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“Yeah, thanks.” Nodding toward the door, I added, “I need to get going.” I’d meant to keep the number of people here who knew anything about me to a bare minimum, and already I was screwing that up.
He nodded. “Nice to meet ya, Angela. I’m at the service station down the road if ya wanna visit or talk or anything.”
Smooth pickup lines weren’t his specialty. “Thanks. I’ll remember that.” I started for the door before I could screw things up any further.
My plan had been to lie low here for two weeks and then continue on to Mom’s house in Florida. In the meantime, Kevin would likely be looking for me, and I’d stay off the grid. Mom’s new husband was a cop, so even if Kevin did somehow find me, they’d keep me safe once I arrived.
In the meantime, if I couldn’t find Grace’s friend inside this bar, I’d be discovering what sleeping in a car felt like. After going to the trouble of paying cash at each of my gas stops, I wasn’t screwing it up by using a credit card for a motel room. As an internet sleuth myself, I understood how easy it could be to track someone through a credit card.
Inside the bar, the music was country, but not so loud you couldn’t talk over it. Without even a description of Grace’s friend Callie, the bartender was my best bet at finding her. I made my way through a layer of peanut shells on the floor. Cute. The name Peanut Barrel now made more sense.
I definitely wasn’t in Boston any longer—not a single inch of shiny stainless or chrome in sight.
“What can I get ya?” the woman behind the bar asked as I hoisted myself up on a stool.
I hadn’t prepared a choice. “Your driest pinot grigio, please.” I knew next to nothing about wine, but it was Kevin’s least favorite—so tonight it was my little rebellion.
My request got a slight narrowing of her eyes before she answered. “House white is chardonnay.” She pointed behind her. “Or the special tonight is half off on Flatfoot.”
Way to go, Angela.
I hadn’t noticed at first, but now that I checked, nobody was drinking wine; it was beer or liquor. Just like growing up here, I was already making a fool of myself—the little nerdy girl without a clue about the real world.
Blend in, I said to myself.Stop being the weirdo everyone makes fun of. It came back to me. “On second thought…a Flatfoot.” The guys in high school had always been sneaking bottles of Flatfoot whiskey.
Her face brightened. “Good choice. Ya know it’s brewed right here in town. Which flavor?”
Stumped again. Could I possibly embarrass myself further?
“Which is better this year?” I asked. Wines changed by vintage, so whiskey ought to as well, right?
She raised a brow, wise to me. “Not a big Flatfoot drinker?”
Busted.“That obvious, huh?” At least I didn’t admit to this being my first whiskey. That would be true, but pretty lame. Color me nerdy.
“The orange is always good,” she said after a moment.
“Then orange, please.” When I didn’t see any ice cubes in the nearest guy’s glass, I added, “Straight.”
She brought it a minute later. “My name’s Sonya, by the way. Holler if ya need anything else.”
I lifted the glass. “I will.” I’d read enough detective novels to know asking a bartender a question right off the bat always shut them up. The questions could wait.
She moved off, and I lifted the drink to my lips. The first sip was nothing like the wine I was used to. This burned lightly as it went down with a bright, sweet orange taste, and the warmth when it hit my stomach was immediate. I could get used to this.
I paced myself and looked around, but didn’t notice anyone I recognized. The one thing I did notice was a few ogle-worthy guys.
Laurie and I had always agreed that number one on our freedom lists, after escape, was exercising our constitutional right to give other guys the onceover. I planned to start tonight. Nothing felt more liberating than realizing I could get away with something so simple, which had been forbidden just yesterday.
The guy a few stools to my left took my glance as an invitation and moved over next to me. “Hi. I’m Tommy, Tommy Turnbull.”
He was really in need of breath mints. A second later, I added a shower to his list of needs.
I considered ignoring him, but even in incognito mode, I wasn’t that rude. “Angela.” I looked away. After a second, I turned back and asked, “Have you seen Callie Bush tonight?”
Sonya walked by.
“Why would I be noticing her when I have the prettiest girl in the state right here?” he answered.
