Page 55 of Double Bucked

“A good time,” James says simply. “You mean the funeral?”

She tilts her head toward James. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

He sticks out his hand. “I’m Claire’s fiancé.”

She shakes it. “Claire’s fiancé. Does it have a name?”

“James.”

Her eyes flicker over him. Scanning him from head to toe. Giving him that look. “And the giant peach, indeed.”

Alright. That’s the last straw. I blow a gasket and smack my hand against the steering wheel.

“Goddammit! The hell is this, a clown car? Everyone out of my truck!”

“Ransom!” the women snap, their voices in horrible, perfect sync. “Drive!”

Cursing, I put the truck into gear and kick dirt.

Claire doesn’t want to go to the Preacher Ranch. Jade doesn’t want to go to the Dagney estate.

Everyone, it seems, is on the run, and somehow, I’ve been designated the getaway driver.

So I take them to the best spot I know.

Maeby’s Tavern is a hole-in-the-wall bar on the south side of the tracks. It’s not long until we’re underneath a loud, neon red sign with the words Maeby’s Tavern scrolled across in loopy, cursive letters.

This was our spot, once upon a time.

The four of us exit the truck. In our funeral suits, we’re all far too overdressed.

“Charming,” James says. But he says it the same way a cat person tries to compliment a coworker’s dog.

I fill him in. “Claire and I used to come here all the time. It was the one place Mr. Preacher wouldn’t think to search for her. Sorta her own personal…”

“Escape,” James finishes.

“Yeah.”

We enter, and I’m hit with the stench of old wood and stale beer. Smells like home. There are booths flanking the windows, a pool table in the back, and a small platform where they sometimes have music. Looks like they’re setting up for tonight, but they’ve got old rock playing on the sound system.

“This place is cute,” Jade says. “How did I never know it exists?”

“Welcome to the south of the tracks,” I tell her.

Her hand touches my arm, grasping it. Which is weird. We’ve got rules. No flirting. No PDA. She’s picked a hell of a time to break those rules.

I can feel Claire’s gray eyes digging holes in the back of my head.

“C’mon.” I tilt my head. “Let’s grab a seat.”

I guide the sheep into a booth. It’s a seat-yourself kind of place. You have to order at the bar, so I find myself playing waiter. I grab a few laminated menus and slap them on the table.

“What do y’all want?” I ask. “Drinks? Food?”

“Definitely drinks.” Claire takes off her jacket and hands it to James. He folds it beside him.

I wish I was sitting next to her. I wish I was folding her jacket.

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