8. Chapter 8
Evan
It was hard to concentrate on anything when they were so pissed off.
Frankie had sat across from Evan and all but said cops were perfect.
So, she wasn’t just a vigilante, she was also a fucking liar.
That was okay, though. It was. If anything, knowing Frankie lied—likely every time she opened that gloriously sinful mouth of hers—would just make taking her down all the sweeter.
Evan was going to crush Frankie. They’d expose every facet of her life, starting with sabotaging O’Rourke’s Pub.
“How’re you getting along?” Rain called over the noise of the exhaust fans.
She was two years older than Evan, with long dark hair she braided down her back, wide brown eyes, and an angular jawline beneath a set of chubby cheeks.
Rain was the type of girl who was dying to tell everyone her life story.
In the three hours Evan had been there, they’d already learned way more about Rain than they wished to, from her blood sugar problem to the long list of racial slurs she’d been called over the years.
“No filter” really was a personality trait.
But damn, if Evan didn’t secretly find her fun to be around.
“Just peachy. You?” Evan returned, stacking clean plates from the dish pit.
They carried them across the kitchen to Rain’s station, noting the lineup of plates prepped for the main course.
The kitchen was small yet clean, and Evan had seen at least two bait boxes for rodents.
Most likely, there were a handful more around the pub.
If they could find and dispose of them, then …
but no, that wouldn’t work. Frankie would know they’d been tampered with.
I could make calls complaining about a rat problem.
Surely, a health inspector would shut the pub down if the complaints were ongoing.
It was one angle Evan wanted to explore, and a big one at that.
They were aware of the microbrewery located in the basement, as well as at least two, possibly three, staff employed for that part of Frankie’s business.
From what Evan had seen so far, they clocked out each day by five p.m. That left a good window for them to get in and out of the basement.
“Fucking fantastic, bro. I live for this rush. No smelly dudes breathing down my neck while I’m cooking.
” Rain laughed, then let out a whoop like she was cheering them on for a job well done.
“The only one I don’t mind being shoulder to shoulder with in here is Frankie, know what I’m saying? That woman smells like sex appeal and—”
Evan’s feet chose that moment to lose control, slipping on the slick floor on the way back to the sink.
“Whoa!” There was an awkward, figure-skate-type dance seconds before Evan was careening backwards into a fall.
All the air rushed out of them, and just when they knew they’d be sporting a bruise later, strong hands grabbed hold of them.
“Easy, kid. Think you need better shoes.”
Evan’s eyes flew open, only to scowl at their savior. “Don’t call me a kid. I’m only a few years younger than you.”
McCoy Miller, Sloane’s identical twin, stared back at Evan with one brow arched up so far it almost hit her hairline.
She wasn’t pretty or feminine like Sloane.
Handsome, maybe, but not pretty. Coy was all muscles and stockiness and tattoos that covered the better part of both arms. “And how would you know how old I am, newbie? Didn’t you just start today? ”
Shit. Shit . Evan raced through possible excuses, anything that didn’t include blurting out that they’d done homework on every one of the staff.
Not only was Coy still on the payroll as a casual, but she and Sloane were pretty big influencers on YouTube.
Yeah … Evan definitely couldn’t let all that slip out.
“I … I, well, I’m almost twenty-four. You tellin’ me you’re not in your twenties? ”
Coy let out a whistle before giving Evan a closer once-over. “That so? You look barely able to shave.”
Evan chose not to correct Coy as the assumption didn’t bother them. With a binder securing their chest in place and their small stature, being referenced to as a teenaged boy was at least a weekly occurrence.
“My bad, Ev, didn’t think you’d get all flustered hearing me talk about the boss.” Rain winked in their direction. “We’ve all crushed on Frankie at some point. Coy here used to have a thing with her.”
“Rain, enough,” Coy warned.
They had a thing? What kind of thing? Evan’s frown deepened at the admittance.
In all their research, Coy and Frankie being lovers hadn’t come up.
Evan watched Coy grab a platter of food and disappear out of the kitchen, but they still didn’t move.
Frankie and McCoy … What did Coy see in her?
Coy and Sloane, and the rest of their friends, seemed so normal and nice.
What could Frankie possibly have hidden in her armory of deceit and violence that a softhearted person like McCoy Miller would have wanted?
