bartender. Hell, we're probably about to need more waitstaff too. One way or another, you're covered. You can do Pat's shifts behind the bar for now."

  "I only planned on being in town for a few days, a week at most."

  Lines appeared beside Nell's mouth. "Fine. Whatever. Work while you're here. You start at six. Don't be late."

  "Okay. I won't be late."

  "And bring Lydia with you."

  "Why?"

  "I like her. She didn't mortgage my childhood home."

  "Right." Vaughan crossed his arms.

  "Thanks for the coffee and pastry," I said.

  "No problem. See you later."

  It took a while for the man to make any move once his sister left. For a long while, he stood staring after her, lost in thought. Useless platitudes filled my head, the usual reassuring crap. For now, I let it all go unsaid. Neither of us was really interested in hearing the obvious.

  This summer was genuinely proving to be a motherfucker.

  Wonder what nonsense was being said about me around town. Not that it mattered. No way I'd be accompanying Vaughan tonight to find out. First, I needed to find somewhere to stay until things were settled with the Delaneys. And if I hoped to have anything to wear in the near future, finding my clothes in this jungle needed to happen faster.

  I brushed off my hands, leaving the empty cup on the step to throw away later. "You okay?"

  "Yeah."

  "Liar," I whispered.

  "Am not," he whispered back.

  "Are too."

  He gave me a look most dubious.

  "That was a heavy conversation. All I'm saying is, it's okay not to be okay after it."

  He snorted, pushing his shoulders back. "You want to talk about feelings, Lydia? Is that what you want?"

  "Hell no." I laughed. "After yesterday I'm pretty much emotionally wrung out. I vote we be as shallow as humanly possible."

  "Thank god for that." A big hand reached out and smoothed down my most likely still psycho bed hair. "You had me worried."

  "But on the off chance it's necessary," I said quickly, "I do want you to know I'm here for you, just like you were there for me yesterday."

  "That sounds dangerously like feelings talk."

  "Not really."

  "Yes, really."

  "Fine. Take it how you will." I shrugged, getting back into the search and rescue of my belongings. Something glinted among the long grass. An earring. "I want to do a drive-by egging of Samantha and Ray's place, but they've got this big fence and gate."

  "Could be a problem." Beside me, Vaughan dropped to his knees, rifling among the vegetation. "How about we toilet paper their front fence?"

  "That could work."

  "Knew this guy once who dumped his girl by text. They'd been going out for like four or five years. Serious stuff. She got a couple of syringes full of fish oil and injected it into his car through the gap between the doors. Just squeezed it straight past the rubber lining and into the interior." He gazed up at me with a hint of a diabolical smile. "Dude comes back from touring for a couple of months and the inside of his GTO stinks so bad it's not funny. You couldn't even get near the thing, let alone drive it."

  I all but clapped my hands. "That's genius."

  "Isn't it." A pair of green silk underwear hung from his finger. "These yours?"

  "No. They probably belong to someone else whose belongings were dumped in your yard. But I'll take care of them for now."

  "That makes sense." Carefully, he inspected them. "French-cut cheekies, huh?"

  "You know your lingerie." I frowned.

  "Important to appreciate the finer things in life. Especially when they're to do with a fine woman."

  "Smooth."

  "You know, I had you figured for those boy-short things," he said with a smile. "Happy to be wrong, though. These are hot, babe. Like seriously hot."

  "Glad you approve."

  "But if you say they're not yours..." He started to stick them into his back pocket.

  "Give them to me, please."

  "Say you'll come to the Dive Bar with me tonight."

  "Oh, boy." I hesitated, everything inside of me rejecting the idea. "A public place. I don't think that's a good idea. I think laying low is my best option right now. Find somewhere to live for the next few days then get gone, start over somewhere new."

  "You stay here with me until you're ready to leave," he said, like it was obvious.

  "Really?"

  "Sure."

  "I wouldn't be in your way or anything?"

  "No." He passed me my underwear. "Course not."

