I knew the bouncer on duty from my days of picking up Tina after work. He waved us in and I immediately crossed to the bar. I didn’t notice any of it as we entered—the glitz, the tits, the girls, the patrons. Hank typically manned the bar on weeknights. We’d need his permission to go backstage and I wanted to get this over with.

As soon as he saw me he gave me a smile that was equal parts pleased and disappointed. He finished pouring two shots from a bottle with a black label then crossed to meet us.

“Aww, man. I was hoping to never see you here again.” He reached his hand out and shook mine over the bar, politely ignoring my foul mood, then turned to my brother. “Beau, are we still fishing on Sunday?”

“Yep. Butt crack of dawn,” Beau shouted over the noise, sliding onto one of the stools, and grinning at his old friend.

Hank was four years our senior. Growing up, he was only around for the summers; his parents shipped him off to boarding school during the year. Now he was living it up, a Harvard business school graduate turned local strip club owner, and a source of extreme embarrassment to his parents.

“Based on your phone call last week, I’m guessing you’re here to see Tina?” He sounded like he hoped his assumption was wrong.

“I’ll take some whiskey first.” I pulled a twenty out of my wallet and lifted my chin to the Jack Daniel's behind him.

I didn’t miss the way Hank glanced at Beau, as though asking for permission, before turning for the bottle on the wall and pouring three shots.

“One for each of us?” Beau leaned forward and passed me one of the small glasses.

“Nope.” Hank shook his head. “Duane here gets three shots and that’s it. I’m pouring them now so he won’t ask for more later. And they’re on the house.”

I wasn’t going to argue. If and when I wanted to get drunk it wouldn’t be at the Pink Pony right before talking to Tina Patterson about serious business.

“Thanks.” I passed one of the shots to Beau. “Here. I only want two.”

I picked up my shot and lifted it, but before I could down the amber liquid, Beau clinked his glass against mine and said, “To making new plans, better plans.”

I stared at my brother for a long moment and he held my glare. I appreciated the sentiment even though I was disposed to reject it in my present mood. I’d spent so long wishing for something that ultimately brought me misery.

No…I wouldn’t be making any more plans. Not for a while.

I finished my two shots in quick succession while Beau and Hank fell into an easy conversation about boats. I didn’t pay any attention. Instead, I used the time to scan the Pink Pony’s patrons. I didn’t see any Iron Order guys, but that wasn’t unusual. Rumor had it the Iron Order owned a stake in the G-Spot, a dirty little strip club down by The Dragon Biker Bar. Plus they had to behave at Hank’s club, he didn’t take their shit.

After scanning the crowd, I waited another five minutes for Beau and Hank to finish their conversation, but they were engrossed and I was too impatient to wait for a polite opening; thus, when the pleasant numbness of whiskey took its hold, I interrupted.

“We need to talk to Tina. Any chance we could go in the back?”

Again, Hank looked to Beau as though asking permission, prompting my brother to add, “We both need to talk to her. It shouldn’t take longer than a few minutes, twenty at the most.”

Hank nodded. “That’s fine. Y’all can use my office.”

He motioned to one of the bouncers and handed Beau the keys to his office; we shook hands again, then we followed Hank’s employee out of the main lounge and into the back area.

I half listened, but not really, as Beau greeted all the girls we passed, only half heard them coo and flirt with my brother. I had no pleasantries for anybody and was relieved when we finished the gauntlet of barely covered breasts, glitter, and tall hair.

Beau unlocked the office and the bouncer left us, stating he’d bring Tina. Once we were inside, Beau shut the door and walked to the desk. I stood by the door, leaned against the wall, and waited.

Inevitably, my thoughts turned to Jess. Without meaning to, I conjured her face, was entranced by the slant of her mouth, mesmerized by the small freckles on her collarbone. She was a sickness, my sickness.

I decided, once this was over, I was definitely getting drunk. Maybe for a couple days. At least through Monday.

“…you’re going to have to fake it.”

