by Ann Charles
Want to add some laughter, adventure, and spice to your life? Check out all three of Ann Charles’ mystery series:
Stop by for a visit to the Old West town of Deadwood, South Dakota—the Ann Charles version. This USA Today bestselling, multiple award-winning humorous mystery series is packed with quirky characters, nail-biting paranormal suspense, and spicy romance. Violet Parker will have to hang on tight and stick to her guns through the crazy adventures in store for her. Thank goodness she has a lot of gumption and help from her friends.
Welcome to the jungle—the steamy Maya jungle that is, filled with ancient ruins and deadly secrets. Quint Parker, renowned photojournalist (and lousy amateur detective), is in for a whirlwind of adventure and suspense as he and archaeologist, Dr. Angélica García, get tangled up in mysteries from the past and present at exotic dig sites. Loaded with action and laughs, along with all sorts of steamy heat, these two will keep you sweating along with them as they do their best to make it out of the jungle alive in every book.
Down here at the Dancing Winnebagos RV Park in Jackrabbit Junction, Arizona, Claire Morgan and her rabble-rousing sisters are really good at getting into trouble—BIG trouble (the land your butt in jail kind of trouble). This rowdy, laugh-aloud mystery series is packed with action, suspense, adventure, and relationship snafus. Full of colorful characters and twisted up plots, the stories of the Morgan sisters will keep you wondering what kind of a screwball mess they are going to land in next.
For more information about Ann and her books, check out her website, as well as the reader reviews for her books on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Goodreads
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Dear Reader
About the Author
Contact Information
Also by Ann Charles
Sneek Peak: Make No Bones About It
Copyright
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
Dear Reader,
Tequila is a slippery devil.
I speak from experience. I’ve been a fan of the agave plant in its liquid form for many moons. So, when it came time to write another short story about some of the Deadwood crew, I naturally returned to the bottle to grease some tongues—theirs, not mine.
In this short story, Violet and Natalie volunteered, both of them more than willing to share some screen time in exchange for shots of tequila. As you can see, they are women after my own heart.
We all know that research is an important part of writing. Therefore, in an effort to make this Deadwood Short accurate, I sacrificed myself for the good of the story. One night, after my kids had gone to bed, I had my husband play bartender and line up a row of tequila shots, lime slices, and salt. After each shot, I recorded the outcome so that I could experience sliding down that slippery tequila slope along with Violet and Natalie.
It was a tough job, but someone had to do it.
I hope you enjoy the outcome of my research and share some laughs with me as Violet and Natalie hash out a few truths in “Tequila & Time.” Truths that slip free only after a little oiling of their tongues.
Whatever your drink of choice, let’s raise a glass to friendship and tequila—both of which come many times with side effects of wild laughter and bad decisions.
Thank you for hanging out yet again with the nutty characters living in my head.
www.anncharles.com
To Sister Wendy
You have given so much time and energy to help me on this wild ride.
Your spot-on marketing ideas, your excellent monkey-handling skills, and your continued willingness to learn and try new things have made working with you a fun adventure.
I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve shared liquor and laughter over the years (which I blame on all of the tequila, wine, and rum).
Thank you! This one is for you.
Also by Ann Charles
Deadwood Mystery Series
Nearly Departed in Deadwood (Book 1)
Optical Delusions in Deadwood (Book 2)
Dead Case in Deadwood (Book 3)
Better Off Dead in Deadwood (Book 4)
An Ex to Grind in Deadwood (Book 5)
Meanwhile, Back in Deadwood (Book 6)
A Wild Fright in Deadwood (Book 7)
Short Stories from the Deadwood Mystery Series
Deadwood Shorts: Seeing Trouble
Deadwood Shorts: Boot Points
Deadwood Shorts: Cold Flame
Jackrabbit Junction Mystery Series
Dance of the Winnebagos (Book 1)
Jackrabbit Junction Jitters (Book 2)
The Great Jackalope Stampede (Book 3)
The Rowdy Coyote Rumble (Book 4)
The Wild Turkey Tango (Novella 4.5)
Goldwash Mystery Series (a future series)
The Old Man’s Back in Town (Short Story)
Dig Site Mystery Series
Look What the Wind Blew In (Book 1)
Coming Next from Ann Charles
Dig Site Mystery Series
Make No Bones About It (Book 2)
Deadwood Mystery Series
Title TBA (Book 8)
Acknowledgments
This is a short story, so this is going to be a short acknowledgment. Seems fitting, right?
Thank you to my husband, kids, family, friends, graphic artist, artist, editors, first-draft readers, local expert, world keeper, beta readers, promotion team, and mouthy cats. Thanks also to my brother, Clint, who loves me in spite of my inability to cook well.
Special thanks to my good author buddy, Jacquie Rogers, for writing back and forth with me while I was drunk from tequila shots. Next time you need to be here slamming them with me.
Thank you to all who support me and my books by reading them and laughing out loud about what’s on the pages in front of spouses, friends, family, enemies, and complete strangers in crowded subways, trains, and elevators.
Many thanks to the libraries, bookstores, tourist shops, and other venues that help me by displaying or selling my books in your stores.
