Sink Trap by Christy Evans

night, fried chicken tonight.” I shook my head. “I’ll have to eat salad all weekend to make up for this!”
    “Not by what I see,” Wade said, giving me a once-over that somehow stopped just short of a leer. “Or what I hear.”
    “What does that mean, what you hear?”
    “My sources tell me you—and I quote—‘Worked your ass off out there’ today. Though”—he gave me the look again—“from here I would say that anatomical part appears to still be attached.”
    “Who said that?” Whom had Wade been talking to, and just how had my name come up, anyway?
    “Sean. He stopped by on his way home.”
    “Sean? The foreman? I didn’t know you two were friends.”
    “Acquaintances, more like it.” Wade took another swallow of beer. “He had some papers to drop off, and I was leaving a message on your machine when he walked in.”
    A waitress stopped at our table and deposited plastic baskets of chicken and fries.
    “So,” I said after she left, “what about Sean?”
    “Nothing much. He came in while I was leaving my message. Heard me say ‘Georgie,’ and asked if I meant Neverall. I told him sure, since there aren’t many Geor gies around here, and only one who I’d want to have dinner with.” He grinned, and touched my hand briefly. “He said he’d be surprised if you weren’t too tired to even eat, and that was when he said you’d, well, you know.” Apparently,
Wade wasn’t about to mention my backside a second time. Which was fine with me. “I gotta tell you, Georgie, that’s the nicest thing I have heard him say about a woman in probably two years.”
    “Yeah, nice.” My lingering soreness gave my words an edge. “I’ve noticed he seems to have an issue with women.”
    “Yeah,” Wade said. “Ever since his wife left him, Sean’s had a sour outlook on women. I don’t see that changing soon, but it sounds like he’s easing up a little where you’re concerned.”
    “Well, I can’t believe any woman would stay with him.” That sounded harsh. “Maybe I’m seeing the effect, not the cause, though. And you think I made an impression?” I thought about it for a second. “Wow.”
    The chicken had come fresh from the fryer, but by now it had cooled enough for me to chance a bite. The coating crackled when I bit into it, dripping steaming juices onto the paper-lined basket. I grabbed a napkin and wiped my chin.
    Wade glanced around. The tavern was crowded, but our table was tucked back in a quiet corner. He spoke quietly. “Pretty much everybody knew there was another woman. This is a small town. The gossip mill was churning full speed.”
    “What?!” I sputtered. “You expect me to, I don’t know, be understanding of his bad attitude because his wife left him, and then you tell me he was cheating? No sympathy here.” I leaned forward. “I don’t accept excuses for cheating. Remember?”
    It was what broke us up in the first place. Not that Wade had cheated, but he’d covered for a buddy who was cheating on Sue. When I found out, I made a grand speech about sisterhood, and how his complicity—yes, I actually used that word—made him just as guilty.
    I might have been a teeny bit over the top.
    Since I was still a kid, the drama queen genes I got
from my mother hadn’t been tamed yet. I lived in hope that I’d do better these days.
    Of course, Sue found out anyway, dumped the jerk, and was still Prom Queen. My relationship with Wade never quite recovered.
    “How could I forget?” Wade winced. “But it wasn’t Sean chasing the other woman. It was Mindy.”
    “Mindy? Mindy Tabor? He married Mindy Tabor? And she was gay?”
    Wade nodded and took a long swallow of beer. “It happens.”
    “Wow.” I sat for a minute, staring into my beer. “Have to admit, that makes Sean’s attitude somewhat more understandable.”
    Wade tilted his head to one side, and studied me. It quickly made me uncomfortable, and I looked away. Finally he spoke again.
    “It was tough on