True Blue (Blue Series Book 3)

by Jules Barnard

  I set the dish down and step around him to the other side of the kitchen, careful not to touch him. “Of course not.”

  He leans against the cabinets, his handsome face set in a determined expression, arms crossed over his broad chest.

  “As soon as I get another job, I’ll be working a ton. I’ll hardly be around. Can’t you put it off until then?”

  A beat passes as he continues to study me. I hate it that I don’t know what he’s thinking right now. I’m pretty sure I won’t like it.

  “Nope, don’t think I can. Besides, my sister and Gen accommodated their boyfriends. You can deal. Or—here’s a thought—you could move in with the Sallees.”

  No way. If those men are dangerous to me, they’ll be dangerous to the people I care about. Tyler’s a young guy. He could take care of himself in a fight. “Gen and Cali are best friends. Of course it worked for them. You and I—”

  He crosses the couple of feet that separate us, making the pulse at the base of my throat hammer. I grab the edge of the counter. “You and I what, Mira?”

  My mind goes blank. I don’t know what we are to each other. We are so much more than we should be, and so much less than what he shared with that random girl who just left.

  “Nothing, we’re nothing. Just—don’t bring girls around while I’m here. Or be prepared for me to return the favor. You’ll see how crowded things can get.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I pull up to the Sallees’ house, still annoyed at Tyler. He’s goading me, and it’s working. But I don’t wilt. He won’t win this.

  I throw the car in Park and peer at John tinkering in the four-car garage he uses for small wood projects. The rest of the house is a two-story, peaked Tahoe-style home with views of the forest. It’s nice sized for Lake Tahoe, but not ostentatious, and a block or so from the lake.

  John and Becky are wealthy, but you would never know it. They live and act like your average middle-class family. They have what they need and no more. The single-bedroom home Lewis recently built for himself is also modest. The Sallees are not about money—they’re about family and taking care of the people you care about. Which accentuates the problems I have and the family I come from, who’ve historically been selfish sons-of-bitches.

  I step out of the car and breathe in the scent of Tahoe, and another essence unique to the Sallees’ property. A mix of pine needles, hot cement, and the oleander Becky planted on the side of the house. A wash of summer images fills my mind. Happier times and so darn simple.

  Water-gun wars with Lewis and his friends were serious business when we were kids. They knew instinctively how to nail me right in the face, so I used sneak attacks and Becky as my safe zone. The guys wouldn’t get Becky wet, and if they did, she’d laugh and order them to knock it off. If I think back hard enough, I can smell Becky’s cocoa butter sunscreen, remember the worn tank top and shorts she used to wear while gardening or lounging on a chair watching us play. My best memories come from this house and family, not from the reservation where I was born.

  Not that the reservation is a bad place. Some of John’s closest friends and coworkers live there. But like any place, there’s always a small subset that doesn’t conform, doesn’t try. That’s the group my mom hung out with, in addition to the crappy people she spent her time around when she was off the reservation. They were worse.

  John’s back is to me, but I can tell he knows I’m here. For one, my shitty truck is as loud as a lawnmower. Also, he stilled when I pulled up. He’s been waiting for me.

  He turns and smiles as I approach. “Hi, darlin’. Was beginning to worry about you.”

  I wrap my arms around his waist, and he plants a kiss on the top of my head. John is tall, though not as tall as Lewis. His eyes have deep grooves from the easy smile he throws around, but with high cheekbones and a strong jawline, he’s a handsome bugger.

  As a younger man, John Sallee carved a swath through the ladies of Lake Tahoe and the reservation with his jet-black hair and killer smile, until Becky knocked him on his ass. John didn’t stand a chance with Becky. Almost thirty years later, she’s still stunning, and no pushover. Becky is the best of both worlds. She is beauty and grace, and strength. She would never let a man walk all over her. She would lay down her life for her family. She’s affectionate, confident, and smart. Everything I wish I was.

  “I took a short drive before I came,” I tell him.

  The full story is that I wanted to make certain no one followed me, so I took a detour to get here. A man dressed all in black was walking down the street away from Cali’s cabin when I left. I didn’t catch sight of his face, but his height and build looked familiar. Scarily familiar. He could have been anyone, but the chill I got at seeing him made me paranoid.

