Page 26 of Sam to the Rescue

“Sure. But are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.

“I’m fine. I just have something I need to do.”

Nobody is allowed to make my husband nuts, except me.

Chapter 17

Suds

As me and my new best buddy exit the gun club, I freeze. My vision blurs, the present fades to the past, and even though I know this reality cannot be happening, no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the gawd-awful shift.Flashbacks, after all this time. What the fuck?

Lucky cries out. “Shoot, mate. Do it!”

Today, my automatic weapon misfires as heavily armed men exit the sandstone buildings. Surrounded, I pull my pistol from my holster, mutter some final prayers, and pull the trigger repeatedly.

Unaware I’m a half-world away, my companion taps me on the shoulder. “You comin’ or what?”

“Jes’ thinkin’.” My southern accent thickens and he either doesn’t care or doesn’t take notice as I follow him to a local hole in the wall calledKing’s Keg House.

With a brick front and art deco archway, I’d put the building circa prohibition. That was probably the last time they painted, too. Dim yellow bulbs barely light the interior which is probably intentional, to hide the roaches. The damn floor is so sticky, it tries to hold me back from maneuvering around the closely packed tables and chairs.

At the bar, a guy with prison tats on his knuckles glances up from a soapy sink of glasses. “Yeah?”

White chalk scribbles spell out the specials on a blackboard. Unable to read the handwriting, I point to a local ale on tap. “I’ll have that.”

“Make that two.” My heavy pal eases his large ass onto a stool which groans under his weight, when he shifts and holds out his fleshy hand. “The name is Edge.”

“Suds.” We shake and after downing our drinks, I point to the pool table. “You play?”

“Sure.” He slides off his perch, places his license on the bar, and the bartender sets us up.

Grinning, Edge twirls a square of blue over his pool cue. “How much you want to play for?”

“Sorry. Hurting for cash.” I open my empty wallet.

“I thought you were some bigshot bodyguard for the stars?” Frowning, he racks the balls.

With a shrug, I place the white ball down, break, and send the nine into the back right pocket. “Divorce is gonna cost a fortune.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. It’ll be good to be rid of her. I don’t suppose you might know where I could pick up some fast money, off the books?” I miss my next shot and hold my breath, wondering if he’ll take the bait.

He kills two solid balls but the six bounces off the edge. Leaning over the table, I nail the ten, the eleven, and line up the fourteen to ricochet off the back.

While I aim, the circus clown man clears his throat. “I thought you were guarding that congresswoman?”

This is a pivotal moment. I either said too much or too little. “I quit. What a crazy bitch. No wonder someone tried to shoot her. People like her are going to take down the whole damn government.”

I slide the stick back and forth, then snap at the cue ball.

“Good try.” Stepping back, he eyes his next shot and for a moment, I worry he’s not talking about the game but after he sinks his shot, he catches my eye.

“Take down the government how?”

Holy fuck, I got me a nibble. Time to set the hook. “So, here’s the thing.” I match his conspiring tone. “This new 6Z phone network? It sends brainwashing signals into your head. I know it sounds nuts but it’s true. My cousin knows a guy who knows a guy who empties trash in the pentagon.”

“No shit.” Too-close blue eyes widen under his buzz cut.