by Nash, Willa
Kerrigan
“Rise and shine,” Larke singsonged as she came into my bedroom.
“Go away.” I lifted my throbbing head from my pillow. The red numbers on my clock glowed six thirty. “Come back when time machines are a real thing, and you can take us back to yesterday and rip the vodka out of my hand.”
“No time machine, but I did bring coffee.” She sat on the edge of my bed, holding a steaming to-go cup. The aroma was enticing enough to rouse me from beneath my comforter.
“Ugh.” I scooted up to a seat, shoving the hair out of my face. Then I took the cup from her hands for a heavenly sip. “This is good.”
“I stopped at the coffee shop since you’ve become a cheapskate.”
Because the good coffee was expensive, something my sister had no problem buying. But I was scraping together every penny these days.
Now more than ever.
“Oh, God.” I leaned against the headboard, closing my eyes. Hangovers seemed to get exponentially worse with every birthday, and at thirty, this one would probably last all week.
A familiar meow came from the closet right before Clementine emerged, her white tail held high. She pounced on the bed and stalked my way, giving Larke a kitty sneer before plopping down on my lap.
“Hello, Mistress of Evil,” Larke said to my cat, who simply purred.
Clementine hated Larke, but to be fair to my sister, Clem hated everyone. Even me at times.
“So . . . how bad is it?”
“Not that bad,” Larke answered too quickly, which could only mean it was bad.
I cringed. “You’re lying.”
“Yeah, I’m lying. Everyone at the coffee shop was talking about it. The new barista, the one with the blond hair who is always drooling over Zach, asked me if you got arrested for assaulting that man.”
My jaw dropped. “I didn’t assault him.”
“That’s the story going around. People are saying that Duke arrested you at Jane’s after you went there to get drunk.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“I’m going back to bed.” I made a move to crawl underneath the covers and die, but Larke stopped me with a hand on my forearm.
“It’ll blow over.”
“Yeah, right.” If that was the gossip before seven in the morning, it would only get worse from here. By noon, word around town would probably be that I’d murdered Pierce in broad daylight.
“Note to self,” I muttered. “Move. Immediately.”
Most days I loved my hometown. It was full of familiar faces and friendly smiles. But there were times when Calamity was too small for its own good. Gossip traveled at cheetah speed and I was a woman who preferred a turtle stroll.
There was no such thing as blowing over. The people in my community had memories like elephants.
“Did you at least clarify that I didn’t get arrested and that it was Dad who picked me up from Jane’s?” I asked.
“Of course. I don’t know if they believed me but . . .”
I groaned.
“Hopefully after a few people stop down at the bar for a drink after work, Jane will reinforce that story.”
“It’s the truth, Larke.”
“I know.” She held up her hands. “I’m just the messenger.”
“What else are they saying?”
“Nothing else about you. But there’s a lot of speculation about him.”
Him. Pierce Sullivan.
My stomach dropped and I willed my late-night snack—potato chips, Ritz crackers and pickles—to stay down.
Why did I drink? Never again. Not just because this hangover was going to suck, but because I made stupid, really stupid decisions.
Like calling Pierce’s assistant. Like begging for his phone number. Like showing up at the motel.
Like letting him kiss me.
Like kissing him back.
He’d kissed me, right? Or had I imagined that in my drunken state? My hand drifted to my lips.
Oh, he’d kissed me, all right. I could still feel his mouth there, hot and smooth and delicious. I could still feel the scrape of his neat beard.
The last time a man had kissed me had been over a year ago. I’d gone on a second date with a banker in town who I’d never called back because our kiss had been . . . blech. My personal life was as exciting as a bucket of tar. Maybe I’d designed it that way to protect myself from being hurt again. When I worked all day, every day, there was no time for lukewarm romance.
But with Pierce? There was nothing tepid with that man. We could have sparked a wildfire with that kiss. His lips had been so soft, his tongue wicked, and he’d done this little nip-suck thing at the corner of my mouth that had turned me into a puddle.
But why? Why would he kiss me? Why would he come to Calamity, deliver that awful letter demanding payment on my loan and kiss me? My head was spinning, and it was only partially due to the alcohol.
“I did something stupid last night,” I whispered.
“Was this dumb thing worse than verbally accosting a stranger on First and throwing a piece of shredded paper in his face before going to Jane’s and getting plastered before noon?”
“Seriously?” I shot her a glare.
“What?” She feigned innocence. “I’m just asking.”
“You’re loving this.”
She hid a smile behind the rim of her coffee cup. “Can you blame me? It’s about time you did something gossip-worthy. Everyone’s always talking about how smart and energetic you are. Now you’re in the boat with the rest of us commoners.”
“Please.” I rolled my eyes. “No one gossips about you.”
“Ha! Try working at the school. It’s ten times as bad as it is everywhere else in town. Good thing those cute little faces make up for the assholes on the staff and administration. Now tell me what stupid thing you did because I need to leave for said school in fifteen minutes.”
“I stalked him to the motel.”
“Him?”
“Him.”
“Kerrigan.” She winced. “Okay, I need specifics.”
