Dirty Page 8

  Oh, no. Wait. My mistake. They were checking out Vaughan in his tight jeans. Fair enough. His ass was a work of art. I breathed out a sigh of relief. Excellent. Tonight would be good. I'd just blend in, chill out, and chat with Nell.

  "Eric and his brother, Joe, did most of the work. Come and meet him. Joe, this is Lydia," she hollered, snagging the attention of almost everyone in the bar.

  Yeah, okay. Now all eyes were definitely turned my way. Bless Nell and her family's extraordinary lung capacity. If only they'd use it for good instead of evil.

  "You know, the one I told you about." She grabbed my wrist and towed me through the labyrinth of tables toward the bar.

  "I know," the blond bear behind the bar responded, giving me a nod. Then his smiling eyes moved on to Vaughan. "Nice of you to let us know you were back in town, dickface."

  "Yeah, yeah. Nell's already given me a hard time." Vaughan reached across the bar, gripping the other guy's thick shoulder. "Good to see you, man."

  "You too. How long you back for this time?"

  "Not sure. Got a few things to sort out."

  Joe grunted understanding.

  Joe appeared to be a mountain-man-bartender crossbreed. A Viking throwback, maybe. He was a big guy with big shoulders and a big blond beard. Clearly, there were far more northern Idaho sex gods than I'd given the region credit for. Further classifications were going to be required. If Vaughan topped the super-cool category, then maybe this new guy should win on the lumbersexual front. Given my abrupt return to singledom, I'd have to give this important man-classification system more thought.

  Disclaimer: Objectifying people is wrong and stuff.

  "Hear you're hired," said Joe to Vaughan.

  "Yep."

  "Get on the right side of the bar, then."

  Vaughan laughed and did as told. Obviously, the bar itself was old and original. Names, dates, and every other marking imaginable had been scratched into the polished wood over god knows how many years of service. This place had real history. It was a decent-size bar, running alongside one of the interior walls. Behind it were shelves full of liquor. Every kind imaginable. Hidden down lights lit up the glass bottles beautifully. Below this sat a long row of beer taps; all the options were mind-boggling.

  Clearly, the Dive Bar took its booze seriously.

  "Hey, sis," said Vaughan, lowering his voice.

  "What?"

  "Be nice."

  "I'm always nice." Nell patted me on the arm, before turning back to her brother. "Don't worry, your new girlfriend is safe with me. Right, let me quickly run you through the price list."

  "I'm not his girlfriend," I said for the sake of anyone listening. "We're just friends."

  "Yeah?" Joe scratched at his chin. "I'm single too."

  "Really?" I asked, immediately feeling embarrassed by how shocked I was.

  The big guy shrugged, giving me a what-can-you-do look. "Working nights, place like this..."

  Huh. "Are you trying to tell me you don't meet a lot of women tending bar?"

  Swear to god, there was a dimple hidden in that there beard. "I meet a lot of women. Not necessarily the kind you want to take home to Mom, you know? Not necessarily the kind looking to meet Mom either."

  "Not that there is anything wrong with that."

  "Absolutely not, ma'am." Joe started checking me out with renewed interest, dark gaze lingering over my lady bumps. But as brawny and manly as the dude was, his being Vaughan's friend and coworker made him a complication. Whatever happened between now and me putting this town in my rearview mirror, it would not involve complications.

  Over my dead curvy unwed body.

  "Sorry," I said. "I'm not looking to meet, or not meet, your mother right now. Just got out of a bad relationship."

  "Heard about that," he reported matter-of-factly.

  "Yeah." Ugh. "Awesome."

  "Did you really climb an eight-foot-high fence in heels and a wedding dress?"

  "It was closer to six."

  The man puffed out his lips. "Still ... impressive."

  "Thanks."

  The Beatles changed into the Arctic Monkeys and the scents coming from the kitchen were making my mouth water. Garlic, beef, food in general, all good things. Despite the music, I was reasonably certain everyone in a two-block radius heard my stomach rumble.

  "Joe will be with you all night, ask him anything you need," said Nell, wrapping up her brief tutorial.

  "Right. Thanks."

  The two shared a smile.

