Chapter 19
Lillian
I can’t believe how busy Talon is on a weeknight.
While Pierre serves customers upstairs, laughter bubbles up from the private party below.
The nondenominational holiday balls have been packed away.
The green shamrocks, too. Strings of white twinkling lights wrap around the top of an old dry-cleaning rack.
Tiny American flags left over from Memorial Day will probably stay up until the Fourth.
After ordering two brews at the bar, I carry them through the open glass door to the sole empty patio table. Outside, cannabis and a fruity vape drift on the evening breeze. From here, against the vine-covered brick wall, I have a clear view of both entrances.
While I wait, Emily, the redheaded hostess, clears away a stack of empties.
She stops to discuss the grifter incident. “I’m a little worried about the bad publicity.”
“Don’t be.” I scoot my chair back, giving her room to wipe her damp rag over the surface. “My sister Rebecca is all over it. She’s a marketing maven— a real-life Rumpelstiltskin. Spins yarns into gold.”
“Funny.” Chuckling, she walks away to chat with a group of regulars.
Halfway through my beer, Dante sounds through my comm unit, “Heads up. He’s here.”
Taking my time, I glance up from my phone. Dressed in black, the smiling, tanned blond approaches and kisses me on the cheek.
“You look gorgeous.” Snobbish accent thicker than usual, he holds out his hand.
“Thank you.” When I reach out my newly manicured nails, he again squeezes my fingers far longer than necessary.
As he sits on the bench across from me, I slide the brew to his side of the table. “Hope you like IPAs.”
“They’re alright…” Reptilian eyes stare over the lip of the bottle. “You said you wanted to talk? I’m here.”
I pull out a tissue from my purse, dabbing at my nose. “Sorry to put you on the spot. Sean broke up with me, so I need a job. Do you know who’s hiring?”
“Figures.” He shrugs. “Boy Scout’s not like us. Know what I mean?”
Sean growls in my comm unit. “Asshole.”
Dante cuts in, “Zip it.”
Ignoring the conversation in my ear, I lift my gaze to my mark and hold it. “I didn’t, but I do now. The penthouse fire rattled him. I had to sneak out of the house. He won’t let me leave.”
“Let you?” Blond brows arch over piercing blue eyes.
“I know. It’s ridiculous, right?” I lean forward, my cleavage on full display. “And get this. I almost died because some suicidal bitch thought she was going to change their one-night status. Insane. If that’s the kind of woman he attracts…”
Pearson’s frown deepens. “Then why marry him?”
“His father is loaded.” The daughter of a crime lord, I’ve perfected the art of the lie followed by a cold, heartless laugh.
Bottle to my lips, I finish my bitter brew before pushing back my chair. “Need the restroom. Can I get you another?”
“I got it.” When he scoots back, my heart races as I rest my hands on his shoulders.
No, no, no. For this to work, he needs to stay put.
“Next round.” My smile could dazzle the sun. “Promise. I got this.”
Exuding confidence, shaken more than I’ll admit, I saunter away.
In my ear, Sean encourages me. “Take your time, babe. No hurry.”
A few minutes later, with my makeup refreshed, I exit the restroom, stop at the bar, and order two more IPAs.
As Pierre pops the caps, Dante says, “Do it.”
Just like we rehearsed, I drop a pill into the bottle on the right.
Now comes the hard part.
Smile wide, I sway my hips in my spandex mini dress while Jeff watches as if spellbound. Leaving center stage, I settle beside him.
“You have him by the short hairs, Lillian.” He slides his hand high up my thigh. “You’re in a unique position to help me.”
After guiding his fingers to my knee, I lift my beer. “To new beginnings.”
I gulp it down. Like any guy trying to impress a woman, he does the same.
“Can you believe…” A most unladylike burp erupts from me. “Excuse me… Sean had the nerve to be jealous? He’s the one playing around!”
Not giving him a chance to respond, I keep going. “So last weekend we were driving home, and this crazy bitch tried to run us off the road. When her first tactic didn’t work, she blew herself up and almost took us out with her. Sean said he never saw her before in his life, but I’m certain he did.”
“How so?”
And the fish takes the bait.
“She mentioned demonical holiday balls. Mine and Sean’s stupid little joke. Our moment. Not hers.”
He snickers. “Don’t you mean nondenominational holiday balls?”
My breath catches.
Got him.
I hope the guys caught it, too, but something, either in my face or body language, must give me away.
Expression hard, all pretenses gone, Jeff lifts a closed fist, a hypodermic needle glinting between his fingers. “Whatever you think you’ve learned, you haven’t.”
As I start to rise, he drives it into my thigh.
This sharp, white-hot sting blooms on impact.
As liquid poison spreads, I’d run or scream, but my body won’t obey, not even when Pearson slips his arm around my waist. Neck lolling, I’m no more than a rag doll he can guide across the patio, through the gate.
Shoes. Cracks in the sidewalk. Stains. Gum. Everything blurs.
As I’m about to puke my guts out, Sean says, “Babe. So glad I found you.”
Is he here-here or in my comms?
“Poor dear. She’s had too much to drink,” Ruthie says, or maybe I’m dreaming.
While I try to decide, Rebecca tips up my chin. “Jesus, how many did you have, sis?”
I try to respond, but it’s almost impossible with Jeff’s fingertips digging into my ribs. “I’m taking her home.”
“Don’t say anything,” Dante says in my ear. “Let Sean handle it.”
Say anything? As if I could.
Gram’s lavender scent surrounds me as her sparkly, purple sneakers step forward. “I think you’ve done enough damage, young man. Taking advantage. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Shoo.” A whoosh slices through the air, the unmistakable sound of her wooden spoon in motion. “Go on now. Shoo, shoo, shoo.”
From Sean’s side, a chuckle. Then familiar arms slide around me, pulling me from the other man’s grasp.
“I got you, babe. Hang tight.”