Page 1 of Under the Ink

WINCHESTER, COLORADO

JUNE 1

Naomi Baxter didn’t frequent the liquor store, mainly because of where she lived. Even though Winchester, Colorado, was growing bigger day by day, it still had a lot of that small town feel left.

Probably because most people there knew each other—or knewofeach other. And, man, did those people love to talk, especially the people who knew Naomi.

Her dream was to someday leave this stupid town behind but, until then, the liquor store helped make things more bearable. So did her best friend, but now that the other woman had a serious man in her life, Naomi had more nights alone.

This particular liquor store wasn’t one of the nicer ones, and that usually allowed Naomi to peruse the shelves by herself. She was always looking for a new favorite, something that would make drinking more enjoyable.

Probably not the smartest idea. But once she got out of Winchester, there’d be no reason to drink anymore.

As she examined the bottles on a shelf near the back, she sensed the guy walking down the aisle before he opened his mouth. “Nice fuckin’ tats, babe. You wanna party?”

She looked over at the man, a guy slightly taller than she, and as she tried to assess his age, she determined he’d definitely had better days. He had to be ten years or so older than she was, so why the hell would she even dream of hanging out with him, a complete stranger?

Was he already drunk?

More than that, his long black hair was straggly, as if he’d slept on it for days without ever combing it out, and his clothes were torn and tattered. As he got closer, though, she noticed they didn’tlookgrimy and he didn’t smell bad.

Still, he reeked of something else—something that screamedused car salesmanor maybe evendrug dealer. Did he think that just because she had lots of tattoos, short black hair, and heavy makeup that she would be a potential customer?

Best to correct him right now. “No.”

“Aw, c’mon. I’m buyin’. And—”

“I saidno,” she repeated, harsher than she’d hoped, but if it got the job done…

“What if I told you—”

The clean-cut guy who’d been at the register now stood at the end of the aisle. “Jimmy, the lady’s not interested. Get your shit and get out of here.” Naomi had to give the guy credit. As the store’s only employee on duty, he’d seemed to be far off and bored out of his mind when she’d walked in. Maybe that was just an act, because he’d clearly noticed what was happening here.

“That’s the worst customer service I’ve ever had. I want to file a complaint.”

“Nobody cares. But, if you like, you can file a complaint when you cash out.”

The hairy guy, still a little too close for Naomi’s comfort, lowered his voice, but he was still loud enough that both she and the cashier could hear him. “I’d recommend Twin Mountain Spirits at the end of the street. They’re a lot friendlier.Ma’am.”

“You got kicked out of there too, Jimmy. And you’re officially on notice here.”

“Well, fuck me runnin’.” Finally, he started walking away from Naomi toward the back of the store. “You don’t even deserve my money.”

As the man disappeared around the corner, Naomi looked up, intending to nod and thank the cashier for chasing off the guy named Jimmy, but he was already gone. It wasn’t until then that she realized she’d been holding in a breath.

Relax.

But that was her sign to stop browsing. Instead, she needed to grab her usual and get out of there. Brandy was on the side closest to the cash register, so Naomi walked up the aisle to get there—only to find that the obnoxious customer had already taken his choices to the register. Not wanting another uncomfortable encounter, Naomi turned down a different aisle and went to the end where the refrigerator case displayed cases of beer.

Yuck.

If beer had been her only choice of alcohol, Naomi would have been dry as a bone her whole life. Fortunately, she’d discovered that if you drank something with a higher proof, you could achieve liftoff much earlier, so taste didn’t matter. However, she’d also found that she didn’t mind the flavor of brandy and had actually grown fond of it over the past two years.

“See you next time, Jimmy,” the cashier said.

“There won’tbea next time, man.”

“Famous last words.” Even though his voice was low, Naomi could hear it as she approached the register. When he noticed her getting closer, he said, “Sorry about that. Jimmy’s kind of a regular.”

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