Page 36 of Cold Foot Revenge
“See? Stage five clinger. We aren’t even twins, bro.”
“No, I just feel like something is off. I feel like something is wrong. I can’t shake it.”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“See?” Garret asked. “That’s a shaky truth. What’s going on?”
“Gar,” Dylan warned. “I’m going to hang up if you keep baiting me into one of these emo talks. I’m good. Go ask Mom and Dad about Roxy. They loved her. I’m going to stay here and see what’s up with this girl for a while. I’ll check back in tomorrow.”
Yeah, he was deflecting, acting like he’d come here for a woman, but Garret had been worrying over him lately, and Dylan didn’t need that right now. He was here solving motherfuckin’ mysteries. And also paying some attention to Roxy, so it wasn’t a total lie. She did have a lot of his attention.
“I’m hanging up now,” Dylan announced.
“Love you, bro,” Garret said.
And Dylan spun the empty shot glass slowly on the coaster it sat on. What if something happened to him while he washunting answers? What if this was the last thing Garret heard from him? “Stop being a loser.”
Dylan hung up the phone and glared at the phone screen. Annoyed, he texted Garret,Love you too bro. Send.
I knew it!Garret texted back immediately.You’re dying or something.
What? Stop being dramatic.Send.
You never say you love me back! I’m calling Mom.
Dylan snorted and put his phone away. Whatever. Mom would tell Garret how charming and amazing he was as always and then Garret would go get a blowjob or something from Raynah and shut up. He would be fine.
“Another?” the bartender asked.
“Nah, I better slow down. I’m going out with a friend tonight.”
“I’ll close out your tab then.” He ran his credit card and brought it back. “So, a stripper huh?”
“You have some mighty good hearing,” Dylan observed as he signed the tip slip.
“Yeah, well, I’ve been a bartender for a long time. You learn to pay attention and there isn’t a lot going on in here right now.”
“That or you’re a shifter,” Dylan said, resting his elbows on the table and looking up at the tall bartender.
He froze, and then a slow smile took his face. “A word of advice? If it’s Roxy from the Rabbit Hole you’re talking about, I would leave her alone.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Nope,” the bartender said, picking up the tip slip and his pen. “Just someone who made mistakes there. Those strippers are decoys.”
Dylan crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s a decoy?”
“They bring in a revolving door of questionable clients. It’s easy to get all wrapped up in a place like that. You think it’s afantasy playground, but really, it’s a roach motel. There’s poison in the middle. I’ve never seen someone go in there and come out better, you know?”
“What’s it to you?” Dylan asked.
The bartender shrugged and then walked away. “Go get ate up. No skin off my back.”
“How do you know Roxy?” Dylan called.
“I don’t, but I can tell you how she dances.”
Fuck. Dylan clenched his fists and leaned back onto the table, trying to control the urge to hit the wooden surface. How many people in this town had seen her dancing?
