6 Everleigh TV Screens—Somebody’s Child
Everleigh
TV Screens—Somebody’s Child
The wedge of crumpled cash feels like gold dust against my fingertips. Tangible, real freedom. My own money. Whether paid through pity or kinship, I have scrubbed, poured, and worked without complaint to earn this little stack of liberation.
It’s enough to cover the next chunk of my journey. Even without a final destination, I know this temporary haven can’t last. I made sure to cover my tracks when I fled London, but I’m not foolish enough to think Christopher doesn’t have the resources to hunt me down.
Go ahead, tell the world.
You’re out of your mind, and I’ll make sure everyone knows it.
Gritting my teeth, I count the cash stack one last time, then stow it under the mattress. I keep the bedroom locked with the skeleton key Cassidy gave me, but the fear of losing this lifeline is real. Everything is so precarious right now.
The silky shirt she loaned me to wear for my shift at the birthday party hangs loose on my frame, but I smooth it down regardless before giving my reflection a glance. I’m still getting used to seeing myself with short hair instead of long, dark locks.
The past few days have been a whirlwind of decorating, food prep, and booze deliveries in preparation for tonight.
Downstairs, Maverick is laying the last of the nibbles out around several large chafing dishes.
The menu’s a fourteen-year-old’s dream—mini burgers, hot dogs, fresh stone-baked pizza, and all manner of dirty-topped fries.
My stomach rumbles at the thought as I head down to give the tavern a final survey.
To her credit, Cassidy bought all the navy blue and gold decorations.
She just needed a trained eye to get the place looking festive.
Playing the wife of a prized socialite gave me one thing, and that’s attention to detail when it comes to hosting.
“Eden!” Cassidy walks in from the kitchen, dips in hand. “This place looks amazing. You’ve made it feel like a glitzy winter wonderland.”
“All I did was hang some stuff.” I shrug her off.
“I’m sure you’re secretly a retired party planner. Seriously, I couldn’t have made it look half this good. I don’t have the patience for decorating.”
“You did great with the colour theme.”
“Now that’s on Tasha.” She winks at me. “That kid would sooner cancel her birthday than let me hang a single pink banner or balloon. Not her style.”
“For the record, I voted pink!” Maverick calls over his shoulder.
“Me too,” another vote chimes in.
Exiting the kitchen in a casual stroll, Leo hits me with a megawatt smirk as he hefts a wooden crate under his arm. Several bottles clink inside, filled with bright, syrupy-looking liquid.
I haven’t seen him since the morning we met, and tension crackles over me at the slow, perusing look he offers. It’s a curious assessment that’s halfway to clinical, but his warm smile somehow sets me at ease.
“And I’ve brought reinforcements,” he adds.
“Is that cherry vodka?” Maverick perks up.
“Yep, three bottles.” Leo nudges the door shut behind him. “Threw in a couple litres of some dodgy moonshine we’ve been brewing since Christmas too.”
“What kind of party do you think this is?” Cassidy plants two hands on her hips.
“Hey, it’s not for Tasha. I’m not that irresponsible.”
“Could’ve fooled me. I’ve seen you drink enough over the years before doing some stupid shit.”
“Like you haven’t been drunk skinny-dipping in the lake too?” He arches a brow.
With a murderous look, Cassidy backs down, leaving Leo to grin in triumph. He plonks the liquor stash on the bar, then trains his gaze back on me.
“Hey, Eden. How’s it going?”
“Hi,” I reply evenly. “Pretty good.”
“The place does look great. You did an awesome job.”
“Thanks. You make homemade liquor?”
“My brother does most of the work.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “I just forage the berries and stuff when I’m working. He’s the real alchemist in the family.”
The thought of Sterling waltzing in here and demanding answers I have no intention of giving sends my pulse skittering. To my relief, the kitchen doors don’t budge again, leaving me with one overinquisitive local instead of two.
Wonderful.
Hopping up on a bar stool, Leo stretches his arms over his head, revealing a sliver of tightly packed abdominals beneath his white button-down.
It looks good with blue jeans and a leather jacket, complimenting his stylishly floppy hair and piercings.
I drag my eyes away before he can catch me gawping.
“When’s the birthday girl arriving?”
“Her dad’s bringing her in an hour,” Cassidy replies.
“He’s what?” Leo erupts. “Why the fuck is that tosspot coming, Cass?”
“Because I’ve spent days talking him around, and he owes his child this much, regardless of mine or anyone else’s feelings about him. Andy is still her father.”
“Well, he has zero right to be,” he huffs.
“Leo,” Maverick cautions.
“What? That son of a bitch has some nerve to show his face in here. Especially when he tried to take half this place and shut the fucking business down. He’s a scumbag.”
“Hence the divorce,” Cassidy chirps.
