"Why, thank you, kind sir," I say with a little curtsy and then give him an appraising once over. "You're not looking bad yourself."
He chuckles and opens the register to start zeroing out the tallies for my shift while I finish washing up some empty glasses and giving a good wipe down of the bar. When I'm done, I fish out my tips but leave a dollar behind. It's some sort of karmic tradition all the bartenders here do, and I'm not about to mess with the tip money juju.
A quick count and I see I've netted a grand total of thirty-two dollars. Actually not bad for a slow afternoon shift of six hours.
"Casey Markham... girl, do I have a bone to pick with you," I hear yelled from behind me. It's a voice I've known most of my life.
With a grin, I turn to face Gabby with her chocolate-colored hair and Cherokee heritage cheekbones that make her so exotic looking. "What have I done now?" I ask with smirk as I walk out from behind the bar.
"Can we get two beers when you get a minute?" Gabby asks Kent as she points me out toward the back deck, indicating she wants to sit out there.
"Sure thing, Gabs," Kent replies, and immediately starts pouring two pints of Harp's, which is a new beer Hunter started carrying on tap that Gabby and I began drinking recently. We're going through an Irish phase or something.
Kent slides the beers across the bar to us and Gabby fishes in her purse, pulling out a ten-dollar bill to hand to him. Immediately holding his hands up defensively, Kent backs away and shakes his head. "No way, Gabby. I can't take your money. The boss will fire me this time if I do it."
"What?" she asks, her voice bordering between pissed and flummoxed. I'm enjoying this show, so I just grab my beer and take a sip.
"Hunter said you can't pay for anything here anymore. He said he'll fire me if I take your money," Kent says solemnly. "And I'm sorry, Gabby. I like you and all, but not enough to lose my job."
Gabby starts muttering curses, and I hear Hunter's name in every other word. Love is very strange, I think to myself.
Throwing the money on the bar, Gabby grabs her beer. "Then consider that your tip, Kent. And I'll be talking to Hunter about this later."
She spins away and stalks through the bar, past the pool tables and to the door that leads to the outdoor deck. I actually like to think of it as her outdoor deck, since Gabby is the one that built it from scratch. Yup... my girl is such a dude when it comes to building things. She's a general contractor, and there isn't anything she can't create from wood.
The multi-tiered deck is stunning with quarter walls dropping from the ceiling that hold various surfboards of Hunter's that he won as trophies in some of his competitions. The covered portion of the deck contains a framework that has plastic drop walls so you can even sit out here in the winter and look at the ocean. Adding this deck is one of the things that helped propel The Last Call into bar-stardom status here on the island. Hunter hires live bands to play out here in the summer, and it's just the coolest place to hang with your friends.
Gabby sits down at an empty table closest to the beach, which is nicely shaded by an umbrella that's slightly tilted to block the late afternoon rays coming from the west. I sit down next to her and prop my feet up on the chair beside me.
"So what's the bone you have to pick with me?" I ask her nonchalantly as I gaze out at the ocean. The water is a dark green this late in the afternoon and the waves are small, barely making a rumble as they roll in.
"You lied to us," Gabby says, and that gets my attention. My gaze jerks over to her and my eyebrows raise in question, but I know damn well what she's talking about. I don't lie to my friends--much--but I have told one recently and it's apparently biting me in the ass.
Still, in the off chance I'm wrong, I decide to play it close to the vest. "How do you think I lied?"
Gabby rolls her eyes at me. "This past weekend... you said you couldn't go out with us because you had a date with that NASCAR dude... what's his name? Richard?"
"That's right," I say neutrally, not copping to anything other than what I had told her a few days ago.
"You weren't on a date with him," she snaps at me.
Well, shit. I'm busted... I think. There's still a chance she's bluffing me.
"What makes you say that?" I ask with a forced measure of indifference.
"Oh, cut the crap, Casey, and just fess up. Hunter and I saw him at the Soundside with another woman on his arm," she says in exasperation.
"Oh my gosh," I say with bubbly excitement as I lean toward her. "Y'all ate at the Soundside? Was it fabulous? I bet it was fabulous."
