Page 36 of Great White
“Still don’t trust me yet,Tiburona?”
Dove looks directly at me. “Never.”
8
Dove
“Tweety,we open in twenty minutes. There are bottles missing from the back of the bar. None of the fruit is cut” — I peer over the bar top — “and you don’t even have ice.”
The big man behind the bar bristles at me. “No shit. I just finished the back inventory and helped the other three bars set up. I’m one man. If you haven’t noticed, we’re short a bar back.”
I glare at him. “I’ve noticed.”
“Then how about you stop bitching at me and start helping me.” He drops a cutting board, a knife, and a handful of lemons and limes in front of me.
“Fine.” It’s the least I can do. I didn’t realize how good Tate was at his job until he was gone.
I start to hack up the limes. Cutting the ends off, then in half, and then in quarters. “Can you hand me a Corona?”
Tweety pulls out an ice-cold bottle and pops the cap. If I’m going to cut limes, I might as well make good use of them. I slip a piece into the bottle and tip it upside down. Then, I proceed to drink it as I continue cutting fruit. I find it rather therapeutic. Must be the knife.
The sounds click-clacking across the floor have me turning around. When I see them, my stomach drops.
Stefania is walking toward me with Tate on her arm. They are both dressed to the nines. Steph in a ruched, skin-tight dress that falls off her shoulder, and Tate in black dress pants and a crisp, white button-up shirt. A turquoise bolo tie hanging from his neck. Holy shit, he cleans up nice. I swallow my mouthful of beer like I’m salivating.Stop it.
“What are you two doing here?”
“I dropped something in the safe upstairs for you. Take a look at it when you get a chance,” Stephania informs me.
“I’ll take care of it.” I struggle to stay composed. Seeing them together corrupts my insides.
“Thank you,” she singsongs. “We’re off to dinner, and then we have late-night massages at the Four Seasons hotel. I reserved the penthouse.” She slides her hands down the strings of Tate’s tie.
Bile claws up my throat, burning like acid.
“Sounds fun.”
“It will be,” she flirts. She loves to shove her relationship with Tate in my face. Like it’s supposed to bother me or something. Like it’s going to scratch under my skin like an intolerable annoyance.
Like, as if.
“You make cowboy look good,Guapo.”
Tate breaks out in a surprised smile. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever paid him a compliment.
“You make badass look good,Tiburona.”
“I know.” I wink.
“You also make me look good,” Stefania adds. “Let’s go,Guapo.” She slides her arm back around his. My esophagus burns. “Laters,Palomita.”
“Laters,” I respond drably.
Tate glances at me over his shoulder as they leave. I hold his stare until he breaks it.
I turn back to the half-cut fruit, staring down at it mindlessly until I hear Tweety chatter, “Dios mio. Dove, your hand.”
I look down, not even realizing I was clutching the blade.
