by Ivy Riggs
Chasity wet her lips, wiping at her mouth, and looked at him with hooded eyes. She sighed. "You ever fucked someone in a bathroom?"
Derick flushed and shook his head, and she giggled again. "It's awful, really. No good angles." She sighed again, playfully tugging at the hem of his shirt. "You should try it, though. With Heather. I think she'd like that."
Derick's blush deepened, and he cleared his throat. "Let's get you sitting down somewhere," he suggested.
She nodded, more than happy to have him help her out of the bathrooms. As they exited, Heather emerged from the ladies' room and stopped short at seeing Chasity hanging off Derick's arm.
Her eyes widened. "What the fuck happened to you?"
"I found a white knight!" Chasity chirped happily. "Didn't I, Derick?" She grinned at him, clicking the 'ck' of his name. She tapped his jaw and lifted her chin. "He offered to defend my honor!"
"Are you okay?" Heather asked, her eyes dark with worry. Clearly, this was abnormal, even for Chasity.
"I'm fine," Chasity said, rolling her eyes and pushing herself out of Derick's arms so she stood on her own feet. She straightened her clothes further, patted down her pockets, and frowned at her shoes. "Shit. Where's my bag?"
"Where did you last have it?"
"I…." Chasity looked back at the bathrooms. "I had it with me while I was… with a guy."
Heather's eyes flashed, looking black in the low light. She looked to Derick and he nodded, going back into the bathroom and checking for signs of Chasity's bag but could find nothing. He came back out and shook his head.
"Aw, damn it," Chasity whined. "All my cash was in that. And the keys to my car."
Heather huffed. "We can go to the station tomorrow, maybe someone turned it in," she suggested, though her tone of voice already told Derick that there was a fat chance of that happening. Sunset Beach was a safe place, a paradise, but paradise was all too easy to take advantage of. "And we'll call the bank and cancel your cards, everything like that."
Chasity nodded, looking subdued, and Heather sighed, her eyes meeting Derick's, mouth twisted apologetically.
"Go," Derick said before she could ask. "I can close up here. It's fine."
She gave him a grateful smile and left to fetch her keys and coat. She handed him the keys to the Hummingbird's doors. "Come by at two to open up for me," she told him, and he nodded, smiling. She gathered Chasity under her arm, bid Marcos a good night, and left with her.
Derick frowned once she was gone, a terrible curl of suspicion in his chest. He took out his phone, finding several messages from Jimmy.
The most recent one read, Got myself a sweet new ride. Gotta tell ya, man, it's the best high I've ever felt. See you soon!
"Son of a bitch." Derick’s knuckles turned white around the phone. He was going to kick Jimmy's ass the next time he saw him.
Chapter Eight
H eather took Chasity to the police station in the morning. Chasity was hungover and looked really out of it still, but she pushed away Heather's fretting hands as they pulled up to the parking lot of the station.
"I'm fine," she insisted, wincing. "Well, my head feels like there's a tap-dance marathon going on in it, but I'm fine, really. Nothing some water and sleep won't cure."
Heather's mouth twisted. "You're lucky you didn't get hurt," she said tightly, getting out of the car. Chasity followed a moment later, walking slowly with Heather into the station. They approached the first desk, where a young woman was sitting. She blinked up at them.
"Oh, Miss Montgomery!" she greeted, straightening. "Your father's with Officer Wilkins. Would you like me to take you to him?"
Heather frowned. "Why is he here?"
"Oh, you didn't hear?" the girl asked.
Heather shook her head – she had spent the night at Chasity's place, making sure her friend didn't die in her sleep or choke on her own vomit. It had been a long night for both of them.
"Apparently, there was a theft at your home last night. His car was stolen."
Heather's eyes widened. "I want to see him," she said, and the girl nodded. Heather looked at Chasity guiltily. "You good?"
"Go," Chasity said. She had gone even paler at the news, her brow creased with worry. Heather deposited her in one of the waiting chairs and followed the other woman to the back of the cubicles, to the police chief's office. The door was open, and the woman knocked.
