Page 159 of Fury

And I was right.

45

“We didn’t miss Allen’s firstset, did we?” asked Grace, hanging her fringed leather hobo bag from her chair. Settling into their seats at our table at Pete’s Tavern, Grace and Lock glanced up at the small stage where a solo guitarist was jamming on B.B. King’s “The Thrill is Gone.”

“No, you didn’t miss it,” I replied.

Grace had invited me, Tricky, Boner, and Jill to come to Pete’s tonight to listen to The Dwellers, a group of local musicians. Grace knew the bassist, Allen. Actually, it turned out Grace also knew Eric. Once upon a time, she had managed Pete’s and helped promote many local bands, one of which was Cruel Fate who had gone on to big commercial success.

Grace and I spent more time together and had become friends. She’d had a crisis period recently when her first gestational surrogate had a miscarriage, and we’d all helped her through a bout of depression and self doubt. Then Jill had offered to carry her and Lock’s baby.

Meanwhile, Boner and Jill had gotten together. I didn’t know details, and I didn’t feel the need to inquire. They seemed really connected and happy together, and that was a wonderful, beautiful thing.

I’d learned Tania was moving back to Meager full time. Whenever she’d been in town we kept missing each other between both our work and family commitments. From what Grace and Jill had told me, Tania was now back in Wisconsin packing up the last of her belongings then heading back here. She’d stayed longer in Wisconsin than expected though. Had she tried to patch things up with her husband? We’d find out soon enough.

I looked forward to seeing her again, even if I wasn’t sure how she’d handle seeing me on her home turf after years of being out of touch. But I knew that Tania and I had one of those friendships that didn’t waver over the passing of time, out of touch or not. We would pick up where we left off.

I sipped on my beer. “You two cut it close. Allen’s up next. So, what happened?”

Lock’s smug grin was our answer, and we all laughed.

Grace blushed. “Can I help it if I’m married to a demanding, bossy man?”

Lock let out a deep laugh. “I’m the demanding one?” Grace shoved at his chest.

The guitarist finished his set, and the applause broke out in the old bar. The lights lowered, and The Dwellers took the stage filling the bar with their moody jazz music.

Tricky slid an arm around my shoulders as we listened, planting a quick kiss on the side of my face. He’d become very affectionate in public lately. Very attentive. It was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable, as if something had suddenly shifted between us that I wasn’t on board with. I’d made it very clear from the beginning that I didn’t want any kind of commitment. Light and easy was good for me. It was enough, and he’d agreed.

I was certain Tricky enjoyed his fair share of women at bars and parties and other clubs whenever he roamed throughout the country on runs. Women always noticed him wherever we went, and he enjoyed the attention, and I didn’t mind it at all. He didn’t mind our age difference and I certainly didn’t either. We didn’t ask each other too many personal questions, and neither of us had a problem with booty calls. All good. I was at that time in my life when my lust hormones were in overdrive. Getting it from an attractive younger hardbody like Tricky whose one aim—aside from getting laid—was to please a woman who knew what she liked could not be missed.

Tonight, he’d wanted to come pick me up on his bike, but I told him I’d meet him at Pete’s as I had to work late on inventory at the shop which was just around the corner. That was only partly true. I avoided riding on the back of men’s bikes.

Being on a motorcycle only made me think of one person. Finger. Being withhim, riding onhisbike. The two of us breaking free, being free. A wedge of disappointment lodged in my heart and blocked my throat the one time I’d gotten on the back of Tricky’s bike, and I’d never done it again. Anyway, it wasn’t my place—I wasn’t his official girlfriend, let alone his old lady.

But something was different this evening. Tricky was irritated, and I’d sensed it the minute he strode into Pete’s and found me at the table Grace had reserved for us. He’d kissed me, taken my hand in his and hadn’t let go, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the tiny F scar on the inside of my wrist.

Their set ended, and we applauded. The Dwellers signed off for a break.

“They’re good,” Lock said.

“Very good,” I agreed.

Tricky leaned into me. “Hey, I’ve got next weekend off from the shop. There’s nothing else going on with the club, so I thought maybe we could get away together.”

“Get away?”

“I know this place in Wyoming—”

“I’m not up for camping, Trick. Never was a favorite of mine.”

“No, babe, it’s not camping. My cousin owns these cabins and he rents ’em out, and I thought...”

“Oh. I’m not sure.”

“Yeah.” He clenched his jaw together, his eyes hard. “You’re never sure. You always have a meeting or a business thing or a whatever the hell it is thing. Just say you don’t want to go. Just say it already.”

My hand slid over his thigh. “Can you calm down?”

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