Chapter 6
Chapter Six
PIERCE
Jimbob shakes his fist at the TV mounted over the fireplace. Pissed off at a football game that is a rerun of the one from Christmas. You’d think he’s got money on it with how upset he is.
The bar is small and right off the entryway.
I’d guess at one point it was a parlor. There are only a handful of seats at the bar, but there are a couple of tables scattered around the room.
One large bay window lets you see out the front of the house to the town.
Now that it’s night, those red and pink lights are making the town glow.
I'd come down here hoping to milk any information I could get out of the townspeople.
"You're a fan?" Jimbob asks, nodding toward the television.
"It's entertaining enough." I never played past a few games as a kid in an open field. Anytime I hit a new high school, the coaches would try to get me to play because of my size alone.
I shot up after middle school, not only in height, but I'm built broad. I only ever used my size on asshats who had it coming. I was able to stick up for some of the other kids in the system. We always had a target on our backs for easy bullying.
I didn't play ball because while I might have been built for it, I value my brain. Sports weren't getting me into college with a full ride; I mean, maybe, but you had to depend on a whole team.
Academics I could do solo, and when it provided information, I inhaled it.
It was as easy as breathing to me. Back then I knew I could only count on myself.
That was the world I had always lived in.
I'm getting a good sense that New Hope isn't that way. The little time I’ve spent here has already shown me that they are protective of one another.
“How about you?” I ask to make small talk, taking a sip of my drink. I’m not great at it, but it’s a necessity here. I can when I need to.
“Nah, the football team was shit here.”
“Really? Thought small towns were always big on football.”
“Not so much here.” Jimbob flips the channel over to the news, muting it. “Now the theater club, that’s what everyone went to see every other Friday.”
“As in the high school theater club?” Never heard that before. Interesting. That word keeps rolling around a lot in my mind each time I learn a new detail about this town. It really is a unique town.
"Yep, it's a fight to get a ticket to The Nutcracker each year."
"Seriously?" People are fighting for tickets to a play at the high school?
"Oh, one year there was a giant scandal. Tins got the idea to start scalping tickets that year, bought all of them out, and was trying to resell them at double the cost.”
"Tins?" This getting information thing might be easier than I thought. I've been here a few minutes, and I'm already hearing her name.
"Tinsley Blake. If you're around for a few days, I'm sure you'll meet her. You can’t miss her.”
“Jimbobs!” A girl with bright red hair and a white sweater with a chicken and a red stain on it comes bouncing into the bar area.
“Hey, Katherine,” Jimbob greets her. Katherine—that name had been in the information I’d gotten on Tinsley; she’s the best friend. This isn’t a coincidence. Nothing ever is.
“Can I get something fruity?” She does a little wiggle before grabbing the chair right next to mine.
“Coming up,” he tells her, his eyes looking behind her. “Your other half with you now that she’s back—”
“No!” Katherine squeaks loudly, cutting him off. Her gaze shifts to me before quickly glancing away, clueing me into her already knowing who I am. I’ll give it to them; for a small town, word sure does travel fast.
I smile internally. If Katherine knows I’m here, then my little spitfire surely does too. I’m guessing her wheels are already spinning as to why that might be.
“All right then.” Jimbob fights a smirk. “I was telling—” He pauses. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Dead man walking,” Katherine mutters under her breath.
“It’s Pierce.”
“He’s a lawyer.” Katherine quickly presses her lips together. If this is the spy Tinsley sent in, she’s terrible at it, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to enjoy the fuck out of whatever they are up to. “I mean, he looks like one.”
“Don’t know if I should be offended or not.” I’m in slacks and a dark blue button-up. I left straight from my office. “Is it the tie?” I tug it loose and undo a couple of the buttons. I should have changed, but I was eager to see Tinsley again.
“Sure, yes, totally.” Katherine nods along to her own stumbling of words. “Dead giveaway.” Her nose scrunches like I insulted her.
“Like me?” I say. “Am I a dead man walking?” I undo the button of my sleeves and start to roll them partly up.
“Oh noes.” Katherine sinks back into her chair. “You got tattoos.” Both of my arms are covered in them. I’d started getting them well before the legal age. It’s my only vice, or it had been. Tinsley could easily take its place.
“Is that a bad thing?” I ask. Does Tinsley hate tattoos? I wouldn't have guessed that with her pink streaks and colorful, well, everything. I know she’s an artist. I’d seen pictures of her work. It might have been on nails, but I promise, it’s art and impressive as fuck.
“We don’t have a lawyer in this town or a tattoo shop.” Katherine gives me a pointed look that I don’t fully understand, but I’m guessing that’s a theme with her.
“I heard you have a great theater.” I want to keep her talking. She’s the closest person to Tinsley, which means she knows all of the little details about her.
“We do. I was a fairy one year. My best friend Ti—” Katherine clears her throat, and it turns into a cough. “My friend was Tinkerbell.” Now that I could see.
“The people in charge were pissed about that,” Jimbob says, setting Katherine’s drink down in front of her. It’s a bright pink.
“About the play being Peter Pan?” I ask. “Because it wasn’t holiday themed?”
“We can turn anything into a holiday theme,” Katherine says smugly, taking a sip of her drink.
“Her ah”—Jimbob pauses—“best friend led a revolt and rewrote the play.” This woman keeps getting more and more interesting. What I had dug up on her didn’t give me this kind of information.
“Peter Pan is the villain. Tinkerbell isn't chasing after a little lost boy.” She rolls her eyes. “He’s selfish and stupidly cruel." Never thought of it that way.
“Wouldn't that also make him a kidnapper and murderer?"
"Yes! You’re getting it." She nods excitedly, taking another sip of her drink.
“So how did it end in this rewrite?” I’m genuinely curious now.
“Tinkerbell ends up with Captain Hook, and he adores her.” A soft smile forms on her lips.
Yes, if Tinsley was playing Tinkerbell, she wasn’t putting up with a boy's shit. That much I know about her. The way she spoke to Biff in the office that day was a prime example of that.
“I can see why these plays are always sold out.” I take a sip of my whiskey. I notice that Katherine keeps glancing up at the ceiling and then over to the entryway. My room is right above us. Subtlety is not her strong suit.
“I think I’m going to change out of this suit,” I say, getting up from my chair.
“Wait, why?” Katherine springs to her feet in front of me, blocking my path. Her actions only confirm my suspicions.
“I’ll be right back.”
“It’s fine. I love the suit. There’s no need to change. Best suit I’ve ever seen, right, Jimbob?” She gives him a hard stare.
“Sure, it’s good.”
“I’d like to get more comfortable.” I try to step around her, but she blocks my path again.
“So the play. Let me show you my part.” Katherine bursts into song. Jimbob covers his mouth with his hand to hide his laughter. I have to admire her determination to keep me from heading to my room.
“Haven’t been to many plays, but I know that’s from Annie.”
“Right.” She glances around. What she’s searching for I’m not sure, but I know she finds it when her hands go to her hips and she pushes her shoulders back. “Hey! Are you saying that because I have red hair and indeed am an orphan?”
I have to give it to her; she’s good at stalling. A loud thump sounds from overhead, making the chandelier shake. Katherine’s eyes widen in panic.
“Earthquake!” she shouts, and she jumps, making a giant X with her body.
“The doorframe,” I tell her, playing along.
“Right.” She scurries over to it. I follow after her, except I don’t stop; I keep moving past the door and up the stairs.
“Wait, I have part two of the play to tell you about,” Katherine shouts after me. "It's haunted up there!" She keeps shouting random things, but I don't stop, not until I swing my bedroom door open to reveal… nothing. Or so it appears.