  "Remember what I told you about Lydia." Vaughan gave his sister a serious look. "Don't get her wet or feed her after midnight. She turns into this weird growly psycho animal. It's not good."

  "I'm not a Gremlin," I said.

  "Wait." With great drama, Vaughan smacked himself in the forehead. "My bad. It was tequila that did that. You can get her wet and feed her as much as you like, Nell. Just keep her away from tequila."

  I subtly scratched my cheek with my middle finger.

  The jerk grinned while Joe snickered. Honestly, Nell was right. The sooner all men were sent to colonize the moon, the better for everyone.

  "Anyone actually working here tonight?" A short dark-skinned woman dressed in a black Dive Bar T-shirt stood farther down the bar, tapping her talons on the stonework. She and Vaughan nodded to one another with familiarity.

  "Any sign of Stella?" Nell asked her.

  "No," the woman answered. "My fellow waitress is still M.I.A."

  "That girl's about to be out on her ass. I don't care how great Eric thinks she is with the customers. Oh, Rosie, this is Lydia," said Nell. "Lydia, this is Rosie, one of our waitresses. She's been with us from the start. She was also in the same year at school as Vaughan. Say hi."

  "Hi."

  "Delaney's runaway bride?" Rosie's eyes lit up with interest. "I've been hearing about you all day. Is it true you climbed a ten-foot-high fence topped with barbwire?"

  "She said it was closer to six," answered Joe in his gravelly voice. "Didn't hear anything about barbwire."

  The shine in the waitress's eyes dimmed a little. "Still. Not bad for a woman in a wedding dress. Mine was so tight I couldn't even get out of the limo without help. Did you know the groom and his best man took off to Hawaii?"

  "No way," said Nell.

  My stomach sunk. "They went on the honeymoon?"

  It made sense. Otherwise, the tickets would have gone to waste. Well, Chris's tickets, at least. They would have had to buy new ones for the best man. Mine were nontransferable and I highly doubted travel insurance covered cancellation of wedding due to a scandalous sex tape. And yet, Chris and Paul were right now enjoying my romantic beach honeymoon. The effort I'd put into finding the right resort for us, the best room to start our wedding life off together perfectly. Wonder what they'd think of the massages and candle-lit dinners I'd booked. Suddenly my face felt swollen, my eyes hard and sore. No more crying.

  It didn't matter. It didn't.

  "I heard they'd gone too," said a woman at a nearby table.

  Too many people. There were too many people all up in my business. It gave me hives. Suddenly, all of the big windows, polished stone, and glossy worn-old-wood loveliness of the bar felt more like a trap. A stage with bright lights. My shoulders inched up, hiding me from view. Such a shit storm of titillation. I'd never given it much thought before, what it'd be like to be one of those people on the pages of magazines. Trailed around by paparazzi, having your life spread across the pages and dissected at every turn. And this was just a scandal in a small(ish) town. My aversion to attention, especially over something as embarrassing as this, made the Delaneys's need to buy my silence all the more ridiculous. Those people didn't know me at all.

  I wanted my privacy back. To be just one more face in the crowd, doing my thing, living my life. Coeur d'Alene and I were done. Through. Kaput.

  Amid the madness came a voice. "Hey."

  Vaughan's eyes caught me, calming me. Gossip was not the end of
my world. A few more days and I'd be out of here. The thought of leaving Vaughan bit, though he'd soon be on his way too. Back to the West Coast and the music biz. I'd make other friends. One day, I might even meet a man I could trust, someone I could make plans with.

  "You okay?"

  "Sure," I lied. "Why wouldn't I be?"

  He leaned over the bar, getting closer, making a safe space just for me and him. "Asshole stole your honeymoon."

  "Meh. Bet he catches crabs."

  "Bet he gets sunburn on his balls."

  "Bet he accidentally gets fed to the sharks," I said with great venom. "And there'll be nothing left but this red froth in the churning water, just like in Jaws."

  "Nice." Vaughan nodded in appreciation. "How do you see that happening?"

  I bit my lip, pondering. "Maybe he'll go out on one of those charter fishing boats and fall overboard. I don't have all the details together yet."

  One side of his mouth curved upward, eyes set on me. Like, really focused solely on me. I checked my front teeth with my tongue. Nothing there that I could feel. Maybe there was a mark on my face or he'd just realized I was outside my healthy weight range or something.

