only askin’ because I’d like to do somethin’ nice for helpin’ out, and I don’t have cash on me at the moment.”
“Oh. Don’t …. Don’t worry about that. I don’t want your cash.” Clamping my eyes shut, I shake my head. “I don’t mean that your cash is dirty. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Marcelle tells me you’re from Michigan.”
Did I tell her Michigan? Jesus, I need to pay more attention to what I say. “Yes, somewhere in Michigan.”
“You like rice and gravy?”
“Like together? Sure. Probably. Like … from here?” I had no idea strip clubs served rice and gravy. Seems like it’d be a messy dish for a place like this.
Brie chuckles, and the sound takes me back to childhood, when the two of us used to sit on the branches of the oak tree.
I smile back at her.
“No. We don’t serve rice and gravy here. This is a filet mignon kind of establishment. I want you to stop by the house, and I’ll make you some. For helping. It’s not as good as Mamere’s, but it’s not all bad, either. Maybe you can stop by this week?”
Southern people are a strange breed. Can’t say I’ve ever personally invited a stranger to my house--when I lived in a house, anyway. “Thank you for the invite, but I’m not planning to be here long. Really, it’s okay. I don’t need you to give me anything.”
“What about a burger, or some wings? I can do that.”
Either one of those would be a million times better than the tuna I’m going to have to scarf down quickly with my nose plugged. “A burger sounds amazing. If it’s not too much trouble. Really, I don’t need--”
“You sit. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She turns back around toward Marcelle, who’s kicked back in a chair, scrolling through her phone, while Justin sits on a dancer’s lap and applies an obnoxious amount of bright red lipstick to her lips. “And you two. I’ll grab some cheese sticks and wings. To go.”
“Yay!” Justin bounces up and down, smearing the lipstick across the dancer’s face.
Brie offers a tight smile when she passes, and the second she reaches out to pat my shoulder, I suck in a gasp. Not a moment later, she releases me, her brows furrowing as she studies me for a moment.
Does she see it? Me?
“You said your name is Carly?”
“Yes. Carly James.”
Rubbing her thumb over the palm she held to my shoulder, she nods and turns away from me. “Mais la, you remind me of someone I used to know.”
“Carly’s a pretty common name.”
“It’s not the name, chère.” She stares down toward her palm, still running her thumb across the surface. “I’ll be back with that burger.”
The moment she strides out of the room, I find a seat next to Marcelle. “Can I ask a favor? I just want to look something up real quick. I left my phone in the car.”
“Sure,” she says, passing me her phone, and there’s no doubt in my mind the woman is high, because who willy-nilly gives up their phone without that split second of hesitation?
The background is a cute picture of Justin in his big coke bottle glasses, holding up a crawfish. I click on the Google app and search for a local campground, with amenities nearby where I can shower, a routine that’s not exactly new to me, as Russ and I did it a number of times before settling in Marquette. Just up the street from the old house is an RV park with showers and electricity, so I can charge my camera, too. Bonus. I enlarge the picture on the map to see that it’s fairly open, guarded only by one gate at the entrance. I could easily hop the perimeter fence, by the looks of it.
I exit the app and pause a moment, before clicking back in and typing ‘translate’ then ‘catin’ in the little box below the search bar.
Language detected: French.
Translation: Hooker.
The prick called me a hooker?
A hooker? Seriously?
Eyes narrowed, I quickly swipe out of the app and hand the phone back to Marcelle.
“Everything okay? You look like you wanna punch something.”
Hell, yes, I do. If I happen to run into Mr. Bedroom Eyes with the tight ass again, I might accidentally do just that.
“I’m fine. I just reaffirmed that men are assholes.”
“You’re telling me?”
“Your boss …. He’s the man dressed like it’s a funeral?”
Rolling her eyes, Marcelle goes back to scrolling through her phone. “Mmm-hmm. He’s an asshole, too.”