Snow Blind Read online

  Kevin’s gaze didn’t waver; he knew my hedging techniques better than anyone. “Only if we’re playing for money.”

  “I’m screwed.”

  He flashed his Tom Cruise pool shark smile. “And I didn’t even bring my cue.”

  “Correction. I’m seriously screwed.”

  I racked. Kevin broke. He scratched on his fourth ball. I managed to knock in three balls before he ran the table. I also managed to knock back both shots of my tequila, one of his, and two of the Coors before league play started.

  I slapped a twenty in his hand and dropped ten 201

  bucks in the jukebox.

  Carla lined up two more shots on my side of the booth. I licked the area between my thumb and first knuckle and poured salt on it. “Down the hatch.” The liquid slid down my throat like candy.

  Kevin lifted his brows.

  I removed the lime wedge from my teeth.

  “What?”

  “Been a while?”

  “Yep. Carla was kind enough to bring them. Be a pity to let them go to waste.”

  “Altruistic of you.”

  “I thought so.” Sara Evans sang Suds in the Bucket and my foot tapped. Catchy tune.

  Kevin finished his second Coors and moved the empty can to the edge of the table. “Gotta see a man about a horse.”

  Sipping beer in my favorite bar with my best friend, good tunes on the jukebox, family shit forgotten. For the briefest moment, all was right with the world. Naturally, my cell phone rang and destroyed my synchronicity with the universe.

  I checked the caller ID. Martinez. I answered,

  “What?”

  “Hello to you, too, blondie.”

  “Something you need?”

  “Just a sec.” He held his hand over the mouthpiece while he spoke to someone.

  I hated not having his undivided attention even 202

  on the phone.

  He came back on the line. “Where are you?”

  “Out.”

  Stunned silence.

  Guess I had his full attention now.

  I smoked, amused by the cowgirl in sparkly Western regalia cozying up to a cowboy with a monstrous belt buckle. Had he won it eating dirt? Or was the buckle a prop to pick up hotsy-totsy bunnies?

  The pause continued.

  My palms got itchy. “You need something?” I asked with forced sweetness.

  A crash echoed in my ear. “Hang on.”

  I didn’t. I hung up. Drank my last shot and signaled Carla for another round.

  The booze hit me like a Wyoming coal train.

  Woo-woo. All aboard the 7:15 Julie express to Shitfaced-ville. My phone rang. Martinez again. Big fucking surprise.

  “What?”

  “You gonna tell me where you are or not?”

  Not. Surly girl pushed past the cobwebs in my head and demanded, “Why? Did we have plans or something?” I exhaled. “Oh, that’s right, no, we don’t, because you’re in Colorado. Again.”

  Dead air. “You done?”

  “Not even close, bud.”

  “You’re drunk.”

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  “Not yet.”

  Victorious shouts sounded from by the dartboards.

  “What the fuck happened today?”

  “Nothing tequila can’t fix. You’d know all about my shit day if you were here, but you’re not. So I guess you’ll have to read about it in the fucking newspaper like everybody else.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I don’t see why it matters where I am, Martinez.”

  His was an angry pause this time. I knew the difference even three sheets to the wind. Screw it. “Later.” I hung up and shut the damn thing off.

  Kevin whistled and slipped back into the booth.

  “That was harsh. Even for you.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s time he knew I can’t always be—

  how did you phrase it? Mary-fucking-sunshine. And no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He snagged a fresh beer and settled in.

  I braced myself with a straight shot without the frills.

  “Whoa, slow down there, partner,” Kevin said.

  “How many of these did you have while I was gone?”

  “Less than ten.”

  His gaze landed on the empty shot glasses.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine as frog’s hair.”

  Kevin seemed to be watching me closely. Very closely. I tried to act normal. Sober. Serious. 204

  Except things were getting fuzzy. And blurry.

  “Ain’t you Martinez’s old lady?”

  My head swiveled. Ooh, skank alert. Nyla, the methhead crack whore from the Hombres clubhouse leered at me. Even my beer-goggles didn’t improve her ragged appearance; runny nose, vacant red eyes, bruises down her right cheek, scratches on her neck.