“He’s unhinged, Cass!”
The idea of Cassidy’s crazy ex-husband rocking up is enough to turn my stomach. If he’s anything like mine, I don’t want him anywhere near Cass or her daughter.
“Enough bellyaching,” she says sternly. “Be on your best behaviour and don’t give him grief. We’re doing this for Tasha. She’s all that matters.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Leo dismissively flaps a hand. “Scout’s honour, I’ll behave.”
“You flunked out of the scouts along with August and Liam when old man Melville caught you all smoking.” Maverick narrows his eyes.
“You’re such a rat!”
“Just keeping it real. Can’t have Eden thinking you’re some kinda gentleman who delivers homemade vodka and defends the honour of our local landlady.”
A small laugh bursts out of me, and Leo’s face lights up at the sound, despite Maverick’s ribbing. Gooseflesh spreads across my arms when he turns that beam in my direction.
“Don’t listen to him, Eden,” he pleads dramatically.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Thank you.”
“But I want first dibs on the good stuff after my shift. That moonshine looks even more lethal than my famous dirty martini.”
“A dirty martini, eh?”
“Five olives, it’s the sweet spot. The trick is to add a little bit of the brine in there too . . . you know, just to make it extra dirty. You really want to feel that salty-sour hit.”
His eyes blow wide. “You actually drink this?”
“It’s famous for a reason.”
“Damn, girl. You’re hardcore.”
“That’s one word for it.” Maverick pulls a face. “You couldn’t pay me to drink that shit.”
“Hey,” I protest. “Don’t knock it until you try it, Mr. Head Chef.”
“Yes, please listen to Mr. Head Chef. It is my professional advice that you never make someone drink that.”
With an eye roll, Leo gives me a thumbs up. “I’ll try one.”
“Then it’s a fair trade.”
“You’ve got a deal.”
Maverick sighs. “Come on, we have stuff to do.”
We disperse to attend to final preparations, with Maverick disappearing back into the kitchen and Cassidy fussing over the tables and chairs. Leo stays put, keeping his focus fixed on me. Opening up the bar, I diligently check everything is in order for what promises to be a busy night ahead.
As the tavern begins to fill up, the volume rises. It feels like Cassidy has invited the whole town out to celebrate her daughter. In a place like this, I don’t suppose you can leave anyone off the guest list for a special occasion.
She’s busy greeting guests and exchanging hugs, leaving me to man the bar alone. A single customer soon grows into a three-deep queue, and I startle when Leo ducks behind the bar to take over serving drinks. He even pauses to bump his shoulder into mine.
“Worked a few shifts here over the years,” he says, handing out a round of beers. “Before Cass owned the place, I helped out Maverick’s uncle. He used to own the place when we were growing up.”
“How come he sold up?”
“He inherited the business from his folks but never really wanted it. Elias is a local artist. He owns the gallery in town now, selling his watercolours.”
Watching Leo serve drinks while chatting animatedly, I can’t help but gape at the ease with which he fills each glass, working the draught taps like extensions of his own body.
“Are you even watching yourself? How do you do that so fast?”
“All in the practice, sweetheart.” He shoots me a playful wink. “Give it some time and you’ll be pulling perfect pints in your sleep.”
“I’m far from a natural at this.”
“You’re doing better than you realise.”
Taking a handful of cash, I count the folded notes, then pass back some coins to the customer. “You don’t have to lie.”
“That’s one thing you’ll learn about me—” Leo wipes spilled foam from the bar with his rag, “—I never, ever lie. Gets me in all kinds of trouble, but I like to think I’m an honest man.”
“What’s one of those?”
“Hah.” He splutters a laugh. “You’re secretly a ball-breaker, Eden. Didn’t think you had it in you.”
Neither did I.
“I guess we’re both full of surprises.” I smile to myself.
Working in tandem, we clear the line enough to spot Tasha’s arrival. At fourteen, she’s the spit of her mum. All flame-red hair, big bold eyes, and pouty lips that make her look far too grown up. She’s followed by what I assume is Cassidy’s ex-husband, a bald-headed man wearing a sour look.
“That’s Andy.” Leo drops his voice to a hush. “He treated her like crap for over a decade, then tried to ruin her when Cass got the balls to divorce him.”
“Thought you were supposed to be on your best behaviour?”
“She can’t hear me.” He tosses me a devious look. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
Another look at Andy’s grim expression and the way he scowls at his ex-wife seals the deal.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” I reassure.
“In the end, the court sided with her, and Cass was able to protect the business. Andy fucked off to kingdom come . . . until now. Man, I’d love to cave his head in.”
“Not exactly the birthday entertainment we’re looking for.”
“I don’t know.” He furrows his brow. “It would entertain me.”