Round Eight
BILLY
“This is some serious bullshit.” I climb out of my car in the middle of town, nose to the curb, and slam my door. Then I stomp across the blacktop and onto the sidewalk. “I don’t do this shit, so why the hell would you put my name anywhere near this nonsense?”
“Because we love Alana, and because we wanna support her adventures.” Like a total fucking dickhead, Ramone steps in my way and brushes invisible lint off my chest. “Also, because you look good in this black shirt and you know it, so even though you say you’re not interested in this bullshit event, you still made sure you looked good.
That means you’re interested.” He wrinkles his dumb fucking nose.
“Even if just a little bit. Now come on.” He turns and joins the long line of people waiting outside her store.
Which is really fucking weird, since there are never lines anywhere in Plainview.
Yet here we are, fifty feet from the front door and at least fifty people ahead of us.
“Jesus. How many folks are coming to this thing?”
“Half of ‘em aren’t even single,” Ramone chuckles. “They’re just nosey. But it’s nice anyway, cos everyone has to pay to get in the door, so even the sticky beaks are contributing funds to Alana’s bank account.”
“Alana’s bank account is fine.” I roll my eyes. “She’s loaded.”
“She and Tommy are loaded. She is not. This place is like an ugly step-sibling constantly forgotten at Christmas, and although Tommy keeps inviting that ugly kid in outta the rain, Alana says no! You’ll stay out there and earn your keep, you little shit.”
I purse my lips in frustration. “Seriously?”
“Paints a picture, though, right?” Like a fucking schoolgirl, his shoulders bounce and his cheeks puff.
“She wants her store to succeed on its own, but it’s basically impossible, since Plainview just isn’t big enough, and the Book Club Bitches scare legit customers away purely by existing.
The place is destined to fail, but she’s doing this event anyway, and Tommy said we have to come. It is what it is.”
“I don’t wanna be here,” I growl, inching forward as the line slowly starts moving and folks reach for their wallets. “Can’t I just pay and leave again? That way, I’m still supporting Alana.”
“But you wore that sexy shirt and everything.” He glances around the crowd, searching for the singles because he, too, is single, and Ramone Devereaux has never been a stranger to the art of the mingle.
“Plus, Tommy and Alana signed up back when they thought they’d need to plump the numbers. Chris and Fox, too.”
“The married folks are gonna speed date… other people?”
“Right?! It’s gonna be a bloodbath.” He practically fucking dances his way to the front of the line, so when we arrive and meet the little-bit pregnant Fox Tatum taking cash, Ramone tries on his patented smolder.
“If things go well for us tonight, I swear to adopt your baby, Ms. Tatum. I’d treat it like my own. ”
“Aww. You’re just too sweet, Detective.” She reaches across like she intends to cup his face, only to end it with a clap that bounces into the street. “I appreciate having options, but I’d rather your money. Quickly please. You’re slowing the line down.”
“Those baby hormones making you cranky? He pulls out a couple of fifties—two of them, to be precise—and hands them over in exchange for a ticket. “I heard that mean streak settles in the second trimester.”
“My hormones are just fine.” She flashes a wolfish, taunting grin, then she looks my way and offers her hand, palm side up.
“I’m gonna need two of those Ulysses, or a single Benjamin Franklin, Detective.
Then head on inside, grab a glass of bubbly if you want it.
We’re set to get started in twenty minutes. ”
“A hundred bucks?” Disgusted, I pull the bills from my wallet and slap them to her palm. “I’m a single dad doing my best to raise an expensive little boy. Don’t you realize the tooth fairy’s set to come tonight? Who’ll fund that if I spend all my money here?”
“Maybe you’re walking in a single dad, but you’ll walk out again with a bride.
Then you can support her, too.” Laughing, she slips her cash…
away. Somewhere. She’s fuckin’ fast. She lays a ticket in my palm and gestures inside.
“Hold onto that. It’s a lucky door thing.
Winner gets a prize.” She steps around me to greet the next daters.
“Come on.” Ramone grabs my arm and drags me through the door, into a crowd heavy with bodies and way too much chatter. Folks giggle and buzz, they drink and flirt.
“Jesus. It’s not like we don’t see all these same people every single day.” I drop my head and avoid every single set of eyes that look my way. “Call it a special singles event all you want, these are still the same idiots we avoid every other day of the week.”
“You avoid them.” He snags a champagne flute from a passing server and fobs it off to me, then he selects a second for himself. “I don’t. In fact, I do all I can to flag the pretty ones down in traffic and lead them to my bed.”
