Chapter 6: The Back Room

Beau let go of my wrist the moment August spoke.

He turned with a smile already on his face, and it came on so fast it was almost impressive.

"August. Family stuff. You know how it goes."

"I know how it goes," August said. "Your driver's out front, Beau. The producers are asking for you."

"Give me a minute."

"They're asking now."

Beau looked at me, then at August, then back at me.

"We'll talk at home," he said, and went inside.

The kitchen door swung closed behind him.

August walked over and stopped an arm's length away.

He looked at the red marks on my wrist and didn't touch them.

"There's ice in the kitchen," he said.

"I'm fine."

"I didn't say you weren't."

I put my wrist in my coat sleeve and said I had a ride.

Dot's truck was at the curb with the engine running and the passenger window down.

From the look on her face, she had seen the whole thing from the driver's seat.

"I'm going to kill him," she said, when I got in.

"You're going to drive."

"Marlo."

"Please drive."

She drove, and she didn't say another word until we were parked behind the Rusty Spoke and she had unlocked the back door.

Dot's bar is a long brick room with a dented jukebox and a pool table that tilts to the left.

She keeps an office in the back with a desk, a space heater, and a case of bourbon nobody is allowed to touch.

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