Chapter 10
JASMINE
Jumpy.
The word Reef had used annoyed me almost as much as his very existence did. It clung to me, needling under my skin the way a mosquito bite does—small, irritating, but impossible to ignore once you start scratching.
Hell yeah, I’m jumpy, I thought as I poured Glen’s first rum and Coke, the bottle of Bacardi trembling in my shaky hand. My nerves were frayed, stretched thin as a brush bristle. I wasn’t sure which was more traumatic—being held at gunpoint or discovering that I’d slept with Kai’s twin brother.
Jesus. I looked up at the dingy ceiling, hoping he might hear my thoughts.
Could it get any worse? Sadly, the answer was yes.
It could, and likely would get a hell of a lot worse.
This stall technique left a lot to be desired, especially in that it was inherently temporary.
Also in the trying to find large quantities of cocaine part. What the actual fuck?
I focused on my bartending tasks as best I could. Every pour felt like a test, every glass I set down another chance for someone to see how badly I was unraveling.
I set the glass on a coaster in front of Glen, forcing my hand not to shake.
“No new art today?” Glen asked cheerily, oblivious to my turmoil.
“Not yet. I have a couple in the works though.” Just looking at the unfinished canvases at home had made my stomach lurch earlier. My whole body felt shaky and uncertain. Any attempt at art would feel like painting with broken brushes. “Hopefully next week.”
“You ever think of doing a turtle?” Glen asked, thoughtful.
“I have thought about it,” I said, topping off two Stellas for the couple from Cleveland at the end of the bar. “Undersea creatures aren’t my specialty though.”
“Well, you know what they say… practice makes perfect.”
“You’re right, Glen, I should get back to my sea life sketches. Thanks.” I tried to smile as I scooped up the glasses. They rattled faintly in my grip, betraying me. A little beer sloshed onto the floor.
“Happy to help,” he said proudly as I delivered the beers to the couple.
I scanned the room, nerves prickling. Somewhere in this mix of tourists and fishermen, there had to be someone who knew where to score cocaine.
The thought alone made my stomach knot tighter.
The jukebox blared Jimmy Buffett while darts clinked against cork.
Laughter rose and fell in waves, and underneath it all, I hunted for danger in every face.
At the dartboard, four fishermen were deep into a rowdy and heated match of doubles cricket.
Hunter stood out—a burly guy with a beard, often wired at closing time.
He also went to the bathroom a lot, now that I thought about it.
It wouldn't surprise me one bit that he disappeared to go do a bump every half hour. Maybe he knew something.
I glanced at their beers. Their Bud Lights were running low.
“Hey Hunter,” I called over the jukebox. “You guys need another round?”
He lifted his bottle, eyed the dregs, and grinned. “Sure. Thanks, Jaz.” He lumbered up to the bar.
I uncapped four bottles while he chugged his last. When he set the empty down, I crooked a finger, leaning across the bar. My throat was dry, palm damp on the mat. “What’s up, Jaz?”
Trying to sound casual, I dropped it. “You wouldn’t happen to know where my buddy can get some blow, would you?”
His eyes narrowed, suspicion darkening them. “Which buddy?”
I wiped my palms on the bar mat, swallowing the lump in my throat. “A good friend of mine down in Key West. He lost his source in Miami. Counts on it for income, so he’s scrambling to find a kilo.”
Hunter’s brows rose. “Oh. Quantity.” He stroked his beard, studying me. “The guys I know deal in eightballs. I could ask around, I guess." He paused, and his look made me feel like he was checking if I'd flinch. "How well do you know this guy?”
Somehow I switched into actress mode, conjuring what I remembered from high school drama club.
“I met him a few years back during spring break. Been in touch ever since. He’s legit.
” The lie slipped out smooth, terrifyingly easy.
My fingers clutched the bar mat like a lifeline. It scared me how natural I sounded.
“Alright," he finally relented. "I’ll put some feelers out.”
“Thanks, Hunter. That round’s on me.” I forced brightness into my voice, sliding the beers toward him.
“You’re the best, Jaz.”
My stomach twisted. If he only knew I was playing bait for creepy cartel thugs, he wouldn’t say that. If he knew, he’d probably back away like I was contagious. Hell, maybe I was. Danger clung to me now, invisible but toxic.
The clock said it was only nine. This was harder than I thought it would be. I'd hoped work would be a distraction. Trying to hold myself together was more like torture.
The door swung open, bell jangling, and relief cut through my dread. Jess. A ray of light.
“Islamorada stopover night!” I squealed before she even reached the bar.
