Page 14 of Cascade

“Archer,” I say, disliking him enormously. “Archer Crawford.”

As we head toward the hall, he puts a cigarette in between his lips, ready to light the second he clears the doorway, I’m sure. “You datin’ my daughter?”

I eye him up, unsure how to respond, and I decide to just go for it. “If she’ll let me, yeah.”

He laughs at this. “You’re all right,” he says and walks off, throwing up a hand in farewell as he makes his way off to whatever old man bar he calls home on Thursdays.

I peek into the waiting room for Opal, but she’s not there. Glancing out the window, I see she’s not in the parking lot either, and that’s when I hear someone muttering to themself in the bathroom.

I tap on the door. “Everything ok in there?”

By way of an answer, Opal shoves the door open and starts to walk off, not unlike her father had a few minutes before. “Can you take me home, please?”

“My pleasure, Precious. My absolute pleasure.”

I open the truck door for her and she rolls her eyes as she climbs in. Once I’m settled on my side, she looks at me with those huge, green eyes. The ones that have seen a lot—and now I think I have an idea about some of the things she might have seen.

Some people come from a family full of high-class overachievers and manage to fart their lives away. It seems like Opal Whittaker rose up from a trash fire and managed to become a hero. Well, a medical maestro, anyway.

“I’d appreciate it if you could forget what happened this afternoon,” she says, and the hesitation and hope in her face speaks volumes.

“I’m not even sure what you’re talking about, Precious.” I wink and snap on the stereo. I’ve got my gal Shania Twain cued up for just such an occasion—when all you need to do is sing out some big feelings after a stressful encounter.

I’m a few verses into “Any Man of Mine,” when Opal flips off the music. “How did you know to ask him that stuff,” she says, not looking at me.

“Oh, well, a lot of old-man club owners are clients of mine,” I tell her. “They work real hard to cook their books and not show a profit, but then they also brag real hard about their membership books. The one club I work with, the Willy Penn? Waitress there lines up hot dogs on her forearm when they’re on special. Slings out chili dogs and gets to talking about the secret revenue from the video poker machines. Anyway, I took a guess that your dad visits those kinds of bars.”

Opal nods and when she doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, I keep singing the song without turning the music back on.

“And if I change my miiiiiind, a million tiiiimes…”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”She keeps her face turned out the window, but I can see the corners of her mouth lift up just a touch.

I grin, happy that I made her smile a little bit. “Not the first person to say so,” I tell her, tapping on the steering wheel. “Yeah, I like it that waaaayyyyyy.”

“You’re a code switcher, you know that?”

“What’s that now?” I flick on my blinker and turn onto Opal’s street, realizing both that I was supposed to forget her address and that her car is back at her office. “Oh, shit, Precious, I’m sorry. You want me to have my brother bring you your car? Or I guess I could take you there now…”

“Code switcher,” she repeats as I pull to a stop in front of her house. “You just seem to know the right language to speak in all different environments.”

I think about talking to her dad, talking Ed Hastings down from a ledge when he’s upset, explaining federal trade laws to my sister and her medical marijuana business. I nod. “I guess that’s a fair observation. Is that a good thing?”

I raise my brows, waiting for her to turn toward me. To give me any indication that her wild eyes are happy she learned this bit of information about me. She seems slightly less on edge, which I suppose is close enough.

“I’ll walk to get my car later,” she says, starting to open the passenger-side door. “Thank you very much for your help this afternoon.”

“Any time. Seriously. You know, I’m serious, Opal. Whatever you need.”

She hesitates, half out of the truck, considering this. I see her squint into the late afternoon sun and wait for her to decide whatever it is she’s pondering. “I guess you should come inside and fuck me again,” she says.

And I’ll be damned if I am going to argue with her on that one.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Archer

JULY

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