  My injuries are healing well, but I haven’t forgotten what those men did to me. I’m sure the people I owe money to already know where my loved ones live, but I’m not going to point an arrow at them.

  John’s face grows taut. “I’d like you to give me a call if you’re going to be late.”

  I’m twenty-two, but he still worries. Like a dad. And because I’ve gone missing before with disastrous results.

  When I was sixteen, I didn’t return from a visit with my mom when I said I would. Lewis found me at my mom’s place being beaten by one of her boyfriends. Since then, John and Becky assume the worst if I don’t show up somewhere on time.

  They love me. Sometimes I don’t see it, because I’m afraid to look. Afraid it will disappear before my eyes.

  I press my face to the collar of John’s shirt, as if to give him another squeeze, when really I’m pushing back that darn burning behind my eyes that seems to come and go often lately.

  What’s gotten into me? I’m all sappy. It’s ridiculous. Of course John cares. He’s always cared. I’m off-kilter, my emotions close to the skin because Tyler’s back in town and pissing me off at every turn.

  This reunion with Tyler isn’t what I thought would happen when I dreamt of us together in my high-school fantasies. He is not madly in love with me. He might actually be in hate with me. The chemistry I felt back then is still there, and super befuddling. But then, nothing was ever simple when it came to Tyler. He wasn’t what I expected the night I seduced him. He isn’t what I expect now.

  I breathe in John’s calming scent. A mix of the laundry detergent Becky uses and the spiced aftershave he’s worn for as long as I can remember. Completely comforting, completely home.

  I look up and smile. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll call next time.”

  His face brightens. “Come on.” He tosses the yellow work rag in his hand on a stool, and we walk to the door that leads from the garage into the kitchen. “Lewis and Gen are already here. They’ll be happy to see you.”

  My shoulders don’t tense the way they used to when Gen first started coming around. She is beautiful—like serious model material—tall and gorgeous, and something about her classic looks reminded me of the girls I went to high school with. I assumed she’d act like them too. Catty, bitchy. But she isn’t like that at all. And the more I’m around her, the more I realize it.

  Despite my initial reaction, I like Gen. It scared me, the intensity Lewis showed toward her at first. He homed in on her like a laser. I thought I’d lose him to this girl. But I should have trusted my reserved, almost-brother’s instincts. Gen is great. To my surprise, I actually enjoy having her around.

  Inside the house, Becky pulls something from the oven as John closes the door behind us. She baked, but not the good stuff. This looks like sliced goop with spices on top.

  “Sweet, girl, there you are.” Becky smiles over at me. “Just in time for eggplant appetizers. Lots of vitamin B in these babies to keep us healthy and happy.”

  I give her a kiss, eyeing the eggplant warily. “Really? What happened to those little quiche things you make?”

  “Oh, those are frozen food. This is homemade, and it’s good for you.”

  I sho
ot her a look.

  “Stop. Give it a try.”

  “Okay, but we need to regulate the healthy food around here. Sometimes a little fat does a body good.”

  “Mira,” she scolds in a not-at-all-serious tone.

  “I have a sweet tooth, and you’re throwing eggplant at me. My body is going into shock without the preservatives and processed sugar that have sustained me for the past twenty-two years.”

  Becky laughs and sets the pan on the counter. “Lewis,” she calls. “Get over here and eat the food I’ve slaved over. Mira isn’t giving it the love it deserves.”

  Lewis walks into the room and catches the look I level at him. His face calm, he surveys the purple globs. “Something new, Mom?”

  Becky scoops one onto a napkin and hands it to him. He takes a bite, chewing, his gaze thoughtful. “Good.” He looks up. “You should try it, Mira.”

  Huh. Lewis is a bit of a human garbage disposal, but he’d probably say something if it were truly bad. And I don’t want to hurt Becky’s feelings.

  I take the napkin Becky hands me. I’m hungry, so I dig in…to salt, mash, and some flavor that’s…not right.

  I force back a gag and look over at Lewis. He’s hiding a grin behind his fist, his face turning red.

