“You own a restaurant?” I ask as I stare up at the sign.
“I did. It’s all George’s now.”
“Ike and George’s? Original,” I try to joke and glance at him. He stares at the sign and shakes his head.
“I had two months left and I was out. I wasn’t going to sign-up for another tour. I was going to come back here and run this place with him. But . . .” He lets out an audible sigh. “Plans change, right?”
“May I ask how a restaurant survives in such a small town?” I try to change the subject.
“My family owns the building so we have no rent, and we’re one of only three bars in town. This is a big tourist spot, especially in the fall, like I told you. The Plantation is that huge place over there.” He points behind us where I see some huge stone pillars leading toward what looks like a gigantic mansion. “We get a lot of business from them as well.”
“I see.” I nod in understanding. “And is this where you think you’ll help me find employment?”
“It is. You can waitress, right?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s go in.”
The inside of the restaurant is rustic, with barrels set up and a bar top running along them. The floors have that unfinished-but-worn look, and country music plays over the speakers. I sidle up to the bar, Ike at my side, and take a seat, glancing around, trying to spot someone who works here. There’s a tin bucket of peanuts on the bar and my stomach grumbles. I didn’t eat Ginger’s muffins yet so I grab a handful and begin cracking the shells.
Suddenly, a blonde with way too much eyeliner appears and gives me a toothy grin. “I didn’t hear you come in, hon. How are you?” she asks.
“That’s because she was probably in the back snorting a line of coke or blowing the boss,” Ike adds, and it takes all my strength not to go wide-eyed and look at him.
“I’m good. Thank you,” I answer her after I get past my shock.
“Did you want to see a menu?”
“Tell her you’re here to speak with George,” Ike instructs me.
“Actually, I’m here to speak with George.” Her brows furrow at my words, and she gives me a good once-over.
“Is he expecting you?” she asks, suspicion laced in her tone.
“Stupid bitch,” Ike growls.
“No, he’s not,” I answer quickly.
“And you are?” she asks. Ike is seething beside me, but I don’t understand why. Her questioning is starting to get on my nerves, but I’m not pissed like he is.
“My name is Charlotte. But people call me—”
“Misty!” a deep voice bellows from the kitchen. I turn in its direction and almost fall off my stool when he rounds the corner from the kitchen. “Misty! Where’s the closeout from last night?”
My mouth drops open, and all I can do is stare. It’s Ike. It’s Ike in the flesh.
“Did I mention George was my identical twin?” Ike whispers from behind me as he softly chuckles.
Before I can think about it, I glance back at him, shock written across my entire face. I can’t explain what it’s like to see someone dead and see their mirror image in the flesh. My mind is mush right now.
“George, this little girl says she’d like to speak with you,” Misty ignores his question and jerks her chin toward me, her sudden distaste for me evident in her tone.
Little girl? Did she seriously just call me that? Normally I’d be pissed, but I’m still lost in awe of Ike’s brother looking just like him, so I brush off the insult and focus on the matter at hand.
“Oh yeah?” His gaze meets mine and he cocks his head to the side. “Do I know you?”
I’m still stunned frozen with my mouth hanging open.
“Okay. I should’ve told you, but could you please shut your mouth and stop looking like an idiot?” Ike requests from behind me. Snapping my mouth shut, I straighten up in my seat.
“Uh . . . no. We’ve never met,” I stammer.
George looks to Misty. “Misty, can you go help Sniper unload the produce?”
“Sure.” She smiles at him before cutting a quick glance at me. Once she’s out of sight, George walks behind the bar and sets his clipboard down. Now that I’m able to get a better look at him, I can see some differences. Ike is buffer and broader while George is thinner. George’s hair is longer, shaggier, while Ike’s is buzzed, military style.
“And you are?” George prompts, and I shake my head trying to get my wits about me.
“My name is Charlotte. I’m new to town. I’m staying over at the motel.” I pause, unsure of how to ask him for a job.
“Just ask!” Ike orders.
“I heard you might be looking for a waitress,” I somewhat snap, irritated with Ike. It’s not easy to have someone speak to you that you can’t acknowledge.
“And who’d you hear that from?”
Shit! What am I supposed to say? Your dead brother? “Mr. Mercer mentioned it,” I lie. Hopefully it’ll never come up between them.
“You have experience?”
“Some. I waited tables in college.”
“And how long ago was that?”
“I dropped out after my freshman year six years ago. Family stuff came up.”
More like I started seeing dead people and thought I was losing my fucking mind, but I skip on the details with George.