26. Now Hiring
26
Now Hiring
Talbot’s BMW pulled into the parking lot of the Bitters’ End alongside the line of people that stretched from the door. The bar was a bustle, not uncommon for a Friday night. It made me wonder how far and fast news from the Capitol had traveled, and who here tonight would be less than thrilled to see this dead man walking.
Stuffing the last bite of burger into my mouth, I wadded the paper bag, then pushed the car door open. I paused, perched on the edge of my seat with one foot on the gravel outside. I glanced back at Talbot, who watched from behind the wheel with an easy smile.
“Thank you.” I reached to shake his hand. “Whatever Grimm paid you—or I did—it wasn’t enough.”
Talbot clasped my hand firmly. “It was my pleasure. Now, for my final act as your legal counsel, may I give you some advice?”
I nodded.
“Don’t talk to the press,” he said. “And don’t go too public for a while. People run hot around here. I’m sure you can handle yourself, but it’s best not to give people a reason to do you harm.”
“Got it,” I replied, and he released me to exit the car.
I didn’t watch it pull away, turning instead to the customers queued outside the Bitters’ End. Peace came in familiar places, and this one was like home to me. The sound of distant waves hitting the bluff mingled with the crowd’s lively chatter. I stood still, looking up at the whitewashed siding and shuttered windows I’d feared I would never see again.
The moment of serenity passed in a blink.
“Holy shit, he’s here!” someone shouted.
“Right there!”“Oh my God, Fitch? Fitch Farrow!”
People broke away from the line to cluster around me. Any coherent words were lost in generalized squealing as they grabbed and pulled at my clothes and hair. Every duck or sidestep bumped me into someone else squeezing in. It was funny at first, then rapidly overwhelming.
When someone snagged the collar of my suit coat and tried to bend me backward, I’d had enough. Thrusting both hands downward with my palms flat, I raised a low wall of force. It swept the innermost circle back a foot or so and knocked one woman down entirely. I stepped over her and moved without stopping through those cluttering the entrance of the Bitters’ End.
Breaking into the open air found the entry hall abuzz. Strangers crowded into every corner and stacked up the spiral staircase.
I found no sign of Grimm, or the gang, or anyone I knew for that matter until Nash burst through the wall of patrons barricading the bar entrance.
“Hey, Trouble!” He beamed a wide grin and threw an arm around my shoulders for a tight squeeze. The ensuing palm thumps on my back drove a laugh out of me, and I pulled away, putting space between us so he could look me up and down.
“Haven’t ever seen you in a suit,” he said. The arch of his ginger brows was not unappreciative.
My outfit remained the same as it had been in court, only the tie was stuffed in my pocket, and I’d left the shirt’s top button undone. Letting my neck air out after bearing the weight of the Capitol’s dog collar all day.
Regaining my footing, I tugged on my jacket lapels and struck a preening pose. “Best part of my defense was being too damn good looking to die.”
Nash nodded solemnly. “It is your burden to bear. That and having to carry around your enormous ego.”
I snorted, leaning to see past him into the bar area. “Is Grimm here?” I asked.
“He’s inside.” Nash jerked a thumb in the direction I searched. “They all are. Waiting for you. But I wanted to get a word in before the night kicks off.”
Crossing my arms, I fixed him with an ornery grin. “And what’s that?”
“I’m glad you’re back.”
The sincerity in his soft, brown eyes warmed my insides, and I bit my lip.
“Did you miss me that bad?” I teased. “It’s only been ten days.”
Nash raised his hands. “What can I say? You’re my best customer.”
Chuckling, I started past him. But his fingers brushing against mine stopped me in place.
“Find me later,” he whispered near my ear. “If you want.”
I wouldn’t have to look hard. With this many customers, Nash would be behind the counter all night and up to his elbows in drink orders. And poor Pippa would be drowning in them if her brother bailed on his job to fool around with me.
“In the middle of your shift?” I asked.
“I can step out.” He winked. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
We broke apart and single-file squeezed through a gap in the crowd and into the bar area. As I crossed the threshold, new sounds assaulted me. Music blared and voices rose above it. Mostly jovial, but not entirely. The crowd outside had been mild compared to this rowdy bunch. They gathered around and on top of tables, spilling drinks in spontaneous toasts and barking orders at Pippa as she darted about.
At first, I saw no one familiar, but closer inspection found several members of the group wearing the same color—make that the same outfit: khaki coveralls with inmate ID numbers stitched on the fronts. The escaped prisoners had not been invited for my sake, I hoped, because I was eager to put as much distance as possible between myself and all thoughts of Thorngate Correctional Institute.
I moved along the perimeter of the room, spotting someone I was searching for at last. Avery perched on another man’s shoulders, squared off with a second stacked duo in an out-of-water chicken fight. The spectacle took up a whole corner of the room. Onlookers cheered while Avery grappled with his opponent.
Behind them, a table had been sequestered and was occupied by the people I’d come to see. Grimm sat in the middle, facing out into the room with Vinton on his right side and Donovan on his left. In the seat beside Donovan, Ripley Vaughn reposed with a pink-haired Goth girl in his lap. She didn’t look like a zombie. Certainly not the half-rotted Hollywood version covered in grave dirt. Must have been the right girl, though, because the cameo necklace hung around her neck.