I took a long drink of coffee, then shifted to face her. “After Dad brought me home, I passed out for a little while. When I woke up I was still drunk and mad so I called Pierce’s assistant and begged for his phone number. Then I walked to the motel because his assistant mentioned he hadn’t left town yet and . . . please don’t make me keep going.”
“Keep going.”
“Marcy gave me his room number.”
“And?”
“And when he answered the door, I told him I hated him.” Then he’d kissed me. That part, I couldn’t even bring myself to speak aloud. Not now. Not ever.
“You really shouldn’t drink. Like, ever again.”
“I know.” I banged my skull against the headboard. “Why am I such an idiot?”
“What did he say?”
“Not much.” He’d been too busy kissing me.
And damn it, that kiss had been good. Toe-curling good. Drenched-panty good.
“No more vodka,” I declared. “Ever again. I mean it.”
Not that I could afford another drunken vodka binge.
I had twenty-nine days to come up with $250,000. Miracles happened, right? I might have ripped up the letter Pierce had given me, but that had been after reading it. Twice. I had until October third to come up with his money.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” It had been two weeks since I’d learned of Gabriel’s death. My heart was still aching.
And now to come up with all of that money . . .
“It’s hopeless.” The tears came flooding, and then I was crying into my younger sister’s shoulder.
I’d secretly thought that whoever would take over Gabriel’s estate would be kind and compassionate. That we could reminisce about what a wonderful man he’d been. That together, we could grieve.
Instead, I’d been stuck with the Antichrist.
“I’m sorry,” Larke
said as she hugged me.
“Me too.” I sat up straight and dried my eyes, glancing at the clock. “You’d better get going.”
“Yeah.” Her lip curled. “There’s a new teacher this year. High school science. He’s such a jerk, and if I get there early enough, I can put my lunch in the teachers’ lounge and miss him completely.”
“Why’s he a jerk?”
“Not sure. Small penis?” She stood from the bed, brushing out her slacks. “How do I look?”
“Beautiful. As always.”
Larke was three years younger and had inherited my mother’s nose. Otherwise, there was no mistaking we were sisters. We had the same chestnut-brown hair, the same oval face and full lips.
“I’ll call you later.” She kissed my cheek. “Most definitely brush your teeth today.”
“You woke me up, remember? I think you should give me back my key.”
“Never.” She waved and disappeared.
As soon as the front door closed, I set my coffee aside and burrowed beneath the covers.
Clementine, irritated to be displaced, stood and leapt off the bed, disappearing down the hallway, probably in search of food.
“Oh, Gabriel.” Even speaking his name hurt.
I wished I’d had the chance to tell him goodbye. To tell him how much his friendship had meant to me. I already missed him dearly. His laugh. His random surprise visits to Calamity. Our long conversations about my dreams and his advice on how to reach them.
Gabriel had loaned me a lot of money. The terms had always been set, but he’d been wonderful about giving me the flexibility to try new things. Not once had he required me to make an interest payment. Because even though I’d hit some snags lately, he’d always believed in me.
According to our original contract, the loan he’d extended me was due in thirty days. When I’d called him six months ago and told him I’d be selling my rental property, a farmhouse, in order to pay him back, Gabriel had told me to hold off on the listing. He knew the real estate market was slow moving and a rental property fit my business model best.
Then when I’d spoken to him the week of his death, explaining that I still had not gotten a tenant, he’d promised me an extension.
Don’t sweat this, Kerrigan.
You’ll come out ahead.
Lean on me, I’ve got you.
Our verbal agreement had been enough for me. I’d trusted Gabriel. He’d trusted me to repay him, with interest.
All would have been fine if not for that plane crash.
If not for his grandson, who’d inherited my loan.
Gabriel must not have told anyone about my extension.
I was flat broke. I had no way to come up with a quarter of a million dollars unless I sold a property, but the real estate market in Calamity was slow, especially now that the leaves had turned. I’d spent years studying trends around the area as well as in other small communities in Montana, and winter was consistently a sluggish season.
Sure, I could slash my prices and probably make a sale. But then I’d be selling multiple properties, not just one. I’d lose every dime I’d put into my properties, not to mention the hours and hours I’d spent on my hands and knees, cleaning and painting and remodeling.
Lost. My dreams lost.
Which led to my biggest problem at the moment.
Pierce.
I was so angry at him I wanted to scream. Why hadn’t I slapped him when he’d kissed me? That man deserved a smack in the face. Instead, I’d kissed him back.
“Why?” I pulled the covers over my head. “What is wrong with me?”
Yes, he was handsome. Distractingly so. But I hated him. I distinctly remember telling him I hated him. And the son of a bitch had kissed me in response.
Did he really want to foreclose on me? I couldn’t picture him, with the fancy suit and fancy shoes and fancy car, wanting to own a bunch of properties in Calamity. Unless he just wanted to steal my properties and sell them when the market picked up again in the spring.
The bastard.
He was going to ruin me.
“I hate him.” I flung the covers off my head and rolled out of bed, marching to the bathroom to brush my teeth and take a shower.
