3
W hat. The. Fuck.
Corbin didn’t know what he was even looking at. He didn’t know where to look.
He stared at the camera feed from the front gate in horror.
“What does she think she’s doing?” he asked in a strangled voice. “Why is she here?”
“Well, I think those questions are easy enough to answer,” Zeke said, sounding deeply amused. “She’s here for you. And she obviously thinks that holding up a sign will get your attention.”
Standing at the (thankfully) locked front gate was the woman from last night.
Mary-Anne.
She was wearing a small crop top and tiny denim shorts. The day was sunny, but it wasn’t that warm so she had to be feeling the cold.
Her hair was up in two pig-tails and she was standing beside a beat-up sedan.
Well, standing was a bit of a stretch. She kept wobbling on the high heels she was wearing. He wasn’t sure if she just couldn’t walk in them, if it was because the ground was uneven, or if she’d already started drinking today.
“How do you know Mary-Anne McClintock?” Kent asked him.
“I don’t! I only met her last night when she tried to grab my dick in The Wishing Well. She was seriously drunk. She couldn’t even stand. She should have been cut off a few drinks earlier. Do you think she’s drunk now?”
“It’s a possibility,” Kent said. “We need to call Ed. We can’t let her drive around if she’s drunk.”
“You two must have made one hell of a connection last night,” Zeke said.
Corbin turned to glare at him. “Yeah, a real connection. She tried to grab my dick. I tried to get away from her. And her huge boyfriend attacked me in the parking lot.”
“What?” Kent turned to look at him. “Roger attacked you last night? And you’re only telling me this now?”
Corbin sighed, staring at Mary-Anne in disbelief. Why did she think this was a good idea? And seriously, holding up a piece of poster board with her phone number and the message: ‘Call Me Corbin’?
Was she insane?
“How did she know my name? Who I am?” he groaned.
“Likely easy enough to find out,” Zeke said. “Plenty of people know who you are.”
“I can’t believe Roger attacked you. What was he thinking?” Kent grumbled. “Why didn’t you report him?”
“Well, I didn’t actually see his face. He wore some sort of ski mask. But it was a big guy like Roger. And he was in the bar, staring at me like he wanted to kill me when Mary-Anne came onto me. So I figured it was him. Who else would it be?”
Kent sighed. “Mary-Anne and Roger are always arguing. She leaves him, but always goes back to him. Honestly, I think she gets off on the drama. Never known her to do something like this, though.”
“Lucky me,” Corbin muttered.
“I’ll go talk to her,” Zeke said. “If she’s drunk, I’ll keep her here and call Ed. And I’ll let her down gently when I tell her you’re not interested.”
Corbin shook his head. “I should talk to her.”
“No, I think it’s best Zeke does it,” Kent said firmly. “Let’s not give Roger any more reasons to try to jump you. I think we should tell Ed that too, though.”
Zeke headed out while Corbin looked over at Kent. “So . . . when do I leave for San Francisco?”
Because that wasn’t sounding nearly so bad an idea now.