  Bastard.

  I swallow the goop that feels like it’s congealing in my throat. “Becky, I love you, but don’t ever make me eat that again.”

  She punches her fists to her waist. “Mira, it can’t be that bad.”

  “Have you tried it?”

  Her expression turns to chagrin. “Well—no.”

  I raise my eyebrow.

  “Fine,” she says, scooping one up and taking a bite.

  Becky’s mouth twists to the side, then she casually walks to the sink, leans over, and spits out every last bite of food in her mouth in a very unladylike manner that has Lewis and me laughing.

  I smack Lewis on the arm. “Jerk. You totally set me up.”

  Still laughing, he hugs me.

  Becky gracefully dabs her mouth with a napkin. “That’s disgusting. It’s going in the trash.”

  John, who’s been watching us while pretending to rummage through the junk drawer, walks over and gives his wife a hug. No one but Becky is a fan of her healthy phase, but we love her anyway.

  Becky glares at John. He raises his hands in surrender and walks away, grinning.

  Smart man.

  Normally I love eating at the Sallees’ and getting my grub on. Given Becky’s latest invention, maybe she’ll dump this health-food kick.

  “One bad recipe doesn’t mean anything,” she says to no one in particular. “I’ll find a delicious eggplant you guys will love.”

  Or maybe this phase won’t be over so soon. Guess I’ll be starving for a while.

  Lewis and his parents head out back to look at some plants Becky wants the guys to relocate. Gen saunters in from the living room, cell phone in hand, her pretty dark hair swept back in a ponytail, highlighting her hazel eyes.

  “You’re lucky you were on the phone,” I tell her. “My gut might never recover after that supposed food product Becky tried to foist on us.” I point at the tray of food that has yet to be disposed of. If Becky thinks the dog will eat it, her ego is about to get burned. Buckles, who loves Gen and follows her around everywhere when she’s at the house—traitorous dog—is too smart to fall for that crap.

  “I didn’t have a good feeling about that appetizer,” Gen says. “I may have strategized my phone call with my dad around the kitchen timer.”

  I stare agape. “Wow, Gen. I wouldn’t have thought you so devious.”

  She grins broadly. “Impressed?”

  “Yeah. I underestimated you. Remind me never to make you my nemesis again.”

  Gen chuckles and starts searching the kitchen cabinets.

  I scratch Buckles, named after the patch of white fur that halos his waist. He finally deigns to grace me with a nose rub. I lift his chin until we’re staring human eye to dog eye. “Would it hurt you to greet me at the door every now and then?”

  He puffs out a doggy breath and walks over to stand beside Gen.

  So not cool. And if Gen wasn’t so sweet, I’d be offended that even the dog prefers her company over mine. Not that Lewis prefers Gen over me, exactly. She’s his girlfriend. Of course he wants to spend time with her. If I had someone in my life, I’d want to be with him too. Not that I’d know what that’s like. Tyler certainly isn’t it.

  “So, Gen,” I begin hesitantly, deciding now’s a good time to bring up Blue. Because we’re alone, and because I’m a giant wuss, hoping Lewis’s girlfriend will tell him I applied so that I don’t have to. Lewis is far too comfortable yelling at me. Meanwhile, Gen is safe from his wrath, because he worships the ground she walks on. “I applied for an admin position at Blue Casino.”

  “Really?” she says, looking over her shoulder, the pantry door wide open. She twists around, her expression a mask of concern. “You know I had a bad experience there, right? Like, really bad.”

  I glance away and wipe crumbs off the counter. “I do. Sorry about that. I never said anything, but I felt really horrible when I heard.”

  A manager attempted to sexually assault Gen when she worked at Blue as a cocktail waitress. It was a near miss, and it rattled everyone. It rattled me.

  But what happened to Gen won’t happen to me. I’m not sweet like her. Not vulnerable—except when ganged up on by a handful of junior-high-school bullies, or oversized men in the middle of the woods…or when my crush shows up in Lake Tahoe, out of nowhere.

  Okay, I’m as susceptible as the next person, but I’m a little more street-savvy than Gen. The point is, there’s no chance of anything happening in the middle of the day inside a populated office.

