Bad Cruz

“Sure about that?” I slid into my car, turning on the ignition. The engine purred. Wyatt got into the passenger seat. “Don’t want you to end up yielding to temptation again.”

Wyatt shook his head, cranking the volume of my stereo up as soon as I hit the gas pedal. Classic rock filled the car.

“No way. Cheating is way too much hassle. I think I’ll have to be faithful from now on.”

“Smart guy.”

“I take after my baby brother.”

“If only.”

We ended up at the only bar downtown. The Drunk Clam was a fine establishment that only served three types of beer, one type of whiskey, and peanuts I was pretty sure had expired pre-World War I.

“So what’s up with Nessy? You two seemed cold.”

Wyatt ordered both of us beers and perched himself on a stool at the bar. From the corner of my eye, I detected one of Trinity’s little girlfriends, who always came to the clinic to pick her up for Pilates class.

I groaned but shot her a polite smile, anyway. I didn’t want any company tonight. The woman texted on her phone furiously, while I redirected my attention to Wyatt.

“She’s a chickenshit.”

“Why?”

“She won’t own our relationship.”

“And that’s important to you because…?” Wyatt took a pull of his beer.

“I’m not some dirty little secret.”

I expected him to laugh, but he squinted thoughtfully.

“Maybe she’s trying to protect you. Her reputation’s tarnished.”

“Mine’s pristine and can take the hit. It could elevate hers.”

“Not if she knows everyone’ll talk about how she hooked up with the best man at her sister’s wedding and whether that was before or after he dumped the maid of honor… Why’d you think Trinity was so against y’all getting together?” Wyatt tilted his beer bottle in my direction.

“Because she’s a self-centered cow.”

Wyatt chuckled. “Well, I suppose there’s that, too. But she didn’t want the scandal to overshadow the occasion. It is supposed to be the one time in a woman’s life where everything is about her as the bride.”

“Do you even love her?”

Wyatt rubbed his chin, narrowing his eyes at a spot behind the bartender’s shoulder as he gave it some genuine thought.

“Dunno. I loved Valerie, and that turned out to be a disaster. I guess I love the idea of Trinity, and she loves the idea of me, and that’s enough. For what we want. For now.”

A few minutes later, Gabriella swaggered into the bar, dressed in something I could not describe as anything other than a self-important bikini. It didn’t have enough fabric to pass as a skirt, and that cropped shirt barely covered up her nipples.

And she had on a lot of makeup—I’m talking every shade of eyeshadow and enough red lipstick to paint a particularly gory crime scene—and The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and you’ll get the train wreck.

Trinity’s friend was an informer.

Shocker.

Wyatt snickered and clapped my back as Gabriella’s eyes zeroed in on me. She sliced through the throng of bar-goers like Moses parting the sea.

“My, my. It sure ain’t easy being Cruz fucking Costello.”