Page 19 of Cognac Secrets
“Okay, fine, you may have mentioned it,” the woman said, coming around the counter and striding up to me, her many layered black skirts swishing against her legs, over a pair of old-style witches boots from the Victorian era or some shit. She held out a hand bedecked in silver rings and semi-precious stones.
“Rowan, I own the Mystic’s Dream. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for y’all’s help.”
I shook her hand which was soft with a few sandpapery callouses.
“Bennie, a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“Please, Rowan. No matter that I’m an old lady, I don’t like tofeelold, so you can save your ma’ams if you please.” She grinned at me and I couldn’t help but smile back.
To Hex and Louie I asked, “What do you need me to do?”
“Nothing until we get this built, then we’re gonna need you to help us get it in the back of the truck,” Hex answered.
I laughed. “Fuck me, that’s no small task in and of itself. Where’s Saint and LaCroix when you need ‘em?”
“LaCroix is probably with Alina. You know how that goes,” Louie said.
“Last I saw Saint, he was hanging with Billie G,” Hex declared.
I snorted.
“Who’s Billie Jean?” Sandy asked from over the counter. I leaned back against it and looked back over my shoulder at her.
“Not Billie Jean, Billie G,” I said. “It’s a nickname.”
“I don’t get it,” she said and looked confused.
Hex snorted and his drill whined as he screwed two support pieces of wood together, building a cage around the statue. They already had her up on a platform they’d built before I’d gotten here, and I wondered how much they’d grilled Sandy already.
“Not appropriate,” I said sternly and Hex and Louie started laughing. “I’ll tell you later,” I said and Rowan barked a laugh.
“Honey, I been done seen, heard, and done it all. You’re fine.”
“Still, I’d rather not in polite company,” I said, attempting to be diplomatic.
“Aw, hell, she’s a throat goat,” Hex said.
“I still don’t get it,” Sandy said, and I closed my eyes and counted to ten. They flew back open when she cried “Oh!” just in time for me to catch Louie with his hand in a circle near his mouth, his tongue bouncing off the inside of his cheek, making it bulge.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered.
“Wrong shop for that, honey. I do have a couple pillar candles collecting dust on a bottom shelf somewhere, though,” Rowan said mildly. “Honestly, I thought it’d be worse than that.” She actually sounded disappointed.
“Well, I’m sorry I asked,” Sandy muttered, and I looked back over my shoulder at her as the bright shade of pink she’d turned had just started to fade. “I thought I’d heard it all, too,” she said. “That’s a new one on me.”
Hex and Louie laughed and I tried not to shade crimson myself. I think I was still in work mode. The life of an accountant… I kept to myself on purpose. I didn’t need to be an HR meeting waiting to happen. Not that I didn’t have more money than God in cash stuffed between my mattress and box spring back at my crash pad and scattered throughout the city in various safety deposit boxes under various assumed names.
I just happened to pride myself in pulling in a steady paycheck and maintaining steady cover. I liked being a chameleon.
The banter continued, light and fun, and I kept stealing looks at Sandy. She was beautiful, and looked well rested today, which I was glad about. She wore her hair up in a high ponytail today, with a fake flower clipped or stuck through her hair elastic. She also had on a white eyelet lace peasant blouse. I couldn’t see what she was sporting on her lower half, but I could see the rest of her necklace with the cut of her blouse the way it was.
It had a filigree cross pendant on it with just the tiniest chip of a diamond at the center. Seemed to be the wrong religion didn’t just extend to the odd dusty Jesus candle in the shop. I was curious about it, but didn’t say anything. I would ask her when we were alone… if I could get her alone.
It was a bitch and a half getting that big bronze cunt into the back of Hex’s truck, even with the use of a dolly to get her out the shop’s front door – which was a close thing, the damn crate barely having clearance through the narrow front door.
“Fuck if I should have measured that first,” Hex said as we huffed and puffed and sweated it out, taking a rest on the sidewalk before trying to get it up into his truck.
“Boy, I sure do appreciate you boys doing this for me,” Rowan said from the doorway, her arms crossed under her breasts. Sandy had joined her. She was wearing jeans and those same square-toed boots. A low-rise pair of boot-cut jeans, the blouse showing some of her flat, toned stomach as she looped her thumbs into her belt loops over her braided leather belt.
