Page 74 of Fast and Dirty

“His mama designed formal gowns, and had her own dress shop and sometimes had to take Westy boy to work with her.”

“Agnes!” I bark, not recognizing my own voice. How the fuck does she even know - ohhhh fuck. That witchy woman got in my head whileI was drunk last night. “She’s senile, everybody, don’t listen to her!” I hurry over to hover over her.

“Poor thing was bored and didn’t have anything to do but hide in the racks -”

“Agnes!” I roar again and thankfully she stops. I lower my voice to a growling murmur. “Okay, let’s talk about this, just please shut the fuck up about my …youth! I told you that in confidence!”

“As I was saying,” the old coot continues primly. “You’re being voted in by default.”

“By default how?” I demand.

“You save the inn, you save Kira,” she explains practically. “Papa dearest can’t lord it over her if he can’t destroy it. Jeepers, somebody get some coffee in Mr. Youngblood here.”

“I’ve got extra,” Ned lazily announces, lifting his thermos before twisting off the top.

“You know that’s not my name, Agnes,” I rest my hands on my hips and roll my head in her direction.

“Enjoy your new nickname,” she proclaims as Cliff hands me the cup lid of his thermos, filled with hot black liquid. Grateful to finally have a cup in hand, I knock it back. It doesn’t make it all the way down my throat before I’m coughing. “What the fuck, Ned? Is this spiked?” Obviously it is, so I move to the next question. “How much whiskey is in here?” I point at the cup.

He shrugs. “Not sure of the ratio but there’s coffee in there.”

Fuck it. I down the rest before chucking the empty cup back to Cliff, just as a loud rumbling manifests not too far in the distance.

It gets louder and louder before a bulldozer roars around the corner with a colossal wrecking ball dangling off the front crane.

The honk of a truck horn parts the gathering crowd as Hunt pulls up behind mine and Hattie’s cars. He gets out and slams the driver side door before strutting up to the scene in a wrinkled t-shirt, rumpled jeans, and I’m willing to guess his hair is nest of utter ruin beneathhis ballcap.

“Son of a bitch, it’s true,” he muses, coming to a stop with his hands on his hips.

“Ah, my ride is here,” Agnes muses. “If I weren’t chained up I’d go all Miley Cyrus on that thing.”

Son of a bitch, she was right. Douchebucket Lockwood is leaving nothing to chance.

The boss in me snaps into action - no doubt thanks to that jet fuel Cliff just gave me - and I hold a hand up at Hunt.

“Don’t get your tools out just yet. We need to drag this out.” I turn to the weepy secretary who worked for mayor Wineberger for the last half century. “Dottie, start the process for registering the Inn as a historical landmark.” Thank God it’s Friday takes on a whole new meaning; a lot of law offices are likely holding hours today. “Do whatever it takes to do a rush job.” Dottie nods eagerly at me as her tears dry and I turn to Agnes and Hunt. “Draw this out…” I instruct them. “Act like you can’t cut through the chains and get into an argument with that wrecking crew on whether or not using a blowtorch is an acceptable solution.”

Agnes nods enthusiastically. “Now you’re talking like a mayor!” She crows.

“How do I get sworn in?”

Kira

“No need to do my hair,”I say flatly, batting my cousin’s hand away.

“It’s your wedding,” my mother reminds me admonishingly as she pours herself another champagne.

Here we go.

“Noted,” I spew back. “I can get married just as well with my hair down as I can with it up in a bun so tight I won’tbe able to blink. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to be alone while I change. My man of honor can help me.”

“Your father will not let this go unnoticed or unpunished.” My mom points her champagne flute at me.

“Oh, wah,” I spit at her. “I’m already being punished and if he gave that much of a shit, he would’ve specified that he wanted me to act like a good little dutiful debutante in this agreement. As far as I’m concerned all I have to do is the damn I do.” I crack open one of the beers Toby holds out to me. This makes mother dearest shudder and scurry out of the room.

“Sorry I couldn’t get ahold of any BushyTail,” Toby murmurs forlornly.

“Can we really not talk you out of this?” Hendrix leans forward with comforting hands on Toby’s shoulders. “The town would really much rather have you than an old building.”

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