“Don’t mind Coy. She’s always been shy talking about her and Frankie,” Rain said, pulling Evan out of their thoughts.
Mischief gleamed in her eyes. “I think it was supposed to be on the down-low, but it really wasn’t.
On the plus side, now that they’re over, Frankie might be single again.
I might never have a chance, but you , Evan, you are all-the-way her type. ”
Evan’s eyes widened. The memory of the first time Frankie saw them came to mind, how she’d openly flirted with Evan. The pit of their stomach slid down to their toes. “Oh, no. Nope. That’ll never happen. Frankie’s not my type. Not at all. I mean, have you seen Coy? We’re polar opposites.”
“You’re both cute and soft butches. Like I said, the boss’s type.”
Ignoring Rain’s chuckle, Evan got back to work.
They spent the remainder of the night brainstorming ways to get dirt on Frankie from Coy.
The answer came as they were clearing off tables in the dining room area.
Evan spotted the friend group in the corner, like they often were through the week, with McCoy the center of attention.
I need them to like me. If they think I’m their friend, they’ll confide in me more.
It didn’t bother Evan that they were openly spying on Sloane and Coy’s friend group, affectionately referred to as the Fab Five.
Sketchbook and charcoal pencil in hand, it was a relatively acceptable part of the job as an artist. And one the Fab Five likely wouldn’t mind, if they were aware.
Although it was common courtesy to ask permission, Evan preferred to dish out apologies rather than interrupt an authentic interaction among friends.
People often stiffened up or developed disgustingly fake smiles once they knew they were being drawn.
Evan didn’t want that. They had also researched the Fab Five, but mostly out of curiosity.
Sloane’s friends, and Sloane specifically, fascinated Evan.
They paused to sip the soda Lian had dropped off at their table, scanned the sketch, and glanced back at the friend group.
Out of the five women, Coy and Sloane fidgeted the most, so it was hard for Evan to settle on an exact location for their hands or how far away from the booth table they should sit in the picture.
The twins and their friend Abi all talked a lot with their hands.
It was distracting and comical, and not at all easy for Evan.
They bit into a french fry, chewing absently, before using their finger to carefully smudge the line of Krystal’s jaw.
She appeared to be the quiet one in the group, and she had a slightly rounder face.
Shading the lines would create a nice, realistic effect.
Evan was so focused they didn’t realize they had company until a hand landed on their shoulder.
They flinched, just enough to jerk the pencil where they’d been drawing in Taunya’s eyebrows.
“Fuck,” Evan said, eyes narrowing on their newcomer.
Frankie stood, nosily peering over Evan’s shoulder at the sketch. Open appreciation shone on her face.
“I didn’t know you were an artist. It’s very good, Evan.”
“Um, thanks. I guess.” Evan turned back to the sketch, spotting the slip-up their pencil had made almost immediately. Their frown deepened. Who just interrupts someone clearly mid-stroke? Fucking entitled bitch.
“I just came to remind you of the time. Shift starts in ten minutes.”
Really? Evan checked their phone, realizing Frankie was right.
They’d completely zoned out while sketching the Fab Five.
An hour had passed without them being aware.
Studying the picture again, Evan noticed it was almost complete.
“Thank you.” Continuing the drawing where their pencil had left off, Evan didn’t glance at Frankie again.
They were only vaguely aware of her walking away.
Five minutes later, the sketch was complete, turning out a lot better than Evan had expected, considering their ever-restless subjects. They gathered their belongings and headed to where the Fab Five were sitting in their usual corner booth.
“Evan, hey,” Sloane greeted when Evan approached the table. Evan liked how she turned her full gaze on them, as if they were someone worth pausing a conversation for. It wasn’t something that happened often, if ever.
“Hey. My shift’s about to start, but, um, here.” Evan handed her the sketch, turning to leave, but Sloane caught their arm.
“Shit, Evan. This is so good!”
“Thanks.”
Heat crept up Evan’s cheeks, and their embarrassment only grew as Sloane passed the sketch around the table. The Fab Five oohed and aahed, looking at Evan with newfound respect.
Taunya held her hand out. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Tauni.”
This is it , Evan thought, standing as tall as their five feet, one inch would take them before latching onto Tauni’s hand. This is my way in.