Read Online Demise in Denim by Duffy Brown - Free Book Online Page B

a wad of bills from a mint chocolate chip ice cream container. “A little something I picked up from a friend.” He winked, then headed for the back door, turned, and came back and kissed me hard.
    â€œWhat about the dopey look?” I gasped, totally surprised I wasn’t a puddle on the floor.
    â€œYou’ve got a satin shoe and are wearing a tiara. Some things are worth the gamble.” He fiddled with the tiara, a warm sultry look in his dark eyes.
    â€œIt’s KiKi’s. It’s for luck.”
    â€œWe definitely need luck.”
    Boone kissed me again, this time slow and soft on the forehead. “Watch your back, blondie,” he said, his lips forming the words against my skin. “There’s some mean people out there and they’re playing for keeps. I don’t want you hurt over this.”
    â€œI don’t want you hurt either,” I said in a choked voice, barely able to get the words out. He looked at me for moment, his eyes dark and unfathomable. Then he walked out the door. The house was lonely and quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the slow heavy thud of my heart.
    I refused to cry. Things would get better, I promised myself. They had to. I’d make sure they did. Boone didn’t come all this way from being a half-starved street kid to living in a gorgeous house on Madison Square to wind up in jail for something he didn’t do. And besides, BW would never forgive me if I let that happen to his doggie daddy. I waited a few beats, checked the back alley for stray cops, and then darted for the fence.
    I cut across Drayton to Pinky Masters, the home ofTabasco popcorn, hands down the very best late-night snack on the planet. Pinky’s was a dive bar with the jukebox presently blaring Beyoncé, the perfect cure for me feeling down in the dumps. The place was frequented by everyone from teachers at SCAD—Savannah College of Art and Design—to local store clerks to the garbage pickup guys who kept Savannah neat and tidy. It was truly Savannah’s melting pot, and right there in the back corner was Mercedes. She was eating popcorn, swilling something tall and cool, and intently checking her iPhone messages.
    I snaked my way through the standing-room-only crowd to the back table. “More dead people waiting for your expertise?” I said as I sat down.
    Mercedes looked up, a grin tripping across her face. “Girl, what are you doing in here?”
    â€œEating your popcorn.” I dug a handful of spicy yumminess out of the little blue plastic basket on the table. “I didn’t take you for a Pinky girl.” I looked at Mercedes’s lilac jacket with matching scarf. “I figured you were more of the Old Pink House variety or maybe the Bay Street Blues Club.”
    â€œThose places are right fine for sure, but at the moment I’m hiding out and taking a load off. Fixing up Conway was a lot of work and I’m beat to the bone. Besides, the Pink House doesn’t have Tabasco popcorn, now does it?” She leaned across the table. “Any chance you’ve run into Mr. Boone? I sure hope he’s doing okay. I’m truly worried. I sort of got him into this mess.”
    â€œBest I can tell, this all started years ago and you sure aren’t to blame.” Using every ounce of self-control I possessed, I kept my face blank. Boone was right about therebeing a killer out there, and I didn’t want Mercedes in the line of fire if I could help it.
    Mercedes’s eyes rounded. “Well I do declare, you have seen the man.”
    â€œOkay, this is so not fair. How did you know? I didn’t squish up my eyes or wrinkle my nose or get all dreamy and slobber.”
    â€œOh, honey, that is sure true enough, but you did squash your handful of popcorn to nothing but a bunch of crumbs.” She nodded at the table, which had bits of popcorn scattered across the top. “So, does he have any idea who did