Episode 44: Bold Tongue
A little after 2AM, Sugar pulled her car into a parking space in front of The Salty Marine. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, staring at the restaurant through her windshield as a war of indecision brewed inside her.
She had two choices: walk her ass in there and talk to Miles about what the hell had happened in the hallway at her restaurant, or drive home and pretend the man she was fucking hadn’t helped her beat the shit out of her ex-husband mere hours earlier.
Ultimately, she unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car.
As she approached the entrance, Gizzard stepped outside, keys in hand, as if he were about to lock up for the night.
“Well, I’ll be,” Gizzard said with a grin.
She smiled back. “Hi, Gizzard.”
“If you’re lookin’ for the Big Man, he’s inside,” he said, holding the door open for her. “He’ll sure be happy to see you.”
“Thanks, Gizzard.”
“My pleasure, milady,” he said with a gentlemanly bow and a playful wink before shutting the door behind her and locking it, as he had originally intended. Through the glass, they exchanged one last wave before he made his way to his old truck, climbed in, and drove off.
Sugar crossed her arms over her chest as she walked through the dimly lit, hole-in-the-wall restaurant. A warm glow spilled from the kitchen entrance behind the bar, guiding her forward.
Pushing through the doors, she stepped into the brightened space. The manager’s office door stood wide open at the back of the kitchen. Her heels clicked against the tile floor as she approached it.
“Gizz, get the hell out of my restaurant and go home. Give that damn dog of yours his heart medicine before he keels over,” Miles called from inside. “And yes, I like the dog more than I like you.”
Sugar bit her lip, holding back a laugh. He sat at his desk, his eyes focused on the restaurant management software on his computer screen.
He didn’t notice her leaning against the doorframe until she spoke.
“Do you like the dog more than me, too?”
His gaze snapped up, locking onto hers. A flicker of pleasant surprise crossed his face before he shifted gears, easing back into his usual confident self.
A slow grin tugged at his lips. “I think you and I are far past likin’ each other, don’t you think?”
“I plead the Fifth,” she teased.
“If I’d known this was an interrogation, I would’ve brought my handcuffs.”
Sugar stepped inside, claiming a chair across from his desk. “I’ll remember to RSVP next time.”
They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, words left unsaid thickening the air between them. Sugar dropped her gaze to free herself from the staring contest, crossing one leg over the other and smoothing out her dress.
“We need to talk about what happened in that hallway, Miles.” She cleared her throat.
He leaned back in his chair. “It felt good, didn’t it?”
She avoided the question. “It was wrong. It shouldn’t have happened.”
“He used to put his hands on you, didn’t he?”
Her heart stopped. A little gasp slipped out.
Then she forced a weak smile. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because I saw your face when he grabbed your arm.” His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it. “That was fear, Sugar.”
Her stomach twisted itself into knots.
Her eyes darted to the framed photo on the wall nearby: a dark-haired young girl, no more than eleven or twelve, dressed in an elegant gown, playing the piano at what looked like a recital.
“You taught your daughter piano?” To buy herself a little more time, Sugar walked toward it. A thick silence stretched, growing more and more uncomfortable. Sugar almost squirmed under his stare. Doubt gnawed at her.
Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned his daughter.
Finally, Miles spoke: “No, I didn’t.”
Relief stole over her at his willingness to indulge her.
“It fascinated her when she was a little bitty thing. She’d sit in my lap and fall asleep listenin’ to Clair de Lune. When she was six, she asked if I could teach her, but I had to go on tour. Alicia put her in piano classes to keep her mind off me bein’ away,” he paused, smoothing a hand over his head. “Melina struggled with me bein’ gone.”
“She was a daddy’s girl?” Sugar asked softly.
“Through and through,” Miles said. “I spoiled her rotten. Much to Alicia’s dismay.”
Her gaze lingered on the photo a moment longer. “Why did you and Alicia get a divorce?”
Miles cocked a brow. “You gotta meet me halfway, honey. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
Sugar exhaled deeply through her nose, her shoulders tensing before she swiveled on her heels to face him. “Only if I get to pick my poison.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said, rising from his seat.
Without another word, she walked out of his office, through the kitchen and into the bar area. He followed, flipping on the lights behind the bar shelves. She scanned the selection, arms crossed, before plucking a bottle of vodka from an upper shelf.
Sugar shook the liquor at him. “You in, or are you more of a beer kind of guy?”
“I’m definitely in, darlin’.” He watched with amusement as she maneuvered around the bar. She used a bar stool as leverage to hop onto the high bar counter.
Unscrewing the cap, she took a deep, deep, deep sip. Then, she coughed a little as the liquor burned its way down her throat.
“If you keep drinkin’ like that,” Miles chuckled, shaking his head, “you’ll end up in an alcohol-induced coma in no time.”
She passed him the bottle. “Lance almost put me in a coma once.”
The humor drained from his eyes, and he nodded at her to continue.
“There was a lavish Christmas party at Albert’s mansion. They had this gorgeous grand piano that his wife, Karen, always played to get everyone in high spirits. But she passed away from breast cancer a few months prior.” Sugar looked away, tracing invisible shapes on the bar counter with her fingertip. “That night, Albert wanted to hear Winter Wonderland. Her favorite song. Lance volunteered me as a pawn to get in Albert’s good graces, but I didn’t feel right doing it. I didn’t want to help Lance exploit Albert’s grief just so he could get a leg up at his job.”
She stared off into the distance, lost in the memory. “I told Albert I wouldn’t do the song any justice because Karen played it so beautifully. He understood. But Lance took it as an act of defiance. And it didn’t help that he’d drunk himself silly that night.”
Sugar hesitated, her eyes stinging with the threat of tears, but she held them back. “So, when we got home, he backhanded me so hard my head slammed against the wall, and I passed out. That knocked me out cold for nearly a day. When I woke up, he apologized, blaming it on stress from work and the alcohol. After that, every time he did it, stress from work and alcohol were always to blame. So, to answer your question from earlier… yes, he used to put his hands on me.”
She turned her head, glancing at him over her shoulder, her tone certain: “And yes… it felt really fucking good to take back something he stole from me.”
