The Liar

She wanted to shake. She wasn’t sure if it was anger or humiliation, but she wanted to shake. Walk it off, she ordered herself, and crossed the street.

Her first instinct was to go to the salon, vent it all out, but she turned sharply, headed for the bar and grill.

Maybe Tansy could use another waitress at Bootlegger’s.

Running on that anger and humiliation, she banged on the door. Maybe they didn’t open for another half hour, but somebody, by God, was in there.

On her second series of bangings, the door opened. The tough-looking guy in a T-shirt with cut-off sleeves that showed off arms with muscles carved like a mountain range gave her one hard look out of eyes black as onyx.

“We’re not open until eleven-thirty.”

“I know that. It says so clear enough. I’m looking for Tansy.”

“Why would that be?”

“That would be my business, so . . .” She broke off, bore down on herself. “I’m sorry—I apologize. I’m upset and I’m being rude. I’m Shelby, a friend of Tansy’s. I’d like to talk to her a minute if she’s around.”

“Shelby. I’m Derrick.”

“Oh, Tansy’s husband. It’s nice to meet you, Derrick, and I really am sorry for being rude. I’ve embarrassed myself.”

“Bygones. It’s clear you’re upset. Come on in.”

A couple of waitstaff did setups on the tables. In the relative quiet Shelby heard kitchen noises, raised voices.

“Why don’t you have a seat at the bar? I’ll get Tansy.”

“Thank you. I won’t take much time.”

She sat, tried to fall back on the yoga breathing she’d practiced when she’d taken classes in Atlanta. It didn’t help.

Tansy came in, all smiles. “I’m so glad you came by. We didn’t really have time to talk last night.”

“I was rude to your Derrick.”

“She wasn’t that rude, and she’s already apologized twice. Want a drink?” he asked her.

“I—”

“How about a Coke?” Tansy said.

“God, yes. Thanks. I’m repeating myself, but I’m sorry. I just had a little altercation with Melody Bunker.”

Tansy slid onto a stool. “Want something stronger than a Coke?”

“I’m tempted, but no thanks. I went over there to see if I could get a part-time job. I wish I didn’t like the place so much. It’s just wonderful, and has such a good feel about it. Until I went upstairs and talked to Melody. She was as biting as a nest of rattlers, I swear. Wouldn’t you think she’d let go of high school?”

“Her type never lets go of anything. I’m the one who’s sorry. I sent you over there. I didn’t think about Melody—I try not to.”

Tansy sent Derrick a smile when he put a ginger ale in front of her. “Thanks, baby. Melody’s only in there two or three hours a day, and only a few days out of the week. Otherwise she’s off to some club meeting or getting her nails done, or having lunch up at the big restaurant. It’s Roseanne, the assistant manager, who really runs the place.”

“Whoever runs it, Melody would burn it to the ground before she hired me on. Thank you,” she said to Derrick when he set the Coke in front of her. “I’m sure I’m going to like you because you have such good taste in wives. And I love your place. I had the best time here last night. Oh, and congratulations on the baby.”

“That about covers it. I already like you.” He poured himself a fizzy water. “Tansy’s told me about you, and how you’d take up for her when somebody like that bitch across the street picked on her.”

“Derrick, you shouldn’t call her that.”

“She is a bitch,” Shelby said, and drank. “At least I gave her some of her own back. It’s been a while since I’ve given anybody some of their own back. And it felt damn good. Maybe a little too good.”

“You were always good at it.”

“Was I?” Calmer, Shelby smiled, sipped. “It sure came back to me. Smoke was spiraling out of her ears when I left, so that’s something. So, I won’t be working there in the foreseeable future. I wonder if you need any help here. Another waitress, maybe?”

“You want to wait tables?”

“I want a job. No, I need a job,” Shelby amended. “That’s the truth. I need a job. I’m making the rounds today while Tracey Lee’s got my Callie with her Chelsea. If you’re not hiring, that’s all right. I’ve got a list I’m going down.”

“Have you ever done any waitressing?” Derrick asked her.

“I’ve cleared plenty of tables, served plenty of food. I’m not afraid of hard work. I’m only looking for part-time now, but—”

“Waitressing isn’t for you, Shelby,” Tansy began.

“All right. Thanks for listening, and for the Coke.”

“I’m not done. Derrick and I, we’ve been talking about adding some entertainment on Friday nights. We have,” she insisted when Derrick frowned.

“Talked about it, some.”

“Two Saturdays a month we have a live band, and we do good, strong business. We’d add to Friday night’s till with some entertainment. I’ll hire you right now, Shelby, to sing on Friday nights, eight to midnight.”

“Tansy, I appreciate your offering, but I haven’t done anything like that in years.”

“Do you still have your voice?”

“It’s not that . . .”