Losing Streak (The Lane) Read Free

was as dark as the room beyond the bubble of light that bathed only us behind the bar.
    I shoved the still-snarling beast back down as far as I could. It didn’t want to go and I didn’t really want to make it. But Jackson was finishing up with his last customer and I could tell by the way his body was slightly angled in my direction he’d be making his way over to me as soon as he was through.
    I was so very rarely wrong when it came to that boy.
    “What was that all about?” he asked, leaning back a little against the frosted-glass shelves behind us. Only Jackson could manage to ask a question like that without any ounce of judgment or concern laced in it.
    “Oh, you know.” I shrugged, mirroring his stance. “Girl talk.”
    “Right.” He drew the word out just enough that I knew he didn’t believe me, but not enough for it to be mistaken as outright rudeness. “So, you hear that Joshua came in? He’s in the back.”
    “Yep. Talk of the night practically.”
    “Huh. Yeah, well you know the rumor is he’s looking to fire someone.”
    I didn’t know that, actually. I hardly ever knew any kind of Duke’s gossip. Jackson always did. Sometimes he’d fill me in. Mostly he knew not to bother.
    The look he was giving me was pointed and I shook my head.
    “Don’t even start. It won’t be me. It’ll probably be Frank Sinatra up there on the stand. Should be him anyway. How hard is it to find someone that can actually carry a tune in this town? God, he sounds awful.”
    Jackson pulled a face. “He does. I can’t even tell what song that’s supposed to be.”
    “It was Cash. I think it’s Elton now. Hard to say.”
    “I’m not even sure he knows at this point. He might have when he started, but dude got lost on the way somewhere. I hope he doesn’t try serenading a girl to get her in bed. Shit would not end well.” His eyes, just as blue as my own, but brighter, somehow, clearer, met mine. “Still, you know, just in case—”
    “Hey.” I nudged him in his side. “Knock it the hell off. Whose job is it to worry?”
    He grimaced. “Yours.”
    “Exactly. And I said it’s fine, didn’t I?”
    “Yeah, yeah. All right.” He looked out at the floor but I knew, in the way I always knew, always had to know, that he wasn’t really seeing anything out there. Not the shabby, mismatched tables or our two pretty servers forced into ridiculous flapper dresses to match the rest of Duke’s insufferable 1920s speakeasy getup. It matched the insufferable street it was located on, bar-lined and too full of the type of people who called it “Drunk’s Lane” or “the Lane” with a boozy sort of pride. “You, uh, going to Mama’s tonight after you get off?”
    “Yeah.” I frowned, letting my head fall back to rest on the shelf behind me for a minute while I considered the distorted bottoms of the higher-end bottles above me. “Gotta check in, don’t I? Make sure she’s okay after her latest round today.”
    Jackson nodded, a little too stiffly, and I knew what he wanted to say without him having to actually say it. I both loved and hated that ability. It came with so much obligation.
    “You’re planning on going to Fury’s tonight with everyone else, aren’t you?” I straightened, pushing away from the wall completely. “Just go. Don’t worry about it.”
    He mirrored my movements, shooting me an uncertain look, and for just a second I could almost see the kid he’d once been under the face of the almost-man he’d grown up to be.
    “You don’t think—” he started before I cut him off.
    “—Fury’s parties are stupid? Hell, yeah, I do. Hell of a lot of effort for people we see practically every day. Personally, I try my damnedest to stay away from everyone here when I leave. But you don’t need to feel bad about going, aside from your choice of company. Mama would want you to go. She doesn’t want you giving up your life for her.”
She has me for that
, I didn’t say, nor did he.
    He