Page 43 of You're so Bad

Shauna’s annoyance has slipped into something else—she’s…hurt. I left Asheville for eight years, and my friends took me back with open arms, but these people have clearly abandoned her. Admittedly, they seem shitty—the kind of people you’d be better off not knowing—but it still makes me feel like pounding my fist to something.

I don’t like the thought of her feeling alone. Of her being stuck in those doldrums Constance told me about. Bean must feel it too, because she gives a sad little yowl from behind her mesh.

“Well, anyway,” the woman says, “I’m hoping—”

“What were you arguing about just now?” I ask, cocking my head. “Seemed pretty heated.”

“Gus doesn’t believe fluoride is bad for us,” she blurts. “He says it’s in the drinking water.”

I grunt. “No offense, my friend, but that’s not the best argument I’ve ever heard. Why, just last week, the water coming out of my sink was as red as Satan’s taint.”

“Red?” he asks, edging slightly closer. “I’ve heard of water being brown before, but never red. Is there rust in your pipes?” He glances back and forth between me and Shauna, silently asking her if I’m for real. She gives a half shrug.

“How would I know if there’s rust in ’em, Gus? I don’t have one of those tiny cameras outside of the office. All I can tell you is that it tasted funny.”

“Youdrankit?” the woman asks, horrified. I can feel Shauna watching me, amused now, and I’m grateful that I was able to chase away that other look—one that doesn’t belong on a tiger’s face.

“Wouldn’t you feel the need to take a sip if your water came out red?” I waggle my brows and nod for them to move forward with the line. We’re almost there. “That’s not the kind of thing that happens every day.”

The two of them exchange a look as they step up behind the couple giving their order.

“I needed to make sure I didn’t have a haunting on my hands, but don’t worry, friends, it wasn’t blood.” I bump Shauna with my shoulder. “Shauna here thought it tasted like Kool-Aid.”

“You tried it too?” the woman asks breathlessly.

“Sure,” I put in. “No harm, no foul. I’m a doctor, so I’d know.” They don’t seem to find this comforting, so I go for broke and add, “I treat children.”

“Where do you work?” the woman blurts.

“I try not to say.” I give her a wink, then turn a grin on Shauna. “HIPAA.”

The woman’s lips part. “But—”

“What would you like, ma’am?” asks the bartender. He’s a big guy with a beard, like about half to three-quarters of the men in Asheville.

“Is it made with tap water?” she asks. Fluoride Guy rolls his eyes at her, forgetting the red water and diving back into their argument. I give them a month, or maybe a lifetime, of unhappiness—it could go either way.

“You’re incorrigible,” Shauna says to me in an undertone.

“There you go with another of those five-dollar words,” I say, even though I know this one. I’ve been called it enough times.

“You’re an ass,” she replies, her eyes sparkling. “Is that better?”

“Yes,” I say, then release her hand and put my arm around her waist, resting it over the top of her ass. “Might as well earn it.”

I’m surprised, and a damn sight pleased, when she doesn’t brush my hand away. “Thank you,” she whispers under her breath, and suddenly I feel like the King of England.

Fluoride and his woman nod to Shauna but are quick to move off, bickering about possible fluoride run-off in the beer now. We make our order and grab our drinks before walking off to find a table.

“You were really friends with those people?” I whisper.

She gives a shrug-nod. “They’re okay. Misty’s a pretty good painter, but she’s kind of—”

“Dumb?” I suggest, lifting my eyebrows.

Another shrug-nod. Her mouth lifts up slightly, one of her near-miss smiles. “I’m the one who got her on the fluoride train. I had a few women over to my house for a crafting night, and she was being a real bitch about these drinks Nana made us—”

“Didn’t have Kahlua in them, did they?” I ask.

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