By the time I got to the kitchen, my hangover was beginning to ease. Maybe that was just the rage burning it away. I stomped to the coffee pot to brew another pot of the cheapest of cheap coffee they carried at the grocery store. With a full mug, I took a drink and cringed.
Larke was right. This was awful.
My phone rang and I took it and my crappy coffee to my living room couch. “Hey.”
“Hey.” There was a smile in Everly’s voice. “How are you feeling?”
“Embarrassed. Thanks for going to the bar with me yesterday.”
“Anytime.”
Yesterday, after the sidewalk incident, I hadn’t been able to cope. With the grief from Gabriel’s death. The shock of Pierce’s arrival. The frustration with the letter.
The disappointment in myself because I could point my finger at Pierce all day, but the fact was, I’d gotten myself into this mess.
Yesterday had not been the day for cleanup. Instead, I’d just pulled up a seat at rock bottom and ordered a drink.
My friends Everly and Hux had been downtown. Hux was an artist and his wife, Everly, managed their gallery. When I’d gone to Jane’s, she’d been gracious enough to hang with me at the bar. I was fairly sure Jane hadn’t even opened yet when we’d shown up at her door, but she’d let me come in and get smashed anyway.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do?” Everly asked.
“Not yet.” I slumped into the sofa. This couch doubled as my dining room table at the moment because my actual table was covered with a canvas tarp and painting supplies.
“Is there anything we can do to help?”
“No.” I smiled. “But thank you for coming with me yesterday and listening.”
“No thanks needed. Are you coming downtown today?”
“Do I have to?”
She laughed. “Can anyone else open the gym for you?”
“No,” I grumbled. I really needed to find a backup.
My plan had been to hire someone to run the gym but per Gabriel’s advice, I was being picky about staff. He’d cautioned me to put my processes in place before handing them over to someone else to follow. In a town this size, I couldn’t afford to turn customers away.
So I’d been running the gym on my own, working from the counter during the various fitness classes. I’d hired two high school seniors to work in the evenings and weekends. But at this very moment they were in school, probably taking science from Larke’s new nemesis, and I needed to get to work.
“Want to meet for lunch?” Everly asked.
“Sure. It will probably help squelch rumors if I act like everything is normal. My sister came by this morning, and everyone’s saying that Duke arrested me at Jane’s for assaulting Pierce.”
“I, uh . . . heard. Hux went to the coffee shop about thirty minutes ago to pick us up breakfast this morning.”
“Ugh.”
“It’s probably not that bad.”
I loved Everly, but she hadn’t lived in Calamity long enough to know just how vicious the rumor mill could be.
“White Oak. Noon?” she suggested. “I’ll call Lucy and see if she wants to get out of the house and bring Theo.”
Some cuddle time with my friend’s new baby was bound to cheer me up. “Sounds good. Meet you there.”
I’d be drinking water since I couldn’t afford to eat out, but whatever.
Tossing the phone aside, I glanced around my living room at the partially completed projects. There was so much I wanted to do to this house. It had been built in the early 1930s and was brimming with character. Arched doorways. Hand-carved trim. Some fool had painted that trim green and covered the original hardwood floors with carpet.
This house was brimming with potential, but by the time I came
home from working on an investment property, I was usually worn out. The last thing I wanted to do was pick up a paint brush.
Now that The Refinery was open, my next project was to fix the duplex I’d bought so both spaces could be rentable. The real estate market was sluggish, but there was a shortage of rentals in Calamity.
Once the duplex was finished, I’d planned time to work on my own home. To make it exactly how I wanted it. Except of all the properties I owned, the one I’d have the best shot at selling was this house. My own home.
The idea of letting it go made my stomach curl, so I shoved off the couch, needing to get to work. I made sure Clementine had food and water for the day, then went to the garage and climbed in my car, finding a yellow sticky note on the console.
* * *
Lots of water today.
Love you.
xoxo
Dad
P.S. Think about the dealership.
* * *
That note would have been perfect and sweet if not for the goddamn P.S.
My dad had come to pick me up from Calamity Jane’s yesterday. He’d taken a break from work to collect his drunk daughter and drive her home, where he’d tucked me into bed. But not before telling me all about the benefits of working at his car dealership. Literally, he’d outlined the health and retirement benefits.
Any opportunity to encourage me to work for his company and Dad would pounce.
I couldn’t get too annoyed. He had come to get me. And he had arranged to bring my car home and park it in the garage.
He’d probably thought I’d actually stay in bed all night.
“Nope. Instead I hoofed it to the motel and kissed a stranger.”
My headache came surging to life and it had little to do with yesterday’s alcohol consumption.
As I drove, I caught the stares from people who recognized my black Explorer. I pasted on a smile and pulled into the alley behind my downtown building, navigating to my regular parking spot. Then, with my shoulders squared, I walked to The Refinery and flipped on the lights.
The studio was quiet. It smelled like bleach and eucalyptus air freshener. In such a hurry for a mind-numbing drink, I hadn’t even thought about the gym yesterday.
I couldn’t meet my own gaze in the mirrored walls.