Rod turned in his chair and gave Heather a relieved smile, standing. "Are you okay?" he asked, as she ran to him and hugged him tightly. She nodded. "Where were you last night?"
"At Chasity's place," Heather replied. "She'd had too much to drink, so I took her home, made sure she was okay. What happened?"
"Someone broke in last night," Rod told her, frowning deeply. "Stole the Corvette."
Heather gasped, her eyes wide.
"We'll find it," the chief promised them. "It's not exactly the kind of car one misses. I've already alerted my colleagues in the neighboring towns and told the traffic cops to keep an eye out for it. Anyone even thinks the word Corvette, and we'll bring them in for questioning."
"Thank you," Rod said with a nod. He turned and looked at Heather again. "Why are you here?"
"Chasity's bag was stolen last night," Heather told him. "Her keys and all her cash was in it. We were here to report it missing."
Rod frowned deeply. "Okay," he sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind Heather's ear and giving her an encouraging smile. "Let's go file a report, and then we'll get you home." His nose wrinkled. "You look like you could use a nice long shower and some rest."
Heather sighed, wanting to protest, but held her tongue. They returned to Chasity and helped her file a police report, and afterward, Heather waited with her on the phone while she canceled all her cards. None of them had been used, which was a relief, and she had a GPS tracker in her car. They should be able to find it soon enough.
"That's what I get for wanting a little thrill," Chasity mourned, sighing as Heather drove her home. "He just had the cutest little laugh, Heather. What was I supposed to do?"
Heather shook her head, smiling fondly. "Maybe this will be a lesson for you," she said, although she doubted Chasity had the ability to learn that kind of lesson. Chasity was a girl born and bred in Sunset Beach, with all the luxuries and ingrained frivolity of paradise. She'd majored in fashion design, for God's sake, and didn't even seem to like it all that much.
Chasity pouted, and then she scoffed. "Yeah, like you would have told Derick no if he'd offered."
Heather pressed her lips together, sighing through her nose. She had nothing to say to that, so she said nothing. She left Chasity at her place and returned home, having a few hours to kill with that promised long shower. Maybe a nap. Maybe some time alone with her thoughts.
Heather didn't date her employees. Then again, none of her employees had been as charming, as eager to please and to learn, or as capable as Derick was. Maybe Heather had a bit of a thing for guys who were down on their luck and wanted to prove themselves. Everyone had a type.
Chapter Nine
"J immy!" Derick yelled, throwing his bag on the floor and slamming the door behind him. "Jimmy, you son of a bitch, get out here right now!"
The house was silent. He should have known better – Jimmy didn't show his face for about two days after a big heist. And stealing Rod Montgomery's Corvette was a big fucking heist. If the police were smart, he was sure they would catch him soon, and that meant Jimmy would absolutely go to jail once and for all. Derick couldn't stand his cousin, but they were still blood, and if Jimmy was arrested they wouldn't be able to make rent without Jimmy's 'investments' keeping a steady cash flow.
No one was home. Derick growled, scrubbing his hands over his face, glaring at the collapsing couch and the old beanbag chair. This place was a mess, it was all just a huge, gigantic mess, and he wouldn't even be able to afford to keep it for long. His job at the Hummingbird was paying relatively well; he was liked and capable enough to earn his tips, and Ja
ke was making good money now that the season was picking up, but come winter, they'd suffer the slowness of a lax tourism season and they'd be out on their asses.
Derick knew what he had to do. When it came down to it, he didn't want to be a bad guy. He didn't like Jimmy's extracurriculars, nor the fact that he was so reliant on him. And stealing the Corvette was just a step too far. It was hubris, plain and simple, and if Derick or Jake were implicated in the theft, then they'd all be put in jail for it.
Heather would hate him, and he couldn't do that to her. Or to Jake. The kid wouldn't last five minutes in jail.