  "What?"

  "You look looser now," he said. "You've lost the bullshit plastic smile."

  "Have I?"

  "Yeah." He linked his fingers, exhaled. "All good, babe?"

  "All good." I was so happy he was there with me, I honestly didn't even mind that he'd used the b-word.

  "Don't need me to hit anyone?"

  "Nuh. I got this."

  "Okay." He turned to his sister. "Nell, look after this woman, feed her."

  "On it." Once more, his sister grabbed my hand. She towed me toward the kitchen, located beyond a low partition, apart from the gossip pit. Nirvana. Good food. Peace and relative quiet. And all of this with a view of Vaughan, my favorite combo of friend and man-candy, busting his moves at the bar. Awesome. Saved yet again by my tattooed redheaded hero in blue jeans.

  Now if I could just figure out a way to return the favor.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Nell could cook.

  She could also bark orders at her assistant (a harried older guy named Boyd), pump me for information about her brother (not that I had any), and still find time to bitch intermittently about Pat. The woman multitasked like a master.

  "Is it always this busy?" I asked, hanging to the side, trying to keep out of the way. Every table was taken and there were a couple of people standing around, socializing by the bar.

  "Summer's hard to judge. When the bars downtown fill up, we seem to get some of the spillover, along with our usuals." Nell wiped the edges of a dish clear, then deposited it under the heating lamp to be collected. "Long as they keep coming and paying, I'm happy."

  Joe and Vaughan were keeping busy. A second waitress, Stella, had finally arrived to work alongside Rosie, considerably lightening the load. Where Rosie seemed friendly, Stella kept her distance. Though with the less-than-warm looks Nell was shooting her way, I would too. She was early twenties at a guess with short jet black hair and a nose ring. Very cool.

  The night only seemed to get busier. For every table cleared, another party would enter. I'd offered to go catch a cab home, to let Nell work in peace. She'd ordered me to stay put. So I taste-tested dishes as directed, chatted with her, and slowly sipped iced water in the impressively shiny kitchen.

  "He's watching again; quick, look happy," said Nell.

  I turned my head, gave Vaughan a finger wave. "Does he usually worry this much?"

  "Not in my experience. But then, it's been years since he's been around."

  With a lethal-looking knife, she made short work of dicing onions. Not a single tear was shed. Next she moved onto testing a boiling pot of pasta. "Went and visited him on the Coast a few times. Things were always crazy busy. They'd be in the middle of recording or on their way to a gig. It's not like we really got time to talk."

  "That's too bad."

  "Then once we opened this place, my life revolved around it. I'm here working or I'm at home catching up on sleep."

  "I bet." I'd never run my own business, but I could imagine.

  "Since our parents passed, Vaughan's been even harder to get ahold of. I don't know, I guess most families grow apart, right?"

  "I'm probably the wrong person to ask. Mine was never close to begin with."

  "Yeah?"

  "I was an accident. Reproduction never featured on my parents list of things to do. They were always working, trying to make things better. Have the money to buy a big shiny house with the latest everything." I shrugged. "It just never quite worked out that way."

  Nell frowned. "Dad worked a lot, but Mom was usually home."

  "I don't mean to be nosy. But do you mind if I ask how your parents died?"

  "Car accident," she said, the volume dropping on her voice. "Happened at night. It'd just started raining and there was oil on the road. Dad lost control and they hit a tree. Mom died on impact but Dad lasted longer. They'd managed to cut him out of the vehicle and were on their way to the hospital. Luckily he never regained consciousness after the accident. He never knew Mom was gone."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Yeah." She shook herself. "Anyway, Vaughan and I were tight through high school. Pretty much part of the same crowd. It was weird when he left, I was so used to having him around."

  She stopped to pass me a small dish of feta and olives.

  "That's how I met my ex, Patrick. He was a friend of Vaughan's. I stole him. Probably why he's so worried about trusting me with you." She winked. "He's worried I've changed teams," she said sarcastically.

  "Mm, sorry. I'm going to have to decline." I popped a black olive into my mouth. Delicious. "You've got a hot bod, but you're too complicated. I'm currently avoiding any and all complications of the romantic kind."