  “Yeah, I am. Why?”

  “He around here?”

  “No. Why do you care?”

  Her chapped lips twisted. “Unfinished business.”

  “Wrong. You’ve got no business with him.”

  “You wish.”

  “Stay away from him and keep your filthy fucking paws off him.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll rearrange your ugly face.”

  She sneered. “Think you’re so fuckin’ tough. Lemme tell you somethin’.”

  “This oughta be stellar advice from a crank head.”

  A cheer rose from the dance floor when the band started playing; Nyla’s mouth moved but the words were lost in the music and drunken revelry.

  “—be getting in touch with you.”

  “What? I didn’t hear you.”

  I squinted at Kevin because I was seeing two of Nyla, and that was two too many. I yelled, “What’d she say?”

  “Hell if I know.”

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  Closing one eye against my double vision, I looked up and Nyla was gone. “Hey, where’d skanky-ho go?”

  “I have no idea. She seems out of place here. What did she want?”

  “I think she wanted to fight me.”

  “You wish.” He moved my halfempty beer next to the wall. “I think it’s time you switched to coffee, babe.”

  “I think it’s time we danced.” I grabbed his hand and tugged, lost my balance, and slipped down in the booth, knocking a couple of empty beer cans to the floor. I laughed hysterically. “Come on, partner, I love this song.”

  “You don’t even know what song it is.”

  “Sure, I do.”

  “Name it.”

  I stopped and listened. He was right. I didn’t know. “Something about mattress dancing?”

  “You’re drunk,” Kevin said.

  “No shit,” I slurred.

  “Feel like you’re gonna barf?”

  “Hell, no. Barfing is for lightweights.”

  He laughed.

  Whoa. Room spinning. Head rush. Maybe it

  would be easier to concentrate if I closed my eyes. And set my forehead on the table.

  “Is she okay?” Carla asked somewhere above my head.

  “Bring us a couple of Cokes—no ice—and a cup 206

  of coffee.”

  Sleep beckoned like the perfect lover.

  “Jules, you’d never live it down if you passed out in Dusty’s.”

  “True.” I lifted my head very slowly.

  Kevin’s familiar face swam into view. Made me happy and sad. “Sorry I’m such a sucky time.”

  “You are not a sucky time. For Christsake, don’t say ‘I love you, man’ and get teary eyed.”

  “Fuck you. I’m not gonna cry.”

  “Then why are you sniffling?”

  Because I love you, man. “’Cause I got a piece of lime up my nose.” I fumbled with my cigarettes. Kevin snatched my lighter. “Let me. Don’t want you to start your hair on fire.”

  “I’m not that drunk.”

  “Right.”

  Carla dropped off the drinks. I sucked down both Cokes
, popped three Excedrin, and suffered through the black sludge known as Dusty’s coffee. Even asked for a refill. Twice.

  After a bit, don’t know how long—hours blur

  living on tequila time—I felt more in control, but nowhere near totally sober. I needed a distraction.

  “Tell me what’s going on with you and Amery.”

  It appeared he wanted to hedge, but he finally said, “I’ve been with her since she returned from Vegas. One minute she’s fine; the next she’s hysterical. Yeah, she’s burying her grandfather tomorrow, so that’s to 207

  be expected, but honestly? I needed a break from her tonight.” Kevin actually looked embarrassed. “Then there’s her whole rant about suing the pants off Prairie Gardens because it’s their fault he’s dead.”

  “You know she probably has a good case.”

  “No argument from me. She could probably own that place if she gets the right lawyer.”

  “Much as we need the work, I certainly hope you aren’t planning to help her with this case and her pursuit of justice in the form of cash.”

  A shadow fell across the table. We both glanced up expecting Carla.

  But Big Mike towered over me. “Sorry to interrupt, but bossman would like to see you.”

  “He’s back from Denver? Since when?”

  “Just now.”

  “How the hell did he find me?”

  Big Mike said nothing.

