Page 79 of Trailer Trash

So he knew why I’d ordered bottled water, not that I was surprised.

We sat there for a half hour. Jed ordered another beer, but he nursed the second, taking everything in.

Finally, I leaned over and whispered in his ear, “What are you looking for?”

“Patterns.”

“What kind of patterns?”

“How the waitresses work the room. Who’s asking for drinks, how many and what kind. Who’s asking for lap dances. Who’s leaving the room—where are they going; how long are they gone; who are they with? Which of the girls get the most attention, and how do the other girls deal with it.”

I leaned back and stared at him in surprise. “Why? We’re just here to talk to Carla.”

“What if you talk to Carla and things go sideways? I’ll know the expected behaviors of the people in the room. Besides, I don’t know exactly what I’m dealing with here, so I want to know as much as I can.”

That was my fault. I should have told him the rest. “The threat’s not in this room, Jed.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

I hesitated, then asked, “Will you teach me?”

He gave me a questioning look. “Teach you what?”

“How you take note of things like that. I’m trying to convince Rose that we’re good at snoopin’ things out, and we should become investigators.”

“Like you did with the necklace.”

“And lookin’ for my missing cousin.”

“And the money stolen from Rose in that bank robbery last fall,” he said, turning more sober.

That was how Rose had first gotten tangled up with Skeeter. “Yeah.”

He studied my face. “You really want to be a PI? For a job?”

“Yeah.”

“NK, I’ll help you with anything you need.”

“Really?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I’ve seen you and Rose investigate things in the past, and then you today . . . you’ve done really well in spite of all the emotional crap you’ve been through. I think you’d be great at it.”

I nearly burst with happiness, barely believing what I’d just heard. I always had to convince Rose to investigate cases. Jed was the first person to believe I could actually do it for real.

Another half hour passed, and Jed asked Destiny about Carla again. She told him that she was running late but she was coming.

When she left, he turned to me, his face expressionless. I’d come to realize this was his game face. He expected trouble. “I don’t see any sign of Stan. Do you know anyone else who’s working tonight? Anyone who might recognize you?”

“No.”

“And was this common for Carla? Did she often run late?”

“I only worked with her for a few weeks, Jed. She was new, so she was on her best behavior.”

“How important is it for you to talk to her?”

“I think she might know what happened with Branson after . . . I left.”

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