Page 8 of Timelessly Ours
People say it’s always the last place you look when you’ve found something you lost. I sure hope that’s an accurate assumption when I pull into the back alley of the last place—the most toxic of places—Nicole worked before her brother put her in rehab.
Sylvie’s.
Sylvie’s Bikers and Babes is known for a specific crowd. They’re not dangerous or threatening. They just want to look like they are.
A guy in a black apron steps out the back door and lights a cigarette. He pauses when he spots my flashy vehicle. I jump out and close the driver door before approaching. I don’t hesitate. I don’t show any inclination that I’m terrified of what it would mean if Nicole is indeed in there.
It’s the last place I looked for a reason.
Because I thought I knew her better than to ever set foot here again.
“I’m lookin’ for a young woman about five foot. She come around here?” I give the guy the courtesy of asking before I try and power past him into a place I know I’m not welcome.
He assesses me. “You a cop?”
“No.”
“Of course, he is.” Another guy, taller, in his mid-thirties steps out. “He’s just undercover. Look…his jacket’s clean and he’s sober as fuck. He’s got to be a cop.” They look over my shoulder. “You got back up?”
“Am I gonna need it?” I ask, letting them know I’m not here for trouble—necessarily. Not sure why I don’t correct them. “I’m just looking for someone.”
The first guy—in the apron, keeps his cigarette between two fingers and holds his hands up. “I don’t know anything. I just work in the kitchen.”
The tall one shakes his head.
I step forward. “Look, I’m not looking for trouble. I just want to know if—”
“Pete, Griff—who’s that? He got a badge?” The voice comes from behind the back door.
“Says he’s not a cop.”
A tall, buff woman steps out—and the way her head is held high, shoulders squared, the solid silver bob of her hair—there’s no doubt in my mind…that’s Sylvie.
Tossing a damp bar rag over her shoulder, she squints her eyes. “Entrance is around the fron—hey, you’re Royce Collins.”
I don’t know whether to be offended or relieved.
The woman looks like she’s piecing things together in her head. “He’s lookin’ for Nickles,” she deadpans.
The tall one lifts his head. “Nickles? You her dad?”
Sylvie rolls her eyes. Clearly, having full knowledge that not only am I not Nicole’s dad, but that man is far from ever coming to “look” for his daughter.
Because I’m desperate, I assume Nickles is Nicole and go with it. “She’s my daughter’s friend and I’d like to find her. Make sure she gets home safe.”
The tall one scoffs. “She’s safer here than you are.”
Sylvie pushes past the men and approaches me with a lethal tone. “You’re not comin’ into my bar.”
“I’m not here to cause your place any trouble,” I repeat, calmly. Reminding myself not to lose my patience like I would with anyone else getting in my face like this.
“You think I’m just going to let you come in and take one of my customer’s off in your fancy truck?” She stares me down.
“Last I checked she was more than just your customer. She was your friend,” I remind her. “I know you care about her. I just want to make sure she gets home without anyone knowing she came back here. Especially her twin brother.”
Sylvie’s shoulders relax and her expression softens. “She’s at the end of the bar. She’s had a few but I’ve been watering down her beverages significantly after her second. I was going to take her back to my place tonight.”
Relief washes over me. It almost overpowers my anger. She should have never been here in the first place. I should have caught up with her. I should have come here first.