  Quickly, I dropped them into the nearest box of stuff. Given the DEFCON 1 embarrassment levels of the past twenty-four hours, a pair of panties shouldn't have bothered me in the slightest. Perhaps it came down to the man doing the teasing.

  "I don't know," I said. "When you get right down to it, we barely know each other."

  "It's only for a couple of days. A week at most, right?"

  "Yes, but--"

  "Are you worried about you or me in this scenario?"

  "You," I said, happy to be hiding behind the sunglasses. Those beautiful blue eyes saw too much. "You could change your mind and feel stuck with me. I don't want to add to your problems."

  "Lydia, I don't want to add to yours either. But I do want you here."

  "You do?" My breath didn't mean to catch, I'm sure of it. It was just an accident. The thought of Vaughan actually liking me thrilled and terrified me in equal parts. He was so hot. And I was so me. But I could pretend to be cool for a temporary period. I could do this. "Why, if you don't mind me asking?"

  With a scowl, he stretched out in the long grass, relaxing, for all intents and purposes. "Can I trust you with something?"

  "Of course."

  He licked his lips again, sighed. "Mom and Dad died when I was twenty. I've never been here without them. Not for more than a night or two. It just, it doesn't feel right."

  Hell. My heart ached for him.

  "Nell packed up the place, got someone to paint the inside so I wouldn't feel weird, so it would feel like my own house, I guess. But it doesn't."

  I sat down cross-legged in the grass in front of him. Picked the head off a dandelion and ran it back and forth across the palm of my hand. "Vaughan, it would be great if I could hang here while I get things sorted."

  "Good." A slow smile spread across his face. "And I'd really like it if you'd come with me tonight, see Nell's bar. She'd love to have you there, she said so."

  I scrunched up my nose.

  "C'mon. You have to go out sometime."

  "Hmm, bad idea. I think I've already filled my quota for public humiliation this year."

  "You'll have a good time." He shook his head. "No way Nell's going to let anyone hassle you in her place, babe."

  "That's not my name." The dandelion fell apart on a warm breeze, drifting off to who knew where.

  "All right. Come tonight and I'll never call you babe ever again."

  "Never ever again?" I sized him up over the top of my sunglasses, judging his sincerity.

  "You have my word." With deliberate slowness, he drew a cross over his heart.

  The amount I owed the man was big. Huge. But then so was the thought of going out into the public arena and risking death, dismemberment, and some really nasty gossip. Bitches be everywhere. But also, he was right. I did have to go out sometime.

  "Okay." I held out my hand.

  He shook it. Then kept holding on, gazing deep into my eyes.

  "You're going to have fun, Lydia."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I was not having fun. Mostly, I was fighting the urge to puke. Though in all honesty, t
he state of my stomach had more to do with my hangover than anything else.

  The Bird Building wasn't a mall. Basically, it was a ninety-year-old two-story brick monster in midtown, the ground floor a neat line of retail spaces facing the street. First were a couple of empty shops, the windows covered in aging notices of bands playing in town, lost dogs, street fairs, and the like. Next was the Guitar Den, a tattoo parlor called Inkaho, then the Dive Bar taking up the prestigious corner position.

  The Beatles played, filling the warm evening air along with the sounds of cutlery and glassware, the hum of chatter. It flowed through the open windows and doorway of the Dive Bar out onto the quiet street. It looked like they had a decent-size crowd for a Sunday. People flocked to town each summer, but most seemed to stay downtown by the lake. I bet the bars and shops there would be full. Midtown, away from the water, tended to be quieter. More for locals.

  With a hand hovering at my lower back, Vaughan ushered me along the sidewalk.

  "I'm not going to make a run for it," I said, yet again tucking my hair behind my ears, straightening out the imaginary creases in my black linen button-up top.

  The side eyes he gave me were full of doubt. "The thought never crossed my mind."

  "Liar."

  "The fact that I had to manhandle you out of the car--"

  "Signifies nothing more than how very cool I think your car is."

  "Right." I could tell he was laughing at me on the inside. "Come on, single lady."

