Good Girl Complex: An Avalon Bay Novel

There’s a dive about an hour west of Avalon Bay. A shack, if you can even call it that, off a two-lane county road that cuts through nothing but empty swamps and small farms. You can usually hear the rumble of motorcycle engines idling in the dirt parking lot from half a mile away. I pull my truck in and cut the engine, then duck inside to find the place is dead, save for a few mean-looking bikers by the pool table and some old guys spread out at the bar. I take a seat on a stool and order a couple fingers of Jack. By the second glass, a guy a couple seats down starts jawing at no one in particular. He’s going on about football, responding to everything the ESPN talking heads are saying on the lone television above us. I try to ignore him until he leans toward me, smacking the bar with his flat palm. I get flashbacks to being a bartender and have to restrain myself from snapping at him.

“Who ya got?” he demands to know with slurred urgency. When I ignore him, he repeats himself louder and slower. “The Super Bowl. Who ya got, kid?”

I spare him a look. “I’ll buy you a drink to get lost.”

“Ohhh.” He laughs, mocking me. “Get a load of him, huh? Shhh…” He holds his finger over his mouth and shows it to everyone. “Y’all quiet the hell down. The kid wants some damn peace and quiet, ya got that?”

I came here to get lost, to be left alone. There’s no chance Mac would find me here, and this was the only place I could think of that Evan doesn’t know about. While he was still clinging to Shelley after our dad’s death, my uncle brought me here to blow off some steam at the dartboards. I want to be alone, but I’ll embarrass the shit out of this asshole if he wants to make a thing of it. Hell, maybe I should channel Evan and start a bar fight, let off some steam. I mean, why the hell not, right?

Just as I’m talking myself into the idea, a hand slaps down on my shoulder from behind.

“Let me get two beers,” a familiar voice tells the bartender.

I glance over to find my uncle taking the stool beside me. Fucking hell.

“Gary,” he says to the drunk who was getting in my face. “Why don’t you get on home to the missus?”

“Super Bowl’s on,” a belligerent Gary slurs, jerking a hand toward the TV. “Can’t expect me to leave during the Super Bowl.”

“That’s a rerun of last year’s game,” Levi replies with the patience of a saint. “Super Bowl’s next month, Gary. Now you better go home to Mimi, yeah? Sure she’s about to send the dogs after you.”

“That damn woman.” Gary grumbles his way to opening his wallet and throwing down a few bills on the bar. He mutters something about can’t let a man drink then teeters his way outside.

Despite wanting to knock his teeth in mere seconds ago, I can’t help but stare with a bit of concern after the stumbling man.

“Don’t worry. He’ll get about a quarter mile on foot before she finds him passed out in the weeds,” Levi says. “He’s fine.”

I look at my uncle in suspicion. “Mac send you?”

“Evan texted me. Said you left in a hurry.”

Of course he did. Because Mac would’ve run right to her new best friend so they could talk shit about me. I’ve had it up to my fucking eyeballs with those two ganging up.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I mutter, leaving no room for argument.

“Good,” he shrugs, “I came here to drink.”

Levi tosses back his beer and trains his eyes on the TV, never once sliding a glance my way. It’s a relief. At first. Then an hour goes by. And another. And soon, I’m as drunk as Gary was when he left, and my mind is torturing me with all the shit that went down tonight, from finding my life savings stolen to the fight with Mac on the beach. Replaying broken bits of the conversation in my head, I can’t quite remember what I said to her, but I’m certain it wasn’t good.

“Shelley came back,” I finally say, the alcohol loosening my tongue. “For two days. Then made off with my life savings.”

Levi makes a full quarter turn to stare at the side of my face.

“Twelve grand.” I draw circles in the condensation ring on the bar with my cardboard coaster. “Poof. All gone. Right out from under my nose.”

“Jesus. Got any idea where she ran off to?”

“Nope. Baton Rouge, maybe. But that was probably bullshit. A lot of difference it makes. She’s not coming back this time. No way.”

“I’m sorry, Coop, but that woman is no good.” Levi drains his beer and plunks it down. “I got tired of apologizing for my brother a long time ago. I make no excuses for him. He left you boys in a bad way with all those debts. But that goddamn Shelley ain’t lifted a finger to help in all these years.” Bitterness colors his tone. “You and Evan have worked so hard to dig yourselves out. Now she struts in and rips all that out from under you? Hell no. Not on my watch.” His hand comes down hard on the splintered wood bar, jarring my whiskey glass.

I’ve never seen my uncle this upset. He’s a quiet guy. Steady. For years, he bit his tongue while Shelley popped in and out as she pleased. After he eventually became our guardian, he never once made us feel like a burden for it. Hearing him talk this way is about as close to spitting mad as I’ve heard him get. For all the good it does us.

“What is there to do?” I feel as bitter as he looks. “There’s no catching up to her now. If she doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be.”

My gut still twists with anger. For the money, sure, but more so for the humiliation. The betrayal. For all the ways this woman has made a fool of us over the years. And we’ve taken it. How Evan still thinks, maybe—even when he knows better—maybe this time it’s real. Goddamn Shelley.

“We ain’t licked yet,” Levi tells me. “And we’re done enabling that woman’s bad behavior, you hear me?”

Before I can answer, he signals someone at the opposite end of the bar. “Steve, hey, got a question for ya,” Levi hollers.

Following my uncle’s gaze, I spot the off-duty cop whose uniform shirt is open to expose a sweat-stained white undershirt.

“What do you need, Levi?” Steve hollers back, because in the Bay, everyone knows everyone.

“How might we go about pressing charges against someone who skipped town?”

What? My startled gaze flies to my uncle, but he’s focused on the cop.

Shaking the glaze out of his eyes, Steve sits up straighter. “What we talking about?”

Levi’s tone is grim. Deadly, even. “Grand larceny.”