Free Queen of the Dark Things by C. Robert Cargill Page B

who make all the cheap stuff.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” he asked, pointing at her own beer.
    â€œLocal.”
    â€œYou like it?”
    â€œIt’s pretty much the same shit you’re drinking, only more expensive.” She stood up and took a few graceful steps over to his table and pointed at the empty chair beside him. Not across. Beside. “May I?”
    â€œUh, yeah! Yeah!”
    She plopped down in the chair far less gracefully than she’d walked and took a swig of beer. “It costs more, but the money stays here in town, puts guys I know to work, so it’s worth it.”
    â€œOh, local economy and all that.”
    â€œI’m Austin,” she said, raising her beer.
    â€œColby,” he said, raising his.
    â€œYou know, I gotta say, I imagined you much more well spoken than this.”
    â€œI’m . . . I’m sorry.”
    â€œIt’s okay. Do I have you flustered or are you just normally like this around people?”
    â€œI . . . well . . . yeah. It’s you.”
    She smiled, reaching into the hip pocket of her jeans. “I can dig that. Just as long as the conversation gets better as the night goes on.” Austin pulled out a small bag of weed and a pack of papers and, without a thought, began rolling a joint.
    â€œWhat are you doing?”
    With a quick lick and a twist of her wrists, she wrapped the paper up tight into a perfectly formed spliff. “Rolling one up. You wanna share or would you like your own?”
    â€œUh, no. Um, thanks though.”
    Austin laughed. “I never pegged you for a prude.” She lit the joint and took a quick puff.
    â€œI’m not a prude. It’s just, we’re out in public.”
    She held her breath for a second, then exhaled loudly. “There’s not a cop within three blocks of this place and not one who will walk by for another . . . fifty minutes, give or take.”
    â€œThat’s a little specific.”
    â€œThey have schedules. Routines. Habits. Lots of things that keep them in other places and then bring them here. But nothing that will bring anyone here anytime soon.”
    â€œWell, what about the bartenders?”
    â€œThe bartenders ?” she asked. “Have you ever known any bartenders? Our biggest concern then is bogarting this. You worry too much.”
    â€œAnd you seem pretty relaxed.”
    â€œTrust me. It’s still, like, forty-nine and a half minutes before anyone comes by. Maybe forty-nine even.”
    Colby pursed his lips. “Who are you?”
    â€œYou still don’t recognize me, do you?”
    â€œNot even a little. Do we know each other?”
    She shook her head. “No. We know of each other. I’ve read your books. I’ve seen you around. But know . . . ?”
    Colby’s jaw dropped open. “Wait, you’re—”
    â€œAustin.”
    â€œ The Austin.”
    She smiled. “No. Just Austin. There’s no the. ”
    Colby gawked at her for a moment, stunned speechless.
    She took another drag off the joint, held her breath deeply for a moment, letting Colby wrap his head around what was going on, then exhaled. “You sure you don’t want a hit of this? It’s amazing stuff.”
    â€œNo, really.”
    â€œAw, Colby. I thought you were cool.”
    â€œNo you didn’t. No one thinks I’m cool.”
    â€œOkay. I didn’t. But I did hope you would get cool- er .”
    Colby sipped his beer, the wheels turning in his head. “Wait a second. Why haven’t we met until just now?”
    â€œBecause we never had to before today.” Her eyes turned cold and serious. She wasn’t playing around anymore. “You crossed the line tonight, Colby. It wasn’t your place to do what you did.”
    â€œIs this about . . . is this about Beatriz?”
    â€œOf course it’s about Beatriz. What else have you been up to