I really hoped she wasn’t messing with me.
“What do you say?” Lina asked, cocking her head. “Knox is having heart palpitations out there, and every other person is on their phone reporting to the grapevine what just happened. I say we give them all something to freak out over.”
“I can’t just walk out on a shift,” I said.
“Sure you can. We have stories to share. Commiserations to commiserate. Drinks to drink. He’s got that cute little helper out there. He’ll be fine. And you deserve a break after that shit show.”
I took a deep breath and debated. The idea of staying on shift here with Knox was one step below having my toenails ripped out one at a time during a gynecological exam.
“What color is your nail polish?” I asked.
“Burgundy Blood Bath.”
Sloane: Just heard that Knox’s new girlfriend showed up at the bar and they started having sex on the pool table. Are you okay????? Do you need shovels and tarps?
Me: I’ve been kidnapped by new girlfriend who is actual old ex-girlfriend. We’re daydrinking at Hellhound.
Sloane: Let me find some pants! Be there in fifteen!
Hellhound was a biker bar fifteen minutes out of town heading in the direction of D.C. Outside, the parking lot was half full of motorcycles. The crap brown clapboard siding didn’t do anything to make the place look more welcoming.
Inside, the lights were dim, the pool tables were plentiful, and Rob Zombie music thudded from a jukebox in the corner. The bar was sticky, and I had to quash the urge to ask for a sponge and some Pine-Sol.
“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked. He wasn’t smiling, but he also wasn’t overly intimidating. He was the tall, burly type with gray hair and a beard. He wore a leather vest over a white long-sleeved tee. The sleeves were pushed up to his elbows to reveal tattoos down both arms.
They made me think of Knox. Which made me want alcohol.
“What’s your name, handsome?” Lina asked, settling on a stool.
“Joel.”
“Joel, I’ll have your best scotch. Make it a double,” she decided.
Damn it. I knew she’d order a cool drink.
“You got it. For you, darlin’？” He looked at me.
“Oh. Uh. I’ll have a white wine,” I said, feeling like the least interesting person in the bar.
He winked at me. “Comin’ right up.”
“He’s no Knox, but I dig the silver fox thing,” Lina mused.
My hum was noncommittal.
“Oh, come on. Even if Knox is a shithead—which he is—you can still appreciate the very fine exterior,” Lina insisted.
I wasn’t in the mood to appreciate anything about the Viking who’d trampled my heart.
Silver Fox Joel plopped our drinks in front of us and left again.
“What are we doing here?” I asked.
Lina lifted her glass. “Having drinks. Getting to know each other.”
“Why?”
“Because you didn’t see the look on Knox’s face right after I laid that closed-mouth kiss on him.”
Close-mouthed was good.
Wait.
No. It didn’t matter.
Even if Lina wasn’t with Knox, he’d dumped me. I didn’t need to concern myself with competition.
I ran my finger around the rim of my glass. “What happened to his face?”
She pointed an index finger at me. “Fear. I’ve known that man since he was barely a man, and I’ve never seen him scared. But I saw fear when he watched you walk away.”
I sighed. I didn’t want to hear that. I didn’t want to pretend that there was hope where there was none. “I don’t know why he’d be afraid of me walking away. He’s the one who already did the walking.”
“Let me guess. It wasn’t you. It was him. He doesn’t do relationships or complications or responsibilities. There’s no future, and he’s letting you go so you can get on with yours.”
I blinked. “You do know him.”
“I’ll have you know I hold the impressive title of first official non-girlfriend, thank you very much. It was my junior year in college. He was twenty-four. We met at a party, and it lasted four glorious, hormone-and hangover-filled weeks before the idiot got cold feet and handed me my walking papers.”
“Judging by your greeting, I’m guessing things ended better for you than they did for me.”
Lina smiled and took a sip of scotch. “He underestimated my stubbornness. See, I could do without him as a boyfriend. But I wanted to keep him around as a friend. So I forced him into a friendship. We talk every couple of months. Before he hit that lottery, we’d meet up every couple of years. Always someplace neutral. We’d play wingman for each other.”