Page 112 of Over the Line

I tromp in behind him, stomach sinking, immediately looking for an escape route when I see Jer is sitting at the table, along with John, a detective for the sheriff’s department, and Ronnie, the owner of the bar in town the guys and I like to frequent called…Ronnie’s.

Does the moniker lack creativity?

Maybe.

But we all know who it belongs to, don’t we?

The men turn and stare at me, Ronnie and John curious, Jer suspicious and more than a little pissed.

“You fucked up,” he says without preamble as he shuffles the deck of cards in front of him.

I think about lying.

But since a similar sentiment has been running through my mind over that last hour, ever since I watched Nova walk down the hall, looking like I socked her in the stomach, I can’t even summon a denial.

“I fucked up,” I admit.

He sighs, shakes his head, and starts dealing the cards. “Get the man a beer,” he orders Mack before nodding at me to take one of the chairs. “Sit the fuck down and tell us about it.”

I sit, but I don’t spill my guts.

These guys…

They won’t get it.

A punch to my arm. “Don’t look like that,” Jer says tersely. “We’rethe happily married ones. You’re the single idiot who keeps picking women who either want to cut off your dick and gild it, spend all of your money, or who make so much drama in your life that you’re fucking miserable.”

“Don’t tell me your wife isn’t dramatic,” I mutter. “I remember the fuss she threw up about curtains.”

“I’ll take curtains with ugly ass flowers on them over knives being launched in my direction any day of the week.”

Since he has a point, I don’t argue, just look down at my cards and start organizing them. “It’s easier to just not have a woman at all.”

They freeze—no cards shuffling, no beers being consumed.

Then they start laughing.

“Oh God,” Mack mutters, taking a swig from his bottle. “He’s still in the Idiot Stage.”

I inhale, narrow my eyes.

Jer shoves a stack of chips in my direction. “If you really wanted to be alone, you wouldn’t be sitting there looking like that.”

“I’m notlookinglike anything.”

They all laugh again.

Then Mack tosses a chip in the center, and that moves around the table, everyone anteing up.

“Fucking liar,” Jer says, “and not even a good one.”

I throw my own chip in, ignoring him…because, again, he’s right.

Which is fucking annoying.

I discard then draw another card.

“What’d she do?” Ronnie asks, cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

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