Hold On

I got my bottles first and told Merry I’d be back as Jack was aiming the drink gun into a glass of ice.

I dropped the beers, did a walk-through of my tables, got no orders, and headed back to the bar.

I hit the opposite side of Merry this time, closer to the room and not the wall, and wedged in.

“No orders, have a second now,” I told him.

“Then tell me what you want me to order you at Frank’s and ask for your break,” he replied.

“You on lunch hour at four in the afternoon, or what?” I asked.

“Things are slow, but yeah, Mike’s doin’ paperwork at the station, and shit goes down, I’ll have to head out. Either way, I need to get back, so I don’t got a lotta time.”

That being the case, I moved into him, holding his gaze. “Right, then, do what you gotta do. Get Mike a sandwich and head back, because you know we’re—”

I didn’t finish because Merry looked from me to over my shoulder. His brows drew slightly together and he straightened a bit on his stool, so I looked over my shoulder too.

At what I saw, I fully straightened and mostly turned.

This was because Trent’s wife, Peggy, was standing at the corner of the bar.

She looked so out of place it wasn’t funny. Baggy, high-waisted mom jeans. A shapeless top that showed very little skin and attempted to hide the fact she hadn’t taken off her baby weight, which was somewhat substantial, laying evidence to the fact it wasn’t all baby weight. No muss, no fuss hairstyle for her brunette hair, which could have been Martha Stewart hair, in a good way, but she seemed allergic to a roller brush and teasing comb. No makeup at all. Sneakers that looked like they were Reebok aerobics shoes from the ’80s, not kickass Chucks or cool Vans or neon Nikes.

And last, a pinched look on her face that said the last time she’d been in a bar was never and she wished she could have kept it that way.

“Cheryl,” she said, and my name sounded forced out.

“Peg,” I replied, turning fully her way even though I did not freaking want to, and not only because I did not want to be talking to Peg, but because Merry was right…freaking…there. Once turned, I greeted all friendly, “Hey.”

She opened her massive purse, which looked like a diaper bag gone bad, and that was a feat since most of those things weren’t the height of fashion, not to mention it was an actual purse, not a diaper bag at all.

Then she pulled out the envelope Trent had with him yesterday and slapped it on the bar.

It took a lot, but I managed not to recoil from it like it was a rattler she’d wrangled out, pissing it off and setting it on a trajectory to strike me.

I also could actually feel Merry’s eyes honing in on that envelope in a way it was a wonder it didn’t burst into flames from the laser beam precision.

She kept her hand on the envelope as she spoke.

“Trent made a mistake and took this with him after you guys talked yesterday,” she declared. “I thought it was important to get it back to you straight away.”

“Peg—” I started but didn’t get any further.

“Also, just so you know, the arrangements he told you we were going to make for you and Ethan will start this week. We’ll be mailing the first check on Friday.”

I knew from her look and tone, which had always been friendly and now was not, that not only was Trent on her shit list for fucking up yesterday’s conversation, he’d shared what I’d said and she was not happy with me either.

She also wasn’t wasting any time putting her plan into motion.

That being they could share with a judge they’d scrimped, saved, and sacrificed to do right by me, but mostly Ethan, even after Trent had royally fucked things up, being a junkie loser who took off on his bitch and took her money with him.

I really wanted to tell her to go fuck herself. That all this shit was total bullshit, but her play, coming to me at my place of work when I couldn’t make a return play, was jacked.