Page 35 of Raging Inferno

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Jessie motioned to the bartender for a refill. It had been a risk to come here to see Tamera Watts. Frankly, she wasn’t sure Tamera would agree to meet—still wasn’t. She’d sounded wishy-washy on the phone. It might’ve been a wasted trip.

The bartender, a man with long red dreadlocks and a scraggly beard, grabbed her glass and made quick work of replenishing it. Jessie took a swig as soon as he placed it in front of her, savoring the burn down her throat.

A horn sounded in the distance, indicating a barge was moving through the Superior Entry Channel. Several of the tables inside the bar were occupied, and groups of people gathered around the pool tables and dart boards. The conversation was loud as people attempted to talk over the music being piped through speakers around the room. Jessie was numb to it all.

She was into her fifth drink when the door opened, and a woman entered. Jessie glanced at the bleached blonde and then away before her gaze snapped back. Holy hell, it was Tamera.

Tamera spotted her and headed over. Jessie grabbed her glass and slid off the stool, almost face-planting when her legs buckled. She motioned to a table, and Tamera followed.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” she said when Tamera slid into the booth across from her. The stench of smoke assailed her nose, eliciting a grimace.

“I almost didn’t. I have no idea why I’m here.”

Tamera studied her intently, and Jessie almost told her to take a picture since it would last longer, but she bit her tongue. That was childish. All she needed to do was run Tamera off before they could talk.

She turned the tables and stared at Tamera. Good God, the years hadn’t been good to her. She looked like an unoiled catcher’s mitt. “It’s good to see you.”

“Why am I here, Jessie?”

“How’s your husband?”

“How the hell should I know? We’re divorced.”

That made three for Tamera. Jessie had met none of them.

“I repeat, why am I here?”

“You’ve heard about Margy and Nancy?”

“Yes, Pep . . . I mean, Presley Parrish stopped by to visit.”

“I saw her too. She turned into a gorgeous woman.”

“She did,” Tamera agreed. “I wanted to hug her and not let go.”

“Me too,” Jessie murmured. She represented good times. Instead of dwelling in the past, she blurted out, “Someone talked.”

Tamera slammed against the back of the booth. “It wasn’t me.”

“Well, someone did. It must’ve been one of the others.”

“I’d rule out Charmaine,” Tamera informed her. “The church is her life. It’s like she ate a Bible and spits out the rhetoric. I don’t even know if she believes it.”

Jessie snorted. “She was always the hellraiser of the group.”

“You should see her now.”

A server appeared at their table. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a lemonade,” Tamera said.

Wimp. “Another vodka tonic.”

The woman left, and Jessie leaned forward. “Who do you think is doing this?”

Tamera reached into her purse and withdrew a package of cigarettes. She plucked one out and stuck it in her mouth before lighting the tip. “I’ve no idea.”

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