Dead Reckoning (Sookie Stackhouse #11)(28)
Author: Charlaine Harris

"That couple on eleven, they want their tea unsweet with lots of lemon on the side. Their food should be up soon, the fried pickles and a burger each. Cheese on his."

"Okeydokey. Have a good evening."

"I’m planning on it. I got a date."

"Who with?" I asked, out of sheer idle curiosity.

"Lola Rushton," she said.

"I think I went to high school with Lola," I said, with only a short beat to indicate that India’s dating women was any more than a daily occurrence.

"She remembers you," India said, and laughed.

I was sure that was so, since I’d been the weirdest person in my little high school class. "Everyone remembers me as Crazy Sookie," I said, trying to keep the rue from my voice.

"She had a crush on you for a while," India told me.

I felt oddly pleased. "I’m flattered to hear it," I said, and hustled off to start working.

I made a quick round of my tables to be sure everyone was okay, served the fried pickles and burgers, and watched in relief as Mr. Grumpy and Dumped downed his last drink and left the bar. He wasn’t drunk, but he was spoiling for a fight, and it was good to see the last of him. We didn’t need more trouble.

He wasn’t the only grumpy guy in Merlotte’s. Sam was filling out insurance forms that night, and because he hates filling out forms but has to do it all the time, his mood was not sunny. The paperwork was stacked on the bar, and in a lull between customers, I looked it over. If I read it carefully and slowly, it wasn’t hard to figure out, no matter how convoluted the English got. I began checking boxes and filling in blanks, and I called the police station and told them we needed a copy of the police report on the firebombing. I gave them Sam’s fax number, and Kevin promised he’d get it to me.

I looked up to find my boss standing there with an expression of total surprise on his face.

"I’m sorry!" I said instantly. "You seemed to be so stressed out about it, and I didn’t mind taking a look. I’ll hand ’em back over." I grabbed up the papers and thrust them at Sam.

"No," he said, backing away with his hands held up. "No, no. Sook, thanks. I never thought of asking for help." He glanced down. "You called the police station?"

"Yeah, I got Kevin Pryor. He’s gonna send over the report to attach."

"Thanks, Sook." Sam looked like Santa Claus had just appeared in the bar.

"I don’t mind forms," I said, smiling. "They don’t talk back. You better look it over to make sure I did it right."

Sam beamed at me without sparing a downward glance. "Good job, friend."

"No problem." It had been nice to have something to keep me busy, so I wouldn’t think about the unexamined items in my night table drawer. I heard the front door open and looked around, relieved there was more business walking in the door. I had to work to hold the anticipation on my face when I saw that Jannalynn Hopper had arrived.

Sam is what you might call adventuresome in his dating, and Jannalynn was not the first strong (not to say scary) female he’d consorted with. Skinny and short, Jannalynn had an aggressive sense of fashion and a ferocious delight in her elevation to the job of pack enforcer for the Long Tooth pack, which was based in Shreveport.

Tonight Jannalynn was wearing abbreviated denim shorts, those sandals that lace up the calves, and a single blue tank top with no bra underneath. She was wearing the earrings Sam had bought her at Splendide, and about six silver chains of assorted lengths and pendants gleamed around her neck. Her short hair was platinum now, spiky and bright. She was like a suncatcher, I thought, remembering the brightly colored one Jason had given me to hang in the kitchen window.

"Hello, honey," she said to Sam as she bypassed me without a sideways glance. She took Sam in a ferocious embrace and kissed him for all she was worth.

He kissed her back, though I could tell from his brain signals that he was a little embarrassed. No such consideration bothered Jannalynn, of course. I hastily turned away to check the levels of salt and pepper in the shakers on the tables, though I knew quite well everything was fine.

In truth, I’d always found Jannalynn disturbing, almost frightening. She was very aware that Sam and I were friends, especially since I’d met Sam’s family at his brother’s wedding, and they were under the impression that I was Sam’s girlfriend. I really didn’t blame her for her suspicions; if I’d been her, I’d have felt the same way.

Jannalynn was a suspicious young woman by both nature and profession. Part of her job was to assess threats and act on them before harm could come to Alcide and the pack. She also managed Hair of the Dog, a little bar that catered especially to the Long Tooth pack and other twoeys in the Shreveport area. It was a lot of responsibility for someone as young as Jannalynn, but she seemed born to meet the challenge.

By the time I’d exhausted all the busywork I could think of, Jannalynn and Sam were having a quiet conversation. She was perched on a barstool, her muscular legs crossed elegantly, and he was in his usual position behind the bar. Her face was intent, and so was his; whatever their topic was, it was a serious one. I kept my mind slammed shut.

The customers were doing their best not to gape at the young Were. The other waitress, Danielle, was glancing over at her from time to time while whispering with her boyfriend, who’d come in to nurse a drink all evening so he could watch Danielle as she moved from table to table.

Whatever Jannalynn’s faults, you couldn’t deny that she had real presence. When she was in a room, she had to be acknowledged. (I thought that was at least partially because she gave off such strong vibes that she was scary as hell.)

A couple came in and glanced around before heading to an empty table in my section. They looked a little familiar. After a moment, I recognized them: Jack and Lily Leeds, private detectives from somewhere in Arkansas. The last time I’d seen them, they’d come to Bon Temps to investigate Debbie Pelt’s disappearance, having been hired by her parents. I’d answered their questions in what I now knew was sort of fairy-style–I’d stuck to the letter of the truth without its spirit. I myself had shot Debbie Pelt dead in self-defense, and I hadn’t wanted to go to jail for it.

That had been over a year ago. Lily Bard Leeds was still pale, silent, and intense, and her husband was still attractive and vital. Her eyes had found me instantly, and it was impossible to pretend I hadn’t noticed. Reluctantly, I went over to their table, feeling my smile growing more brittle with every step.

"Welcome back to Merlotte’s," I said, grinning for all I was worth. "What can I get you two this evening? We put French-fried pickles on the menu, and our burgers Lafayette are real good."