Sunday Excerpt 21
As soon as Frost walked into the Pink
Pony, he saw Knuckles and a few of his thugs, sitting at a table in front of
the stage. Knuckles had his hand raised, waving it in the air, as he nodded an
"over here" look to the waitress at the bar. Frost immediately
recognized her. She was the woman he'd rescued from Lefty the night before,
although she had made it clear to him, she didn't see it that way.
He'd thought about her, off and on, all
day. Not obsessive thoughts, just little snippets of how she looked, standing
in the dark alley the night before. He could have sworn he'd seen a flash of
light in her eyes, like the reflection in a dog's eyes at night. No, he wasn't
obsessed, just intrigued. Nevertheless, he had to get those thoughts out of his
mind, stay focused, especially with his biggest skip ever sitting at a table
right in front of him.
He found a seat near the door, sat
down, and watched as the woman he met last night brought a round of drinks to
Knuckles' table. She didn't collect any money from them, which meant he and his
gang ran a tab at the bar, or had some influence over the bar owner. He filed
the information away mentally, and realized that he wouldn't be able to grab
Knuckles in the bar, unless he was ready to make an escape in a hail of
gunfire.
Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.
No, he was under-armed and
under-protected for that kind of extraction. Knuckles made some kind of
grotesque groping gesture as the waitress walked away, and his table erupted in
forced laughter.
Yeah,
I'm gonna enjoy taking this bozo down.
He waited until the waitress finished
making her rounds, and then caught her attention with a wave. She nodded and
put up a finger as she started toward his table. He could tell she recognized
him from the night before, but she gave no indication of gratitude, or distrust
of him. She must have had her waitress game face on because he just couldn't
read her, and he was usually pretty good at reading people.
"What'll ya' have," she said
as she reached his table, giving no indication or gesture that she gave any
thought to his rescuing her.
"For starters, how about your
name?" Frost stared her down, waiting for a response.
"How about I take your drink order
first, then we can talk about names."
She just stood there with that look on
her face that women has when trying to appear cute and smug at the same time;
big bulging eyes, duck lips. She was not going to give in.
"Okay, drink order first,"
Frost said. "I'll have a rum and coke please, hold the rum."
She turned without as much as a smile
or look, stopping to take orders at a few other tables on her way to the bar.
Frost watched her as she filled her tray with drinks, dropping them off at each
table with a smile and brief conversation. Her gestures were abbreviated, her
laughter excessive, but the customers liked her, handing her tips in bills,
rather than change.
He also kept an eye on Knuckles and the
men sitting at the table with him. He would have to play this one smart, make
sure he stayed back long enough to catch Knuckles alone. Taking in Knuckles
would be the biggest haul he'd brought in yet. He could pay off the rest of his
mother's bills with the skip money, maybe even have a enough left over to get a
better truck.
The waitress made it back to his table.
It was obvious she was taking her time getting back to him. As soon as she put
his drink on the table, he pulled a wrinkled ten dollar bill out of his pocket
and handed it to her. She started to dig in her apron pockets for change but he
held up his hand to stop her.
"Keep the change," he told
her, as he placed the bill in her hand. "Looks like you're earning your
keep tonight."
"The drink was only two
dollars," she said as she reached back into her pockets. "Your tip's
too much."
"Tell you what," he
countered. "My name's Frost. You probably remember me from last—"
"I know who you are," she
said, before he could finish. "You're Frost. Nobody seems to know your first
name but I've been told you’re a local bounty hunter, and unwarranted hero to
women who don't need saving."
"Ouch, that's harsh," he
said. "Seems you know who I am, but I don't even know your name. Keep the
rest of the money as your tip, but at least tell me your name."
She just stood there, looking at him
for a moment before responding.
"Paulina," she said.
"But don't think I told you my name for the tip. I just figured since I
know your name, you should at least know mine. With that, she turned away, and
went to another table.
Frost watched her for a while, trying
not to be too obvious, just to see if she looked back at him.
She didn't.
Knuckles got up from his table, with
his goons following closely behind him. He went to the bar and motioned for the
bartender to talk to him. Frost watched as he leaned over the bar, talking to
the bartender. Knuckles looked back a few times, gesturing toward Paulina. The
bartender looked like he was becoming agitated, but Knuckles blatantly reached
over the bar, taking a handful of the bartender's shirt in his hand. Knuckles
clearly had some kind of personal agenda, some kind of personal plans for
Paulina.
A weakness for the new
girl. Something I could use to distract him and bring him in.
You know, I suppose I should put a link in here so that one might go and purchase the story. Here's the Amazon link. This link is for the kindle ebook but it is also available as a paperback, others to follow: Lexi's Run
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