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Until he looks at Lou, his face falls and he scrubs a hand through his dark hair.
“Fuck.”
“You’reSaint? You go bySaintnow?” Lou breathes out. I spin to face her, eyes wide.
“Do you know him?”
“Yes,” she says at the exact same time Saint replies “No.”
Ummm okay then. Lou looks devastated but her muscles are coiled with anger, ready for a fight.
“Fuck,” he repeats. Turning to the bar he barks, “Tequila. In my office. Now.”
“Yes, boss,” the bartender replies hastily. Ajax, was it?
“You two, follow me.” Saint sounds a lot less friendly and hell of a lot more menacing now. Lou and I grab our bottles of disgusting beer and quickly follow Saint through the open doorway he took off down, not saying a word to one another but exchanging nervous looks.
I hated it. I don’t know what I expected the moving target to be, but the ducks at the pond weren’t it. I cried when he told me to shoot the mother duck, and he got really mad and hit me. No one was around. I didn’t have a choice.
I puked right after.
Father laughed. He said I was a pussy. Boys that are eight don’t cry.
The tension is suffocating. No one speaks. No one moves. No one does anything. Saint stares at Louise, like he can’t believe what is before his eyes, and she’s gone so pale. She looks as though she’s seen a ghost.
I feel like a right idiot for coming here. It was a stupid idea that I’m seriously coming to regret. Can it get any worse? There’s a knock at the door and the bartender pokes his head around.
“Got that tequila you asked for, boss,” he says.
“Thanks, put it on the table, Ajax, and make sure we’re not disturbed.”
“Will do, Saint.”
He leaves with only a cursory glance our way, full of curiosity and intrigue. Saint waits a while longer until he’s sure that Ajax has gone, and then he opens the drawer in his desk and pulls out three glasses wordlessly. He sets to filling two of the glasses with tequila, and I recognise the same brand as what we had in his shack last week, only this time the bottle isn’t as dusty.
Eventually he sighs and pushes one of the glasses towards me. I step forward and take it eagerly, just glad to be rid of the disgusting beer. I swap my glass for the bottle, and Saint chuckles.
It’s that sound, which seems to snap Lou out of her stupor, and her gaze lashes on to Saint.
“Where’s mine?” she asks when he lifts the other glass in a silent toast to me and takes a sip.
“Are you even old enough to drink? I’m pretty sure your parents wouldn’t like knowing that you’re in a biker bar, little Lou.”
“Fuck you,” she hisses. “Like you know anything about me. I’m nineteen, dickwad. I fucking grew up, all while grieving for you.”
Saint blinks, pausing with his drink halfway to his lips. “Grieving for me? Why?”
“Dad told me you were dead.”
He stares at her a beat then tosses the drink back in one. He refills the glass before asking, “What? Why?”
“You tell me. You’re the one that disappeared without a trace.”
“Shit. I need to speak to your dad.”
I wince. Even Lou gives a harsh laugh. Saint frowns. “What?”
“Become a clairvoyant in your time away,Saint?” she snaps.
