Newlywed Dead Read Online Free

eyes. “I know people think I look older.”
    â€œSo you were at college riding in the homecoming parade and what happened?” I asked, trying not to let her see that I thought she was older, too.
    â€œApparently, sometime between the parade and when I woke up, I was attacked. Shot, actually.” She lifted her lank hair and showed me a thumbprint-sized scar just above her temple. “My best friend was killed that night. They tell me we were together. I survived and she didn’t.”
    â€œI’m so sorry to hear that.”
    She shrugged. “It was a couple of years ago and I can’t remember what happened. It’s usually no biggie except when I have one of these spells. It hurts like a lightning bolt went off in my head.”
    â€œLike just now.”
    â€œYes,” she nodded. “Weird, but it’s the third time it’s happened in the last hour. It usually doesn’t do that.” Ashley scanned the crowd as if she were looking for someone.
    Maybe she was looking for the trigger for her flashbacks.
    â€œIs it someone who’s here that’s causing it?” I asked. “Or a smell, maybe? Maybe it’s the dance floor lighting.”
    Ashley merely winced, clearly preoccupied with whatever was going on in her head. A young guy and a girl made their way to the bar and I stepped back to let them ordertheir drinks. I slipped two dollars into Ashley’s tip jar. She seemed to really need the cash.
    The guy was really young, but very wealthy. I noticed he had a preppy haircut and was wearing a Valentino tux. His shoes were highly polished soft leather, surely from Italy. If I knew anything, I knew my designers. I sighed at the fact that someone so young could dress so well. Clearly they came from Warren’s side of the family.
    â€œI’ll take a martini,” he said with a snicker. His blue gaze was rowdy, his mouth pulling into a sneer. “Shaken, not stirred.”
    â€œStop it, Clark,” the girl with him said, and frowned. “He wants a Coke.”
    â€œNo, I want a martini.” He ran his hands down his lapels. “I’m wearing a tux. I should get to drink a martini.”
    â€œYou know I can’t serve you,” Ashley said. “You aren’t old enough to drink, so stop coming over here and pretending that I should serve you.”
    â€œAw, come on, one martini is not going to hurt me,” Clark said.
    â€œIt can hurt you,” Ashley said sternly. “It kills brain cells.”
    â€œIt kills brain cells,” Clark mocked. He turned to Ashley and narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to tell my mother that you talked back to me and refused to serve me. She’s a Fulcrum. Everyone knows you don’t mess with a Fulcrum. You’re going to find your butt out the door faster than you can down a shot of whiskey.” Clark stormed off.
    The girl stayed. “Don’t mind him,” she said. “I’ll take that Coke.”
    Ashley poured cola over ice and the girl sipped it from a straw, chatting with Ashley. The music had turned from a slow waltz to a fast swing beat, and I couldn’t really tell what they were talking about, but it seemed like Ashley knew the girl and the boy who had stomped off.
    I perused the room, but saw that there was no opportunity to mingle. I checked my phone but Gage hadn’t answered my text. Sighing, I pulled my attention back to Ashley. The young girl had left and we were alone again. “I thought you said you hadn’t served here before,” I shouted over the loud music. “But you seemed to know those two.” I nodded my head in the direction of the table where Clark had flung himself into a chair next to a woman who looked like she was in her early fifties.
    â€œOh, yeah, no,” Ashley said. “This is my first time here. I met Samantha Lyn and Clark when I was bartending Clark’s cousin’s wedding in October.”