“Ramone?” Remi Devereaux skids to a stop just three feet away, horrified and green in the face. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” He darts forward and crowds his baby sister against a bookshelf. “This is a dating thing, Rem! Don’t you realize the slimebags these things attract?”
“Slimebags like you?” She spits back. “Dude! I just heard that thing about leading women to your bed.”
“You’re not supposed to listen to those conversations! I’m a slimebag. Duh!”
I sip my champagne and make tracks around the almost-packed bookstore, studying the layout of individual tables with a chair on each side.
Small vases sit on each, with a single red rose and a battery-operated fake candle.
Each table has a pencil and fresh notepad waiting to be used, and on top of those are name cards.
Remi Devereaux. Alana Watkins. Fox Tatum. Eliza Darling.
There’s even a card for Rosaline Valera, which is a pretty big fucking deal, considering she’s not usually one for crowds.
I make my way toward the front counter, slipping between groups of flirting singles and around Oliver Darling while he creates a two-person dancefloor just for him and Rose. He whispers filthy things in her ear, and probably reminds her not to fall in love with anyone else tonight.
Finally, I arrive at the top end of the room and find the fighters, just like I knew I would.
“Christian.” I offer my fist and wait for him to bump it. “You’re letting Fox date tonight? Even with your baby in her belly?”
His lips quirk into the tiniest shadow of a smile. “She knows who to come home to, Detective. And she wouldn’t shut up about it anyway. Turns out, whatever Fox Tatum wants, Fox Tatum gets.”
“Sucks for you.” I look to Tommy next and tap his fist. “Alana secure a babysitter for tonight, or is Hazel getting her first taste of the dating scene nice and early?”
“You’re set on goading us, huh?” He snorts. “Trying to piss me off?”
“It’s fun.” I lean against the front counter and cross my ankles, settling in. “What’s with the sudden new business inspiration, anyway? Alana’s been running this place for a year already, but now she wants to turn it into a mass fuckin’ orgy?”
“Money’s money,” he shrugs. “And when Maggie said—”
“Maggie, what?” I shove off the counter and stare at the pair. “Maggie Sava?”
“Mmm. This is her thing.” His eyes lock onto Alana’s from all the way across the room, his smile notching up when she pauses whatever she’s doing and grins back. Then he winks and releases her to continue her tasks. “Maggie’s a love expert.”
I blink. Blink. Blink. “She’s a what?”
“Love expert.” Chris shrugs. “She hosts these events, charges men out the asshole to be in the same room as the women, then she makes matches.” He presses his hands together. “Like… matches.”
“Maggie Sava?” I repeat, like a fucking moron. “Magnolia, from the second grade?”
“Pretty sure she made it most of the way through middle school,” Tommy chuckles. “She can count to a hundred and everything. There.” He tips his chin in hello.
I will not turn around.
I will not turn around.
I WILL NOT TURN AROUND!
“She’s gotten chummy with the girls over the last couple of weeks, I guess.
Lots of planning for tonight, lots of scheming.
This was Maggie’s career in her old town.
Super lucrative, apparently. So when she and Alana got to talking about venues…
” He smiles wide… straight past me. “I support my wife’s business decisions. Hi, Maggie. Great turn out, huh?”
“Yeah.” She latches onto my arm and wrenches me around with a fast yank. “Dammit!”
“Nice to see you folks are getting along,” Tommy laughs. “Everything pleasant over on Pleasant Street?”
“I was hoping you were someone else,” she groans. “Jesus. This is your not-a-date?”
“You’re a love expert?” I shoot right back. “The fuck is a love expert, anyway? Back in my day, we called those pimps.”
“You’re such a jackass,” she hisses. “I’ve tried being nice to you, Billy! I’ve tried minding my own business. Living my life. Working in my garden. But here you are, jackassing the way jackasses do. Again.” With a roll of her eyes, she spins on her heels and takes off.
“That was smooth,” Chris snorts. “Looks like things have improved since you body slammed her on her own porch and carted her off to jail.”
“I didn’t body slam her! And I didn’t cart her anywhere. It was a misunderstanding, and then I apologized.” Maybe… possibly… probably not.
“Not one of you fuckers is allowed to flirt with my baby sister!” Ramone bursts through the crowd like a bowling ball through pins, tipping his champagne back and chugging its contents greedily.
“Fuckin’ hell. Why would she come here, huh?
She’s completely ruined my plans to ruin someone else’s life tonight. ”
“Aw shucks,” Tommy drawls. “Poor you.”