Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Ending the call, he hung up the gas nozzle and got into the car, anxious to get back to Bell.
BELL
Dario was quiet, which suited me. He’d updated me on the girl they’d found in Hawk’s house. Her story and the mental image of a warehouse full of prisoners had my mind working overtime. I’d thought Gwen’s shooting had been a terrible way to die. Now, I was suddenly reminded of all of the more gruesome ways to go.
We entered Mohave, which is to say that we passed the Dairy Queen and the 35 MPH sign carefully hidden behind an enthusiastic shrub that law enforcement like to pour fertilizer on in their spare time. I tapped Dario’s arm. “Slow down. This car sticks out like a sore thumb.”
He obeyed, surprising me when he put on his blinker and turned into Becky’s Diner.
“What are we doing?”
He pulled down a busy row and idled before an empty spot. “I want to take my girl on a date. I know you had an early dinner, but are you up for dessert?”
I squinted at the diner and fought back my smile. “At Becky’s Diner?”
He managed to look hurt. “What? Not fancy enough for you?” He twisted in his seat, looking up and down the quiet street. “I hate to break your heart, but I’m not sure what other options we have.”
“Becky’s is fine. I’m just not sure you want to pick this night of the week to eat here.”
He pulled into the spot and turned off the ignition. “Meaning what?”
I grinned and cracked open the door. “You’ll see.”
In Vegas, you gamble. In Louisiana, you eat crawfish. In Mohave, you play trivia at Becky’s on Monday night. Other than fucking, racing dune buggies, and chasing kids … there’s not much else to do. It’d been two years since I last stepped foot in Becky’s, but I pushed open the door, and it was exactly the same.
The scents of beer, grease, and perfume-laced body odor.
A collective din of noise, voices and clattering utensils against dishes.
Babies with unwiped drool waving food-covered hands in the air.
A floor that was slightly sticky underfoot.
Tables crowded, ringed with t-shirts, big hair, and baseball caps.
We stopped in the doorway and Brenda freakin’ Bishop was the first one to see me.
“Bell Hartley, is that you?” She jostled to her feet, her pregnant belly swinging, and held out her arms.
I hugged her and waved to the others at her table. “Hey Brenda. Jay. Jimbo. Annette.”
They nodded, knocked around their chairs in an attempt to make room for us, then gave up.
“Who’s your friend?” Annette Torres gazed up at Dario with fascination, a look that earned her a scowl from her husband.
I pushed Dario forward, catching sight of an open table near the back. “This is Dario. We’re gonna grab that table before it’s taken. Good luck, guys.”
Between the door and the table, we were stopped twice more. Two more introductions of Dario, two more hugs. By the time we made it to the empty two-top, I was reminded why I confined my Mohave visits to my parent’s small scrap of dirt.
“Popular girl.” Dario picked up a menu.
“Not really. But you’re gossip gold, so everyone’s going to want to have something to share.” I leaned forward and gently tugged the menu out of his hand. “On trivia night, the normal menu’s dead. The only thing they have is burgers. With cheese or without. With fries or not.”
“Trivia night?”
As if on cue, the kitchen door swung open and a three-hundred-pound bowling ball of a man, dipped in gold eyeshadow, daisy-print coveralls and bright yellow cowboy boots, waltzed into the room. A general cheer went up, and Dario’s mouth twitched.
“Who is that, exactly?”
I smiled and lifted my hand, waving to Sally, the bartender. “Oh, that’s Becky.”
“That’s Becky?” His grin widened, and I fought the urge to kiss it.
Becky dragged his stool to the front of the restaurant and straddled it, withdrawing a bedazzled microphone out of his front bib pocket. I reached into the ceramic pot in the center of the table and pulled out an answer form and tiny pencil.
“Trivia night with Becky.” Dario read out the title on the answer form and watched as I carefully wrote the date on top of the answer sheet. “Well, this should be interesting.”
Interesting? I smiled to myself. He had no idea.
Eighteen
“We need a name.” I stared at the blank line at the top of the form, my mind void of creative spark.
“Just put Bell and Dario.”
I frowned at him. “It needs to be something else. Something…”
Something … something that didn’t scream Bell Hartley is back in town and in a relationship in giant capital letters. Not that I was ashamed of it. But prancing around with the guy who cut John and Johnny’s balls off was probably …not a good idea. This was Mohave, after all. Gossip spread quickly, and we already had enough of it buzzing around the room as it is. Dario’s foot bumped mine as he settled into his seat, and I stared at the blank line.