Sarah Mine (9 page)

“You need to fix your shit, son,” Jax said as he walked beside me, matching stride for stride. “Because this? This is the reality.”

I blinked and looked around. My thoughts had distracted me and I had blindly followed Jax. The cemetery? Why were we…

I looked down and my knees buckled. Sarah Jane James.

“This is what chases her,” Jax said, crouching down beside me. “It’s not you; it’s not her dickhead of a father. This.” He tapped the flat headstone. It was simple. A soft grey color with her name carved into the marble. “It all stops here. If you can’t step up and be someone she can rely on, you need to walk away. Permanently. No more rest stops between her pretty legs. No more knocking on her door when you decide it’s time to piss on Big Jack’s fire hydrant.”

I flattened my hand on her name and knew my brother had done this. My brother’s life lessons were not subtle. When I had first started with sexy fun times, Jax had taken me to the nearest hospital, parked me in front of the maternity ward door and said, “One day, son, this will all be yours. So glove up, little brother.” I had gone beyond condoms. I had gone for a vasectomy. No way was I, in any shape or form, contributing to Big Jack’s DNA cycle.

“You gave her a headstone? What kind of asshole does that?”

“The kind who does not want to see Sarah mine underneath it.”

“Why? Why do you care what happens to her?” Frowning, I looked at my brother. “Why are you still here? You hate this place.”

“Because you’re my brother. Your shit is a mess, Hill, especially involving Sarah mine. And I sat my ass in the car, texting my wife because I knew Sarah mine was telling you what happened. I knew you’d run at that. That’s what you do when things get tough.” Jax stood up. “Figure it out, Hill. It’s not that complicated. You need me, little brother, you call.”

I nodded as I stared down at Sarah’s name. “Jesus, Sarah.” She had overdosed. She had damn near died on me. She had damn near left me alone. What the hell would I have done then? Who would I have then?

Sarah

Some nights, it just didn’t pay to open the bar. I winced as tonight’s band did some truly horrible things that should be illegal to classic Neil Diamond. Hill was mad at me. Not only had that ruined my day, but Alex Carson and his parade of idiots were in. Alex was a bully. He had been one in high school and he was one in his mid-twenties. Hill had been a bit of a jerk in high school and had made my early teen years hell, but he hadn’t gotten any malicious pleasure out of it. Alex did.

Alex was the reason I had ended up with Hill in the first place that night in the cove. I had ventured out, not fitting in, no friends at my back, and Alex had seen me as prey. Had Hill not stepped in I would’ve wound up raped in the dark. I knew it. Hill had known it. Alex had said so. And he wouldn’t have been the only one.

Until that night, he and Hill had been best friends.

I wasn’t scared of Alex. At seventeen when he was threatening a gang rape? Yes. Now? Now, he was a twenty-six year old drunken excuse of a bully. Considering I had grown up in Brandon James’ world, Alex was nothing.

Damon sidled up beside me. “Gonna be one of those nights where you need to give me a raise.”

Nodding, I watched Brandi sashay up to Alex’s table.

“Subtle is not in your sister’s vocabulary. She may as well just yank down her little skirt and flash the note on her ass that says “I’m having sex with a married man!” And a loser one at that.” Damon rolled his eyes and walked off to cover his section of the bar.

No kidding. And I was called Hill Deveraux’s whore? This town sucked.

The first order came in and from the annoyed look in my waitress’ eyes, it was indeed going to be one of those nights. I should’ve called in sick for tonight too. With a screech of a guitar, the band moved on to murdering another song. It was so bad it took them reaching the chorus to find out what it was. Having one dude screaming into the microphone like a horror movie psycho while someone else abused the drums, and yet another advertising never having had a lesson on his guitar did not make for a fun night.

Tuesdays.

“Well, we can now let them know what day the music died.”

Opening my eyes, I watched Hill sit down and look at the band. He was here? He hadn’t left Pierce Point? My heart gave a few excited bumps to see him. He swiveled on his stool so he was facing me. “I didn’t expect to see you.” Tonight. Again. Ever.

“Yes, I know how highly you think of me.”