  "Ha. I guess we'll have to be just friends."

  "I'd like that."

  She smiled and checked on the progress of some gourmet pizzas, then plated them up with precision. Halloumi, pumpkin, spinach, and pine nuts. It looked divine and smelled even better. "Me too."

  "This place is a lot nicer than most dive bars I've been in." To be honest, it was more along the lines of some hipster restaurant/bar with a small stage set up in a corner. "It's much brighter and the floor isn't sticky."

  "We inherited that name," explained Nell. "Andre Bird, the guy that owns the building, his dad opened the Dive Bar here back in the seventies. He died behind that bar six years ago. Heart attack. One minute he was pouring beer, the next minute, gone."

  "Huh."

  "Pat swears he saw the old guy's ghost late one night when he was locking up. But I think he's full of it." A shadow of a smile lingered on her lips. Then she shook it off. "You know Stage Dive did their first public gig on that tiny stage over there."

  "No." My eyes bulged.

  "Yep. I was here. They were absolutely awful." She laughed. "Took them a few years to get to the point where they were actually worth listening to."

  I stared at the stage, mind officially blown. Then I quickly checked out how Vaughan was doing. He was busy restocking the beer fridge. Seemed all good.

  "We get diehard fans coming in to get their pictures taken on the stage pretty regularly." She plated up some sort of stuffed chicken breast, spinach and soft cheese oozing out of the middle. "Some are a bit wacked, kissing and stroking it. Eric and Joe had to throw one guy out for trying to hump it. We're pretty sure he was high as a kite. Still, can you imagine the splinters he would have gotten? Ouch."

  I snorted. "Ouch, all right. That's amazing that you saw Stage Dive so early."

  "Vaughan was in school the same year as a couple of the guys. Had some classes with them. Ask him about it sometime." Nell paused, grimaced. "Maybe don't, since his band's broken up and they're bigger than ever."

  "Think I'll keep my mouth shut. Can't be easy, being a musician and coming from the same town as them."

  A
couple of women in tight-fitting dresses were at the bar, flirting with Vaughan. Not that someone flirting with him was any of my business. Mostly. The amount of alcohol-fueled sex offers bartenders must get ... though those guys had a lot going for them no matter the situation. Tattoos, muscles, general coolness. Us normal folk never stood a chance.

  Why would they settle down when they could live the free and easy lifestyle forever?

  "It's great that this place has such a rich history," I said, making myself look away from him. Maybe I should tape my head to the wall. Use a staple gun, perhaps.

  Again, Nell made that short sharp almost startling sound of joy and/or amusement. It was hard to say if she was laughing or yipping or what. "Oh, there was history. You should have seen the amount of mirror tiles and velvet wallpaper and shit we had to pull down to get it back to the original brick and wood. Right, Boyd?"

  Nothing from Boyd.

  Nell didn't even seem to notice. "I wanted to rename it, but Pat and Eric outvoted me. Probably for the best. The whole town knows it as the Dive Bar."

  "You might have gotten haunted by the old man."

  "Yeah. Andre Senior would not have been impressed."

  On the other side of the room, I watched Vaughan mix a couple of bourbon and Cokes, passing them to Rosie. (Hey, I'd avoided looking at him for a solid thirty, forty seconds.) Joe tapped him on the arm, telling him something. Then, with a nod, Vaughan moved on to the next job. His lean angular face seemed fierce, determined. I felt for him. Learning a new trade was never easy--especially on such a busy night.

  "Jesus, you've got it bad," said Nell.

  I snapped to attention, spluttering, "What?"

  "You keep watching him."

  "I do not."

  "Oh god, yes, you do," said Nell. "Tell her, Boyd. It's kind of nauseating."

  Boyd didn't even bother looking up from the pot he was stirring.

  "He saved my big butt yesterday. He's my friend and this is his first night on a new job," I said, trying my best to be nonchalant, noncrazy. "I want him to do well, that's all."

  The redheaded woman raised a single brow.

  "Fine." I took a deep breath. "Nell, I hate to be the one to have to tell you this. But your brother is hot. Like smokin' hot. Honestly, it's kind of impossible to have a vagina and not look."