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She looks toward his table.
Bo is seated again, drinking from a fresh glass while two of his friends talk to him. His son stands beside him, one hand resting on the back of Bo’s chair.
Joe Jackson watches me with a satisfied smile.
Fear slides through me.
Not because Bo hit me.
Because Joe is here.
He must have arrived while I was unconscious.
“What is he doing here?”
“Bo called him.”
“Why?”
Tonya glances toward the front entrance. “Because the sheriff is coming.”
Relief makes me close my eyes.
“Good. There are plenty of witnesses.”
Tonya doesn’t answer.
When I look at her again, tears fill her eyes.
“Tonya?”
“They’re saying you attacked him.”
A bitter laugh escapes me, but it makes my face hurt. “Everyone saw what happened.”
“I did.”
“So did at least thirty other people.”
She looks around the restaurant.
Every person who was watching a moment ago suddenly finds something else to do. A woman gathers her children and hurries toward the door. Two men leave cash on their table and follow her.
By the time Sheriff Dean Miller walks in, half the restaurant is empty.
He sees me on the floor and stops.
His expression hardens when he looks at Bo.
“What happened?”
“She attacked my father,” Joe says.
“That’s a lie,” Tonya snaps. “Bo grabbed her ass. She slapped him, and he punched her hard enough to knock her unconscious.”
Joe doesn’t even look at her. “My father was attempting to get the attention of an employee. She struck him with a metal serving tray.”
“I didn’t hit him with the tray,” I say.
