Hometown Girl Read Free Page B

hard time, so Francis showed him the door.”
    “Oh.” Bree pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I missed that. Fitz didn’t mind that her date was asked to leave?”
    “She seemed relieved. It was a blind date.”
    “And you still can’t remember how you know her?”
    “Not a freakin’ clue. It’s only a matter of time though. It’s as if I know everything about her but her name and our connection—which is ridiculous, I mean, look at her. She’s unforgettable.”
    “Apparently not.” Bree pulled a bottle of beer out of the cooler and left him staring at Fitz who seemed unaware of the men trying to get her attention. She’d already turned down a half dozen offers of drinks and dances.
    Simon was still staring into space when Patrice, Francis’s wife, walked through the bar. He turned and caught Francis’s eye. The big guy shrugged and held up his hands in a don’t-hate-me-because-I’m-whipped gesture. Simon was sure Francis had texted Patrice and told her about Fitz. He supposed that’s what happened when a guy married a gorgeous busybody. If Simon was concerned about privacy, he’d be pissed, but since Patrice had what could be considered a masters in waterboarding and a minor in other forms of interrogation he might just be in luck—but only if he could count on her to not turn traitor. When Rocki announced that the band was taking a twenty-minute break and headed straight for Patrice, he cursed under his breath. When Rocki was involved, you never knew what could happen.
    “Bree.” Simon pointed out Patrice and Rocki, who were headed right for Fitz.
    “You got trouble times two.”
    Something slammed up against his memory bank but he couldn’t retrieve it, and he didn’t have time to examine it. “Maybe they can get information for me. Go talk to them and see what you can find out.”
    Bree put her hand on her hip. “Why don’t you just ask her?”
    “Because I don’t want to hurt her feelings or embarrass her. She knows me well enough to kiss me hello.”
    “More like embarrass yourself. You’re such a man—you never ask for directions.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Use your head,” she tapped her noggin, “the one not tucked into your pants.”
    “Are you going to help me out, or what?”
    “I’ll do my best.” Bree walked over and got Rocki and Patrice drinks. A few minutes later he saw her drag them to the office. When they returned she gave him a you’re-in-deep-shit shake of the head.
    Simon met her at the registers mid-bar. “What happened?”
    “I told them your plight.”
    “And?”
    “They thought it was hysterical. If you want to get out of here, you better do it fast or you’ll be leaving alone.”
    “Shit.”
    “You have ten seconds to slide under the bar and count out your drawer. I’ll call Pete for backup and try my best to keep the girls occupied until you get back.”
    Simon wasn’t about to push his luck so he sprinted to the office, counted out his drawer in record time, and clocked out. When he returned, he had to push through half a dozen guys to get to Fitz and her two new best friends.
    * * *
    Elyse wassurrounded by drop-dead gorgeous women. Rocki—a tall platinum blonde who looked like she’d just walked off a model’s runway—sat on one side of her. Rocki’s clothes were retro eighties with a twenty-first century flair. The florescent pink streak bisecting her long side-swept bangs only highlighted the amazing aqua blue eyes that studied Elyse with unabashed curiosity. She introduced herself as the lead singer of the house band and Simon’s good friend. She emphasized the word “good.” Patrice took the stool on the other side of Elyse. Nefertiti incarnate, Francis’s wife was a beautiful African-American woman. Bree introduced Patrice as Simon’s old friend and the three women ping-ponged questions back and forth trying to divine her connection to Simon. Rocki, Bree, and Patrice were bold, beautiful, and lethal to