Chapter 3 Welcome To Tombstone
Chapter three
Welcome To Tombstone
Roxy
There was a knock on my window.
I didn’t recognize the sound at first, but I’d been jumping at every little thing the whole night, and I figured this was just more of the same. Burying myself further under the blanket, I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself back to sleep. Just a few more minutes.
There was another knock on the window, a little louder than the first.
“Fuck off,” I grumbled, rolling as best I could to face the back seats.
“You can’t park here.”
“Fuck.” Flipping the blanket off, I sat up.
Yawning, I rubbed my eyes, but the person outside was impatient.
They knocked on my window again. “If you break it, you bought it,” I exclaimed, putting my shoes on.
I didn’t bother with anything else as I flipped the door lock, the heat hitting me in the face as I got out. “What’s your fucking problem?”
“Do you know where you are?”
I blinked twice until she came into focus, and then I had to blink a few more times to make sure she was real. She was a stunning brunette, oozing confidence I would never have. “Tombstone,” I answered.
“At least that’s something. You’re sleeping in the main street’s visitor’s lot, and if the sheriff comes by, he’ll tow you.”
“I’m visiting.” It was the first thing I could think of to get myself out of this situation.
She threw her head back and laughed. “Keep telling yourself that. This place has a funny way of keeping people.” She surveyed me from head to toe, but when she found what she was looking for, she crooked her finger. “Come with me.”
Grabbing my keys, I locked the car, not sure why I was blindly following.
Dressed in a crisp polo with a logo and a denim skirt, she reeked of sophistication, but there was something that told me not to fuck with her.
I was comfortable in my skin, but walking behind her, it was clear who was in charge as she led me out of the parking lot.
The minute we stepped onto the sidewalk, I felt like I had transported back in time.
They had roped off the street from regular traffic, and I walked out to stand in the middle.
It was early morning, and there wasn’t much activity, but it wasn’t hard to imagine what this place would have looked like in its prime.
“I’ve seen that look before,” she said, coming to stand next to me. “It’s technically a small town, so you relish the quaintness, the charming atmosphere of it all, not realizing you’re being sucked in, until it’s too late.”
“I’m just visiting,” I reminded her. Once I had the car fixed, I’d do a few touristy things to remember the place and then hit the road. I had gotten used to the travel, and it wasn’t bad when you had nothing else waiting for you.
She made a noise, like she didn’t quite believe me.
“At this end of the street are the new businesses, mostly. Trinket shops for the tourists, that kind of thing. In the middle are the saloons and restaurants, and the far side is the historical. Before you leave, take a tour through the museum and see the show. It’s always fun the first time.
” She continued walking down the dirt street.
My head was on a swivel as I followed her, trying to take it all in.
I didn’t know what time it was, but there were shopkeepers outside, propping up chalkboard signs and sweeping the boardwalk.
If they looked up and saw us, they waved and called out a greeting.
I wasn’t sure if this was a close-knit community, or if she just wielded that kind of power.
Turning towards the Blue Angel Saloon, she opened the front door, letting me stand in the entranceway.
I didn’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it.
I was having a hard time merging the past with the present, and the saloon wasn’t any different.
There was a second floor with four doors, the railing running the length of the room.
Anyone could stand and watch the dining room from that vantage point.
If this were Nevada, I might have worried.
Kerosene lamps were everywhere to create an ambiance, but I doubted they were functional. I didn’t look too closely, but there were outlets cleverly disguised on the walls. Heavy red brocade curtains draped the stage at the back of the room. I waited, not sure what I was supposed to be doing.
“This is your one chance,” she said, lifting the gate and sliding behind the bar. “What were you really doing out there?”
“I need a job, and I thought I’d check to see who was hiring, but when I went to leave, the car wouldn’t start. It was too late to call someone, so I stayed.”
She shook her head as if this wasn’t the first time she’d heard a similar story. “Grab a seat, and I’ll make coffee.”
I assumed she was the owner or the manager of this place as she moved with familiarity, giving me extra time to take everything in. My eyes bounced around the room, never settling on any one feature for long.
“What’s your story?” she asked, placing two steaming coffee cups on the table nearest to me before sitting down.
“What’s yours?” I asked, still standing in the doorway. I wasn’t sure if I should run and ditch the car, but the coffee smelled delicious, and I desperately wanted a cup.