Gabby's eyes flutter closed, she inhales deeply and then lets it out slowly through slightly parted lips. When she opens her eyes, I see patience with a good deal of annoyance just underneath. "Dinner was wonderful, and as I said... Richard was there dining with another woman. So I want to know why you said you were with him Saturday night and you couldn't hang out with your friends?"
I give her a wink. "Who says I wasn't with him after that dinner? Maybe I was with him later."
"You're full of shit," Gabby sneers at me. "You may shun any type of relationship that has feelings involved but when you do see a man, you are completely monogamous."
"Fine," I say as I hold my hands up before me. "Busted. Gonna spank me?"
"Gonna slap you," she says with a huff. "Why, Casey? Why didn't you want to come out with us, and more importantly, why lie about it?"
I take a large sip of my beer before answering her. When I set it down, I put on my most apologetic face. "I didn't feel like going out that night. That's all. But I knew all of you would keep at me until I agreed. Hell, you probably would have brought the party to my little house. So I told you I had other plans. Little lie. Big deal you're making of it."
"What happened with Richard? Aren't you seeing him anymore?" she asks, her eyes going soft at the thought of me breaking up with someone.
Again.
I snort at her and lean back in my chair. "Get that look off your face. I ended it with him. He was getting too warm and fuzzy with me." And to prove my point that this was not an incident deserving of her sympathy, I give a mock shudder of disgust.
Gabby looks at me... studies me. She taps her finger on her chin. "You know... I do believe I know what your problem is."
"Oh, yeah?" I ask sarcastically. "Lay it on me, Yoda."
"You need a Joe," she says simply.
"Had one of those," I say with an impatient wave. "A rich playboy spending Daddy's shipping money. Wasn't packing a huge amount between the legs, but he more than made up for it with his stamina."
Gabby reaches out and punches me on the shoulder, causing me to yelp. "No, you moron. You need an average Joe. Someone who's down to earth. Who appreciates you."
Still rubbing my shoulder, I cock an eyebrow at her. "You seriously think that's what I need?"
And damn... she's probably not far off the mark. I know if I didn't have "issues," a good ol' boy is probably the type that would bring me to my knees. That's why I needed to stay far, far away from them.
"I know that's what you need," she says with a smug look. And then her eyes go soft again, and she reaches out to lay her hand on my forearm. "Oh, Casey... I want you to fall in love. I want you to see how wonderful it is when a man worships you and treats you like a princess. You deserve that more than any of us, and yet you're the only one without it."
"And don't want it," I add on firmly, knocking the gentleness out of her eyes.
She huffs in frustration and picks up her beer to take a slug. "You're going to be one of those old cat ladies."
"No way," I disagree. "I'm going to be a prowling cougar when I get older. When I'm forty, I'll only date twenty year olds, when I'm fifty, thirty year olds, and when I'm sixty, I'm going back to the twenty year olds. Now that right there is the good life."
Gabby rolls her eyes at me again. Seems she does that a lot but thankfully, she changes the subject and we start discussing what to do about Andrea's birthday, which is c
oming up.
Andrea Somerville is the newest addition to our crew. She just opened up a law practice here in Nags Head and managed to get engaged to a dear and longtime friend, Wyatt Banks. Wyatt and Hunter have been best friends since they could walk, much like Gabby and me. I know a lot of people thought he and I would get together at some point, seeing as how we were the last two remaining single peeps in the crew, but eww... gross... he's like my brother.
Don't get me wrong... he's like my hot-as-hell-older-step-brother, but no way was I ever interested in that. Because as Gabby pointed out, regular Joes were just a little too dangerous for me. Wyatt is a cop thus that puts him in the regular category of men.
"Isn't Andrea's brother, Kyle, coming in to visit soon?" I ask as I start thinking about how we could throw Andrea a surprise party.
"This week sometime. Supposedly riding cross country from Wyoming on his motorcycle with a buddy."
