Page 19 of The House Beyond the Dunes

Cookie grunts.

I take two more bites and then make my way back into the chaos. Behind the bar, I finish up the last of the sandwich and put on the apron. A guy catches my gaze. He looks annoyed as he raises an empty beer mug. I nod toward him, smile. “What can I get you?”

He relaxes a little. “Another one of these.”

“On tap?”

“Yeah.”

I fill a sparkling mug to the brim and set it in front of him along with a fresh napkin. I collect the empty and the discarded peanut shellslittering his bit of real estate at the bar. “Holler if you need another. I’m Stevie.”

“Sully.”

“Good to meet you, Sully.”

“You’re new here,” Sully says.

“I am indeed.” There is always a limit to how much TLC I dish out. I flirt, and I listen to sob stories, but I keep a professional distance. Leave them thinking they might get more the next time. I’m good at pretending I care when I don’t.

On to the next customer, I’m refilling a beer mug. The following hour is basically a wash and repeat. Despite my faults, I have terrific recall and can remember a dozen drink orders at a clip. Memory is my superpower and curse. I pocket a few hundred bucks in tips. It’s summertime, and everyone here just wants to relax and kick back.

Nikki also calms. Having a wingwoman who can serve three times as fast makes her night easier. She moves behind me, flashes a genuine smile. “You’re a natural.”

“I like tips,” I say.

“How do you remember all the orders?” Nikki asks.

I shrug. “I’ve a photographic memory.”

“Really? That’s fantastic.”

“Sometimes I wish I could forget.” I smile to soften the emotions swirling under the words.

“You can remember everything?” she asks.

“Just about.”

“What if I recite a bunch of numbers?”

I’ve won a few bets with this little trick. “Shoot.”

She raises her notepad, and as she writes she recites, “12, 19, 2, 232, 106, 5,001, 17, and 12.”

I fill a bowl of peanuts and swap it for an empty. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

Nikki giggles. “Can you do it?”

I sigh, almost bored. “12, 19, 2, 232, 106, 5,001, 17, and 12.”

“Wow. Exactly right.”

“I know.” I see a man sit at the end of the bar. “You’ve got a customer.”

Nikki moves toward the guy. This one doesn’t fit with the Joey’s Bar working-class crowd. I suspect he’s dressing down tonight, but his shirt looks tailored, and his short hair is neatly cut. More polished than anyone else here. Likely this place isn’t on his normal glide path. Can’t tell if he’s local or from out of town. Wonder what he’s hiding from? Trolling for? Nikki fills a tumbler with a top-shelf bourbon and sets it in front of him.

Bourbon smiles at Nikki and says something that makes her laugh. I roll my shoulders, shrugging off tension pinching my muscles. I just dragged her ass out of the frying pan, and now she’s flirting with it again. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Whatever he’s said, she’s grabbed on to it hook, line, and sinker. I can already tell, she’s too soft. Far too trusting. Not a good thing in this world, Nikki. Not a good thing.

Chapter Five

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