Finally, a big thanks to YOU for reading my books and supporting my addiction to storytelling. Without you, I would be in an insane asylum scratching these words on the walls with a spoon I stole from the cafeteria when the guards weren’t looking.
“The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind.”
~Humphrey Bogart
One Tequila
The Purple Door Saloon
Deadwood, South Dakota
In my three-plus decades of celebrating life’s rainbows and dodging its shit-storms, I’d learned a valuable lesson—birthdays and underwear always went down easier with a shot of tequila.
Or four.
This evening was all about basking in the glow of my best friend’s birthday candles and drinking to another year of breathing oxygen. Whether my underwear stayed on my hips later would be determined by a certain man with magic hands who had a tricky way of making my clothes fall off before I’d realized it.
“I have three words for you tonight, Nat.” I grabbed the salt shaker and slid it across the scarred wooden table at our favorite drinking hole. “Lick, sip, and suck.”
Natalie crossed her arms over her chest. With her thick brunette hair pulled back in a ponytail and only a layer of gloss coating her full lips, she looked like she was celebrating twenty-nine years rather than thirty-six. “Violet Parker, if you’re going to try to pick me up, you need to do better than that.”
Natalie and I had been
sharing secrets and giggles since long before we’d sprouted boobs or daydreamed about boys and happily-ever-afters. I had a brand new pickup line ready to share with her. I’d just been waiting for the right moment.
“Do you like pirates, gorgeous?” I fought to keep from smiling. “Because I got a lot of seamen that wanna meet ya. Ayyy matey!” While she laughed, I added a gravelly, “Yaharrrr har har!”
“Oh, God. That reminds me of the architect who tried to pick me up last month at the Golden Sluice in Lead.”
“An architect, huh?” I wiggled my eyebrows at her.
“Yeah.” She grimaced. “He said he’d erected a monument in his pants just for me.”
We were still snickering when the waitress stopped by our table. “What can I get you two?”
“Four tequila shots each with lime wedges and some of that kosher salt you keep behind the bar, please,” I ordered. “It’s time to get this birthday girl completely wasted.”
After the waitress left us alone, Natalie raised one eyebrow. “Four shots, Vi?”
“Yes, four.” I sat back in the booth seat, pulling my arms free from the sleeves of my red pea coat. It had taken a good ten minutes to warm up after hiking several blocks from work in the freezing winds blasting through Deadwood Gulch. “A shot for each decade we’ve been friends plus one to grow on.”
“Fine, but who’s going to carry us home when we’re done?”
“Doc said he’d swing by after the poker game is done.”
Doc Nyce, aka Mr. Magic Hands, was the one guy on the planet allowed to see me naked. Earlier on the phone, he’d made me promise that Natalie and I wouldn’t leave the bar until he showed up to haul us out and make sure we made it home in one drunken piece.
“I thought the guys’ poker night was on Wednesdays,” Natalie said.
“It usually is, but Detective Cooper’s been so stressed lately about all of the murder case files on his desk that Doc figured a night of drowning in whiskey, cards, and trash talk would provide a much needed distraction.”
Natalie smirked. “Poor Coop. He’ll probably get his ass kicked by your boyfriend to boot.”
I rubbed my palms together, warming them. “Oddly enough, I have a feeling Cooper enjoys the rivalry with Doc.”
“A budding bromance, maybe? That’s sweet.”
“I wouldn’t say that in front of Cooper. He’s all horns and teeth lately, perpetually pissed off and snorting.”
Natalie waved me off. “Coop’s an alpha male with a super-sized order of testosterone. Underneath that sandpaper hide and those serrated teeth is a nice guy in need of a few good friends.”
“Oh, really? And you know this because you’re now older and wiser than me?” My thirty-sixth birthday wouldn’t swing around for another few months.
“Well, that’s a given.” She grinned at me. “But I’ve also been around the block with the male species enough to know a good-looking dickwad from a kind-hearted crabby pants.”
“Is this the new enlightened you speaking? The one who has been on sabbatical from men long enough now to see beyond big biceps and broad shoulders and listen to what’s spilling from their lips?”
“Partly.” She laced her fingers together on the table. “It’s also the me who is coming up on forty and accepting that I’m probably never going to find Prince Charming, let alone get to live the dream.”
“The dream being what? To buy a fancy sports car and take lavish vacations that end with sex on moonlit beaches with smoking-hot strangers?”
“Since when do you like moonlit beaches? I thought you didn’t enjoy getting sand in all of your cracks and crevices.”
“Actually, it’s the sand fleas that give me the heebie-jeebies.” I scratched my neck. “I get all itchy just thinking about them.”
“I don’t need the fancy car or the lavish vacations.”
“What’s the dream then? And don’t tell me it involves having kids, because you’ve seen my life with twins. It’s full of dirty laundry, snotty noses, lots of yelling, and an ornery chicken.”
“True, but your heart is full.”
She had me there. “Full, yes, but also worn, bruised, and ragged in several spots, and I’m only a decade into this parenthood business.”
