She couldn’t stand another quiet, solitary evening in her apartment, which was now haunted by his presence, especially in her bedroom. So, she had changed into an off-the-shoulder red sleeveless top and a short black skirt with chunky black sandals, tousled her hair, applied smoky makeup and sparkling jewelry, and headed for the door. There was one place she could always go when she felt trapped or depressed, and she knew she would be welcomed there with open arms and no particular expectations.
It was exactly what she needed tonight.
She parked between two pickup trucks outside a rustic looking establishment on the outskirts of Little Rock. Being a late summer evening, it was still light at nearly 8:00 p.m., but even in the dark she didn’t worry about entering this place alone. She spent a lot of time here, and knew she always had an escort if she wanted one. This was where she had come when she’d needed a temporary escape from the stress of pretending to be involved with Bryan, when she’d twice managed to elude his security guards for a few precious hours to herself. Several other patrons were in the parking lot, a few leaving, most just arriving. She nodded to the ones she knew and a few that she didn’t. It was that sort of place—impersonally friendly.
Inside, the lights were bright and the noise earsplitting. The décor was a cheerfully chaotic mixture of western and primitive—wooden floors, numerous wall-mounted shelves holding pottery, antique tools and dishes, and a clutter of other curiosa, mirrors framed in ox yokes and barbed wire. Patrons sat on stools at the long bar at the back of the room or at the many tables and booths scattered in the big, open dining space. At the far side of the room was a small stage where a band performed a loud mix of rock oldies and contemporary country hits. Through a big arched opening another room was visible, that one filled with pool tables and pinball machines.
The place was packed on this Friday night, as it usually was on weekends. The clientele here was rowdy, blue collar and proud of it. Grace felt right at home.
Curvaceous young women in tight T-shirts and tighter jeans moved among the tables carrying trays and taking orders. One of them spotted Grace and grinned broadly, her bleached-white hair shining almost blindingly in the overhead lighting. “Hey, Sassy,” she called out. “You want a beer?”
“Sure.” Grace moved toward the bar, where she smiled at the burly bartender. “Hey, Joe.”
“Hey there, beautiful. Glad you could make it tonight. You gonna sing for us?”
“I might. First I want to play some pool.”
Joe nodded knowingly. “Stump’s back there. You bet he’ll take you on.”
She smiled and accepted a mug from him. “Thanks. Run a tab for me. I’ll go find Stump.”
“It ain’t like he’s easy to miss,” Joe called after her, laughing heartily at his own wit.
Stump was definitely hard to miss, Grace mused as she entered the game room where a six-foot-six, three-hundred-pound former linebacker loomed beside a pool table, a cue stick in one ham-sized hand. He wore a faded, camouflage-patterned T-shirt that had shrunk a couple of sizes in the wash, and a pair of jeans that dipped low enough to reveal a bit too much when he leaned over the table to make his shot.
Grace didn’t bother to modestly look away. She’d seen that particular view on more than one occasion. She waited until he’d completed his shot, winning the game, before she spoke. “Hey, Stump.”
Having gloated at his soundly defeated opponent, Stump turned with a broad grin splitting his ruddy face. “Hey, Sassy. Ain’t you pretty tonight?”
She lifted her face for hi
s smacking kiss. “Thanks, Stump.”
“Hey, what’s the matter?” He searched her face with eyes that were much more perceptive than his appearance might have implied. “You okay?”
Her lower lip quivered just a little before she could stop it. “I guess you could say I’m suffering from a broken heart tonight. I need some pool, some music, some beer and some friendship to console myself.”
She tried to speak lightly, to downplay her pain, but she must not have done a very good job. Stump’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Who’s the jerk that hurt you, Sassy? It ain’t that wannabe cowboy again, is it?”
She shook her head. “No, I got over Kirk a long time ago. This was someone else. Another foolish mistake on my part.”
“Me and Paul will go have a little chat with the jerk, won’t we, Paul?”
The skeletally thin cowboy who had just been soundly defeated at pool nodded enthusiastically. “We can take him.”
Grace smiled and shook her head. “Never mind. How about a game, instead?”
Taking her hint to drop the subject, Stump shook his head. “You got your heart broken and now you want me to stomp on your pride?”
She reached for Paul’s pool cue. “We’ll just see whose pride gets stomped, won’t we?”
Stump slapped his friend on the back hard enough to rattle Paul’s prominent bones. “Rack ’em up, pard. I gotta give this sassy little lady a lesson in humility.”
Rolling her eyes in response to the over-the-top drawl, Grace picked up a square of cue chalk and prepared to forget her troubles for just a few hours.
She hadn’t realized that trouble had followed close on her heels.
Bryan looked around curiously as he entered the restaurant/bar he’d been directed to by the bodyguard who had been assigned to discreetly follow Grace that evening. Funny. As well as Bryan knew Little Rock, he’d never even known this place was here.