Change of Heart - By S.E. Edwards Page 0,64
rain had let up recently. Before doing so, however, it had soaked my leather jacket so much it feels like I am carrying a carcass on my shoulders.
I see the lights of a town coming up in the distance. More cars start to pass us. Rich takes an exit and drives through the streets before pulling into a half-empty parking lot. There’s a small, dark building in one corner. A sign hangs over the door: The Blackbear Pub.
“What are we doing here?” I ask as I swing my legs off the motorcycle.
“Food,” Rich replies. “Warmth. Information. I have to figure out where we are. Come on.”
When he opens the doors, a blast of hot air greets me. Hot air, loud music, and hundreds of overlapping voices. It had been impossible to tell from outside, but this place is packed.
Rich doesn’t wait for the hostess. He grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowd. We go straight to the bar. There are a pair of empty stools near the corner. We take them.
The bartender is a long-legged, bubbly blonde with a fake tan, fake boobs, and fake lashes. She darts over as soon as she sees Rich. “What can I get for you, honey?” she drawls in a lilting, Southern accent that she probably thinks is sexy.
I roll my eyes. I don’t think she even realizes Rich and I came together. Well, I’ve dealt with her kind in California plenty of times before.
“Two burgers,” Rich says, making a point of looking my way before turning his attention back to the bartender. “And two Guinesses. No.” He shakes his head. “Wait. We’re going to need something stronger than that. Get me a Three Wise Men. And a Dry Manhattan, on the rocks.” He winks at me. “Right?”
“Yeah,” I say, surprised that he remembers the drink I had ordered the night we’d met. Most guys don’t pay attention to things like that.
“Sure,” the blonde says. The smile she gives us becomes as fake as the rest of her. Realizing Rich didn’t come here alone seems to have dampened her enthusiasm.
We get our drinks soon after. Rich empties the shooter in a single swig and slams the glass back on the table. He turns to me. “I’m going to go scope out the place a bit. Get a feel for the kind of people in town. See if I can find us a room for the night. You’ll be okay by yourself?”
“I’ve done just fine my whole life before you showed up.” I didn’t mean for my words to sound scathing, but that’s how they come out. “I think I’ll manage.”
Rich grunts, opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something… then clicks his jaw shut and disappears into the crowd.
I’m left alone to nurse my drink. The food comes a few minutes later. It’s greasy and fattening and cheap, and I know I’ll regret eating it later, but right now it’s the only comfort I have.
I look over my shoulder to see if I can spot Rich. But, I can’t find him anywhere. Maybe I should apologize when he returns. I take a long sip of my Manhattan. After all, it’s not just me who’s gone through a lot of stress lately, I remind myself.
A hand on the small of my back alerts me to his presence. “Rich, I…”
The words die on my tongue as I turn around.
The man standing behind me is not Rich. He’s shorter, for one, and his hair is the color of ash, for another. He’s not clean-shaven as Rich usually is, either. Maybe half a week of stubble lines his cheeks and chin, but the spot above his lip is bare. His hair is cropped up in a messy faux-hawk. He’s wider than Rich, too. From where I’m sitting the added girth looks to be all muscle, not fat.
“All alone?” the stranger muses in a deep, rumbling bass. He speaks slowly and quietly, like he’s got everything under control. Somehow, his words are clear over the boisterous sounds of the bar. “I noticed you sitting alone for a good ten minutes. A woman as stunning as you should not be left by herself for that long.” He lowers his voice and leans in to whisper in my ear, “There are sharks around.”
I’m tempted to laugh in his face. “Stunning”? With my soaked jacket, wind-blown hair, and lips greasy from the burger? Either this guy’s got the world’s biggest beer-goggles on, or he’s making an extremely misguided