Part 29 (1/2)

”I'd even consider holding off until the second round is over,” H2 said.

Tony was astonished. ”Death's a drunk?”

”I didn't say he was a drunk,” Lucy was quick to correct him. ”I said he's a lush. He likes to drink when he has the time. And when he drinks, he drinks a lot. Like anyone who likes to drink but doesn't do it too often, he doesn't have the tolerance built up, so it hits him fast when he does drink. But he's far from being a drunk.”

”I have to wait until Death is s.h.i.+tfaced before I can speak to him,” Tony shook his head in growing disbelief.

”He'll be more agreeable,” Lucy said.

”He can still be a p.r.i.c.k, though,” H2 nodded with a knowing expression.

”As you might have guessed.” Lucy said, scratching at the table's surface with a fingernail.

”So I hold off,” Tony said, not liking this new information in the least. He didn't want to talk to a smashed Death. He hated dealing with drunks anyway. They were way too unpredictable; either being way too G.o.dd.a.m.n silly or being too G.o.dd.a.m.n violent. There was no middle ground.

”I think it's a good idea,” Lucy suggested softly.

And she knew the guy.

”Alright,” Tony conceded reluctantly. ”When he's a pitcher in.”

”Two pitchers, chief,” H2 winked and flicked up two fingers. He then dropped one and wagged the finger at Tony. Tony did not need to have H2 flip him the bird. And he hated being winked at. It was gay s.h.i.+t. Yes, Tony figured that, at this particular juncture in time, it was safe to say he hated H2's f.u.c.king guts.

”Yeah,” Lucy agreed. ”Two pitchers to make sure. That's a safer bet I think.”

”So what do we do in the meantime?” Tony asked her. He wasn't going to talk to H2 anymore if he could help it.

”Wait,” H2 answered for her. Lucy gave him a stern look.

”And eat chicken fingers,” H2 smiled back at her.

Tony sighed heavily. Two pitchers in. Great. It was times like these he wished he had a drug habit. He was in drug country to think of it. As far as marijuana and ecstasy went. He heard crystal meth was pretty popular out amongst the Albertan rig pigs as well. He wondered if the meth had gotten to BC. Music flowed in and around them while he thought his thoughts, but it was low enough that it was still easy to talk. And what day was it? Wednesday? Friday? If it was, he wondered how busy Paradise got going into the weekend.

Then, he started thinking about Frank.

The food came: two serving baskets with a beautiful pile of chicken tenders and two accompanying saucers filled with honey mustard dipping sauce. A pitcher and three frosty-looking mugs were placed before each of them.

”Thank you, Debby,” H2 said, holding her gaze. Tony thought the man looked as if he could lick s.h.i.+t up off the floor if he wanted to.

”How did you know my name,” Debby asked, a little wary, but meeting his gaze with large blue eyes.

”Heard the bar guy mention you when we came in,” H2 answered.

”Oh,” she smiled briefly before retreating to the bar. H2 watched her go.

Lucy rolled her eyes. ”Struck out there.”

”Think so?” H2's brow crocked up in a challenge. ”She'll be asking me for my phone number before this night is through. Right now, I'm on her mind.”

”Oh, yeah?”

”Yeah,” H2 said. ”And I noticed you didn't say anything about making a bet. Why is that, Lucy my dearest?”

Lucy chose not to answer him. Instead, she pulled a chicken strip from one of the baskets closest to her and dipped it into the sauce. She nibbled on it and sighed.

”Mmmm, try some.”

H2 was pouring the beer. He thrust his chin out to Tony. ”I see no water in that mug there, chief. Want some of this?”

The beer looked like gold to Tony. The chicken smelled wonderful. His stomach rumbled and never felt emptier. Again, he thought of his mother back in the hospital and the guilt hit. He eventually nodded and slid his mug over to H2, who filled it. One mug would take the edge off.

H2 filled Lucy's and his own mug then, and raised his in a toast. ”To Tony there,” he said.

Tony was mildly surprised. The p.r.i.c.k remembered his name after all. He did not raise his gla.s.s, though Lucy did.

”To Tony,” H2 repeated. ”May Lucy blow him sooner rather than later.”

He took a huge gulp of beer then, leaving his drinking companion behind.

”Can't be nice for a second can you?” Lucy said as she laid an arm across a rising Tony. She could tell what he wanted to do, and she couldn't allow that right now.

”What do you mean?” H2 asked in defence. ”That was nice! Wasn't that a nice toast there, chief?”

Tony drained almost all of his beer.

”Only lookin' out for ya,” H2 said, and then to Lucy, ”I bet she's a screamer,” nodding in Debby's direction.

”Why couldn't you have stayed in the car?” Lucy said.

”What? And miss Debby's victuals? I don't think so,” H2 replied, taking a drink. Lucy watched Tony sitting with the last of his beer. He had a nice profile when he turned his head. She grabbed another chicken finger and dipped it. She couldn't really enjoy them under these circ.u.mstances, but she had to give the appearance of some confidence. She had to look calm at least. It would be disaster to look any other way and for Tony to see it. She felt a medicine ball lump of sadness for the man. There was a goodness in him, but it was up to its neck in trouble and bad luck. She liked him and would have to be blind to not to see his growing affection for her. But she had been down that road before. It would never work. She would never tell him that. She hated confrontations of that nature. When the time came, she would just disappear and become a memory. She drank some beer and left half a gla.s.s. G.o.d above, she was worried this time around. Frank was really p.i.s.sed off. She decided to keep quiet and let Tony prepare himself for what he had to do. She told herself to ignore H2.

The Ent.i.ty did not notice her, however.

H2 was too interested in the curves of Debby's jeans.

Chapter 34.

They emerged from the hotel at 7:30, squinting at the sun and a field of freshly fallen snow. Fear watched the men come out into the light. He sat on the hood of the Celica, arms folded. They walked slowly towards him like frozen gunslingers with their hands dangling at their sides, careful of the ice glazing the parking lot. They exchanged looks and regarded Fear at the same time, the puzzlement plain on their faces. This clearly was not on their list of morning things to do.

Well, s.h.i.+t happens sometimes, Fear thought.

”That's my car you're sitting on,” the bigger one said, raising a finger.