A Beautiful Funeral
Page 21

“I already booked the tickets,” Falyn said.
“For us, too?” I asked. She nodded, and I stood, looking around, my mind already filling with packing lists and who would care for the animals while we were gone. I paused and then walked the few steps to where Taylor stood, hugging him to me. He felt a little limp in my arms.
“I fucking knew it,” he said. “I had a bad feeling when I left the fire earlier, but I thought it was Tyler. I should have called home.”
Taylor knew as well as I did that calling home wouldn’t have helped anything, but he was doing what Tyler was going to do when he heard the news: blame himself. I let him go and walked back to the sofa, picking up my phone from the end table and disconnecting the charger.
I texted Tyler to call me, and then we all waited. Within three minutes, my phone rang. I answered immediately.
“Hi baby,” he said, sounding tired and out of breath, but happy. “Just getting in the truck.”
“I … need you to come home,” I said. It just occurred to me that he would want to know why, and I didn’t want to tell him over the phone.
“What happened?” he asked, already suspicious.
“Taylor and Falyn are here. Just come home, okay? As soon as you can get here.”
“On my way,” he said. I heard the sirens in the background, and then the line went silent.
I breathed out a long breath, knowing within a few minutes, those sirens would be blaring in the distance, getting closer until they turned off when Tyler entered the neighborhood. I tried not to think about him speeding home to hear what he already knew was bad news. He just didn’t know how bad—or who.
CHAPTER TEN
CAMILLE
AS EVERYONE ELSE WAS SETTLING IN for the night, I was leaving for work. I started at Skin Deep Tattoo as the receptionist, but now, I was the business manager. I hired and fired, kept books, and worked the business side that Calvin, turns out, wasn’t doing. The shop nearly closed down, but I navigated an agreement with the IRS, and we were finally making enough profit to hire a couple of new artists. Tonight, though, I was heading to The Red Door. I filled in when they needed me to cover the east bar. Very few could handle it, and Raegan and Blia had left years ago when they graduated college. Hank and Jorie had been so good to me; I couldn’t tell them no.
The federal agents asked that I not leave, but I’d promised Hank I’d cover a shift for one of his newer bartenders. The house was overfilling, anyway. Olive was sleeping on the sofa in Jim’s living room, and Shepley’s parents were even spending the night. Travis felt it was safer if everyone was under the same roof until Liis arrived in the morning—apparently with more agents.
Agent Perkins was on watch, staring out the window when I left with Trenton. He dropped me off at the side of the building, as close to the door as he could get. He was unhappy about me going to work, too.
I leaned over to kiss him. “I’ll be fine. Drew is in there. He’s a beast.”
“I’ll be here waiting at two.”
“It’ll be two-thirty,” I said.
“I’ll be here at two.”
He looked worried, so I didn’t argue.
A few years past thirty, my clothes covered more, but I found that fast service made just as many tips as tits and ass. I waved to Drew as I made my way to the door. He jogged to meet me, twisting the knob and pulling before I could. He held the door open with a smile.
“Thanks, Drew,” I said, patting his bicep. I would have had to reach up to pat his shoulder. Drew was a sophomore at Eastern State, six-foot-seven, with arms as big around as my head. His father was a champion weightlifter, and Drew was on his way. The moment he stepped into Hank’s office to apply for the bouncer job, he was hired. The only problem—if you could call it that—was Drew being so polite that he sometimes wasn’t as aggressive as Hank wanted. He was an awe-shuck, rock-kicking cowboy, but he could hold two men apart while they were swinging and yelling, asking them to please get along. Admittedly, it was always entertaining, but Hank wanted a bouncer, not a peacekeeper. Lucky for Drew, his presence was usually enough.
“Yes, ma’am. Do you have my number? I’d be happy to meet you in the parking lot when you pick up a shift. It’s not safe for ladies to be walking alone at night.”
I gave him a side-glance. “Have you met me, Drew?”
He chuckled. “Once or twice.” He paused while he decided if he was going to say the next part. “I’d still feel better about it. If you don’t mind.”
“Okay. I’ll call ahead.”
He smiled, relieved. “Thank you, Mrs. Maddox.”
“Cami,” I reminded him.
Drew turned right, toward the entrance, and I went left to the east bar. Shayla was already stocking beer in the coolers. She was high-strung but worked fast enough to keep up with the east bar’s traffic.
She sighed. “Did Natasha call in sick again?”
“She did.”
“Hank’s going to fire her.”
“I doubt it.”
“He misses team Cami and Raegan. He tells us all the time.”
“That’s non-productive,” I said, pouring a bucket of ice into the last cooler.
“I don’t blame him. I like working with you, too.”
I smiled. It was nice to feel needed, even if I was spread a little thin the past few years with Jim. I’d made sure he was in bed before I left, propping his cane against the wall next to his bed and setting a cup of ice water on his nightstand. Night-lights lit the way from his room to the bathroom, but I still worried. Jim was like a father to me; he was the only one I had. My alcoholic, abusive father had died years before from cirrhosis of the liver. I didn’t miss him, but Mom moved to Ohio with my oldest brother and his family, and the rest of my brothers were scattered all over the country.
I was lucky to have a family like the Maddoxes, but I was desperate to keep Jim as long as possible. His health had declined in the past few years and had me worried. I wanted to give him a grandchild and for him or her to know Jim; to remember him. It seemed no matter how many vitamins I gave him every morning, how many walks we went on, or how healthy I cooked for him, we couldn’t fight time. The hardest part was that he was embracing it. He looked forward to seeing his wife again, and it felt self-serving to beg him to try harder.
The DJ started up the sound system and checked the mics, making me snap out of my stare off with the beer cooler.
“You okay?” Shayla said. She was staring at me like I was nuts. She was barely twenty-one and had no way to relate to what I was feeling, so I kept it to myself.
Jorie sauntered by, her eyes lighting up when she saw me. She wouldn’t stay long. She was seven months pregnant and was concerned about the loud music affecting the baby. “Cami!” She rounded the bar and threw her arms around me.
“You look great,” I said, feeling both happy for her and guilty for my envy. Liis, Abby, and Jorie were all pregnant at the same time, and every month when I looked down at my negative pregnancy test, I thought of them. I didn’t want to be envious. I didn’t want to be angry that it was so easy for them and so far had been impossible for me. I didn’t want to hate them a little bit, but I did. Desperation created its own emotions.
“Thanks,” she said, looking down and running her hand over her baby bump. Her gaze returned to mine. “You look tired. Everything okay?”