Page 62 of Time Served in New York
“The rest of the guys have their own story to tell, but to answer your earlier question, yes, all of the men in my club have been to prison. That’s sort of a requirement.”
“Not all of the women have,” Brea added. “Just a couple of us.”
“That’s interesting,” Rachel said as she looked around the room at the different women.
“You’re trying to figure out which ones have, huh?” Brea asked.
Rachel laughed uncomfortably as she looked down at her food. “I was.”
“Their histories aren’t a secret. I am curious, though. If you had to guess, other than me, which two women would you imagine have been to prison?”
“Hmm,” Rachel said as she looked up and studied the women closely before she tilted her head. “The tattooed one.”
“Blue. And yes, you’re correct. She’s an ex-con.”
“I know it wasn’t Paula because we know her family history,” Moshe said as he looked around. “I think it’s the one next to Boss. His woman. Jenn, right?”
“Her name is Jenn. Why do you think she’s been to prison?”
“She’s too nice. She’s got to be making amends for something,” Darragh said. “I’ve only talked to her a few times, and she’s been perfectly pleasant every time. I think it’s her. She’s the other one.”
“No. She actually owned a software company in Washington state before she moved to Texas and opened a dessert and coffee business. She owns one of the most popular food trucks in town and can cook things that will make you weep with joy,” I told them. “Try again.”
“That one’s too young. So is that one,” Rachel said, pointing at August and Sis.
“The one on the right is my daughter, and the other is Captain’s daughter,” Brea explained.
“It’s not Matalie. I talked to her earlier. She’s a lawyer,” Rachel said. “And Maylee seems too . . . What’s the word I’m looking for?”
“She’s old money,” Moshe said.
“That’s it,” Rachel agreed. “So it’s not her. I’m going to guess that it’s Pandora. She’s sweet as can be, but I think there’s something else there.”
“It might be Bernadette,” Moshe argued.
“You’re both wrong,” I told them. “It’s the lawyer. She finished college while she was in prison.”
“Really?” Rachel asked with wide eyes. “I’d never have guessed!”
“You want to know what she did, don’t you?” Brea asked.
“It’s killing me not to ask.”
Brea told her, “Sometimes, in a relationship, you just want to smack your man in the head with a frying pan. Her man was worse than 99% of them. He was horrible, and she didn’t have a way to escape since he was a cop. So after he’d hurt her badly, she shot him in the head with his own gun and then fed him to the gators in Louisiana.”
“I think I might be in love,” Conor joked. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”
“You just like it because you’re from Florida and those things are everywhere,” I teased.
“They do come in handy,” Conor said with a chuckle. “Those bastards will eat anything.”
“Maybe we should tell Hook to be on the lookout for some alligators,” I mused. “We could use one or two of them on occasion.”
“I’ll put in a request,” Brea joked. She looked down and realized I’d finished my cobbler, then asked, “Do you want another bowl?”
“I shouldn’t.”
“But you’re going to, aren’t you?” Brea asked, knowing me well enough to understand I couldn’t pass it up. “Peach again, or do you want to switch it up?”