His eyes narrowed as he saw, tucked within the couch cushions, the corner of a bright red leather clutch. It clearly belonged to a woman, which meant it didn't belong here. Derick crept forward, fishing it out, and opened it. Inside, he saw a small cardholder, and his eyes widened as he turned it over. Through the see-through part of the sleeve, he saw Chasity's bright smile greeting him from her driver's license. All the cards were in her name.
Her keys weren't in the bag, but it wasn't difficult to figure out what Jimmy had done. That son of a bitch. Clearly, he'd used Chasity, eager as she was. He’d taken her to the bathroom when she was too drunk to stand, had some fun, maybe slipped her something so she passed out. Then he’d stolen her bag and her car, using it to arrange the rendezvous with his buddies for the Corvette.
His knuckles went white around the bag, his head spinning. Oh, he was going to kill Jimmy.
That decided it for him. There was no way he was going to let Jimmy get away with this. With a heavy heart, but knowing he was doing the right thing, he took Chasity's bag and put it in his backpack, left the house, and drove to the police station.
"My name is Derick Fischer," he told the receptionist. "I know who took Rod Montgomery's Corvette."
Chapter Ten
D erick was never late, and Heather tried not to worry as she watched the clock tick farther away from three in the afternoon, edging closer to four. Chasity had stayed home for once in her life, so it was just Heather and Marcos prepping the Hummingbird for opening that night, and a few of the early birds had already begun making their way in. Heather's liquor license didn't let her serve hard alcohol before five, but she kept them happy with beers, ciders, and wine, while they all waited for the real fun to start.
Derick showed up at five-thirty, and Heather was already deep in the pre-dinner rush. She threw him an unimpressed look as he came behind the bar but blinked, halting her cutting remark, when she saw the look on his face. It was too busy to take him to one side and ask him where he'd been, but Derick's eyes were dark, anxiety smudged across his brow and making his face look heavy, like he could barely keep his head up. His smile to the customers was flat and lifeless, no dimples, no sparkle in his eye.
Concerned, but with no luxury to pause everything and talk to him, Heather merely gave him a nod of greeting, threw him a bar cloth, and he went right to work. Together they cleared the rush easily, working in seamless unison, as had become their norm during Derick's training. He navigated the bar with her as though they were choreographed dancers. He was never in her way, nor was she in his.
They worked without stopping until almost nine, when the crowd thinned. It was a Saturday night, and shore parties had become regularly scheduled events now. A stage had been erected the weekend before, so that touring small bands and locals could perform. The Hummingbird was slower until the time when the concerts ended and everyone rushed back inside for one final buzz before going home.
Derick hadn't lightened up the entire evening, and finally, Heather stopped him with a hand on his forearm, dipping her head so he was forced to meet her eyes. "Come with me," she told him; an order, not a request. He pressed his lips together, gaze dropping guiltily, and nodded, following her from behind the bar and through the kitchen. Heather told Marcos to keep watch and to let her know if another big crowd rushed in. Stragglers could wait.
They left through the back door, out into the cramped alleyway between the Hummingbird and the salon next door. There were dumpsters at one end of the alley, and the salon's wide, candy-stripe awnings robbed them of a view of the stars.
Heather folded her arms across her chest, leaned against the red brick wall, one knee bent so she could brace her heel against the wall. "What's up?"
Derick shook his head, scratched the back of his neck. "I'm sorry I was late. It won't happen again. I swear."
Heather hummed, tilting her head. "I believe you, but that's not what I asked."
Derick winced like she'd slapped him. He cleared his throat and paced a few steps away, still rubbing the back of his head, then turned to look at her, though he couldn't bring his gaze higher than her knees. He reminded Heather of a wild dog, too hungry and too scared to trust the reaching hand offering it food. Eyes downcast, shoulders hunched in.
"I'm not like you," Derick said.
Heather blinked at him and frowned.
"I don't… My family's not rich, okay? We don't come from money. My mom got one good payout back when this place was new and that's kept her comfortable, but I'm not like…" He gestured, vaguely, in her direction. "I live with my brother and my cousin, and this gig has helped a lot, really. I can't thank you enough, but even with all this, we're barely scraping by."
