I glanced at my brother, knowing he’d spoken but unsure what he’d said. “What?”
“With Tina. You’re going to have to find some charm and fake it. She’s not interested in me, wouldn’t help me out of a shallow ditch. But she’d do anything for you, if you asked nicely.”
I frowned. “She wouldn’t.”
Beau smirked. “She would. Yeah, like Cletus says, she’s a crazy bitch. But she’s got real feelings for you—as real as she can manage—and you’re going to have to use them if you want her to help us.”
I gathered then released a large breath, wiping my hand over my face. “This was a bad idea.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m no good at bullshitting.”
“Then don’t bullshit. Tell her the truth—or some version of it. You need her help. Tell her that. That’ll make her feel good, important.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but at that moment the door opened and Tina walked in. As soon as she saw me she stopped, her mouth parting in surprise. I straightened away from the wall and crossed to her, reaching around and closing the door.
She swayed toward me, her big eyes made bigger with paint and fake lashes. “Duane…?”
“Tina.” I tried to force some warmth into the word, but I couldn’t. Too many years of drama and stupid shit were between us. I looked at her now and saw nothing but a black hole of aggravation and tedium. Why I put up with her for so long was a mystery.
At my greeting, she stiffened. I heard Beau sigh and saw him drop his head into his hands. Gritting my teeth I shook my head, searching for some inner strength or hidden powers of bullshit.
“What do you want?” she spat.
I studied her for a long moment. She was dressed in tight jeans and a blue halter top, real clothes, like she was on her way out.
“I need your help,” I said simply.
She blinked at me, my words obviously not what she expected.
“You need my help?” Her tone was softer than it had been.
“Yes. I need your help.”
“Oh…I…” Tina appeared to be flustered by my admission; but she rallied after a few seconds, giving me what I recognized as a look meant to entice. “Well, you must need my help, seeing as you’ve been calling me for two weeks and you’re here now. You must need me real bad.”
She strutted toward me and lifted her hand as though to place it on me; I caught her wrist before she could.
“No,” I said.
“No?” I’d surprised her again.
“No.” I shook my head. “Never that. Never again.”
“Then, w…what…” she stuttered, then huffed her impatience. “What could you want me for?”
Beau finally spoke. “Tina, honey, there’s more to you than your snatch. You have a brain upstairs, might be worth dusting it off every once in a while.”
This earned Beau a venomous look and I realized he and I had switched positions. I was now good cop…well, my version of good cop.
“Shut up, Beau, and let me talk to Tina alone.”
“You want me to leave?” Beau straightened from the desk, sounded appropriately surprised.
“Yeah. Give us a minute.”
Tina glanced back to me, her expression curious and uncertain.
Beau made a show of his disgust on his way to the door. “I hope you know what you’re doing, because I told you this was a mistake. We never should have come here. She can’t be trusted, Duane.”
“Just leave,” I said, holding Tina’s gaze.
He snorted, all part of the show, then stormed out of the office.
When he’d gone, I let go of her wrist and walked to one of the chairs in front of Hank’s desk, motioning her to follow. “Please. Sit down.”
She didn’t move, but said in a rush, “You can trust me, Duane. You know you can. Beau never liked me and he never understood us.”
I nodded, but made no verbal response. I was starting to think I never understood us.
Again I motioned to the chair. “Please sit down. We need to talk.”
She gave me a hopeful smile then crossed to the seat, sitting as I’d instructed. I sat in the other chair, positioned it so we were facing. I couldn’t bullshit. That wasn’t my strength. But I could be focused, and I could be precise, and I was good at honesty.
Thus, I focused on pushing distracting thoughts of Jessica’s sobs from my mind.
I explained the situation to Tina in precise—but not explicit—detail.
And I was honest.
I didn’t have a choice. My family needed her help. And there was nothing I wouldn’t do for my family.
CHAPTER 21
“Half the fun of the travel is the esthetic of lostness.”
― Ray Bradbury
Jessica
I wasn’t mad.
I was hurt and sad and confused by…well, everything. But I wasn’t mad.
My aunt’s funeral took place on Friday.