Destined for an Early Grave(28)

Spade came in behind them. He cast an appraising glance at Bones and me while he said hello. No doubt mentally weighing our friction.

“I say, Crispin, you’d look better if you were being nailed inside a wooden box,” he commented. His gaze flicked around the bar with mild distaste. “No doubt this wretched music’s to blame. I don’t know why country singers feel the need to set depression to a melody.”

Denise smiled. “I think this place is great. Is that a bull?”

“You bet.” As if commanded, the animal snorted unhappily. He and I were in perfect agreement.

“Oh, I wish I could ride it,” she said.

It was good to see Denise smile. In truth, I hadn’t seen her much at all recently, smiling or otherwise. After her husband Randy was killed, Denise stayed with Bones and me for a few weeks. Then she went back to Virginia, saying she wanted to get away from everything supernatural.

I couldn’t blame her. It was a supernatural attack that had killed Randy; why wouldn’t Denise want to get away from the reminders of that? Then she moved to Texas about two months ago, remarking it was the only way she could keep her mother from trying to set her up with other men. Denise wasn’t ready to come out of mourning yet. I couldn’t blame her there, either.

“Cooper, mate, good to have you with us,” Bones said. “Stick with the ladies whilst Charles and I go off for a moment. I’m sure Kitten wants to hear all about what’s going on with her old team.”

With that, he turned away. Spade went with him, leaving the three of us standing on the outskirts of the bull ring.

Son of a bitch.

Not that I didn’t want to spend time with Denise and Cooper, but it was my ass they were discussing with the ghoul contact. Seemed only fair that I got to be in on the details.

“…remodeled the Wreck room to include…are you listening, Commander?”

Only then did Cooper’s stream of dialogue penetrate. “Ah, sorry, Coop. I need a drink,” I said, heading for the nearest bar.

I ordered a gin, no tonic, and drank it before it even hit the wooden counter. The bartender gave me a look as I slid the empty shot glass at him for a refill.

“That’ll be nine-fifty, ma’am.”

“Of course,” I began, reaching into my jeans before I froze in embarrassment. I didn’t have a wallet on me. No, the only currency I carried was about ten pounds of silver under my shirt and in my pants. God, this was the last straw. Wait, bartender, while I find Bones so I can get my allowance.

“Here, keep the change. And pour two more just like it.”

Cooper threw money on the table. Denise sat next to me, her hazel eyes wide.

“Cat, are you okay? You look like you might blow a fuse.”

The bartender filled the drinks and passed them over. Cooper handed me the third one after I gulped the second as quickly as the first.

“I’m fine.”

No use articulating the many things that were wrong. Misery might love company, but Denise had had enough of that without me piling on.

“You don’t seem fine.”

I didn’t want to get into it, but I didn’t want to tell her that. Instead, I sought for a distraction. “Look, the bull’s out!”

With Denise’s attention fixed on the amateur cowboy struggling on top of the bull, I was able to avoid her scrutiny. Across the crowd of people, I saw Bones nudge Spade, then they turned their attention to a tall, very thin, very dead man who approached. Must be the ghoul contact. Soon the three of them melted into the crowd.

I sighed, covering it with a smile as Denise turned back to me.

“That’s so cool! Let’s grab more liquor, Cat. Maybe you can jump on next.”

I’d have loved to drink more liquor, but since Bones and Spade just went off with the contact, I couldn’t very well go over to him and demand his wallet.

“Denise, how much money do you have on you?”

She frowned. “Oh crap, I left my purse in Spade’s car.”

Cooper reached again in his pants. “I should have brought my credit card. This should last…” he pulled out a wad of twenties and gave it a critical glance “…ten minutes.”

Good old Coop. Can’t say the man didn’t know how the half-dead could pack it away.

“I’ll pay you back,” I promised, feeling like a poor relation.

Cooper’s prediction turned out to be wrong. It was almost half an hour before his cash ran out. Of course, I hadn’t counted on the nearby men offering to buy Denise and me drinks. I refused, but Denise took one drink per male offering, thanking the guys but giving a firm “no” to a second. Most of them took it with friendly, mock disappointment, but a large guy with bushy brown hair needed a little more persuading.