Donovan spotted me and leaped up, rounding the table to give me a hug. “You made it!” he exclaimed. “I don’t believe it.”
Made it to this party, out of jail, and away from the Capitol’s murderous intentions. I didn’t believe it, either.
Grimm waved us closer. “Boys! Have a seat. We’re about to get started.”
Donovan returned to his chair and left me standing. I wasn’t eager to cozy up to Vinton or rub shoulders with the punk prom king and queen. But the room was too full for me to leave much space and hear anything Grimm had to say, which was a fair amount judging by his rush to get started.
“Welcome home, son.” He smiled. “Glad to have you with us for this momentous occasion.”
Behind me, Avery and his partner toppled over, landing on a neighboring table with a crash and clatter. Uproarious laughter ensued as the two men clambered out of the broken glass and shards of wood from the table. Avery scrambled to standing, then spun and grabbed the other man and went in for a kiss, tongue deep.
I rolled my eyes and turned back to Grimm.
He swept a hand in reference to the room. “Lest you wondered why we liberated all these ne’er do wells from Thorngate’s depths, allow me to explain. We’re recruiting!” he crowed. “First time in a century.”
Of all the questions that sprung to my mind, I voiced only one. “Why?”
“Safety in numbers, of course,” Grimm replied. “And, since you and I will be busy with Capitol matters, we need more soldiers in the field.”
I wondered about Donovan’s place in all of this. Since his initiation had been put on the back burner, I’d rested a bit easier. But if Grimm wanted to grow the Bloody Hex, there was little reason to continue to delay.
“You keep talking about battle and now soldiers,” I told Grimm. “But for what? I don’t get it.”
With his plan to take things over from Maximus Lyle well underway, I saw no point in large-scale combat. The Capitol didn’t have an army, just a few dozen investigators. I squinted out into the crowd as Grimm spoke.
“It’s a leader’s job to give orders, not explain them,” he said. “Today in court, you trusted me with your life. Surely you can trust me with this.”
My grunt of agreement went unheard as I continued to scan the horde.
“Don’t fret,” Grimm continued to my turned back. “They aren’t replacements. Donovan told me you were quite distraught thinking Ripley might take your spot.” He chuckled. “You’re not that disposable, Fitch.”
Avery finished necking with the chicken fight guy and stopped in front of me on his way to his seat at the gang’s table.
“Hey, bitch,” he greeted, conjuring a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and pressing them into my hand. “Welcome back, etcetera.”
Sighing relief, I tore through the plastic wrap into the smokes and fired one up in record time.
“Grab a drink, then come on back,” Avery said. “Gonna be an interesting night. Grimm’s really dredging the bottom of the barrel with these ex-cons if you ask me.” He looked me over with a sort of dawning realization, then shrugged. “No offense.”
He moved away to sit beside Vinton, and I faced the throng of Hex hopefuls once more. Dancing, drinking, and grinding on each other, it wasn’t a bad party. I just wasn’t in the mood. Alcohol would fix that. I could change my entire personality with the right combination of hard liquors.
Ducking into the mob, I wove a path to the bar where Nash was multitasking with a shaker in each hand. When I managed to attract his attention, I gave my order, then leaned with my back against the cool, copper counter.
I wasn’t the last to arrive. Stragglers came through the entry in waves, packing the room to bursting. Whatever Grimm said to get them here must have been lucrative, or maybe they felt they owed the gang some debt for busting them out of jail.
I thought I might find Clyde in the mix, an easy mark since he would have been half again as tall as anyone here and twice as broad. While searching for him, I spotted someone else. Make that three someones.
Across the throng of strangers, Jaxon Rhodes, Jette Black, and York Tompkins passed through the entry.
My drink order forgotten and cigarette snuffed out, I shoved away from the bar to make a beeline for the new arrivals.
It was hard to believe Jax could be even skeevier in street clothes, though the eyepatch taped across his face made me smirk. York must have taken fashion classes from my lawyer, buttoned up in a blue velvet suit with his hair perfectly coiffed. Jette looked damn near edible in a black patent leather minidress I would have peeled off her, given the chance. Too bad she had shitty taste in friends.
I reached them in moments, making myself into a wall between them and the rest of the room.
“No fucking way.” I stabbed a finger back the way they’d come. “Get out. ”
Jax pushed close, his dark hair stringy and halitosis worse than ever. “Long time no see, jailbird,” he hissed.
God, he stunk. Like pavement-baked roadkill.
I muscled through revulsion and stayed within inches of him, my hands twitching with magic begging to be unleashed.
“Turn the fuck around,” I growled. “You’re not welcome here.”
He didn’t back down, didn’t even blink. “That so?” he asked. “Well, Grimm said we are welcome. And, since you’re just one of his peons, we don’t have to listen to you.”
Jette snickered. Gluttons for punishment, all of them and, without antimagic like a boulder on my shoulders, I had plenty to give.
“You wanna cut the shit and take this outside?” My eyes angled toward York and Jette. “I’ll even let you bring your fan club.”
Jax huffed a breathy laugh. “Careful, Marionette. You don’t want to dirty that very clean slate of yours.”
A shrill whistle from the opposite end of the room pricked my ears. I knew without looking that it was Grimm calling the meeting to order. Reluctant as I was to answer his summons, ignoring it would only delay the inevitable.
“Save the last dance, won’t you?” I told Jax. “I’ll be here all night.”