  *

  Not so subtly, he took hold of my elbow. The muscles in his arms flexed as if he expected some great escape attempt to happen at any moment.

  Liking people was a bitch. Same with giving your word.

  As we approached the building, I said, "I've been thinking about your money dramas. Wondering if I can help?"

  He licked his lips. "You'll pretty much do anything to delay this, won't you?"

  "I'm serious, I've been worrying about you all day, what with Nell not being able to buy the house like you'd hoped. I realize we haven't known each other for long, but I'd like to help somehow if I can."

  A sigh. "I'm going to have to sell it to someone else. It's going to suck, but that's where my situation's at."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Thanks." He wiped a hand over his face. "Don't suppose you'd like to rethink your leaving town plan and make an offer?"

  "I wish I had that kind of money. And a job." A couple of years in real estate had enabled me to make a start on some savings. Nothing like what the Sanders Beach home would fetch, however. "I could give you some advice on the market, point you in the direction of a good agent and so on."

  "Yeah, ah ... let's talk about this another time. All right?"

  "Sure. Whenever you're ready."

  "Thanks."

  A couple of young women passed us by, one doing a double take when she saw me. Next thing you knew, her mouth was going rapid fire against her friend's ear. The friend turned back to look at me, giggling. Ugh.

  "Maybe tonight's a bit soon," I said, edging back a step. "I mean, you need to concentrate on the bar and, really, Nell will be busy cooking, so--"

  In one smooth move, he stepped in front of me, turning so we were face-to-face. His hands grabbed hold of my hips, drawing operation "get the hell out of here" to an abrupt halt. "Lydia?"

  I blinked. "Vaughan?"

  "We're going in there and it's going to be okay."

  "I'm not so sure about that."

  He swallowed, stopping a moment to think. "What's the worst that can happen?"

  "Everyone could point and laugh at me, forcing me to relive the shame and horror of yesterday."

  "Yeah, true." Fingers rubbed at the wide hips of my jeans as he held his face down close to mine. Not doing anything, just being there. "How'd you get through yesterday, though?"

  "Running away, you, sarcasm, violence, and last but not least, tequila."

  "You can have everything today apart from the running away," he said. "How's that sound?"

  "You want me to answer that honestly?"

  "Nope. You're going to have fun, Lydia."

  I highly doubted it, but it would be impolite to say so.

  "And if anyone in there gives you shit, I'll punch them for you."

  "My hand still hurts from yesterday, so thanks. I appreciate that."

  "No problem."

  We stood, staring at each other, smiling for one perfect moment. Then I smacked myself in the forehead. "Crap. It's your first night at work and I'm putting all my drama on you again."

  He hung his head. "Yeah, you are."

  "I'm so sorry."

  Such a long and gusty exhalation. The man had big lungs. Also, bad friends, namely me.

  "Vaughan?"

  "On the plus side, when you get worked up your tits start heaving up and down with each breath. Magnificent. Honestly, I can't get enough of it." Little lines appeared on his forehead as his hands demonstrated the apparently bouncy-boob-like motions in front of his chest. "I'm tempted just to say shit to get you started, I love it so much."

  In the face of his broad grin, I had nothing.

  Actually, that's a lie. "I felt bad, you asshat."

  The good-looking asshole just smiled. Far in the distance the first star started twinkling and doing its thing in the gray and violet sky. Mountains loomed dark and ominous in the distance. Nature, the show-off. But it had nothing on Vaughan standing there, smiling. Lust, like, or whatever this was ... I had it in the worst way. Maybe if he seemed in a good mood after finishing work, I'd raise my new-friends-having-sex idea with him. We were both only in town for a few days and the clock was ticking. His gaze flickered between my boobs and face, never quite settling on one or the other.

  Nipples are little beasts, always reacting to everything, especially when you'd rather they be discreet. There's a reason titillation starts with the word "tit." So of course they got hard now, reveling in his attention. Ever so quickly, I crossed my arms, covering them up.