With a sigh, I studied the angry man before me. “Right.” I did not want to have to deal with this again. A part of me wanted to switch places with Damon but that felt too much like running away. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Coke.” Then he spun his stool back around. At first I thought he was ignoring me but instead I saw he was looking at someone. Alex Carson. It wasn’t a “hey buddy, how are ya” look. It was one that said he’d like to remove body parts.

“No fighting.” Because that’s exactly what the night was missing. Blood.

A grunt came from Hill and he leaned back, resting his elbows on the bar like he was some Western cowboy star. Oh God. There was going to be blood. Reaching over I flicked his ear. “I mean it, Hill. No fighting or I will throw your ass out.”

He faced me again. “Little liar. You so want me to beat him up.” He stared at me, that other night hanging between us. Did I want him to beat Alex Carson up? Hell yes. His lips curled up as if he knew what I was thinking. He folded his arms on the bar and leaned forward. His eyes focused on me and I fidgeted beneath his stare. “So tell me why there’s a life-sized drawing of your old coffee table in your studio.”

“Sarah, I need two Canadians and a red wine.” The waitress had to yell over the music. Oh yeah, Tuesdays were awesome. It was as if my father put out ads for the worst possible bands. Ever.

“Minute,” I said to him, then went to fill the order. When I returned, Hill’s glass was half empty so I topped it up. Despite the amount of people in the bar, it wasn’t overly busy. Mostly it was people who were bored or having affairs with married men when their wives were at choir practice. I knew, as did everyone else in the bar, that at some point Brandi and Alex were going to venture up to her soundproof apartment and have naked fun time.

Gross.

I had never done that with Hill. Okay once or twice there had been a quickie in the stairwell. Okay. Four times. Maybe six, tops. But we hadn’t hurt anyone. No wives were humiliated, no marriages were at risk. And I was labeled the town slut. This town seriously sucked.

“What’s wrong?”

I glared at Hill because he was safe. “Nothing.”

“Says the woman glaring at me.”

“Just thinking about things. Angry things.” I shook my head. “So you want to know about the drawing?”

“No.” Hill nudged his glass aside and braced his arms on the table, angling his body toward me so I could hear him over that stuff the band called music. “I want to know what’s going on in your head. Because I’m pretty sure out of the two of us, I’m the mad one. Justifiably so.”

With a sigh, I rested my arms on the table, duplicating him. “I’m thinking that double standards suck.
I
get called Hill Deveraux’s whore and she,” I jabbed a finger at my sister who was all but stripping for Alex, “sleeps with any penis that points at her
and
she’s involved with a married man. I haven’t had sex in four years but
I’m
the whore. That’s what I’m mad about.”

“Stop. Saying. That.” His eyes were hard and that muscle was clenched in his jaw.

I shook my head. “I could become a nun…a fucking nun! And they’d still call me Hill Deveraux’s whore.”

He slammed his hand down on the smooth wood surface, startling those around them. “One more time, Sarah.” He pointed a finger at me. “One more time.”

“Or what, Hill? Or what? And
I’m
not calling myself that.
They
do.” I flicked my hand toward all the people who came into
my
bar and judged me. They drank my booze and called me names. “Vicious, spiteful people.”

“So leave. What the hell is keeping you here, Sarah?”

CHAPTER NINE

Sarah

I stared at him and grabbed a cloth, wiping down my area. I couldn’t look at him. I wouldn’t. He would see and then he’d know. He would know why I stayed in this town that whispered about my mistakes behind my back and my family who treated me like the dirt garbage was piled on. And he could
not
know. He could never know.

That the reason why I stayed in this town was him. If I left, I knew he wouldn’t come looking for me.

I glanced around and saw no one was paying us much attention. A few looks, a few whispers but that was all. “It’s an art show.”

“What?”

“The drawings. They’re going in an art show.” As a distraction, it was lame, but I didn’t want him to start harping on me leaving because then what?

He sat up, his eyes wide. “Sarah, that’s fantastic!” Was that pride? Blushing, I looked down. “Tell me. Lay it on me, baby.”

I poured a few drinks then returned. “I met this guy in rehab. We had down time so I’d draw. It was crap, but I’d sit there and try to remember how to do things. This woman joined me. She painted. It grew. A bunch of us artsies, sitting around pretending we weren’t addicts. There was this guy.” When I looked up, Hill’s eyes narrowed. What? Why was he mad? “He would sit with us, just sit. Watching us but never joining, but it was like he was with us, you know? Then a few months ago, I get this envelope from Cross Ties, that’s where I was. I opened it up and there was this beautiful card. I’ll show you when we get home. Anyway, it was this invitation to join in a show with the artsies. Shadow Self. That’s what it’s called.”

