Page 67 of Not Quite Dead Yet

Everyone joined in with the chorus, butchering the notes, coming in too late. Jet wanted them to shut up, so she could hear her friend sing.

Billy’s eyes scanned the crowd, like he was looking for someone, and then he found her, sitting here at her table, alone.

Jet raised her beer and Billy winked back at her. Moved on to the next verse, but he was smiling so wide out one side of his mouth, it must have been hard to sing through.

‘That’s my friend,’ Jet said to a guy at the next table.

‘Billy’s everyone’s friend.’

Well, fuck you, sir.

The song ended, another wolf whistle from the back of the room.

Billy grinned into the microphone. ‘OK, next up: Steve’s favorite, because he’ll start heckling if I don’t.’

He cleared his throat and picked at the strings. ‘Teenage Dirtbag’, another crowd-pleaser, and Steve back there looked more than pleased.

Jet took another sip of her beer, the fizz of the liquid inside her cheeks, a warm glow pressing in from the other side. Well, in one of them; the other cheek felt nothing. Could you normally feel your cheeks? Jet took another sip, finished off the beer. She glanced over to the bar, scouting her path through the crowd. There was a clear way, there, right to one of the bar stools, and a woman sitting on it. Jet recognized her immediately. Her name wasn’t Noelle, like Billy was singing now, but it was close. Nell. Jankowski. The chief’s wife.

Jet got to her feet, zigzagged her way through, all eyes on Billy.

‘Can I have another?’ Jet placed the empty bottle down on the bar, standing right next to Nell, hair like bronze, graying at the temples. She was drinking a glass of white wine, the glass sweating, ghostly fingerprints left behind. ‘Hi,’ Jet said. ‘I’m Jet.’

Nell glanced at her, eyes that matched her hair, softening as they landed on Jet. ‘Hi, sweetheart,’ she said, straightening up. ‘I know who you are. Lou’s told me about … He’s good, isn’t he?’ Nell pointed her glass toward Billy.

‘The best,’ Jet answered without a pause. ‘What hasLoutold you?’

Nell hesitated, breathing in the wine. ‘I just wanted to say, I’m so sorry about your situation. It’s truly awful, what happened. Are you feeling OK? If there’s anything I can do before –’

‘– I feel fine,’ Jet lied. ‘No different. Turns out dying feels a lot like living.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Nell stared into her glass, wincing as the crowd joined in with the chorus.

Jet waited for the sound to die down, then asked: ‘Is it true? That my dad is planning to sell Mason Construction to you?’

Nell choked on her wine. ‘He told you?’

‘Someone else did.’

Nell’s chin dipped up, a question in her eyes.

‘Andrew Smith,’ Jet answered. ‘So it’s actually true?’

Nell nodded. ‘He shouldn’t have done that.’

‘Probably a lot of things Andrew Smith shouldn’t have done.’

‘I pay him to do jobs around the house sometimes,’ Nell said. ‘One of the first people I met in town, in here actually.’ She looked around, but Andrew wasn’t here. ‘I worry he’s lonely. We chat sometimes. I didn’t think he … He shouldn’t have told you that. Your dad doesn’t want anyone to know yet.’

‘Are you going to buy it?’ Jet asked. ‘The company.’

Nell ran her finger around the rim of her glass. ‘It makes sense to. I own a home construction business, based in Hartland and Hartford, where we lived before Lou got this job. Now we live in Woodstock, it makes sense to expand here. We’re not total out-of-towners, like people think. Lou actually lived here for six months, in his thirties.’

‘Thank you,’ Jet said to the guy behind the bar, handing her an open beer.

‘I’ll get this.’ Nell jumped in, reaching toward the card machine before Jet had a chance.

‘Thanks.’ Jet took a sip. ‘It would also make sense for my dad to leave the company to Luke when he retires. He’s worked there more than ten years. It’s what we all thought would happen.’

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