Page 76 of Never Never

I probably shouldn’t—it’s pressing my luck. But I’m here to press my luck. I didn’t come all this way not to throw everything I have at the wall.

“Yes?” The bartender’s at my side in a flash, concern on her face. “Something wrong with the wine?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” I shake my head to reassure her. “Just…could I ask you something?”

The backstory spins out of my head like a film strip, scenes, characters, moments in clear succession. “You haven’t seen him around lately, have you? Here? Because I’m just wondering if…” I lower my voice, slide a glance back toward the booth where Silver Dress has retreated. “…if he’s brought anyone else here, recently?”

Smooth. Easy. Class act of a high-roller’s girlfriend, gently probing after her suspicions. I feel like a fucking superspy.

And for some reason, my mind flashes back. Months back, to Pan, in an alleyway. His hand, extended to shake—hey, thanks, man. I owe you one. How I knew how he saw me, immediately. How I jumped on board and never looked back. Easy as that.

No. Focus. The bartender’s face is blank, and for a split second I pivot to total panic, like I’ve tripped a silent alarm, but then she gives a little grimace and leans in.

“Honestly, if I knew, I would tell you. We’re under strict instructions not to, for the high-rollers, because…you know.” Her voice gets even quieter. “They’re very organized, some of them.”

I give the tiniest nod, drift caught, and she pulls back a little.

“But I have no idea,” she finishes, a small but apologetic smile on her face. “Girl to girl, I would. But I’m new. Still learning the faces and names, so.” She shrugs and straightens fully. “Anything else I can get you?” she asks, her voice clearer and stronger now.

I shake my head, with a real smile. “No, thanks. That’s all.”

She nods and glides back over to the POS just as Fox returns. He lands on the stool next to me, close enough that his knee knocks against mine.

And stays there.

He must not notice. Doesn’t move. But I don’t move either.

“So,” he says, his smile big and his eyes on the back of the bar. “Anything?”

I lift my wine glass. “Cheers.”

Fox frowns. I try not to let myself grin, try to speak by moving my lips as little as possible. “Found out Michelangelo Darling has a bar tab,” I all but whisper.

I watch with delight as Fox’s eyebrows go up in the dim, warm glow of the bar. “No shit,” he murmurs. “So⁠—”

“So he definitely comes here,” I say into my wine glass. “Or whoever’s using his name does, anyway.”

“Wow. Crazy.” Fox grins, a real one. He leans over the bar a little, surveying back and forth.

“Anything on your end?” I ask softly.

“Eh. It’s kind of the same as downstairs, you know? But quieter. Poker, craps, the machines.” He purses his lips. “Nobody looked like a Michelangelo. But I also don’t know what a Michelangelo looks like.”

I laugh a little. “Yeah, me neither.”

I sip the wine again like my next step is at the bottom of the glass and I just need to uncover it. As I do, the bartender reappears. And if she thinks it’s weird that another guy, a guy who isn’t Michelangelo Darling, has now joined me at the bar, she gives absolutely no indication.

“What can I get you, sir?”

Fox straightens. “Just a beer, please.”

She nods. “Did you…need the draft list?” She eases forward a leatherbound menu with what looks like two dozen beers printed on it.

Fox barely glances at it. “Oh, uh…whatever’s cold. I’m not picky.”

She opens her mouth, shuts it, and nods. “Of course.”

Fox licks his lips. His leg under the bar starts jiggling. “Never know what to order somewhere fancy,” he says quickly. “Not that I go fancy places a lot. Obviously. But⁠—”