Page 3 of Junkyard Dog

There’s no applause; the ladies are holding their wine glasses with one hand and reaching for brownie bars with the other, but they whoop encouragingly. “Hey, everybody, thanks for inviting me to your book club. I met Violet a couple years ago in a self-defence class and I’ve known Romy for slightly longer. Between the three of us, we have an exceptional collection of fictional bad boys and murderous villains at our disposal. Throw in an unexpected long weekend at an airport hotel with no Wi-Fi when the only channel you can get is playing a Planet of the Apes marathon, and it’s a recipe for an exciting new series. Now I have to ask—and I won’t be offended by the truth—how many of you actually read “The Barbarian King?”

Six hands wave in the air. The women stare at April. “I’ve been busy! But I’m almost done, I swear! Drogan is super hot.”

“I think we’re going to have some fun tonight,” I reply.

We do. We discuss the book, the characters, a plot trope they particularly liked. It’s not all fluff though. The villain is recognizable on paper becausethat guyexists in real life, not just fiction, and every woman has had to deal with him, so that takes us off topic for a while, but for a good reason.

Then things turn back toward fun, and I get to tease them a little bit. “Yes,” I say, “I do have some inspiration for the final hero in the series. I was struck by lightning this very afternoon. I don’t know what his name is yet. Jonah, Davos, Jason, Darian. I’m not sure. But rest assured, he’s tall, dark, mysterious, and very good in bed!” JD is going to be a hero in my life, even if it is only on paper.

“Tall, dark, mysterious with an initial of J or D? You and I are going to talk later,” Romy threatens.

At the end of the evening, after the ladies decide on their next month’s book, the club breaks up. It’s ten o’clock but it is aweekday. Still, I’m not ready to call it a night. “Is there a place around here that doesn’t close down at ten?” I ask Romy on the way to my car. Since I’m staying at her place, I promised to drive so she could have the full book club wine experience.

She grins broadly. “The Lonesome Bar and Grill will be going till after midnight.”

“A bar?”

She grins. “Bishop’s cousin might be there.”

“Let’s go.”

It’s a short drive down Lonesome’s Main Street. Romy directs me to a parking lot that is surprisingly full. She waves at the hulk in the biker jacket doing security at the door and pulls me inside. I take a good look around—concentrating on the room, not searching for anybody in particular—and like what I see. Wooden planks on the floor, decent lighting so you can see where you’re walking without having to hold a hand in front of you. A bar along one wall, and tables and stools surrounding a small dance floor and smaller stage that can hold a four person band. It has a mixed crowd, mostly jeans and blue collar, with a couple of dress shirts and loosened ties for the more formal at heart.

I think the man sitting at the bar adds an extra level of attractiveness. JD is here, in a leather jacket with the same patches as the guy at the door. He’s nursing a beer and keeping to himself.

Romy knocks my shoulder. “Caught you looking,” she teases. “JD takes the strong, silent type to whole new levels. He’s got the looks but don’t get attached because according to, well, everybody, he doesn’t. The only person I’ve heard him say more than five words to is Peony.”

Peony is her niece who isn’t speaking in full sentences yet. “That’s ridiculous. He talks.”

“How do you know?”

“I went to the salvage yard today to look for that part for my dad. JD was there.”

“And he spoke to you? Using words?”

“Yes, using words. He’s funny. And hot. But he didn’t seem interested, unfortunately.” I could do things to a big, strong man who was good with his hands. Fictional boyfriends were great but at the end of the night, you ended up with papercuts, not arms wrapped around you and a stubbly chin resting on your shoulder when you fell asleep. “Did he have a relationship go bad? I volunteer to be his rebound, short term, low commitment, temporary girlfriend.” I’m not in Lonesome for long, but I’d be happy to make it memorable for everybody involved.

Then my good mood is extinguished with a bucket of ice water. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I don’t scream but it’s in the neighborhood. Fortunately, a roar from the crowd watching a football game on the TV over the bar drowns it out.

Romy’s head spins as she tries to spot what set me off. “What?”

“My superfan just walked in.”

“The borderline stalker that lives in Virginia?”

“I don’t think borderline qualifies anymore. How the fuck did she find me and does this place have a backdoor?” I ask.

“I don’t know how she found you, but if she spotted your out-of-state plates in the parking lot, she’s going to be looking.” Romy grabs my arm. “Come on. We’ll go out the back.”

She ushers me in front of her and as we walk past the bar, she taps JD on the arm and cocks her head for him to follow us. We go down a hall that says it leads to the Lonesome Grill next door. She blocks it closed once the three of us are in the short corridor. “Remember when you said that Violet and I were all kinds of trouble?” she asks JD.

“Yes.” He does not sound amused.

“So is Rhi. She’s got a stalker out there who may have recognized her car in the parking lot. Can you ask Mason if he will let us out through the restaurant even though it’s closed? I’ll call Bishop to pick us up.”

“No.”

“Okay,” Romy says slowly. “We’ll try to sneak out the front do?—”

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