Page 1 of Out to Get Her
ChapterOne
Erin heldup an arm to block the smoke from entering her nostrils. She remembered how people around here liked to burn their trash, but she also remembered the smell of things burning that shouldn’t be. Whatever this was, it was definitely in the “shouldn’t be burning” camp.
After replacing the gas nozzle, she headed inside the mostly empty station. This place had always been packed every afternoon. Teenagers stopping before and after school for boudin balls and caffeine. Retirees chatting at the counter with nothing better to do on a Wednesday afternoon. And you couldn’t get on the lot at lunch when the food was hot out of the fryer and the gossip even hotter.
But for all she knew, this could be the new normal. Maybe half the town had done the smart thing, the same thing Erin had done, and hauled ass right on out of here at the first chance.
The jingle bells rattled from the handle as she entered the building and took a quick left turn toward the coolers. She grabbed two Dr. Peppers, one for later, since the house wouldn’t be stocked with anything but orange juice, bread, and deli meats. Then she headed back to the front counter where a tall, dark-bearded man leaned an arm against the hot foods display case while he recounted a recent fishing trip to the cashier. The poor woman’s hair was falling out of her ponytail post-lunch-rush, and she looked like she’d heard ten versions of this story already today.
“If it hadn’t of been for me, that bastard would of lost that bluegill.” The man’s voice dripped with arrogance. Although, if Erin could have put money on it, the real story was probably more like “that bastard” having to bail this guy out instead.
She knew the type. They wereallthat type around here. Young. Old. Didn’t matter.
The cashier punched in the amount for her drinks as Erin told her which pump she was on. “Who’s burning a mattress or whatever out there?”
The woman paused a moment before announcing the total. Then she added, “You didn’t hear about Addie’s?”
Addie’s.
Erin racked her memory for whoever or whatever an Addie was, but she came up short. Best not to admit that, though. The last thing you wanted to be in this town was an outsider. They were probably sizing her up already. Trying to figure out whose kid she was and why they hadn’t seen her around lately. Erin just shook her head.
“Didn’t you see all that smoke out there behind the building?”
Oh. That Addie’s. Addie’s Lunch Shack. It was maybe half a football field from this gas station. Had a damn good BLT.
“I could smell it, but couldn’t tell where it was coming from.”
“They probably put it all out by now, I guess,” the woman said. “Grease fire or something.”
“That’s a shame.” Because now Erin had a craving for a BLT, and Adeline Weaver’s place was probably still the only “restaurant” in town.
As she handed over her cash, the big man pointed a thick finger at her. “Ain’t you Michael’s kid?”
Shit.
She was wrong. The absolute last thing you wanted to be in this town was recognized. By anyone. But especially by guys in gas stations who had more time than they knew what to do with.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, honey,” the cashier said. “I didn’t recognize you. What with the hair and all.”
Erin resisted the urge to play with the ends of her wavy turquoise bob and took her change and drinks. “Thanks.”
“Your grandpa came in here every weekend for smoked boudin and cracklins. Nicest man around here, I swear. And I’m not just sayin’ that.”
No irony at all in everyone ignoring the fact that an assumed heart attack had done him in.
Erin nodded in agreement, swallowing the uninvited lump forming in her throat.
Nope. There was absolutely no time for grief. She needed to tamp down this feelings stuff, take care of business, and get the hell back out of this place.
Before she could turn away, that finger pointed at her once again.
“Yeah, I remember you.” He squinted hard at her. “When did you get back, girl?”
She struggled to place who this man was so she could deflect the conversation by asking about some cousin of his, but her brain couldn’t distinguish him. All the men around here were one big pile of memory mush.
“Just on my way in. Haven’t even been to the house yet.”
Translation:Whatever you think I did, it wasn’t me.
