“We won’t let that happen.” She swallowed the last of the uncertainty clogging her throat. “I won’t let that happen.”
Tears shining in her eyes, Melinda nodded her agreement. “You’re right. Cassidy will know what to do. We’ll be fine.”
Lacy blinked back the moisture gathering in her own eyes and glanced around the haunting kitchen. Snippets of memories best forgotten flitted like a slide show amid the other whirling thoughts in her head. She could feel the panic surging once more, threatening her own frail composure like the angry waves of the ocean pounding the shore during a violent storm.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” She scooted off her stool and tugged Melinda toward the door. “We need to find some neutral territory.”
“What about the others?” Melinda reminded, hesitant to leave the house.
“We’ll leave them a note.”
Lacy had to get out of this house. She couldn’t stand one more minute of the voices…the images…the memories.
She had to find someplace where she could think. Someplace away from the scene of the crime.
Away from the reality of what they had done one desperate night all those years ago.
Chapter 2
O’Malleys was crowded at five o’clock in the afternoon. The bar that extended the length of the establishment was lined with patrons glad to have the workday behind them. Brightly lit beer signs and the same dancing neon leprechauns added whimsy to the Irish decor Lacy remembered from her senior year in high school. O’Malleys was the place to be even if you were underage and Coca-Cola was the only thing you could order.
Authentic items picked up on the family’s annual trips to their homeland embellished the walls. The barrage of windows that faced the street were shuttered in true Irish style, lending privacy as well as ambience. No big-screen TVs would be found here, only the small one at the bar. People came to O’Malleys for the imported beer, the conversation and the occasional darts contest. Two things could be counted on at the most popular pub in Ashland—lots of noise and enough people that blending into the crowd would be effortless. No one ever paid attention to what anyone else was doing. It was a kind of unspoken rule.
An Irish folk selection emanated from the jukebox as Lacy and Melinda settled into a booth at the back of the dimly lit establishment. “Two beers, please,” Lacy told the waitress, who appeared reluctant to leave their table without an order. The place was too busy for the help to dawdle, she supposed. And getting the waitress’s attention again might not be an easy feat.
When the perky young woman scurried away in a flash of Kelly-green short shorts and long tanned legs, Lacy directed her attention across the table to Melinda. “This is better, don’t you think?”
Melinda surveyed their boisterous environment. “When we were teenagers it was better.” She smiled faintly. “Now it’s just loud.”
Lacy laughed, a weary but relieved sound. Man, they were getting old. She’d turned thirty-three last month. Melinda, the youngest of the group, was next in line. She was an Independence Day baby. How had so much time passed so very quickly?
“We’re not that old,” Lacy protested, more in an effort to convince herself than her friend. “We could still party with the best of these guys if the urge came over us.” She glanced at the twenty-somethings clustered around the bar. Fashionably thin and dressed in the latest fads, they weren’t really that different from Lacy and Melinda ten years ago.
Before that night.
Lacy swallowed, her muscles constricting with the effort. He’s dead. We’re in this together.
The waitress plunked two chilled mugs of foamy beer before them. “Anything else?”
Shaking off the memories she’d come here to get away from, Lacy lifted her mug and took a sip of the refreshing beverage. She licked her lips as the cool liquid slid down her parched throat. “We’re good,” she replied, dismissing the long-legged waitress with the impossibly large breasts she had only just now noticed. She shook her head as the woman hurried to a table where three men waved their empty mugs, tongues practically lolling out of their mouths more from the tremendous boobs headed their way than the lack of hops in their glasses.
“What’s wrong?” Melinda ventured cautiously.
Lacy glanced down at her own minimal chest then at her friend. “Those breasts can’t be real.” She arrowed her gaze in the direction of the waitress. “Hell, they don’t even jiggle, and she can’t possibly be wearing a support bra under that skintight tank top.”
Melinda watched the woman flit from table to table. “You’re right.” She frowned, considering. “You know, I think that’s Wade Hall’s youngest daughter. I’ll bet her daddy sprang for a boob job in hopes of getting rid of her. All of her sisters are married already. You know how it is around here. If you’re still single when you turn twenty-five, they think you’re an old maid and an embarrassment to the family.”
“Well,” Lacy said, and shrugged, still tracking the perky waitress’s progress, “they certainly detract from the crooked teeth and slightly crossed eyes.”
A bark of laughter burst from Melinda, the sound almost painful. Lacy smiled, thankful for even that bit of relief from the tension. “It’s true,” she insisted, restraining her own building mirth and hoping to encourage Mel’s. “I wonder if her daddy even considered an orthodontist and an ophthalmologist before he coughed up the dough for the tits?”
Melinda laughed outright then, and once she got started, she couldn’t stop. When the non-jiggling waitress bounced past once more, Lacy erupted into her own fit of elation. She laughed until tears streamed down her face. It felt too good to stop. Each time her eyes met Melinda’s, the convulsive laughter started all over again.
“This is definitely not the scene I expected.”
Lacy’s head shot up at the sound of Cassidy’s crisp voice. The fourth member of their group, Kira, stood right behind her. “You guys made it!” Swiping at her damp cheeks, Lacy scooted out of the booth and stood to give Cassidy and then Kira a hug. Melinda did the same.
“Was there any doubt?” Kira drew back and smiled at Lacy. “Girl, you look good.”
“So do you.” Lacy surveyed her friend with approval. “I love your hair longer.”
Kira touched her shoulder-length, corkscrew curls. “The curls I hated growing up are all the envy now.” She winked. “Besides, Brian likes it this way.” A cell phone chirped and Kira dug into her purse. “Speak of the devil, this will probably be him.”
Lacy vaguely remembered that Kira had gotten engaged to a Brian earlier this year. She couldn’t recall Kira looking better, or happier. Despite being black in small-town Alabama, Kira had been accepted without condition considering the Jacksons were quite wealthy. Even a mere twenty years ago that had been a major feat. Kira turned her back and lowered her voice but Lacy heard the sudden tension in her tone. The change dragged Lacy out of the past. Apparently Brian wasn’t happy about Kira’s unplanned trip south.
Trying not to be nosy, Lacy shifted her attention back to the leader of their little posse. Cassidy. Still striking in her own right, Cassidy’s dark