Her grin spread wide. “My favorite night of our trips.”
Her presence lifted me immediately. Jess lived in Key West but worked on a live-aboard dive boat that ran trips up and down the Keys.
We’d met on my first shift at the Whistle, and we clicked fast. Every other Wednesday she stopped in, and those visits had turned into little anchor points in my new life here.
Seeing her was like spotting land after days at sea—something solid, steady, and familiar.
“How’s it going?” I pulled a cold Stella from the cooler, popped the top, and motioned for her to slide down to the end of the bar where it was quieter. “How’s the dive life treating you?”
Her head shook while she swallowed a swig of Stella. “Just taking its toll, you know? As much as I love getting paid to scuba dive, I don’t know how much longer I can do these trips.”
I couldn’t imagine being trapped on a boat for a week at a time with customers. “I could see it getting old, for sure.”
“I miss Blaze,” she said with a sigh before another long swig of beer. “We make up for lost time on my week off in between trips, but yeah, it’s getting old.”
“I bet it’s hard on a relationship.” I said, sympathetic.
“We make it work. But I’m kind of sick of it.” She shrugged. “Sorry, I’m just whining. How are you? Anything exciting happen since I saw you last?”
Normally the answer would be no. Always. But now, something had happened and I couldn’t tell her. Not the worst part of it anyway. The twin conundrum, however, wasn’t off limits. “Actually, yes,” I said, leaning in closer across the bar, lowering my voice. “I met a guy last night.”
“She sold a painting yesterday,” Glen shouted from behind me. “And another two last week.”
Jessica looked up at Glen and smiled. “Wow that’s great!” Dipping her chin, she said from the corner of her mouth, “All of it.”
“Your work is amazing. Keep going,” she told me, loud enough for Glen to hear.
“Jazzy’s gonna be famous someday,” Glen called across the bar.
“Thanks, Glen,” I said, almost as touched by his encouragement as I was annoyed by his intrusion.
Jess seconded the praise. “I agree.”
“I’ve still got a lot to learn. That’s what that is.” I waved my hand toward the painting above the dart board. “Part of the learning curve.”
“You’re killing it. Keep it up. It’ll happen. It already is,” Jess said with a wise grin. She held her smile, speaking softly through her teeth like a ventriloquist. “Tell me about the guy.”
I kept my back to Glen because it was none of his business. “Well, he’s a fisherman.”
“How unusual,” she smirked
“I know, right?” I giggled. “He’s tall, and built like a Greek God, and he has these crazy gorgeous eyes.”
Jess’s eyes widened, her lips parting as she leaned in. Her expression was clear: Tell me more.
“But here’s the thing,” I said, nervous butterflies stirring in my stomach. “I recognized him when he walked in, from a summer vacation hookup three years back.”
Jess had leaned so far forward that she was almost on my side of the bar, her mouth wide open.
My eyes narrowed as I whispered. “Glen is going to ask what we’re talking about if you don’t close your mouth.”
“Oh, sorry,” she said, sitting up straight on her stool and composing herself. “Well…was it awkward? Or exciting? Or both?”
“It was awkward at first, because he didn’t recognized me.
But I told myself that we were pretty trashed when it happened, and it was a long time ago, so I hung in there.
" The memory of the good part of last night brought a warm tingle that made my cheeks heat.
"And sure enough, we hit it off all over again,” I held up a finger to pause the conversation and shuffled down the bar to take an order.
When I returned a couple of minutes later, Jess was peeling the label off her bottle.
“So… you got his number?”
“I went home with him,” I said softly, my grin spreading.
“Yay!” She clapped her hands together in a quick flutter. “Was it as good as the first time?”
I had to leave out the traumatic experience that had bonded us like super glue, but I could be honest about the sex. “Way better. We really connected. And then I met his twin brother this morning…” Not quite sure how to tell her, I paused.
Her face lit up in a naughty grin. “Okay, I know I have a dirty mind, but are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Jess awaited my response. I had no idea what was on her mind but I was pretty sure it wasn’t the same as what was on mine. “That it was the twin brother I slept with three years ago?”
“Oh… shit.” She self-checked her gaping mouth. “No, I was thinking it sounded like a dreamy threesome fantasy,” she said in whisper, blinking at me, stunned. I gnawed on my lower lip, shaking my head. Finally, Jess said slowly, “Holy hell. Did the brother say anything?”
With a deep breath, I answered. “Not about that night. I don’t think he recognized me. I mean, I don’t know. I kinda thought so for a second, but then no. Which is great. It’s better if he doesn’t remember,” I rambled.