“Tell me about this guy.”

My eyebrows rose as he folded his arms on the table, his stare a touch violent. Really? I bit my lip to keep from smiling. “Older. Distinguished.” Hill’s brows lowered into a full on kill-the-beast glare. “A little heavy. Beautiful eyes.” Maybe. If Hill asked me what color, I was going to have to wing it. I wobbled my hand back and forth. “Maybe early seventies?”

He sat up, the glower falling away. I grinned at him, refilled his drink, then took a few more orders. When Damon jerked his chin toward the tables, I followed his gaze and saw my sister, who was supposed to be working, straddling Alex’s lap while they made out. For all I knew, the two were having sex right there since Brandi wore short little skirts to work. His friends hooted as if they were still in high school.

Hill looked to see what was going on. “Classy.” His eyes rolled.

“Welcome to Brandi’s on a Tuesday.”

“Hm. And me without my camera.”

“Liar.”

His grin was a little evil. “Yes, yes I am. Do you think he’d get upset with me?”

Sighing, I pointed a finger at him. “No fighting.” He grabbed my finger, rose up, kissed me, handed me his backpack, and wandered over to the pool tables. Shit. Damn it. I so didn’t want to have to scrub blood off the floor. Even if it was Alex’s.

Hill found a game, but I didn’t believe his angelic face. At all.

Hill Deveraux and angelic were not in the same sentence.

Tuesdays. Freakin’ Tuesdays.

Hill

The thing with growing up in a small town like Pierce Point was that no one changed. The guys who had hovered around the pool tables when I was younger still hovered around. The girls who teased the boys still teased the boys. And the guys who were utter assholes were still utter assholes.

“So you’re still taking those pictures?” Even though Avery Wilson and I had been in the same class all our lives, I wouldn’t say we were friends. I tried to remember what Avery did.

Nodding, I watched Avery line up his shot. “You? Not up on the local gossip.” Because I didn’t give a rat’s ass about the locals. Calling Sarah a whore? They could all just fuck off.

“Working for my father-in-law out in Victoria. It’s a commute but can’t afford to live there. He’s got a print shop; I run the four-color press.”

There wasn’t much of an industry in Pierce Point. Small businesses for the most part. It was twenty minutes up the island from Victoria so everyone mostly worked in the city, some even in Vancouver. When I had been a kid, my father had closed the logging mill, and that had been the beginning of the end for Pierce Point. “Cool. You got a business card?” Avery finally scratched and I studied the table, calculating my best shot.

Nothing.

Jerk.

“Nah, but I’ll give you the name of our sales gal if you want.”

Nodding, I took a chance on a shot and scratched. “Thanks for that.” As if I’d call. I took pictures. I didn’t need to have things printed.

Avery grinned then leaned down, killing two balls in minutes. “Soooo…Sarah, eh?”

I looked at Sarah. She looked so wrong wearing the black shirt with her sister’s name in hot pink on her breast. She had too much talent to be slinging beer for her bastard of a father. Resting the rubber end of my cue stick on the floor between my feet, I gripped the narrow tip and let it bear my weight. Did she know that the light in her eyes went a little dim when she was in here? I hadn’t really caught on until she had mentioned the art show. Then happiness and excitement had sparked in those eyes. Maybe a hint of wonder that someone thought she was a good enough artist to invite into a show. She caught me staring at her and I winked. She made a face at me, winked in return before she went back to work.

Cute. She was so damn cute.

I turned my attention to the other man. “Here to play pool, Avery. Not going to talk about Sarah. A wise man would heed that.” Because I would rip him apart. He had put on a few pounds over the years but that didn’t matter. Size was irrelevant because I fought dirty.

“Just making conversation.”

“Just making a threat,” I responded. My comment startled my former classmate enough that he botched his shot. My grin was a lot less pleasant as I took total pleasure in sinking three balls. “There are two topics of conversation that will turn this from a friendly game. The other’s Big Jack. Make a mental note. Your shot.”