“I wasn’t—”
“You were thinking about it.”
I was guilty to that extent. I had been thinking about it. I just hadn’t been planning on asking him. I’d known he wouldn’t tell me anything, not before he’d seen Drew, anyway. Those two had an understanding now, and I wasn’t going to put myself in the middle of that.
“What is a safe topic of conversation these days?”
“Food.”
“Howard. You had me come to Rusty’s to sit with you while you eat?”
“Nope. I have a favor to ask.” He climbed out of the car and waited for me to do the same, grinning at me over the top of his cruiser when I found my feet again.
“Sounds dubious.”
Howard Sutton hadn’t ever asked me for a favor before. The last one I’d asked him for had pissed off Drew enough to have him choke the air out of the poor guy, so I figured I owed him. Following him into the diner, I headed to his table with him, only to be distracted by the sight of Libby sitting in her usual booth with another familiar face.
One that stopped Howard in his tracks, too.
Rosie.
Rosie had been a Hound Whore when I’d started working off Tate’s debt in The Hut. She’d hated me from the moment she set eyes on me. I remembered her specifically because I’d heard some of the guys talking about her after she left one afternoon and never bothered coming back. Apparently, she’d been seen several times talking to Maisey, Drew’s ex, andHoward’s now deceased wife. No one knew why Rosie had stayed away, but one of the other girls had happily suggested that it had been my fault. Rosie had set her sights on Drew, apparently. I remember hearing a rumor that she’d been kicked out of Drew’s room on a night he’d chosenherto mess around with, before changing his mind and rejecting her completely. Another more diplomatic girl had said Rosie was sick of being a whore for every guy but the one she truly wanted.
And now, here she was, talking to Libby. Our Libby, who looked completely engaged and oblivious to our arrival as she held the sobbing woman's hands over the table.
I didn’t say anything, not to the two women or to Sutton who looked as though he’d seen a ghost. I guess he had. He wouldn’t have seen Rosie since Maisey died, and probably hadn’t expected to see her again after she’d disappeared.
“That’s Rosie Sullivan,” Sutton said as we slid into his booth. I nodded in acknowledgment and put a finger over my lips as I leaned back against the booth in an attempt to listen to their conversation. He nodded in agreement, his hands clasping in front of him as he leaned closer to try and hear for himself.
“–heard about the fires. I was at my mom’s when the trucks flew by, and I panicked.”
“Awe, honey, I’m so sorry. If we’d known you were back—” Libby started.
“You’d have what?” Rosie laughed, her tone chilly. “Called me? I don’t think so, Lib. No one cares about me, or what I do anymore. Not sincesheshowed up. Even Gemma told me to stop calling her.”
“Gemma told you to stop calling her because you got her kicked out of Slater’s bed. Not because Ayda came on the scene.”
“Slater? Like Gemma cares about him. Isn’t she with that guy with the fucked up eyebrows now? Kenny?”
“No.” I started hearing the skepticism in Libby’s tone and felt proud of her for keeping her guard up. “He’s not with Gemma. Anyway, what does it matter to you? You said you were done with club life.”
“I was. I was in a relationship away from all of that, but I still cared, Libby. It’s not that I didn’t want to be there. I was just in love with someone other than Drew.”
“And what? You’ve just changed your mind and now want in with The Hounds again because you’ve changed your mood and mind about who to love?” Libby’s tone was becoming colder with every word.
“No, asshole. I was dumped.”
“By who?”
“You know what? I’m done. I shouldn’t have come here.”
Silence hung in the air, and I glanced at Howard. There was definitely more to this story than Rosie was giving. There was also another reason Rosie was here, but we weren’t going to find out what that was today. Rosie was already slipping out of the booth in a petulant fit of rage and marching to the door without so much as a backward glance.
Apparently, the rendezvous hadn’t gone the way she’d planned. Something that was reiterated and underlined several times when Libby finally muttered a simple, “Bitch.”
Howard and I didn’t dare say anything, and we waited and watched until Libby left, too.
“Damn,” Howard muttered in his usual grumble as he threw himself back on his side of the booth. Rubbing his cheek with his palm, he looked part bewildered and part bemused. “I think I owe Drew another apology.”