“Don’t give me your sob story. I know you love those two kids with every cell in your body. I was there when they were born, remember? I saw the way your face lit up the first time you saw them.”
I drew some invisible hearts on the table with my finger. “Of course I love my kids, but being a parent is scary and stressful as hell. Children change the way you see your surroundings. From the moment they popped out of my womb, I started noticing all of the things in this world that could injure, maim, or kill them. Paper airplanes can take out an eyeball, you know.”
“Yes, I do know, Ms. Paranoid Nutjob, because you warn the kids and me about it every time we make paper airplanes.”
“Takes a nutjob to know one.”
The jukebox came to life with The Eagles telling us to “Take It Easy,” which seemed appropriate for tonight’s celebration.
“Where are your two bundles of joy this evening?” Natalie asked. “I swung by your aunt’s place to drop off my overnight bag and see if you were home from work yet, but the place was dark.”
“Aunt Zoe took them to some kids’ movie in Spearfish.”
“Did you bribe her?”
“I didn’t need to. She loves hanging out with the little turkeys, says they keep her feeling young and feisty. I tell her they keep her crazy, like me, but she just doesn’t realize it yet.”
“Zoe’s only in her fifties.” Natalie leaned forward, a sparkle in her eye. “I know someone who’d like to make her feel young and feisty again, along with all sorts of other good feelings.”
“Me, too.” Unfortunately, Aunt Zoe was still resisting a certain Deadwood fire captain’s attempts to charm away her loneliness. “But Reid’s too busy playing poker with Doc and Cooper tonight to risk Aunt Zoe’s wrath … or her shotgun.”
“Who’s their fourth?”
“Harvey, I think.” My part-time bodyguard had told me earlier he’d cancelled a hot date with a sizzling old flame to help cheer up his nephew. “They’re having the game at Doc’s house and Harvey volunteered to provide hors d’oeuvres.” If it hadn’t been for Natalie’s birthday, I might have crashed the game just to steal some food. Betty Crocker had nothing on the horny goat.
The waitress brought our tequilas, lining the shot glasses up in front of us. She placed a plate with lime wedges in the center of the table along with a bowl of kosher salt.
As soon as she left, Natalie reached for one of her shots but I slapped her hand away. “Not yet, birthday girl. We’re going to play a game tonight.”
“Quarters?”
“No way. It grosses me out to drink anything after a dirty coin has soaked in it.”
“Jeez, you’re such a mom.” She leaned back in the seat. “What’s the game?”
“We each have to tell something about our past that the other doesn’t know.”
She scoffed. “That’s going to be too hard. I’ve known you almost as long as I’ve known myself.”
That was true. I rubbed my chin for a couple of seconds in thought. “Okay, how about I ask you a question and you can either answer it or take a drink instead?”
“Like Truth or Dare only we can drink instead of take the dare?”
“Yes, truth or drink.”
“You don’t want to do any dares, huh?”
“I only had a protein bar and a piece of cheese before leaving work tonight. Four shots on a half-empty stomach means trouble when it comes to taking dares. I don’t want to end up in jail like last time.”
“Good point. I’m getting too old for the hoosegow.” Natalie held her closed fist out. “Shall we rock-paper-scissors for who goes first?”
I pushed her fist away. “It’s your big night. You start.”
It took her a handful of seconds
to come up with a question, during which the Eagles wrapped up their Winslow, Arizona, tribute. George Thorogood and the Destroyers started cranking out “Bad to the Bone,” filling the bar with guitar riffs that had me nodding along.
“Truth or drink?” Natalie interrupted my impression of George’s raspy voice. “When you found out you were pregnant, did you ever contemplate giving up the kids for adoption? And be honest.”
I thought we’d discussed this once before, but maybe it was Aunt Zoe who had asked me that after I’d threatened to send Addy and Layne to boarding school in Siberia for throwing my parents’ old yard darts at each other during a fight. Talk about putting an eye out … or worse! “That’s an easy one. I’ll tell the truth, which is no.”
“Really? Even after you found out you were pregnant with not one baby but two, and their jackass father wanted nothing to do with them?”
“Especially after learning both of those things. Those babies were mine. You know how I’ve always taken my responsibilities seriously.”
“Oh, fuzz balls. You’re talking about that stupid peacock, aren’t you?”
“Francis McFowl was not stupid. He’d gotten lost during a night of scary thunderstorms and needed help getting his bearings.” I’d found the poor peacock in our backyard the next morning with several of his beautiful feathers bent or broken.
“And you wonder where your daughter gets it.”
I pointed at Natalie. “Unlike Addy and her damned chicken, I didn’t keep Francis. I found him a home.”
“Sure, after making the farmer sign a contract that he wouldn’t hurt a single one of Francis’s tail feathers.”
“It was my duty to see to his well-being.”
“So you’re saying those two babies were your duty, too?”
I pondered that for a few guitar riffs, wanting to be completely honest with Natalie. “Maybe it started out that way, but from the moment I felt them wiggling inside my belly, I fell in love. I knew deep down that come hell or high water,” or psychotic killers and ax-wielding juggernauts, “I was going to do everything I could to protect them. The absence of a father meant they’d need me even more.”