Unrevealed by Laurel Dewey Page A

mirror that framed the bar. “You know what? I don’t really feel anything.”
    Jane gingerly touched Courtney’s sleeve. “Did Craig do that? Is that how this night started for you?”
    An unnatural glaze washed over her countenance. “Oh, Jane. It doesn’t matter. Really, honey…it doesn’t matter…”
    Jane pressed Courtney’s sleeve to try to create a connection with her, but it was useless. “But it does matter, Courtney. Is that how it all started?”
    Courtney turned to Jane, still distant but harboring a layer of agitation. “How what started, Jane?”
    Jane stared at her. “Would you walk outside with me?”
    A suspicious glower crept across her eyes. “Why?”
    â€œI gotta get some air.”
    Courtney glanced down to the bar. “I’m sorry, Jane, but I can’t go with you. I have other plans.” She slid her right hand into her jacket pocket.

    Jane heard the distinct click of a handgun being cocked. Her heart pounded. “Oh, fuck. Courtney, come on. What are you doing?”
    Courtney tilted her head. An errant strand of hair fell across her cheek; she allowed it to linger on her moist skin. “Jane…Jane…Jane. I have no choice. I can’t play the game any longer.” She stopped, lost in thought. “My kids… my beautiful children — I know the son-of-a-bitch touched Megan. Not like he touches me. She gets the soft hand. I get the fist.”
    â€œI’ll get you help,” Jane urged. “You walk out of here with me, I’ll get you help.”
    â€œDear, dear, Jane…” Courtney twisted her hand in her jacket pocket to force the butt of the concealed gun into her gut. “You have no idea.”
    â€œNo, Courtney, I do .” She carefully slipped off the barstool and stood next to the bar. “Look, I’ve had a shitty night so far. I don’t need to cap it off with you…capping yourself off.”
    Courtney momentarily looked blank, and then, as if a switch went off, she broke into uproarious laughter. “Oh, Jane! You enjoy such a humorous twist to the English language!”
    Jane reached out toward her. “Please give me the gun, Courtney.”
    Courtney’s laughter quickly ceased as a realization surfaced. “It’s like the dream, Jane. Just now, you standing there like that, with your hand reaching toward me. Remember the dream I told you about? This here, right now , is it manifested in real life.” She cocked her head. “Or is this a dream? I feel so very foggy, Jane.” Courtney slid the revolver from her jacket pocket and, using the business end of the gun, itched her temple. The bartender could be heard slowly walking
away in the background. “Huh…,” she said, her eyes losing focus.
    â€œWhat is it?” Jane carefully asked.
    â€œI just realized that I don’t remember how I got to this bar.”
    â€œGive me the gun, Courtney. Please?”
    â€œHow did I get here, Jane?”
    â€œ Courtney ! Give me the gun.”
    Courtney disappeared into herself. “I drove,” she muttered distantly. “How peculiar…”
    â€œPlease…give…me…the…gun,” Jane pleaded.
    Courtney stared at Jane, her eyes housing the specter of chaos. “Are you my friend, Jane?” She traced tiny circles in her cheek with the tip of the gun.
    Jane let out a soft sigh. “Sure.”
    Courtney dove into Jane’s eyes, searching for honesty. “I do believe you are being forthright with me, Jane Perry. Thank you.” Courtney lowered the handgun but still held onto it. She regarded it for a moment as if she were seeing it for the first time. “My, my…” With that, Courtney quietly rested the gun on the bar.
    Jane grabbed a napkin and, gingerly lifting the weapon, ejected the waiting bullet in the chamber and dumped the clip into her palm.
    Courtney