Page 12 of Hollywood King
I sat up and shoved his arm, “Thank you!”
Some of the tension strung tight between us eased, and I settled back into the seat. “I guess you were right. I will be home by eleven.”
“Do you want to go? I can take you now.”
I took another sip of my beer, barely an inch gone. “Yeah, I’m not going to drink all this. I’d rather go to bed.”
“You’re such an old lady.” He paused and laughed. “I can say things like that now since I’m no longer trying to get into your pants.”
“You can say things like that, and I’ll kick you in your pants, Bastard.”
He took a long drag, finished off his beer, and stepped around the stools. I slid off the edge of my own worn leather seat and squeezed between them. While I beelined toward the door, I thought I caught a flash by the bar. I swung back and ran smack into Eddy’s warm citrus scented chest. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” I spun back and booked it out the door. I might not want to date him, but no one could deny his appeal.
The cool evening air washed the heat from my face. I focused on the traffic for a second. My phone dinged loudly from my pocket. I fished it out and glanced at the screen. A text from Hindley. Who I hadn’t spoken to in about a year. Gleefully.
I opened my phone and scrolled to see the new messages. It read:
Come home, baby sister. Our father is dead.
