The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue #2) - Jessica Hawkins Page 0,116

Denise slides onto the stool next to me. “What’s up?” I ask.

She sets her purse on the counter. “I’ll have a Stella,” she tells Buck, waiting until he serves her to speak again. “It’s nice to see you, Andrew. Been a while.”

“I’ve been busy.”

She nods. “I’m sorry about before, when I yelled at you. It’s just, like, I care about you. You know? And Bell.”

“I know.” I take a seat too and lean my elbows on the bar. “Truth is, you’re probably right.”

“Am I?” she teases.

“I guess. Bell and I are codependent. I just don’t know how to parent any other way. I don’t know if I want to.”

“I know I don’t have children, but I have three older brothers.”

I take a swig and recall all the times I blew Denise off, especially right after sex. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“And I’ve been doing lots of thinking about this,” she continues. “You aren’t doing her any favors by scaring off women who get too close.”

I look over at her. Pico, Myra and Randy are nearby, cracking balls on the pool table while they wait for me to start a game. “By women, you mean you.”

She shrugs. “Just someone who might want to be part of your lives. You’re not going to be able to fight her battles for her forever.”

“You don’t know that,” I say, folding one corner of a cardboard coaster. “I can’t think of anything better to do with my time than follow her around and make sure people treat her right.”

She smiles a little. “You’re a good dad. I bet you’d be even better if you were happy.”

“Christ. What is it with you people? I am happy—”

I stop when I catch her wide-eyed expression. “Shit,” she says as color drains from her cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” I turn on my stool to follow her gaze. In the doorway, dressed in head-to-toe, skin-baring black clothing, is Shana. Scanning the bar. She spots us, narrowing her eyes.

“What the fuck,” Denise says. “Did you know—”

“Yeah,” I say. “She got back about a week ago.”

Shana strolls toward us. “Well, well, well,” she says. “I guess the rumors are true. I didn’t think you had it in you, Denise.”

“What’re you doing here?” Denise asks.

“Spoiling your date, it would seem.”

“It’s not a date.” Denise’s expression sours. “And what do you care? What right do you have to say anything? You left them.”

“Some friend you are.” Shana shakes her head slowly. “How long did you wait to move in on my man?”

I groan. If I thought I could flee the bar, I’d try, but Shana would never let me off that easily. “Come on. It’s not like that.”

Shana keeps her eyes on Denise. “I shouldn’t be surprised. I knew you always had a thing for him. You were supposed to be my friend.”

Denise flinches, dropping her arms to her sides. “I was a great friend to you, Shana. I invited you into our circle of friends because Andrew cared about you. You’re the one who up and left without a call. Didn’t even say bye. What was I supposed to do?”

“Fuck my boyfriend, I guess.”

“Look, we didn’t plan it,” I say in Denise’s defense. “We were friends. It just happened.”

Shana glares at Denise. “So it’s true then. You back-stabbing bitch.”

Denise’s mouth falls open. “Are you kidding me? Do you know what everyone in this town said about you when you left? I was the only one who defended you.”

I nod after I take another sip. “It’s true. Everyone talked shit. Denise said you had your reasons, though. Not sure why she had your back.”

“You have a funny way of showing support,” Shana says. “Pity you couldn’t get a seat at the table, though. Have to settle for his scraps.”

Denise’s eyes water. “Why do you think that is? You completely fucked with his head.”

Shana smirks. “You of all people should’ve known nobody could replace me. Especially not you. Andrew and I were made for each other. But you knew that, didn’t you?” She tilts her head. “Andrew likes a strong woman. Not someone who’ll swallow her self-respect just to get in his bed for a night. You’re pathetic.”

“That’s enough,” I say, and both women flinch at my raised voice. “Leave Denise out of this. She might be the only friend you have left here.”

“Not anymore,” Denise says.

“You think I care?” Shana asks. “Why are you still standing here?”

Denise’s face reddens as she looks between us. I remember what Flora said earlier—Shana won’t go quietly. And the more I