I glanced at my brother, knowing he’d spoken but unsure what he’d said. “What?”

“With Tina. You’re going to have to find some charm and fake it. She’s not interested in me, wouldn’t help me out of a shallow ditch. But she’d do anything for you, if you asked nicely.”

I frowned. “She wouldn’t.”

Beau smirked. “She would. Yeah, like Cletus says, she’s a crazy bitch. But she’s got real feelings for you—as real as she can manage—and you’re going to have to use them if you want her to help us.”

I gathered then released a large breath, wiping my hand over my face. “This was a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m no good at bullshitting.”

“Then don’t bullshit. Tell her the truth—or some version of it. You need her help. Tell her that. That’ll make her feel good, important.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but at that moment the door opened and Tina walked in. As soon as she saw me she stopped, her mouth parting in surprise. I straightened away from the wall and crossed to her, reaching around and closing the door.

She swayed toward me, her big eyes made bigger with paint and fake lashes. “Duane…?”

“Tina.” I tried to force some warmth into the word, but I couldn’t. Too many years of drama and stupid shit were between us. I looked at her now and saw nothing but a black hole of aggravation and tedium. Why I put up with her for so long was a mystery.

At my greeting, she stiffened. I heard Beau sigh and saw him drop his head into his hands. Gritting my teeth I shook my head, searching for some inner strength or hidden powers of bullshit.

“What do you want?” she spat.

I studied her for a long moment. She was dressed in tight jeans and a blue halter top, real clothes, like she was on her way out.

“I need your help,” I said simply.

She blinked at me, my words obviously not what she expected.

“You need my help?” Her tone was softer than it had been.

“Yes. I need your help.”

“Oh…I…” Tina appeared to be flustered by my admission; but she rallied after a few seconds, giving me what I recognized as a look meant to entice. “Well, you must need my help, seeing as you’ve been calling me for two weeks and you’re here now. You must need me real bad.”

She strutted toward me and lifted her hand as though to place it on me; I caught her wrist before she could.

“No,” I said.

“No?” I’d surprised her again.

“No.” I shook my head. “Never that. Never again.”

“Then, w…what…” she stuttered, then huffed her impatience. “What could you want me for?”

Beau finally spoke. “Tina, honey, there’s more to you than your snatch. You have a brain upstairs, might be worth dusting it off every once in a while.”

This earned Beau a venomous look and I realized he and I had switched positions. I was now good cop…well, my version of good cop.

“Shut up, Beau, and let me talk to Tina alone.”

“You want me to leave?” Beau straightened from the desk, sounded appropriately surprised.

“Yeah. Give us a minute.”

Tina glanced back to me, her expression curious and uncertain.

Beau made a show of his disgust on his way to the door. “I hope you know what you’re doing, because I told you this was a mistake. We never should have come here. She can’t be trusted, Duane.”

“Just leave,” I said, holding Tina’s gaze.

He snorted, all part of the show, then stormed out of the office.

When he’d gone, I let go of her wrist and walked to one of the chairs in front of Hank’s desk, motioning her to follow. “Please. Sit down.”

She didn’t move, but said in a rush, “You can trust me, Duane. You know you can. Beau never liked me and he never understood us.”

I nodded, but made no verbal response. I was starting to think I never understood us.

Again I motioned to the chair. “Please sit down. We need to talk.”

She gave me a hopeful smile then crossed to the seat, sitting as I’d instructed. I sat in the other chair, positioned it so we were facing. I couldn’t bullshit. That wasn’t my strength. But I could be focused, and I could be precise, and I was good at honesty.

Thus, I focused on pushing distracting thoughts of Jessica’s sobs from my mind.

I explained the situation to Tina in precise—but not explicit—detail.

And I was honest.

I didn’t have a choice. My family needed her help. And there was nothing I wouldn’t do for my family.

CHAPTER 21

“Half the fun of the travel is the esthetic of lostness.”

? Ray Bradbury