Chapter 9
Elenie
Sliding into one of the booths at the Rusty Barrel, the bench seat cool beneath her thighs, Elenie shot a nervous smile toward the girls and slid off her jacket.
Summer pushed a tall glass filled with a colorful cocktail across the table. The white t-shirt she wore featured the name of a band Elenie hadn’t heard of, with tour dates from two years ago. A miniature silver daisy hung from a thin chain around her neck.
“It’s Purple Rain—vodka, lemonade, blue cura?ao, grenadine, and lime—and it’s on Dougie. His treat as a small token of appreciation for your nursing assistance.”
Summer’s blond, choppy bob danced as she gave a happy shimmy. Elenie allowed herself a relieved puff of breath that she might escape the evening without being financially embarrassed. There was just enough tip money in her pocket for another round of drinks if needed.
“I said he should buy you some new underwear too, but he muttered about us doing a girls’ shopping trip for that, so yay!”
Elenie flushed and caught Caitlyn’s eye.
“I’m on the orange juice and not jealous at all,”
said the redhead. Her reserve was still firmly in place, despite Summer’s instant friendliness. It suggested Elenie was being given a chance, but the outcome, on Caitlyn’s part at least, was currently in the balance.
Despite low expectations, it had been a pleasant surprise when Summer actually followed through on her original invitation, catching Elenie on the way home one afternoon and making her promise she would join them at the Barrel. Tonight, the bar was humming but not packed; it smelled of spilled beer and wood polish. She tried not to check around for unfriendly stares or outward hostility. It’d been a long time since her last night out, and this slim chance of friendship meant the world. She wouldn’t mess it up.
“Is he feeling better?”
she asked. Elenie avoided using his name—bot.
“Officer Taggart”
an.
“Dougie” seemed out of place. “How’s the leg?”
“Yeah, loads better, thanks. He’s still got a bit of a sexy limp but he’s back at work and far happier for it.”
“Good.”
The conversation lagged for a moment and Elenie felt the stirrings of panic. Why had every iota of small talk she’d ever known disappeared from her head?
“So, this is interesting, isn’t it?”
Caitlyn contributed, in what seemed to be her usual dry style.
“Here we are—getting to know each other after only, what, ten years or so of living in the same town? Who’d have thought.”
“I’ve been here twelve years.”
Elenie made her tone equally dry. So, they weren’t going to dance around the elephant in the room. It was a relief in many ways.
“Wait.”
Summer frowned.
“Were we at school together? I don’t remember you being there.”
“How old are you?”
Caitlyn asked.
“Twenty-seven.”
“We must have been in the grade above then.”
“You probably wouldn’t have noticed me anyway.”
Elenie shrugged.
“I mainly kept my head down.”
“Because your stepfather is a psycho?”
Caitlyn was bold.
“Mostly.”
She gave a tight smile.
“Don’t forget Tyson and Dean are my stepbrothers and they’ve pissed off everyone Frank’s missed.”
Elenie lifted her chin, her fingers white against her glass.
Summer grimaced.
“They are pretty gross.”
“I didn’t get to choose or I’d have picked differently.”
Eyeing her jacket, Elenie wondered if she should start putting it on.
“It’s fortunate there’s more alcohol where those came from,”
said Caitlyn, waving a finger between the glasses on the table.
“You’ve got more reason than most for drowning your sorrows.”
Elenie blinked as Summer chuckled. And then she sat back as the two took control of the conversation, steering it with the chaotic speed of a runaway bobsled through a dizzying array of topics. None of them involved her family and all were light, fun, and frivolous. They were letting her off the hook for now.
Summer had the unguarded openness of a child; she was irresistibly appealing. Talking twice as much as Caitlyn, she explained she’d been dating Dougie for almost three years. Caitlyn, more measured, sarcastic and brutally blunt, continued to study her—reticent but not unfriendly. She and Milo had been married for eighteen months.
“Roman and my husband kicked up hell, side by side, as teenagers. Now they’ve turned into a couple of the most responsible, upstanding men the town has ever seen. I tell Milo I’ve been short-changed. I fell for a bad boy, not a pillar of the community. What the hell?”
“Nice is always underestimated.”
Elenie sipped her drink.
“And kind and honorable is absolutely everything.”
She pictured the strong, trustworthy face of the police chief and felt a pull in her chest.
Caitlyn leaned forward, elbows on the table, and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“Roman Martinez is also fucking hot.”
Elenie came close to snorting Purple Rain from her nose. A flush roasted the back of her neck.
“More drinks?”
Summer gave her glass a forlorn tilt.
“I’ll go—it’s my turn.”
Elenie stood and gathered the empties.
“Another orange juice for me, please,”
sighed Caitlyn.
Wiggling into a gap at the bar, Elenie waited her turn, humming the chorus to a Taylor Swift number. She felt carefree and young, her shoulders relaxed for once in her goddamn life. It made it all the more shocking when a sweaty pair of palms skimmed the sides of her thighs and pushed upward under her skirt.
“Dammit, Craig—keep your hands to yourself!”
Elenie careered into the person behind her.
“Ah, but that’s no fun, Ellie.”
Leering and swaying in equally alarming measures, Craig Perry reached for her again, eyes on her chest despite her simple t-shirt being far from revealing.
“It’s about time we had that date you’ve been promising me.”
He leaned in, pushing her back against the bar. His breath smelled of cigarettes and peanuts.
“You know you want to.”
Loud and brash, Perry was in property development, hung around occasionally with Tyson, and ha.
“business dealings”
with Frank. Elenie didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. Proud of his English roots—“Essex boys have heard it all, seen it all, done it all,”
he’d told her more than once—Craig made her skin crawl. She smacked his hand away.
“But I don’t want to.”
Elenie retreated as far as she could.
“Girls don’t like it when you grope them without asking. And cocky guys who won’t take no for an answer are a bit of a turn-off.”
He let out a low, sarcastic whistle.
“Wow, full of yourself much? Remember who you are, love. You’re a Dax. A waitress. You’re nothing special. And, if I ever do decide to get my hands dirty and take you out, you’ll count your lucky stars.”
He crowded her closer, his aftershave burning the inside of her nose, eyes alight with the thrill of a chase.
“I don’t think so.”
Caitlyn’s voice was deadly. A glance over Elenie’s shoulder found the two girls flanking her, slight but fierce. Caitlyn, no less scary for her baby bump, looked ready to take on the entire British Army, not just one underwhelming expat.
“I’m pretty sure our friend said ‘no,’ dickface.”
Elenie swung back to Craig and cocked an eyebrow.
He swore under his breath, raising both hands in mock surrender.
“Christ, this is why people talk about you, Elenie. You’re such a fucking loser.”
Grabbing his beer from the bar, he pushed past her and headed back to his friends.
Summer signaled the bartender; Caitlyn bumped against her in unspoken sympathy. Elenie blew out an embarrassed huff of breath.
“Skitst?vel,1”
she muttered.
“Sorry, girls. Way to ruin the mood.”
“You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
Caitlyn smirked.
“That’s the most fun I’ve had in months. There’s nothing like taking down a sexist scumbag to bring girls together.”
“Let that be a lesson to sleazeballs everywhere!”
sang Summer, drumming on the bar with her delicate hands.
“More drinks for the Dream Team over here—as quick as you like!”
1 Skitst?vel (shitboot / asshole)—Swedish