Page 32 of Trailer Trash

I felt Jed’s chest press against my back and left shoulder, and it occurred to me that he was crowding close to broadcast that I was off-limits. I practically rolled my eyes before I headed toward the bar.

I was safe here. Probably.

The bartender had his back to me when I sat on one of the stools, but I recognized him nonetheless. Jed slid onto the seat to my right, slowly scanning the room. He seemed tense, but I supposed that was my fault for springing this on him without any warning.

Time to rip that Band-Aid right off.

The bartender—who was also the owner—turned around and did a double take when he saw me. “Kitty?”

“Hey, Stan,” I said, trying not to cringe.

“Oh, my God! I haven’t seen you in years! Not since . . . well, all that shit went down.”

“Yeah. I left right after.”

“How are you? What are you doin’ here?” His gaze landed on Jed and he looked equally impressed and intimidated. “Got yourself a man.”

“No,” I said, but Jed’s harsh “Yes” was louder.

I shot him a look, wondering what the hell he was doing, but in this conversation, I didn’t think it would matter.

“I’m back in town for a visit, so I figured I’d drop by. Any of the old girls still here?”

He shook his head. “Most are gone, but a few are left.”

“Who?”

“Raven. Maddie.”

“Carla?” I asked.

“Yeah . . . I forgot she started working right around the time you left.”

“Does she happen to be working tonight?”

He shook his head. “Nope, but she’s on tomorrow night.”

“Thanks.” I’d had a feeling I’d have to come back, but it didn’t mean I was happy about it. How did I handle the next part without drawing suspicion? I decided to just go for it. “Heard anything about Beasley?”

He froze, a tell if ever I’d seen one, then picked up a bar rag and started to wipe the counter. “I don’t know nothin’ about it, Kitty.”

“Forget I asked.”

His shoulders relaxed and he set two glasses on the table.

“How about a drink for old times’ sake?” He glanced at Jed and set out another tumbler before he picked up a whiskey bottle and gave us each a generous pour.

That made me suspicious. Stan’s ass was so tight he shit out ribbons in the mornings.

He handed out the drinks, then held up his tumbler. “To old friends returning to the fold.”

I clinked my glass with his, but Jed simply picked up his glass and took a drink. The scowl on his face suggested he was in no mood to chitchat. Surely he’d figured out my dirty little secret by now. Maybe he was reexamining his decision to come with me.

I couldn’t handle his derision, so I avoided looking him in the eye.

My gaze flitted to the bottle as I took a sip. Looked like Stan had broken out the good stuff, or what passed for good stuff in this place. Now I was really on edge.

“So . . . what have you been up to, Kitty?”

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