Page 64 of Darlin'

"Guess so," Jesse says. "We all good here?"

Miguel pats the duffle bag. "For now. I'll see you around, Paxtons."

"...And then it almost fell right on top of me, so I guess Iwassupposed to use all those screws," Marlow continues talking my ear off as Miguel approaches us. She snaps her head in his direction. "Oh, hi, Miguel. What brings you here today? Bar's closed 'cause?—"

"A couple of pipes burst," I interject, cutting Marlow off. I don't know what she was going to say, but Miguel doesn't need two different stories. "So Jesse decided to upgrade a few things."

"So I've been told," Miguel says, studying me suspiciously. "For as long as I've known the Paxtons, they've never really been ones for upgrades." He looks over at Marlow. "Or changes."

"Guess there's a first for everything," I say, forcing a smile. "Plus, I'd prefer to serve drinks wearing heels versus gumboots." I lower my voice to a whisper, "They're not really my style."

"I'm sure they'd suit you just fine," Miguel says. He glances at Marlow. "Would you mind giving Savannah and me a moment? I'd like to discuss something with her."

"Wish I could, but duty calls." Marlow doesn't miss a beat with her protective instincts as she pulls a screwdriver from her pocket and latches onto my hand. "We got stuff to...upgrade. Maybe next time."

"No worries." Miguel's upper lip twitches for a second before he peers down at me. "Perhaps you'll give me a moment of your valuable time at the fundraiser next week?" I blink. "Toys for Tots? I'm still invited, aren't I?"

"Of course." I swallow. "As long as you bring a toy, you're more than welcome."

"In that case, I'll bring ten," he says, checking his watch. "Until next time, then."

"Bye," Marlow and I mutter in unison as he struts back toward his SUV.

"That guy's weird as fuck," Marlow says, dragging me into the bar. "Plus, he totally has a crush on you which is kinda gross cause he's like thirty-five. Like, find someone your own age, bro."

"Yeah," I hum, chewing on my bottom lip. "I can't seem to get a good read on him."

"Whatever," Marlow says as we stop just outside the bar. "Creeps be creeping." She fiddles with her thumbs for a second, hesitating before opening the doors. "Okay, so before we go in there, just remember what you said...they're just kids, right? And they don't know any better, okay?"

I frown. "What are you talking about?

Marlow slowly opens the doors to the bar and overlapping chatter fills my ears. Two young voices, in particular, stand out.

"That's not the right size, dumbass,” Carlos snaps. "Use this one."

"You're the dumbass!" Zack barks back.

"Hey! None of that! We worktogether, understood?" Jo's reprimanding voice silences the bickering as Marlow and I step inside the bar. "That's better." My gaze snaps to the boys huddled in front of a high-top table, a toolbox on the ground beside them. "Oh, Savannah..." Unsure of how to react, I stare at Jo as she waves me over. "Comehere, please."

"Go," Marlow whispers, giving me a little shove. "You'll be fine."

"Jo?" I ask, keeping my attention on the two boys who refuse to look at me. "What's...what's going on here?"

"Boys, stand up," Jo orders. They both don't move, pretending to search through the toolbox. "I said stand up."

Sheepishly, Zack and Carlos rise to their feet, continuing to stare at their shoes.

"Is there something you'd like to say to Savannah?" Jo clears her throat. "Carlos?"

"I'm uh—" He fiddles with the zipper on his hoodie. "I'm sorry for umm...shooting at you last night, okay? I...I—" He swallows, slowly lifting his head up, his glossy eyes meeting mine for the first time. He sniffles, wiping his nose. "I wasn't even umm...aiming at you. I just"—more sniffling—"I just wanted to scare you."

I glance at Jo, and something tells me that these boys already got a stern lecture on the dangers of firearms. I put in my two cents anyway.

"I'm surprised you didn't hurt yourself,” I say, giving Carlos a keen once over. “You're a bit too small to handle a nine-millimeter."

"He did," Zack chimes in, gaining confidence to talk to me. "His shoulder's all?—"

"Shut up," Carlos grunts, elbowing Zack. "Don't tell her that!” With a sheepish wince, he peers up at me. “Do you...you forgive me?”

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