  "I don't even..." The words, they disappeared. "You make no sense. I mean, they're covered. My shirt is buttoned up past any and all hint of cleavage."

  "Doesn't matter. I can still see the shape of them. It's enough to keep a man like me happy."

  "It's like you have some sort of breast obsessive-compulsive disorder. Have you considered seeking counseling for your addiction?"

  He sighed, face carefully set. "Nothing wrong with a man admiring a fine female chest. But if you disagree, feel free to hold it against me."

  I rolled my eyes.

  *

  "Right, so we've discussed both my shit and your shit. Are we done here?" he asked in an abrupt return to serious. "Can we go inside now?"

  "Let's."

  A nod.

  "You're going to be great," I said, all enthused.

  "You're the one who's nervous, not me. I'm all good, babe," he teased.

  "Very funny. Call me babe one more time and I'm out of here."

  Instead, he firmly guided me up the couple of front stairs and through the old glass doors.

  Even though he might not have been nervous, I wasn't so sure about his general state of mind. I think going to work for Nell was messing with his Zen cool guy guitarist philosophy big-time. Combine that with memorizing prices, cocktail recipes, the location of everything, keeping up with orders, keeping out of any other bartender's way, restocking, and doing everything else involved in tending a bar and Vaughan had a busy night ahead of him. Hell, I think all of it, being back in town, breathing the northern Idaho air, living in what had once been his childhood home, his parents being gone, it had to be all screwing with his head. Add in the money woes and his band breaking up for extra damage. I couldn't help but feel for him. We'd both had dreams go lopsided.

  All day, he'd kept close, helping me find, then clean and pack, my belongings. We didn't talk about anything deep and meaningful. Mostly just movies and music and places he'd been. Stories from life on the road. I'd gotten the
distinct sensation that he wanted to keep himself occupied.

  Understandable. Drama, gah. We'd both had our fill.

  When we walked in I didn't notice any recognizable faces, but I was still a wee bit agitated to be out in public.

  "I'm here to be wowed by your bartending skills," I said, slowly moving through the maze of customers and tables.

  "Uh-huh. I'll be sure to juggle some bottles and shit, light something on fire while I make your espresso martini." He flicked the word off his tongue like pronouncing it was a trick all its own. "Or are you more of a margarita girl, hmm?"

  "Today, I'm more of a water and ice girl. If you feel like getting fancy, Mr. Bartender, I'll take a slice of lemon on the side. A straw, maybe."

  "Yeah?" Only a small smile curved his lips. Not nervous, my ass. He might be better than me at hiding things, but those things lingered there just beneath the surface nonetheless. Anyone willing to watch and care could see.

  "Still feeling the pain from the tequila last night?" he asked.

  "A little."

  He looked down at me, gaze softening. "Lydia--"

  "There you are!" Nell rushed over, red hair strictly tied back, wearing a professional-looking black apron.

  Vaughan frowned and checked his watch. "I'm right on time."

  A brow went up. "Did I say you weren't?"

  "Nice place." I interrupted the potential argument before the two siblings gained momentum. "All of the dark wood with the raw brickwork and the giant windows. It's got such a great atmosphere." It truly did. Brutal might be the best word to describe the style of the place. Though there were traces of luxury and nods to the buildings 1920s origins too. A section of wall covered in ancient band posters had been preserved. A fancy black wrought-iron circle staircase sat in the corner, leading up to the closed-off second level. The wooden-topped metal-legged table-and-chair sets had an edgy industrial feel. But there were also booths with luxurious shiny black leather. It shouldn't have worked yet it did. The temptation to settle in and order a drink, a plate of something to eat, was huge.

  "It's awesome, Nell."

  The wrinkle lines around Nell's nose disappeared and her lips spread wide in obvious pleasure. "You like it?"

  "I love it." Chris would have sneered at the place for not being fancy enough, but screw him anyway. The bar felt comfortable, relaxing, despite all of the people turning our way, whispering. No. Okay. That was a lie. I wasn't okay with this. Never had there been such a crappy idea. I should have stayed hidden away at the house.