Page 17 of The House Beyond the Dunes

“I haven’t been here long, and I’m still learning, so the tips aren’t great. And sometimes I need extra cash.”

“Stick to bartending.”

“Joey says I’ll get a handle on the drinks eventually.” She rolls her eyes, grins. “I’m not sure he means that.”

“How long have you worked here?”

“A couple of weeks.”

A man and a woman walking arm in arm pass by on the street. They’re laughing and leaning heavily into each other. I’m a little jealous of their connection. It looks nice. But self-contained is safer. “Take care of yourself, Nikki.”

“Thank you, thank you, Stevie. Like I said, Pete isn’t always so rough.”

Pete likely wouldn’t have killed Nikki, but he’d have made her wish she was dead. It’s such an old story, and it’s replayed too many times.

Nikki’s smile wanes. “Get a coffee or soda. Seriously, you look dead on your feet. No charge. Joey would be pissed if I didn’t offer you one.”

I shove my hands in my pockets. The heat is now catching up to me, and I could use a cold soda. “Why is Joey so giving?”

Nikki rolls her eyes. “He’s not exactly. But he comes around if I ask nice. He’s a teddy bear.”

A cold soda might chase off the headache starting to pound behind my eyes. “Sure. But I’ll pay.”

“Let’s get you inside.” She reaches for me, but I tense so her hands drop. “Follow me.”

“Sure.”

I’m expecting my legs to work, but I misstep on the broken asphalt. Without chaos fueling me, my muscles lock. Drawing in a breath, Isteady myself, and like a baby learning to walk, I master movement and follow Nikki to the back door. She opens it, and I’m hit with a rush of light and movement from a bar kitchen. There’s a tall, burly guy wearing a red bandanna on a bald head by the griddle. Beside him is a younger kid with dark hair and a wiry frame who’s working the fryer. My stomach grumbles, and I realize I’m hungry. When was the last time I ate? In Elizabeth City? I can’t remember.

Nikki points to a red plastic chair in the corner, and I sit, bat still in hand. The chair legs are uneven, forcing me to steady my balance. As the seconds tick by, I’m feeling more like myself, but I’m still shaky as I watch the buzz of activity in the kitchen. A door swings open, and I glimpse the bar on the other side. It’s dimly lit, and the glow of a red neonBEERsign flashes before the door swings closed.

The man who pushes through the door is tall and has broad shoulders. He’s wearing a blueJOEY’ST-shirt, jeans, a bar apron, and boots I bet are steel toed. Shoulder-length dark hair frames a square face etched with frown lines. Fading tattoos cover his arms.

Big Boy is no teddy bear, and he’s the kind of guy that scares most people. He glowers, and they back off. He’s capable of violence, but I sense he keeps it leashed. Tough, but no monster. And believe me, I know monsters.

Big Boy glares at me and then Nikki. “Who’s this?”

Nikki shoves a glass of soda into my hands. “I just met her outside. She’s a friend.”

“You said you just met her.”

“She’s a friend,” Nikki insists.

The cola is cold, and I can almost hear the steam when the cool liquid hits my stomach. “I’m Stevie. And Nikki is being kind. We met five minutes ago.”

“Is there a baseball game I’m missing?” Joey asks.

“No,” I say.

“You’re high.” His perfectly etched frown finds a way to deepen.

I sip more soda, drawing in coolness, which quickly leaves me chilled. It’s summer, and yet I’m now cold. Go figure. “No. I generally have a lot more fun when I’m high.”

Big Boy appears torn between amusement and outrage. “You don’t know if you’re high?”

“I know. I’m not,” I say honestly. I could admit that I lose time. I could tell him that a doctor once theorized the missing hours are caused by mini seizures. But showing anyone your weak underbelly is foolish.

Big Boy glares at me. “You said your name is Stevie?”

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