Page 59 of Pretend You Love Me
“What the hell do you want, Hawk?” Kip says. “You aren’t supposed to come back here. That was our deal, right? Stay the hell out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.”
“What’s your girlfriend doing, Kip?” Hawk says. I suck in a quick breath.
“Waiting tables. What do you think she’s doing? Got a problem with her working here?”
“No.”
“Okay, so move the fuck on.”
“She’s up to something.”
“Hawk, what are you talking about?”
“Why is she looking into arrest records at the library and property records at the courthouse? She’s up to something.”
“Is it against the law to research things?” Kip responds.
“No.”
“Then why are we talking?” Kip snaps.
“She’s hiding something.”
“You seem far too interested in my girlfriend, Hawk. I don’t like it.”
“I’m not too interested in her.”
“You’re awfully friendly to her.”
“It’s called being kind. You should try it sometime.”
“Looks a lot like flirting to me.”
“Oh fuck off, Kip. I’m not trying to steal your girlfriend. I’m just doing my job. New mystery woman crashes into town and starts snooping around....”
“Bullshit.” Kip says something I can’t make out.
“She’s trouble.”
“It’s none of your damn business. You made it perfectly clear that you wanted nothing to do with me when Mom died. Let’s keep it that way.”
“This has nothing to do with that. This has to do with you wanting to stick you dick in....”
I hear a bit of a scuffle, and then Kip says, “Shut your fucking mouth. Don’t you ever talk about her like that again.”
I feel like I’m suffocating right now. I have to get out of here.
I slip out of the bathroom, down the hallway, and out the back door to the alley. The cool air hits my face immediately, and I take several breaths trying to calm down. The door shuts behind me, and my back is leaning against the brick wall.
Maybe I should tell Kip why I’m here? Can I trust him to keep my secrets? He might be able to help.
“Hello there, dolly. You waiting up for me?”
I jerk my head up to see the pervy guy from earlier heading my direction.
Oh shit. I hold my breath as he walks closer. I turn and grab the door handle and pull it. It doesn’t budge, locked from the inside. I pound on the door. No one is going to be able to hear me. The door is too thick, and the sounds from the restaurant are too loud.
“Where you going, dolly?” He’s far too close to me, and he reeks of whiskey. All the hairs on my arms stand up.