  “Did those fucking sneaky goons of his follow me here?”

  “I don’t know. He wants to talk to you. Outside.”

  I snorted; it smelled like limes. “If he wants to talk to me, he can come in here.”

  “Not an option.” He frowned at the pile of empty beer cans teetering on our table. “Come on, Julie. Five minutes. That’s all he wants.”

  I shook my head.

  He sighed. “What am I supposed to tell him?”

  “Tell him he can kiss my ass.”

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  Big Mike straightened to his full six-feet-six height; his eyes flattened to hard disks. He turned and stalked off.

  “Was that smart?” Kevin asked.

  “Probably not.”

  He mumbled something about a death wish.

  I fidgeted in the seat. Thought about smoking another cigarette. Seriously considered ordering another shot. As my indecision wore on, the noise from the pool games and the dance floor escalated.

  “Go,” Kevin said.

  “What message would that send him? That

  he can command my presence whenever the hell he wants? Fuck that.” I crossed my arms over my chest, the picture of belligerent.

  Kevin grinned in that devilish way that still charmed me. “Sounds like a perfect opportunity to tell him how you feel.”

  “You’re just egging me on because I’m still halfdrunk.”

  “Yep.”

  I crammed my crap back in my purse and buttoned up my coat. “Come looking for me if I’m not back here in five. Seriously.” I bussed Kevin’s forehead on my way past the booth. I’d missed hanging out with him. In trying to dodge the flurry of twirling bodies and cowboy hats on the dance floor, someone bumped into me. Hard.

  “Watch where the fuck you’re goin’, bitch.”

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  I faced the snarling voice. Wow. The woman had the biggest nose and ears I’d seen outside a zoo. “You talking to me?”

  “Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you.”

  “You bumped into me.”

  “So?” Her big nostrils flared revulsion like a skunk crossed her path. “Maybe that means you oughta get the fuck out of my way.” She pushed me.

  Bad move.

  I shoved her back with enough force she fell on her fat ass. “Now I’m out of your way. Stay out of mine.”

  Her dance partner lifted her by her jiggly upper arms, holding her back while she screeched at me. My head pounded as I exited the bar.

  The chill of the night air slapped my cheeks and quickened my pace. I tightened the belt on my coat and lowered my face into the lapels.

  Screw this. Too damn cold to stay out here and fight with Martinez.

  I spun around, a little unsteadily, to see Dumbo storming outside the exit, glaring. I figured she didn’t really want to engage me. She’d act tough, keep a safe distance, and taunt me. I’d let her. But if she opened her trap and yapped insults, I would take a shot at her. The reality was, few women went beyond nasty words to deliver a nasty uppercut.

  Reality check: she barreled toward me like a Sherman tank.

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  I braced myself as best as I could, considering my balance was slightly off. When she reached me, I stepped sideways and rammed my elbow in her chest. She didn’t see that one coming. Wham. She hit the ground like a brick.

  I gloated above her. “Enough? Or do you want more?”

  “Fuck you,” she wheezed and grabbed my ankle, knocking me on my butt.

  Even in my bleary-eyed state, I managed to make a safe fall. Hadn’t injured anything but my pride. Before I’d recovered my wits, she rose to her knees and took a swing at me.

  I ducked, but not fast enough; her row of Black Hills Gold rings caught me in the right eyebrow like trailer park brass knuckles. Sharp, stinging pain galvanized me into 211

  action. I rolled and wobbled to my feet.

  “Yeah, run,” she jeered. “Just like she said. You ain’t so tough. You know I’ll kick your ass.”

  I ignored the weird “she” comment and repeated,

  “Run?”

  “That was a lucky shot, and you know it.”

  “Bring it, Dumbo.” I planted my feet in a right-side fighting stance. Resisted the urge to give her the “come on” signal Neo used in The Matrix before he fought Agent Smith. That’d be over the top, even for me. The alcohol veil lifted. Why was I standing there like a cheesy movie hero giving her a second chance to rush me?

  Fuck that.