  I meet her concerned eyes. “I’m sorry you went through that. But what happened to you was on the casino floor. This position is upstairs among corporate Blue.”

  “Yes. And that’s where Drake worked. I don’t think—”

  “I need this job, Gen.”

  A weighty silence fills the room. Gen studies me. I’m tense. Stressed and worried about how I’ll dig myself out of the shit I’ve gotten myself into.

  She sighs, possibly reading the look on my face. “Drake is on a forced leave of absence from the casino until his trial. You should be safe, but there could be others at Blue. He got away with so much. I just—I don’t know—I always thought there was something funny going on there.”

  “The casino’s got to be on the lookout. They can’t afford more bad publicity.”

  “Maybe.” She doesn’t look convinced.

  “It’s a long shot that I’ll get the job, but I have to do something. I’m not making enough money dealing at Harrah’s to pay off my debts.”

  “Lewis or his parents would—”

  “No.” I shake my head.

  It may not make sense to Gen, but there are things I’ve been working on with my therapist. I’ve been stuck, clinging to Lewis and his family. They rescued me; that doesn’t mean they have to bail me out for the rest of my life. I’m trying to take responsibility for my actions. Borrowing money from shady moneylenders to get my mom out of a scrape that’s probably linked to something illegal? Not smart. I did this, and I need to get myself out of it.

  Gen looks around, seemingly grappling with something. “You’ve got to do what you think is right. I’m worried, is all. The Sallees love you and want to help.”

  “It will be okay, Gen.”

  She closes her eyes and sighs. After a moment, her finger taps the counter. “If it turns out you get the job at Blue,” she says slowly, “let me know. I’ve got a friend on the inside. Maryanne. She’s a supervising cocktail waitress on the floor, and she’s a good friend to have there.”

  “Nessa and Zach still work there too. I wouldn’t be alone,” I say.

  Zach met Nessa when she first started working at Blue, and she’s slowly become a part of the gang. She’s even a r
egular at Zach’s taco dinner nights. Nessa and I aren’t close, but we’ve hung out a few times.

  Gen props her head on her hand, her elbow on the kitchen island. “You know, there might be other jobs. Have you looked everywhere?”

  “I’ve looked, but this is Lake Tahoe. Other than the casinos, there’s not much that pays well for someone with only a high-school diploma.”

  She gives me a sympathetic nod. “I’ll give Maryanne a heads-up. See if she can do anything to get you in.” She blinks, forehead furrowing as if she’s having second thoughts.

  “That’d be great,” I say before she can change her mind.

  I grab a sliced apple from the appetizer dish and shove it in my mouth, frowning as I chew. I rely on a heavy dose of junk food from the Sallee pantry. Becky’s health kick is like a forced diet.

  Gen shakes her head at the appetizer plate and returns to hunting the cupboards. She pulls down a bag of rice crackers. Not the most promising processed food, but better than fruits and vegetables.

  I grab a cracker from the bag. “So you don’t think it will be weird if Maryanne puts in a good reference for me? Upstairs suits and floor employees work in parallel at Harrah’s, not so much together.”

  And that’s another thing. I put feelers out with a few people at Harrah’s. They said it wasn’t likely Harrah’s would allow me to keep my job if I decide to work at another casino. Some kind of conflict of interest. I’m going to try to pull strings, but it doesn’t look good.

  “Nah,” Gen says, opening the fridge and rummaging around in one of the bins. “Maryanne’s badass. She manages the floor waitresses, but she’s also influential upstairs. I think management is afraid of her.” Gen pauses. “She’s kind of scary. Totally hazed me when I first got there.” Returning her attention to the bin, she says, “I’m not sure what changed. Could have been the Drake thing, but she’s shown a different side and now we’re friends.” Gen reaches deep into the fridge, her face brightening as she pulls out something wrapped in plastic. She slaps it on the island.

  My eyes light up at the half-eaten block of cheese. I’ve scoured this kitchen high and low for days with nary a sign of trans fats. Gen’s putting in serious time at the Sallees’ if she knows where to find fatty stashes I’m not even aware of.