Not Dead Enough by J.M. Redmann

Author:J.M. Redmann [Redmann, J.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781635555448
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2019-10-19T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

I let the sun get mostly down, and sobered up slightly, before walking to R&F. Tomorrow was salad day, so tonight could be fried catfish night and I could avoid the dreaded grocery run for another day. I needed to eat something filling, and this was the easiest option. Plus I could sort of call it work by checking on the security cameras.

“Hey,” Rob greeted me as I entered. “Long time no see.”

“Out of town. Anything happen while I was gone?”

“In the world? Or here at the bar?”

“The world I know about—as much as I want to know. Anything here?”

Two drop-dead-gorgeous men draped their arms over Rob’s shoulders. One was a redhead, the other brown with distinguished gray. Both underdressed even for August, but with the bodies to get away with it.

The redhead said, “Is this the hot damn cute lesbian you were telling us about? The ever so butch security expert?”

I shot Rob a look.

“I cannot tell a lie,” he said. “Indeed it is.”

“Should we tell her?” Gray/brown said.

“Do you have names?” I asked. I didn’t want to risk calling them by their hair colors out loud.

“Nickname is—duh—Red,” said the redhead.

“Do you have a real name?”

“Zgorski. Kristopher Zgorski.”

I coughed. “I’ll call you Red. And you?”

“Nickname is Prof—Professor.”

“Real name?”

“Milton Wendland. Do not call me Milt. All or nothing.”

I sighed—softly. “We’ll go with Prof as well. How’d you get that?”

“I teach gender studies at a university I will not name since they don’t know I occasionally dance.”

“You’re a professor and you dance in a bar?”

“Oh, my dear. I could pay to go to a dreary gym. Or come here and get an even better workout and be paid for it. I didn’t get a PhD because I’m dumb.”

I looked at Red and said, “And you’re a trainer for the Saints?”

“No, the Falcons.” He kept his face perfectly legit for a long second, then broke out with a deep laugh. “No way, not the Dirty Birds.” New Orleans and Atlanta are major football rivals with pet names for each other. “Like the Prof, I like the hours here and getting a workout. I’m a travel writer. Resting here from a week in Rome. Can’t stay in all day starting at a computer screen.”

“But we saw something strange,” Prof said. “Over the weekend. We were both up on the bar—it gives you a nice view of the room—and these two women came in.”

“First thought,” Red said, “was they were a couple, although one was young and hot and the other a bit older.”

“Sugar mamas happen, too,” Prof said. “But they didn’t act like a couple. Looked around a bit, then split up and took up posts in opposite ends of the room.”

“Like they’re casing the joint,” Red added.

“Or waiting for someone,” Prof said.

“We do two more dances; they’re still there. I watch Mary go over and see if they want a drink—asked both—and neither gets anything. I can see that Mary is watching them from behind the bar, so she thinks there is something strange from their behavior.

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