  I should’ve punched her in the nose since it was such an easy target. Instead, I pounced on her and gave her a dirt facial. Her head bounced. Her cutesy pink hair ribbon dropped to the ground. Grabbing her right arm, I jerked it straight up and put my foot on her lower back.

  “Let go of me!”

  “Still think I’m gonna run?”

  “I said, let go!”

  “Little hard for me to run with my boot on your ass, isn’t it?”

  She squirmed. Muttered insults. But I had her locked down and she knew it.

  With my senses dulled by tequila, the noise behind me didn’t register until it was too late.

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  A brawny arm wrapped around my throat and

  jerked me back. Unfortunately for Dumbo, I didn’t release her arm, and the sickening sound of cartilage popping echoed before she screamed.

  “Let go of her!” the baritone demanded. “Now!”

  Aw. Her old man rode to her rescue. How sweet. On pure instinct I swung around, using the foot I’d jammed in her back to catch her white knight in the knee with my boot heel.

  He grunted and stumbled, loosening his grip on me. I went limp as a wet noodle and slithered out of his hold.

  When he bent down to rub his kneecap, I clocked him in the jaw. Followed through with a snap-kick to his groin. But I missed and connected with his hip. He staggered anyway.

  My knuckles stung. Goddamn. No matter how

  many times I punched someone, I never seemed to remember how bad it hurt. Feet scuffled in the gravel. I glanced up. We had an audience.

  “Hit her again,” some guy shouted.

  “Rack him,” a woman suggested.

  The beaten pair looked at me.

  “Are we done? Or should I take more suggestions?”

  Dumbo scrambled to her feet and cradled her arm, cowering by the chubby man who was now rubbing his jaw and his knee.

  Served them both right.

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  I stepped forward.

  As one, they moved back.

  Cool. This intimidation shit
was heady stuff. Between the adrenaline rush and the booze, I was ten feet tall and bulletproof. As I started to charge, two bands of steel pinned my arms to my sides and my feet dangled in the air.

  “Three against one? That sucks!” Outraged, I thrashed. None of my dirty tricks worked on this moose. In fact, he’d completely immobilized me so I couldn’t use a reverse head butt. I tried the limp noodle trick again.

  He didn’t fall for it.

  I was tired. My head spun like a baton. I chanced a short breather while I figured out a way to take this guy down.

  “Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

  I recognized the voice and froze. “Big Mike?”

  He chuckled. “Yep.”

  I was not amused.

  “Leave. The show is over,” he barked at the halfdozen people who were still gawking. Disappointed by the lack of real bloodshed, they trudged back into Dusty’s.

  “Let go of me.”

  “Not until they’re gone.”

  “This doesn’t concern you, so butt out.”

  He didn’t say a word.

  “And I was doing fine on my own before you

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  showed up. I sure as hell don’t need your protection now.”

  “I’m holding you for their protection, not yours.”

  “Oh.”

  The couple didn’t return to the bar. They sent me a fiery look of hatred, climbed into a turd brown Dodge minivan, and sped off. Probably to the hospital. I told myself it was wrong to feel smug.

  Big Mike released me.

  I rolled my shoulders. The outer bar door flew open and Kevin stormed in my direction.

  Crap.

  I stood my ground, shakily, but stood it nonetheless. He got right in my face. “I leave you alone for five fucking minutes and you’re in a goddamn bar fight?”

  “She started it.”

  “But you finished it, didn’t you?”

  “Uh. Yeah.”

  Kevin’s gaze moved to my cheekbone. “For Christsake, Julie, you’re bleeding.”

  “I am?” My fingers touched my eyebrow. Came away sticky. Eww. “Huh. Doesn’t even hurt.”

  Big Mike snorted.

  “You are not a superhero, despite your continual stupid actions to the contrary.” Kevin lifted his arm and blotted the blood with his shirtsleeve. “Where else did she hit you?”

  He thought the elephant woman bested me?

  Indignant, I said, “Nowhere. For your information, I 215

  won. And I’m fine.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Really, Kev, I’m f-fuck, that hurts!” I jerked from his poking fingers. “Quit it!”