Page 36 of We Are All Villains Here

Billie grips her bottle.

Neither of them speak a word.

The finality is thicker in the air than the summer’s heat.

He doesn’t say it back.

Battling the tears that shudder her breath and rattle her chest, Billie stalks off.

He doesn’t follow.

And she shoves back into the old bar, hitting the door open with enough force to smack it off the wall with a loud bang.

The noise startles Tonya coming out of the ladies’ restroom. Her nimble fingers tying up her black apron jerk with the fright and she looks up at Billie—

All she says at what she sees is, “Preston?”

Billie manages a mere stiff nod—jaw clenched so tight her teeth could shatter, tears streaking down her cheeks, eyes red and watery—before she brushes by Tonya and disappears into the restroom.

10

Tonya stands at the door for a beat. Hesitation has her rooted in place as she looks over her shoulder at the door, staring at the ‘LADIES’ sign as though it has answers—

It doesn’t.

And Tonya can’t much handle Billie and Preston’s bullshit. Not today, not any day, really.

With a sigh, she ties the apron tight and heads behind the bar. Looking up at the clock, she counts only ten minutes or so that Billie can cry in the bathroom. The lunch rush is coming—and it’ll be chaos in here.

Tonya finds herself reaching out for a clean shot glass and tequila bottle. She shoots a swift look around—no one out here with her—before she fills the glass and lifts her to her lips.

Cletus.

She tips the glass.

Mr. Fix It.

Tequila slides down her throat with a bite of pain.

She swallows the pain gladly. It’s a friend to her this day. She’ll need it to get through the shift.

Tonya wasn’t in any way sad about his death. She mourned him none at all. If anything, maybe a bit relieved? She wasn’t entirely sure.

What she did know for sure was that his name spoken aloud was a knitting needle stabbed through the gut. It was the need to run to the nearest shower and stay there for days. To hold her twin, Gigi, and cry for not protecting her.

No, Tonya wasn’t at all sad about Cletus being ‘butchered’, as Billie said. She needed the liquid courage to get through what was coming—

Everyone talking about that sonofabitch. His name on repeat, a CD that jumps on the same word over and fucking over until you get so damn frustrated that you end up slapping the life outta your CD Player.

The traumas dished outthatnight were different for them all. Kate and Billie got their hands dirty. But how Tonya and Gigi got dirty themselves…

Well that’s the kind of dirty that showers can’t wash away.

Just as predicted, with cops in the trailer park and death in the air, the whole of Southside has poured in through the Joint’s door to gossip.

And that’s all they wanna do. Gossip.

Some shit Billie overhears as she weaves around the tables—picking up dirty glasses, refilling chip bowls, slamming down fresh beer bottles—is just that…bullshit.

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