I doubt she'll be coming back in,” Doc answers. “She left in the middle of a shift without telling anybody why, and she never showed back up for work. In my experience, that's a sure sign of an employee that's not planning to return to our fair establishment.”
I laugh at her smart-ass remark. But Griffin’s expression is solemn as a tombstone.
“You let me know if she comes in,” he repeats. “You still got my cell?”
Doc gives him a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Sure do.”
For a few seconds, he stares at her in a way that almost feels like an unspoken threat.
But then he turns back to me, once again becoming a laid-back rock star. “Fairgood’s brought you into his world. You’re going to hear some stuff. People talk a lot of shit behind his back. But don't believe the rumors. He's good people.”
“What rumors?” I ask, now wanting to know about that even more than his last name.
Griffin just grins, then snags a topless waitress around the waist and says, “Hey, baby, how you doing?”
“Oh my God,” she says. “You’re Griffin Latham.”
Same as me.
“Sure am,” he answers. And that’s the last thing I hear the country trap star say before he disappears into the crowd with her.
I immediately swivel on the stool to ask Doc, “Griffin Latham is a Ruthless Reaper?”
“I mean, yeah, he used to be one of those fools,” Doc answers. She plucks a fry off my plate. “The rumor is that his rich dad got sick of him wilding out and put him in charge of a music label. So now he's trying to walk the straight and narrow. But he still tours during the summer, and the Reapers act as his security force. Anyway, he always comes through when he has a show nearby.”
“And how about this Red he was asking about? Who is she?”
Doc snitches another fry off my plate. “Somebody who used to work here. But she made it out of this place, and she’s never coming back. He just refuses to accept that.”
I eye Doc as I stuff a few of the fries in my mouth myself. They’re a little cold but hit my tongue like a long overdue, salty gift. And the cheeseburger did me the favor of staying totally warm and delicious. I gratefully accept the tall glass of Coke Doc sets in front of me in a beer stein and pretty much forget about all my questions as I inhale the first meal I've had since this morning.
But after I house all the fries and most of the burger, my curiosity about her spikes again.
“Are you trying to get out of here, too?” I ask.
“Not trying,” Doc counters. “One more semester of med school, and I'm done with this place.”
I raise my eyebrows just like she did when she discovered me wearing her scrubs. “So that's why they call you Doc. I'm a nurse in real life.”
Doc squints at me. “I was born into this. But what's a nurse doing with Waylon of all people?”
I decide to answer with the truth. “He was supposed to be out of my life forever, but then he basically crashed my wedding, beat up the guy I was going to marry, then blackmailed me into riding off on his motorcycle with him.”
Doc regards me from behind the bar for a stunned second. But then nods and says, “That tracks. The Ruthless Reapers don't have a ton of morals to start with. Especially when it comes to women. But especially when it comes to women they want.”
Her eyes drift toward the office door the three tall Reapers walked through earlier.
I follow her gaze and ask, “Is that why you won't give any of those three guys who were flirting with you earlier the time of day?
Doc’s lips curl into a rueful smile. “Not any of them, all of them. Every girl in here knows, Vengeance is a package deal.
“Vengeance?” I repeat, not understanding.
Doc rolls her eyes, “Yeah, that’s what everyone calls them. They’re the guys the Reapers send for debt collection and stuff like that. They don't have the best reputation.”
I widen my eyes. “No wonder you turned them down. You're smart to stay away.”
“Yeah, I’m definitely smarter than that. No question,” Doc agrees. But her eyes once again drift toward the door Vengeance disappeared behind.
I’m not sure she quite believes everything she’s telling me. But she’s smart enough to at least pretend she’s not interested in what they’re offering. And way more important than that, the future doctor might be somebody who can help me get out of this mess.
“Hey, listen,” I start to say. “I know this sounds crazy. But I left my phone and wallet behind in Delaware. Could you loan me…”
“Hey, Brown Sugar, fifty bucks to show us your tits!”