“It’s safe.” She nodded to the cup, waiting for me to sit down across from her before she pulled out her phone.
Hitting a button, she placed it at her ear.
“Morning, Sheriff. How are you?” She waited a minute before she chuckled.
“You saw it, huh? It’s my new girl, and she didn’t know to park in the back.
That’s my fault, but now the car won’t start.
” There was a pause before she continued.
“Don’t worry, I’ll call them, and we’ll get it taken care of.
If you’re in the area, stop by, and I’ll buy you lunch. ”
No sooner had the phone call ended than she hit another button.
“Aces, I need a favor,” she said, not bothering with the pleasantries.
“I don’t care, nor did I want to know there are two women tied to your bed.
” She rolled her eyes at me. “Car won’t start, and my new girl parked it in the visitor’s lot.
” She tapped her manicured nails on the table before picking up her coffee and taking a sip.
“Do I need to call Scorp?” she asked, her smile turning up at the edges.
“I thought so. We’ll see you soon.” She hit end and placed the phone on the table, facedown.
“You’re lucky it was me who caught you out there. It’s the twenty-first century, and yet this town has never moved forward. Every day is like a new game of cowboys and outlaws.” She set her coffee cup on the table and extended her hand out to me. “I’m Angelica.”
“Roxy,” I said, shaking her hand. I took another sip of my coffee. “Why are you helping me?” No one had ever lent me a hand without wanting something in return. I couldn’t even imagine what her request could be.
“I’ve always thought the best of people, but I stopped offering to help the last time I got burned pretty badly.
You remind me of myself when I came to Tombstone, but that girl is long gone now.
” Angelica tilted her head to the side and shrugged her shoulders.
“I’ll get your new-hire paperwork in a few, but let me give you a quick rundown of the place.
We open with the strip at nine, but once the regular businesses close at five, we serve dinner until nine. ”
“You didn’t ask whether I have experience.”
“You do. If I had to guess, you started at sixteen, and you’ve gone from one restaurant to another.” She chuckled. “Plus, you had a pair of non-slip shoes lying on the floorboard in the back seat.”
I chuckled, trying to hide my resentment as I took the last sip of my coffee. I wasn’t running from anyone, nor was I in danger, but I didn’t like being clocked so easily.
“This is a working saloon, and before you go, we’ll fit you for a uniform.
It’s not bad, but most guests will be tourists who want an authentic experience.
They’ll gawk and make stupid jokes. Just stay away from grabby hands, and you’ll be alright.
If I see it, I put a stop to it, but men are sneaky. ”
I nodded my head, completely understanding.
I’d spent more than my fair share working places I shouldn’t have.
Roadside diners, biker bars, and truly awful places—they all deserved to be burned down and forgotten.
Dodging grabby hands wouldn’t be a problem for me, but it should never have been an issue to begin with.
I thought of the biker who’d stopped yesterday, proving my point.
“The regulars will remember your name. We have the best food on the street, and they don’t have any other choice.
They float in and out during the day, but most stick to themselves at the bar.
We also make sure delivery orders are right, but there’s nothing exciting about those.
I’ll give you the crash course after we’ve taken care of your car. You’ll start tomorrow.”
“What if I fuck up?” It was a distinct possibility, knowing my history.
I had a bad habit of making slight mistakes that ended up turning into a huge clusterfuck.
Once, I had been serving an enormous table in a cramped restaurant with hardly any space to maneuver with a tray.
I had figured it wasn’t a big deal, stacking the plates along my arms, and if it took two trips, so be it.
I hadn’t expected to walk through the dining room with my arms stretched out like a mummy.
As I had passed a table, the patron had accidentally bumped me, sending me tumbling to the floor.
I had saved the food, but I had failed to notice I was standing on the tablecloth.
When I had tried to move, my shoes yanked the cloth, pulling everything with it.
Plates, glasses and silverware had come crashing down.
Shattering glass had echoed across the room as the drinks poured over the edge, soaking my socks in a cold, sticky mess.
“You won’t.” A look passed between us, almost as if we had lived the same past. I asked no more questions, for fear she’d rescind the job when she realized I hadn’t been joking. “Let’s go get your stuff before the boys show up to take the car to the garage.”
We walked back out onto the street before she stopped me.
“Welcome to Tombstone, Roxy.”