At ten o’clock this morning, I was supposed to be giving a radio interview, but I canceled it after breakfast when Ripley told me she needed to go to her friend Hope’s to borrow her truck and stage a rescue operation.

Fast forward through a lot of arguing and what was probably the sexiest bargaining of my life, and here I am instead.

The bar is dark and quiet when I walk inside. The only light comes from a couple of fluorescents that I assume they keep on to deter intruders.

Didn’t work on this guy.

The bird’s cage is in the corner, shielded with the purple zipped cover. It’s about five feet tall, three feet wide, and two feet deep. In other words, way too big for me to easily steal by myself, but whatever. I’ll make it work.

When I bear-hug the cage to lift it off the stand, the bird flips out.

“Red alert. Red alert. Danger, Will Robinson.” The tone of his screeching changes. “Gonna kill you, mothafucka.”

Yeah, anyone upstairs is going to be wide awake now. I turn with the cage, glad it’s not as heavy as I anticipated, and move toward the exit.

“Sorry, buddy.” I use the cage to push open the door.

“Red alert. Dead man walking.”

As soon as I’m outside, thinking this went way more smoothly than I planned, Ripley hops out of the passenger side of the truck and hurries around to open the door to the back of the cab.

I’m cursing at her in my head as the bird swears at me to anyone who will listen.

I put the seats down in the crew cab before attempting this shit, so with the door open, all I have to do is slide the cage inside. Thank fuck it fits.

“Get your ass back in the car, woman. I told you—”

“You needed help.”

She’s more stubborn than I am, and that’s saying something. I slam the door and pick Ripley up, her body pressed to mine as I walk her around the truck and heft her higher to sit her in the seat.

The bird is squawking, but I can’t make out what it’s saying. Either way, that’s not important.

“Next time I’m kidnapping a bird for you, your ass stays in the truck. Got it?”

“Fine,” she huffs. “Now we just need the stand and we can get out of here.” A certain sadness shrouds her features. Probably thinking about how the life she had only days ago is nonexistent thanks to a good-for-nothing dad and a piece-of-shit cousin.

“Give me two minutes and we’ll be gone. Hold tight, sugar.”

I shut her door and head back into the bar. Bird-cage stand in one hand and a bag of bird food in the other, I’m ready to get out of this bar when footsteps pound down the stairs from Ripley’s old apartment.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

It’s the cousin, Brandy. She’s wearing some kind of lacy number that looks like what you’d see a stripper walk around in after she finishes dancing onstage. Not a single trace of modesty in that one, because I can see both her nipples clearly.

“Getting out of here.”

She looks at the stand and the bag in my hands and then to the corner where the bird cage used to sit. Then her face twists into an ugly scowl.

“I shoulda known she’d come back for that pain-in-the-ass bird. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you walk out of here with it, though.”

“Already did, so what you gonna do about it?”

“I could call the cops on you. You’d be arrested for breaking and entering and stealing my shit. I bet those reporters would be plenty happy to pony up cash for this story too.”

With one hand on the door to shove it open, I’m ready to get my ass out of this place, but when she says pony up cash for this story too, I still.

“What the fuck did you say?”

“That the reporters would probably be happy to pay for this story.”

I drop my hand from the door and take a step toward Brandy. She might not be the brightest bulb in the box, but even she recognizes over two hundred pounds of pissed-off man when she sees it.

“No, you said too. Like you’ve already sold them a story.”

The look that flashes across her face is the epitome of oh shit, I got caught. But because she’s the type of woman she is, Brandy decides to lie.

“I didn’t do shit. You can’t prove nothin’. My bitch cousin is brainwashing you.”

“Shut your mouth. You don’t say her name. You forget she exists. Understand? Because I can already guess what you did. You sold the story that I spent the night. Makes perfect sense now. After you shook me down for a grand and probably blew it on stupid shit, you stooped even lower to make a buck.” I take another step toward her, and Brandy shrinks back instinctively before squaring her shoulders and jutting out her chin.

She drops the innocent act real quick.

“I’m not scared of you. You can’t touch me. I got the number of a guy that’ll pay for anything I bring him, and if you lay one hand on me, I guarantee he’s gonna get the story of a lifetime.” She sneers, and it’s clear she feels like she has the upper hand in this situation. She’s wrong.

“You think you’re the first skank to threaten me with bad publicity and bullshit stories? I don’t give a shit what you say about me. Go ahead and try it. I will bury you.”

I don’t know where she finds the balls, but she says, “You might not care about your reputation, but I guarantee Ripley will. You want more stories out there about how you made her your whore just like Gil Green did with her mama? Good luck gettin’ her to spread her legs for you after that, Boone.”

My temper turns my vision red. I’ve never put my hands on a woman in anger, and I won’t start today, but I’ve never met someone who pushed me this close to the limit.

“You’re lucky you’re not a man. I’d knock your teeth down your throat for that.”

“And then I’d own your ass. Watch your step, big shot. You don’t want to piss me off again.” Then she decides to change her tactic. “Besides, if you’re nice to me, I just might show you how much better I am than my cousin. If you want a woman who knows what she’s doing, then you picked the wrong one.”

Between her threats and talking shit about Ripley, I’m done holding back. “You’re just a cheap slut looking for a free ride. You know how many girls like you I’ve met in this town? Hundreds. You’re a dime a dozen. Easy come, easy go. Not worth the price of a condom I’d have to slide on my dick to make sure I don’t catch whatever crotch rot you came home with last night.” I lower the stand to the floor and reach into my back pocket to yank out a few hundreds before tossing them in her direction.

“That’s for the bird. It’s more than you’d get for a fuck, and the last cash you’ll ever get out of me.”

She sucks in an outraged breath, but I’m done with this bitch. I shove open the door and I’m gone.

Try selling that to the tabloids.

I work on calming my temper down, but with only fifteen feet from the back door of the bar to my truck, it ain’t happening.

I yank the truck door open, shove the stand inside next to the bird who is still squawking nonsense, and slam it before climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Everything okay? You were in there for longer than I thought you’d be.”

“Ran into your cousin. She’s fuckin’ delightful. And when I say delightful, I mean I’d rather slam my dick in a door than talk to her again.”

Ripley’s face pales as I throw the truck in reverse. “Oh shit. What’d she say?”

“A whole lot of bullshit that ain’t worth repeating.”

“So it was bad? That doesn’t surprise me when it comes to Brandy.” Ripley’s hands curl into two balled-up fists, and the bird also chimes in.

“Dirty whore.”

I shift into drive and pull forward. “For once, that bird has it completely right.”

Ripley’s gaze cuts to mine. “What do you mean? Did she . . . did she—”

“Offer to fuck me? Not exactly.”

Another sharp inhale from the passenger side of the truck. “That bitch.”

“We’ll give her two more minutes of our time, and then we’re done talking about her because she ain’t worth it.” Ripley nods and I continue. “What the hell happened between you two for her to be so damned bitter and vicious?”

Ripley’s shoulders hunch forward and she wraps both arms around herself. “I wish I knew. Her dad walked out a few months after she was born, and her mom, my aunt on my mama’s side, wasn’t exactly a model parent. She had the same attitude—that life owed her something and didn’t deliver.”

“Fair enough. Subject closed.” I glance in the rearview mirror and add, “Time to get this bird home.”