“What do you mean?”
“I thought you two were friends. He’s never met you at the inn for a drink?”
“God, no. He lives in this town. He’s not going to pay five bucks for a Bud Light.”
“Where do people who live in this town go to drink?”
“There’s someplace called Cooley’s, along Kennewick Beach, where I have not personally been invited yet. We should go sometime this week. We can’t eat at the inn every night.”
“I’d be up for that,” I said. The sidewalk narrowed for a stretch, and Miranda slid her arm through mine, pulled us closer together. Despite the brightness of the sun, it was cold where the sidewalk was shaded.
I asked, “So you don’t think Brad will show up tonight?”
“I have no idea. Maybe he’ll feel he has to, since you’re writing the checks and you asked. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t.”
“You and him have really never had a drink together? I just figured you had, since you shared cigarettes and all that.”
“God, that really bothered you, didn’t it? No, Brad and I are not friends, but we are friendly. He’s an employee and he’s doing a great job, and I respect him, but I don’t necessarily need to become his drinking partner. Besides, from what I hear, he has plenty of drinking partners already in this town.”
“What do you mean? What do you hear?”
“I’ve heard from some of the other guys on the crew that he drinks a lot, and screws around a lot. That’s why his wife left him. Not that it’s any of our business so long as he gets the job done. Why are you suddenly so interested?”
“I’m up here for a week. I thought I’d get to know some folks, some of the people you’ve been spending time with.”
“I’ve made one friend here, and it’s Sid. She’s the one who told me about Cooley’s, and about Brad’s reputation. Let’s go back to our room, take a nap, then get a drink. Sound good?”
Brad didn’t show up that night at the tavern. Miranda and I sat at the curving end of the bar, drinking wine and talking with Sid, even though she was busy with the Saturday night crowd. Sid had spiky blond hair, and intricate tattoos that covered one entire arm. When she spoke to us she never took her eyes off Miranda, something I was familiar with, and something that at other points in my life I had actually enjoyed. Maybe Miranda and Sid were having sex as well. Maybe Miranda was having sex with every Tom, Dick, and Sally in Kennewick.
Throughout the course of the evening, every time someone swung through the heavy tavern doors I would glance over to see if it was Brad. Miranda never looked. Either she knew he wasn’t coming, or she didn’t care, and since I doubted that she didn’t care, I assumed that somehow she knew something I didn’t, that they’d found a way to communicate, or that she already knew he had plans.