Page 24 of The Witching Hours

“I’ll take it. No ice,” Jeanette replied.

Eugenie looked at Tristan. He pointed at the ice trough by the bar. “Long neck. Bring me what you like.”

That got a predictable smile from Eugenie. Jeanette had watched Tristan charm waitstaff with that line dozens of times. It never failed.

Jeanette opened her mouth to ask something, but there was no way she could push the volume of her voice to rise above the sounds of a dozen Harleys pulling in and backing up.

“They’re they are,” Eugenie said. “Right on time.” From the pleased look on her face, it was a good bet that bikers are good tippers. Or at least they make the night go by fast.

Tristan had been right about the merch. There was a selection of tees and sweatshirts plastered to the wall behind the cash register. They all sported the Larry’s Little Lobsters logo as proudly as if it was the casino at Monaco. Of course, they didn’t literally serve little lobsters, also known as langostinos. What they did serve was lots of crawfish. Every order included a lot of spicy sauce and bibs stamped with Larry’s logo.

Tristan split his curiosity between watching the band and watching the bikers file in. More than half came with women. The name displayed in curved text across the backs of leather jackets or vests said the group called themselves the Rajin Cajins. Some went straight to the bar where they were welcomed by people who knew them by name. Some went to the glass display case where they were busy picking out steaks to grill for themselves. Jeanette stared at the curious behavior. Going out to cook your dinner made no sense.

In minutes the population of Larry’s went from a scant few patrons to maximum capacity. Tristan hoped their arrival didn’t mean a slowdown in service. His road trip gone wrong was already on the edge of putting him in hot water with Jeanette. He was ready to cut dinner short and hit the road.

Having lost interest in the biker display, Jeanette was studying the menu like there’d be a pop quiz.

“What looks good?” Tristan said.

“I can answer that,” said a gravelly voice from behind Tristan.

Jeanette’s attention jerked to a point behind Tristan’s right shoulder. He turned to look and found a biker just inches from his face. The man was leaning against the back of their booth, casually resting his weight on an elbow while leaving the other hand free to hold a long neck.

Tristan watched in amazement as the guy punctuated his statement with a wink and a smile aimed at Jeanette. The biker pointed his beer toward Jeanette and said, “She does.” His gaze moved back to Tristan at a deliberately slow pace. “Y’all get lost?”

“Not if this place has the best onion rings in the universe. Like their advertising says,” Tristan quipped. The biker barked out a laugh. “We’re just gonna have a quick burger and leave. Ok?”

The biker looked at Jeanette again.

Tristan could tell how uncomfortable she was. Her anxiety level had shot through the roof in a matter of seconds.

“Let’s go, Tris,” she said quietly, closing the menu and shoving it aside. “I’m not that hungry.”

The biker stepped in front of the bench where she was seated to block her exit. “You scare easy, don’t ya?” he said. “Come on and stay. Have a leisurely supper. I’ll even pay.” He looked at Tristan. “Although you look like somebody who wouldn’t notice footin’ the bill.”

Tristan got up and caught Eugenie’s attention. She sized up the situation in a flash and headed their way to intervene.

“Hey, Baz,” she said to the biker. “This ain’t your playground. It’s a business. Don’t spook the customers. Right?”

Jeanette wondered if Eugenie was buying his attempt at an innocent look. “I’m not, Genie. I even offered to pay so they’ll stay and not run off.”

Tristan spoke to Eugenie, “If you could just get your friend to let my girlfriend out, we’ll be out of your hair.”

Baz laughed as he turned to shout to his friends. “Precious boy here brought hisgirlfriend!”

Jeanette’s state of anxiety shot from uncomfortable to alarmed. She hit the biker Eugenie called Baz in the thigh with her fist. “Let me out now,” she said.

Baz was unfazed, but Jeanette’s fingers hurt. The man had an uncommonly muscular leg.

“Baz,” Eugenie said, “don’t make me go get Larry. You like comin’ here. He likes havin’ you come here. Let’s keep it that way. Okay?”

While Baz was occupied with Eugenie, Tristan took out his phone and dialed 911. Just as the call was answered his phone went flying out of his hands. Baz had grabbed it and sent it flying toward the bar.

He took a step toward Baz and grinned. “Whatcha’ doin’?”

Jeanette grabbed the opportunity to get out of the booth and ran to the car. She’d never given any thought to how vulnerable a convertible makes a person, but she vowed on the spot to never ever get in another one. Without the protection of a roof and locked doors, she called 911 on her own phone.

A woman answered. “What’s your emergency?”

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