Page 51 of Real Good Man
“Good night, Myrna. I hope you wake up tomorrow.”
“If you feel the urge to bother me again, do it at a decent hour.”
The phone clicks, and I’m left with a small smile on my face. I really do miss the old lady. I always know how she’s going to treat me, because she never veers from it.
Unlike Logan lately.
My smile fades away, and I give myself a mental slap for thinking about him. What I need is another distraction. One that serves alcohol.
Greer said there is a bowling alley within walking distance from here. A hike, but walkable. I shift the car in reverse, determination rising to the surface.
It’s time to see what Gold Haven has to offer in the way of distractions.
Chapter 29
Banner
The neon sign saysPINTS ANDPINS, but theNinPINTSis unlit, so it readsPI TS ANDPINS. Considering the peeling paint on the outside of the building and the rutted gravel parking lot, this place has definitely seen better days.
But beggars can’t be choosers, and this is the top of my list of options, especially because it seems to be the only thing open in this town. I’m not going back to that hair salon to knock on the window and ask Logan to keep me occupied tonight, that’s for damn sure.
As I walk inside, I wonder if my skinny jeans and even skinnier heels are a bad choice. You can see through my long black blouse to the black lacy cami beneath. In New York, I would have gone more scandalous, wearing only a bra under it, but I don’t want to cause any heart attacks in this town. From the looks I’m getting as I walk in the door, apparently my idea of conservative and Gold Haven’s idea of conservative are two different things.
The curious eyes scanning me from head to toe belong to both men and women, but I don’t slow my stride. I go directly to the bar. A woman is singing karaoke on a small stage, and I’m reminded that this is where Holly Wix got her start.Quaint.
“You look like trouble,” the bartender tells me.
She’s a heck of a lot tougher looking than I am ... or maybe that’s just the impression her scar gives off. It starts at her jaw and wraps around to the opposite side of the base of her throat. Her dark hair is pulled away from her face in a bun, but not a messy, sexy one you might see on a bartender in Manhattan. Hers is tight and no nonsense.
I meet her direct stare. “I’m really not that much trouble.”
She sets a shot glass on the old wooden bar in front of me, scans me from head to toe, and then turns to grab a bottle of Ketel One from the top shelf. She pours the shot and slides it toward me.
“What’s this for?”
“It’s not on the house, if that’s what you’re thinking. That shit comes out of my paycheck, which is a joke to begin with.”
“So why would you give me something I didn’t order?”
“You were going to order some kind of fancy vodka cocktail that I don’t have the patience to google, so I’m cutting out all the time we would waste going through that song and dance.”
Surprisingly, I like her gruff, take-no-shit attitude, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let her think she knows anything about me.
“What is it with bartenders thinking they know everything? I mean, I could’ve come in here looking for a cold beer.”
She shakes her head, and her brown eyes meet mine. “You’re so full of shit. I’d bet all my tips tonight that you never order beer.”
I think about ordering one just to prove her wrong, but it’s a waste of posturing. “You’re right. I wouldn’t.”
I pick up the shot glass and pour the vodka down my throat. The burn and then the warmth it leaves in its wake both give me the distraction I’m needing tonight.
“Another?” she asks.
“You’re not going to assume?”
She gives me a single shake of her head. “Nah. That party trick only works once.” She wipes off her hands with the bar rag and holds one out to me. “I’m Nicole.”
I shake her hand and realize it’s one of the only sincere greetings I’ve gotten in this town. “Banner.”
