Fangs for Nothing (The Fangover #2)(36)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Their cuffs rattled as she smoothed her hair back and moistened her lips, purse firmly on her shoulder. Johnny had almost forgotten they were attached at the wrist. He was getting used to it, which made him pause for a second. Could he get used to a woman in his life, like Wyatt had with Stella? He hadn’t thought so.

He still didn’t. Did he?

Maybe he did.

That thought scared the living shit out of him.

Chapter Ten

DUDE LOOKS LIKE A LADY

“EVERYTHING is gone.” Josie Lynn said as soon as she saw the barren courtyard. Nothing remained of the gothic wedding but the tables and chairs that belonged to Gautreaux’s.

“Probably the venue employees cleaned up everything,” Drake said, his voice low and calm.

He probably saw she was about to have a panic attack. What if all her catering supplies were gone? Her career was over before it even started.

“Let’s check the kitchen,” Drake said, placing his hand on the small of her back. She didn’t pull away from the touch, actually appreciating his support. He’d been nothing but polite and conversational since their talk about whether they’d had sex last night. Which she found nice, but also a little unnerving. It made her have those feelings again that Drake could honestly be a good guy. Even though with those smoldering dark eyes, naughty smile, and killer body, he looked the epitome of bad boy.

Just as they reached the swinging kitchen door, it whipped open. Drake looped his arm around Josie Lynn’s waist, pulling her back against him to avoid them both being hit.

“Oh. I didn’t know anyone was here.”

“Eric?” He was the last person Josie Lynn would have expected to be here, and he carried a bucket of sudsy water and a rag. He appeared to be working. The king of the slackers—working? When there was actually no reason he should be?

“What are you doing here?”

“I came back to see what happened last night,” he said, shifting awkwardly from one sneakered foot to the other. “I—I kind of blacked out or something.”

“Yeah, that seemed to be going around last night,” Drake said.

“Yeah,” Eric nodded.

“So what did you find when you got here?” Josie Lynn asked.

“The place was pretty much a mess. Nothing had been cleaned up, so I decided I should probably do some picking up,” Eric explained.

Josie Lynn looked back at the nearly spotless courtyard. “That was a lot of work. Did you call Ashley? Did you try to call me?”

“Umm—” He shook his head, brushing his disheveled hair back in an almost agitated way. “Nah. I didn’t think to call anyone. I just decided to get to work myself.”

Josie Lynn nodded, but she found his story strange. Since he’d started working for her, Eric had needed his hand held. Unlike Ashley, who would take initiative and do tasks on her own, usually wrong, but at least she tried, Eric waited to be told what to do. And then he moved at the pace of a snail with mono.

So why was he cleaning now?

“Where are all the dishes that were on the buffet?” she asked.

“I washed them and loaded them into your van.”

Oh yeah, this was suspicious. Definitely.

She wasn’t going to let her employee know that was what she was thinking, but she did want to talk to Drake about her suspicions.

“Well, thank you, Eric. I’m going to go—see how the kitchen is looking,” she said. She didn’t give Drake a look to indicate she wanted him to follow, afraid Eric might notice it.

But she didn’t need to give Drake a sign. He followed her anyway.

Once in the kitchen, which was almost as tidy as the courtyard, she turned to him.

“Something is not right about this,” she whispered.

“I was thinking the same thing. I watched him just cleaning up the spilled tuna last night. He was being totally half-assed about it. Yet he’s cleaning this whole place, without any go-ahead from you.” Drake shook his head. “Something is fishy about that.”

“I agree. So do you think he drugged the punch?”

“Possibly.” Drake walked over to look in the fridge and near the sink. “There is no punch left. Even the punchbowl is washed and gone.”

Josie Lynn went to the back door. Her van was still in the back alley and she could see Eric had indeed put all her supplies into the beaten-up old Chevy. For a second she wondered if he had her keys. That might be a sign he was involved, too, but then she remembered that the back of the van had been open last night when everything had gone down. So he probably just loaded the already-opened van without the need of her keys.

“Why would he drug us though?”

“Robbery,” Drake suggested. “Maybe the Chers aren’t really involved. Maybe it was just this guy alone.”

Josie Lynn considered that possibility, but that didn’t totally add up to her. “Okay, if he drugged all of us to steal our money, cell phones, etc. . . . then why come back to clean up? He could have just taken off and been long gone by now. He wouldn’t even need to clean up any evidence, because there still would have been no way to pin anything on him. Yeah, he was near the punch, but so was everyone. So if he did it, why come back?”

“You’re right,” Drake said. “It doesn’t add up. Hey Eric!” he called behind him. “Come out here a second.”

“Yeah?” Eric poked his head out the door.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” Josie Lynn asked gently.

Drake snorted. “It’s a miracle you haven’t been robbed blind.” He turned to Eric. “Dude, why the hell are you here cleaning up without a word to your boss?”

Eric gave a reluctant shrug. “I don’t want to get fired.” With that, he went back to banging around in the kitchen.

Josie Lynn looked thoughtfully after him. “Wow. I’m kind of impressed.”

“But he could still be involved. I think we have to find those Chers.”

Josie Lynn nodded. “But where do we even start?”

Drake gave her a knowing look. “You start at the top. Come on.”

He caught her hand, and they left out the back door.

* * *

JOSIE LYNN GRIMACED as a raucous college student in a football jersey and baseball cap staggered into her. He gave her a cursory, and slightly slurred, apology, then kept moving with his group of equally wild and inebriated friends. Josie Lynn had been to Bourbon Street many times, but it had never been her thing—for reasons like that.