"Ooooh... maybe Andrea's brother is some hot biker dude," I say as I settle back deeper into the deck chair with my legs propped up in front of me.
"Hate to tell you this," Gabby says drolly, "but bikers are ordinary Joes."
"I can look and appreciate," I respond with a dismissive wave of my hand.
Because that's about all I would ever allow myself to do. Anything more would be far too tempting.
Far too dangerous.
Chapter 2
Tenn
We pull into the apartment complex called Crane's Landing, and it looks nice enough, I suppose. It's well landscaped, and there is a large pool and recreational area within the center of the buildings. I'll have a better idea of whether or not this place is good enough for Zoey once I can see the inside. I slowly drive around the perimeter with my buddy, Kyle Somerville, right behind me, looking for the building number Brianna texted me a few days ago before we left Wyoming. The rumbling growl of our Harleys causes some of the residents milling around to look at us in interest.
It took Kyle and me just about four days to make it here to Raleigh, North Carolina on our bikes. My Heritage Softail has been kind to my ass but then again, we didn't push it, instead deciding to take our time and enjoy the cross-country summer drive. Besides, neither one of us are on a rigid time clock, so there was no sense in rushing.
I finally spy the building that Brianna and Zoey live in and carefully back my bike into a parking spot, with Kyle easing his in beside me. We both cut our engines simultaneously and remove our helmets. I place mine on the small seat behind me, and Kyle hooks his to a handlebar.
With my feet firmly planted on the ground, I twist slightly so I can reach my saddlebags and pull out a bottle of water I have in there. I remove the cap and take several long drinks, then look over at Kyle and hold the bottle out to offer him some.
He shakes his head full of long, shaggy blond hair, which is tamed only by the Harley Davidson bandana he wears over it. "I'm good."
Finishing the bottle off, I put the empty back in my saddlebag before getting off my bike. I look around the area with a discerning eye and note good security lighting and open-access parking.
"Nice place," Kyle says as he swings his leg over the bike and stands up with a long stretch.
"Seems like," I tell him as I look around with interest. "You want to hang for a bit and see Zoey?"
"Yeah," he grunts as he reaches up and re-tightens the tie on his bandana. "I'll give my ass a break for a bit before I move on. Besides, I have to take a monster piss."
I nod in understanding. We may not have a lot of words pass between us, but men seem to be much simpler in our dialogue. Besides, it's not like I didn't know Kyle's plans at this point. We rode together from Wyoming to Raleigh so I could see my daughter, Zoey. She moved here with her mom and my ex-wife, Brianna, about two months ago, and this has been the first opportunity I had to visit.
No doubt, a plane trip would have been easier and taken less time, but right now, I have the luxury of time on my side. I quit my job last week after much thought and deliberation over Zoey and her new home in North Carolina. I can't fucking stand to be away from her and while Brianna and I share joint physical custody for Zoey back in Wyoming, since Brianna has primary legal custody, she gets to dictate where they live. Bolstered by a very healthy savings account I have diligently added to from every paycheck, as well as the sale of my house in Wyoming, which netted me a pretty penny, I can afford to take some time off and evaluate this area for a potential move to be near my daughter.
Pisses me off because it's not like Brianna wants to live here. She merely took the first opportunity she could find to leave Wyoming as a means to punish me by taking my daughter away. The thing that sucks is she fully expects me to follow them here. She figures that I won't stand to be parted from Zoey, and she'd be right about that. But the crazy bitch that she is, she sees this as me following "her" and not following my daughter. Still harboring hope that I'll get back with her, but that ain't ever going to happen.
That's definitely something I'm going to set her straight on during this visit.
When Kyle found out I was heading east, he offered to go with me as he has a sister that lives on the coast of North Carolina in the Outer Banks. He took two weeks off from work, a move that did not go over well with his boss, since that also happened to be the same job that I just quit.
