The Bermudez Triangle Read Online Free Page B

sweeping down over his high forehead in a thick swag that he kept pushing back with his hand. What really stood out, though, were his eyes, which were the same deep brown as his hair and were very intense and bright. They actually glistened a little just at the thought of the jig.
    “Kill me, I mean,” he added, after a moment’s thought on his remark. “I trained nights, and they were even worse. We did the song about a dozen times every shift. I’m not kidding.”
    He leaned forward and stared at the name tag pinned to Mel’s green suspenders.
    “Molly Guinness,” he read.
    “I’m Mel,” Mel said. “This is Avery.”
    He glanced over and looked at Avery’s name tag, which read:
Erin Murphy.
    “I like that we all have these fake Irish names that double as beer ads,” he said with a smirk. “It’s good to reinforce theidea that all Irish people are alcoholics. Keep the stereotype alive.”
    Avery leaned forward to read his tag.
    “You’re Shane O’Douls?”
    “I know,” he said. “The nonalcoholic one. I’m Parker.”
    Though he made occasional attempts to turn his head and look in Avery’s direction, Parker’s attention was really on Mel. This was nothing new to Avery. All guys looked at Mel. Mel was candylike, adorable. Guys hung out with Avery and talked about music and maybe hooked up once in a while. They were usually a little intimidated by Nina because she was tall and assertive and she ran everything. They took Nina as a challenge. With Mel, though, guys developed instantaneous, epic crushes—the kind that caused them to want to iron their clothes and listen to the lyrics of slow songs.
    The kitchen bell rang.
    “Thirty-nine up,” yelled a voice from somewhere behind a small opening. Two plates of buffalo wings were thrown down under the heat lamps. Parker pried himself from the wall and got the two plates. He took them over to the prep counter and reached into a large jug of carrot and celery pieces floating in water, snagging a fistful and setting them on the side of the plates. He grabbed a tub from the refrigerated cabinet, unscrewed the lid, and poured some of the contents into two tiny condiment cups. It oozed out in thick milky chunks.
    “Blue cheese dressing is so pretty,” he said, grimacing. “Doesn’t it make you hungry?”
    “I like blue cheese dressing,” Mel said.
    Parker flushed a little over the fact that Mel had chosen to reveal this to him. He seemed to take a more charitable view toward the dressing, replacing the lid with care.
    “She used to eat a lot of paste,” Avery explained.
    When Parker had taken his plates out to the floor, Avery reached over and retrieved her lighter from the front pocket of Mel’s apron.
    “Looks like you have a new one,” she said.
    “A new what?”
    Avery did her best imitation of Parker leaning in and reading Mel’s tag at very close range.
    “Shut up,” Mel said.
    “What? He’s cute. He kind of looks like he’s one of those guys who keeps going in Boy Scouts until he’s legal.”
    “He’s fine. He seems nice.”
    “Oh, you’re not interested.”
    “In … what?”
    “What kind of sign do you need?” Avery said, laughing. She grabbed Mel and wrapped her arms around her, coming in close to her face. “I love you, Melanie Forrest. Can’t you see I love you?”
    One of the cooks peered through the narrow kitchen window.
    “Nice!” he said. “You guys dating?”
    “You wish,” Avery said over her shoulder. Mel still hung limply in her arms.
    “I
do
wish.”
    “Tell you what, we’ll kiss for ten bucks.”
    “Ten bucks?”
    Avery nodded. She glanced at Mel, who was looking at Avery with amazing calmness. Usually everything embarrassed her. Waitressing was obviously toughening her up.
    The cook was going through his pockets.
    “I have … six,” he said.
    “Sorry.”
    “Hold on, hold on,” he said, laughing. “I think I can get four more.”
    “Onetime offer,” Avery said sternly.
    “Damn.” He slid