Inseparable

“Yeah? You think?” the drunk rubbed his chin.

“Sure. You don’t ever need to take a woman down the way you’re talking.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll bet if you just hang around here a while you’ll find a lady willing and able. Just be patient.”

“Yeah, but to stand a guy up that way. After getting him all torqued up, promising an evening…” He pulled his mouth down at the corners. “She’s got no right.”

“Well. Think about it, pal. Everyone that works here knows what happened. I know. If anything happens to that woman, who you said is a friend of a friend. Well, you’d never get away with it.”

I waved the bartender over and got him another round. It was my thinking that this guy wouldn't be going anywhere to commit any felonies if he were drunk enough. But all the same, I arranged with the bartender to have him stuffed in a cab and sent home when he was drunk enough.

“But look.” I offered. “I suggest you stay here and let my friend, excuse me.” I called to the bartender who was a huge muscleman with a well-manicured beard and the name Tina tattooed on the knuckles of his left hand. “What is your name?”

“Terry.” The giant said.

“This is my good friend Terry. He’s going to take care of you. When you’re ready to go he’ll have a cab waiting to take you home.”

“Really? No, man. I can’t accept that. It’s too much.”

“Nope. I insist.”

“What? I can’t believe it.” I swear tears came to his eyes. “That’s a beautiful gesture, man. It really is.”

“Terry. Take good care of my friend here.”

I slid off the barstool, shook both Terry and Mr. White Shirt and tie's hands and walked out of the restaurant. I still hadn't eaten but for the first time in a long time, I felt good.

My Ferrari sat out on the curb like a tacky hooker. After I climbed in I decided I wanted to trade it in for something else. Maybe a truck. No. Who was I kidding? There were still some things that would never change. I didn’t have to drive a Ferrari. A Hummer might be more practical. I’d figure that out tomorrow.

Tonight I decided to head off in the direction Mr. White Shirt and tie said was where Tilly lived. It was a one in a million shot I’d find her place. But I couldn’t bear the idea of not checking on her after a drunk threatened to rape her and perhaps do worse.

If Luck was a lady she might not be on speaking terms with me. But as I drove around making a few turns here and there I thought of what Mr. White Shirt and tie had said. It led me to Burr Oak Lane. With just a couple of houses on it, I thought I spotted the silver Lexus in the gravel driveway of a yellow house that looked like a rustic dollhouse.

Flipping off the lights I came to a stop just down the road a piece from the house and cut the engine. I just watched and waited.

Chapter 26 – Tilly

"Spike. I'm never going on another date. That's it for me." I hustled into my house through the back door that led into my kitchen. My cat sat on the circular woven rug that I had placed in front of the stove. He stretched then yawned and then finally slinked up to me to rub on my leg and quickly slip outside. "Fine, ungrateful. Go on and enjoy yourself. Why should I be the only one who has a lousy evening?"

My phone had started ringing in the car but I didn’t answer it. If it were Karl I had nothing to say to him. If it were Sandy, well, I’d have a discussion with her about standards later.

And if it were Lucas?

“It can’t be Lucas. He doesn’t have my phone number.” I threw my purse on the kitchen table, kicked off my heels and stomped up the stairs to my bedroom on the second floor. Slipping into a pair of sweats and my bear claw slippers I washed my face, pulled back my hair with a headband and decided on a glass of wine on the porch.

What was I supposed to do now knowing that Lucas Prine was in my city? That’s right. MY city. I was here first.

I thought of the times Lucas and I were together. Of course, I did. They were amazing and wild but they were also a long time ago. He made it perfectly clear what he thought of me that last time on the phone. This was just another attempt to get me to feel bad for him.

“That’s the thing!” I shouted after my first sip of merlot. “I never felt sorry for him! He is the last guy anyone should feel sorry for.” I paced around my house. “What the hell! Who cares if his stepmother doesn’t like him? Who cares if his father doesn’t love him. It isn’t like he’s related to Leona Helmsley. He’s set up for life. He’s got everything and yet still can find things to complain about. Who does that?”

I know my shadow against the closed curtains had to look like a woman either gone mad or running for office. Those two things were the same thing. But I was more upset about running into Lucas than I was Karl’s bad behavior. That could be chalked up to nerves.

Lucas actually had the nerve to give me some song and dance about how bad things are for him. So bad he had to buy a new Ferrari. Right.

From upstairs I heard my phone go off. Like an idiot, I dashed down to grab it before it went to voicemail. It was Sandy.

“What were you thinking?” I answered.

“What? I didn’t go well?” She sounded genuinely shocked.