I met Kyle five years ago when I needed to get a new paint job done on my Heritage, which I had bought for a song and a dance on Craig's List and rebuilt the engine myself. That landed me at Teton Choppers, a custom motorcycle shop offering full engine and bodywork services. Kyle was the manager and the senior man when it came to bodywork. He took one look at my bike and was extremely impressed with the rebuild I had done on the engine. One thing led to another and before you knew it, I was talking to the owner about my experience as a mechanic. Granted, everything I knew about engines came from my work in the motor pool while I was in the Marine Corps, but I found an engine is an engine is an engine. It just sort of makes sense to me and I have a knack for it, but most of all... I just like figuring out how to make things work right.
And because I absolutely hated working on my father's cattle ranch in Wyoming, I was more than ready to make a move. Much to my dad's dismay, I started working at Teton Choppers as a mechanic and gave up my legacy as a cattle rancher.
Well, I gave it up temporarily. Whether I can walk away permanently remains to be seen, but that's another story for another day.
Kyle and I head up to the second floor of Brianna's building. My nerves hum with anticipation, a mixture of frenzied excitement to see Zoey and anxiety over having to deal with Bri's shit that I'm sure I'll be handed in spades.
When we reach the second-floor landing, I immediately see the door to her apartment with a note attached to the front. Warning bells go off inside my head, because nothing is ever easy when it comes to dealing with Brianna.
I stalk up to the door and snatch the paper, which is held in place by a piece of transparent tape.
Tenn,
Change of plans. Kip got discounted tickets to Disney World, and we're taking Zoey there. We'll be back next week and you can pick her up then.
Bri
My hand squeezes the paper, curling it into a tight ball within my grasp.
Motherfucking son of a bitch.
"What is it, dude?" Kyle asks from behind me.
I ignore him and pull my phone out of my pocket, stabbing at the screen with my finger until I pull up Brianna's contact information to dial her. As expected, she doesn't answer but lets the call go straight to voice mail.
After I listen to her short message, I grit out my own. "This is fucking unacceptable, Brianna. You knew I'd be here today for Zoey, and you had no right to take her. Call me back ASAP."
I disconnect, knowing she won't call. She'll ignore me, playing her stupid and sick little mind games that I suffered under for the nine years we were married. And continue to suffer under as a way to punish me for having the audacity to divorce her a
ss.
Pushing my fingers through my hair, I blast out a frustrated huff of air. "Zoey's not here. Bri took her to Disney."
"What the fuck, dude?" Kyle growls. "The bitch knew we were driving cross country and would be here today."
"Yeah, she knew," I say tiredly as I make my way back to the staircase that leads out to the parking lot. With heavy feet, my steel-toed boots clomp loudly down the cement steps as Kyle follows along behind me. "Said she won't be back until next week."
"What are you going to do?"
"Guess I'll just get a hotel. Check out the area since I'm considering a move here."
Fucking bitch.
"Look man," Kyle says as we reach the bikes and he grabs his helmet from the handle bar. "Ride with me to the Outer Banks. Hang out on the beach for a week and relax. No sense in staying here by yourself."
I glance back up to Bri's apartment, anger still gurgling like acid in my gut. I should have known it wouldn't be easy. She's so full of herself. I know she thinks I traveled all this way for her... like some dog sniffing after a bone. It would never even occur to her that I'm here for Zoey and nothing else.
I slide my gaze back over to Kyle. "Yeah... okay, sure. Got nothing better to do right now."
"Fucking aye," he says with a grin. "We'll cruise the coastal highway, drink beers, and watch babes on the beach in bikinis. It will be epic."
Chuckling, I grab my helmet and put it on my head, fastening the strap under my chin. "Babes in bikinis, huh?"
"Can you think of a better way to spend a week?" he asks rhetorically just before starting his bike.
I follow suit and our engines roar to life, causing me to yell to be heard. "Let's ride, man."
It's only about a three-hour ride straight east from Raleigh over to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Kyle's sister, Andrea, just opened up a law practice there a few months ago, and I'm actually curious to meet her. She was apparently an FBI agent working criminal cases in Pittsburgh but decided to give it up and use her law degree instead. I find it interesting that Kyle and his sister were, for a time, on opposite ends of the spectrum when it came to the law, and yet, they seem to be pretty tight.