Heather nodded. He had told her about his roommates, and it wasn't hard to glean the rest. Sunset Beach was small enough to know the price tag of a house by its street address. The 'haves' were one single strip of golden beach away from the 'have-nots.'
"Jake's a good kid. Stupid, but he's a good kid. Jimmy, though…"
"Jimmy," Heather repeated.
Derick closed his eyes, scrubbing his hands harshly over his face. He sighed, folding his fingers at the back of his neck, and tilted his head up to blink at the bottom of the hair salon's awnings. He looked so much older in this terrible light. He hadn't shaved today, either.
"Jimmy stole your dad's car," he told her.
Heather's eyes widened.
"I found Chasity's bag in my house. Her keys were missing, but I'm betting he stole her car, drove it to your dad's place, met up with his buddies, and took it to God knows where he takes them. He does this a lot. I don't approve of it, but it pays the rent, and…"
He fell silent again.
"Did…?" Heather cleared her throat, closed her eyes, and drew in a deep breath. "Did you know he was planning on stealing the car?"
"I knew he wanted to," Derick confessed. "I told him not to. I didn't want to hurt you or your family. And I'm not like him; I swear I'm not. But once Jimmy gets his head a certain way, there's no stopping him." He looked away, jaw clenching, fists curled up tight. "I swear I'm gonna kick his ass if he ever shows his face around here."
Heather swallowed, running her hands through her hair in the way she used to when she was a kid. It helped to calm her down, helped her think.
"That's why I was late today," Derick continued in her silence. "I was at the police station, filling out a report, telling them everything I knew. I didn't…" He swallowed. "I didn't want you to find out this way. Or at all. I didn't want this to happen, and if you never want to see me again, I get it. But I'm trying to do the right thing and make up for my fuck-up and I just…" He stopped, deflating, shoulders dropping as he shook his head. "I just needed you to know that."
Heather stared down at her feet, her mind racing. Thinking, always thinking. She pressed her lips together, bit her lower one, hands tugging absently at the tangles in her hair. Derick was right – he didn't have to say anything. He needn't have confessed. If they found Rod's car, Heather would have been none the wiser unless it came to light who, exactly, stole it. And she had never held out much hope for that. At best, they would catch the buyer but not the dealer. But Derick had given her a name, given the police a name. And told her everything.
"Why?" she wondered aloud.
Derick paused in his pacing, tilting his head.
"Why did you need to me know?"
Derick smiled, but it was sad. He looked so sad. "Because I really like you, Heather. And I want you to like me. To trust me and know that I'm a good person. I try to be a good person. And I never want to do anything to hurt you, even if it's a lie." He sighed. "Even a lie of omission."
Heather nodded slowly, wrapping her hair in a twist and tying it back. It was warm outside and even warmer in the bar, and the rush would bring too many packed-in bodies for her to handle with her hair down. "Alright," she said.
Derick blinked at her, clearly surprised. "Alright?"
"Yeah," Heather said, with a single, sharp nod. She turned and put her hand on the door, looking at him over her shoulder. "You coming in?"
Derick smiled at her, and Heather felt a flutter of affection in her chest when she saw the return of his dimples. He nodded eagerly and followed her in.
Chapter Eleven
D erick was exhausted. The emotional strain combined with the busy shift had left him drained, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to his house and go to sleep. But there was still work to be done; the dishes needed stacking, the tables wiped down, the floor mopped. He took to these tasks eagerly, needing to make up for the drama he had caused Heather and her family. He might not ever be rid of the guilt. Chasity could have been seriously hurt by Jimmy's actions, and that's nothing to say of where her car was, let alone Rod's, and all her missing cash.
But he had done what he could. He knew he’d done the right thing, giving the police Jimmy's name, known locations, known friends, and returning Chasity's bag. There wasn't really anything else he could do except sit around and wait, and while Derick hated waiting, at least he could, knowing that Heather knew the truth and still wanted him around.
When the bar was clean and locked down, they stood together on the curb. There was one car in the parking lot – Heather's, a shiny black Audi. It was probably worth more than Derick's house.