Vintage Volume Two

by Suzanne, Lisa

  I knew I had to call my mother next, but I had to do one important thing before I made that call.

  I walked over to my pantry and pulled out the lone bottle of scotch. Parker looked at me with curiosity. I unscrewed the cap and took a swig. Parker laughed, and I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “You want one?”

  “Are you planning on having me talk to her?”

  I shrugged. “If you want to.”

  “Will I need it talking to her for the first time?”

  “I need it talking to her any time.”

  That earned a belly laugh from Parker, and I couldn’t help the smile that formed on my lips any time I heard his hearty laugh.

  I pulled up my mother’s contact information on my phone while Parker took a swig of scotch.

  Little pieces of my relationship with my mother flashed through my mind as I stared at her contact information for a few seconds.

  She’d been absent for much of my childhood. I always thought of her as my birth mother, not the kind and caring sort of mother that children deserved. I never really had that. The final straw in our relationship had come during my freshman year in high school. It was my first Homecoming dance, and a cute boy I’d had a crush on had asked me to the dance. I’d asked my mom if we could go shopping for a dress, and she sent me along with a driver and told me to pick out whatever I wanted.

  What I really wanted was a mom who wanted to shop for the goddamn dress with me.

  I didn’t dislike her. I didn’t resent her. She was part of my life when she wanted to be, and I’d grown to accept that about our relationship. At least I had my dad, and even though he pissed me off to the extreme sometimes, I knew I’d always have him. He cared about me. He’d have gone dress shopping with me if he’d have been in town. That was just the kind of dad he was.

  When I’d come home from my dress excursion, excited that I’d found a dress in my favorite color, I modeled it for my mom. When I emerged in excitement from my bedroom, my mother informed me that the pale blue color I’d chosen had washed me out and made my skin look pasty.

  I could only imagine how this conversation was going to go.

  I drew in a deep breath and clicked the call button.

  It rang four times and went to voicemail.

  Fantastic.

  Now she’d call me back whenever she pleased and I’d be caught off guard—and most likely sober.

  “Mother, it’s your daughter Roxanna. I have some news to share with you. Please call me at your earliest convenience.”

  I hung up.

  “So formal,” Parker commented.

  “She’s not very motherly, in case you haven’t gotten the memo.”

  “Yeah, I kinda figured. You ready to head over to Vintage?” he asked.

  I nodded. I’d called the store to see if Barry was in, and by some stroke of luck, he was. I told Virginia to book me an appointment with him.

  More formalities when we were used to casual operations.

  On our twenty-five minute drive over, we talked wedding details and I made a few calls to let some extended family know that this was happening. Both of my grandparents on my mom’s side and my grandfather on my dad’s side had passed away before I even knew them. My grandma on my dad’s side was still alive. She lived in San Francisco, and we tended to get together on holidays and special occasions. She was a typical grandma—not what you would expect of the mother of one of the most famous rock stars on earth.

  My mom was an only child, like me, and my dad had one younger brother who had died of a drug overdose in the late nineties. It taught my dad a thing or two about the dangers of drugs. I had a couple of cousins on that side of my family, but that was it as far as family was concerned. I didn’t even really care if my cousins attended. An invitation would be more out of obligation than actually wanting them there.

  Parker told me that the only family he wanted there was Kimmy and his brothers in Flashing Light.

  “Maid of honor?” Parker asked on our way to Vintage.

  I laughed.

  That was a great question. I wasn’t close to any girls. I didn’t count Virginia or Vanessa among my friends, really. They were friends of convenience. I just didn’t trust people. I didn’t let them in.

  “I don’t have anyone I’d want to stand up with me.”

  “Then we don’t have to.”

  “Do you?”

  “I make my living with three other men who are my best friends. But if you want it to be just us, it’ll be just us. I want what you want.”

  I reached over and squeezed his hand, and he glanced away from the road for just a second to meet my eyes. I saw everything I needed to see there.

  “Tell me more about the guys. I feel like I know nothing about that part of your life.”

  He chuckled. “Well, you know Vinnie’s an asshole.”

  I nodded. “Tell me about Fitz and Garrett.”

  “Fitz is one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. He’s one of those people who will do anything for anybody. And Garrett is quiet. He loves video games and brewing his own beer.”

  “So Vinnie’s the asshole, Fitz is the nice one, and Garrett is the quiet one. Which one are you?”

  He winked in my direction. “The sexy one.”

  I couldn’t argue there.

  We walked into the store that I hoped to someday own. Bruno walked in behind us and stood by the door. Tim gave me a hug, fairly unconcerned about the fact that he was embracing me in front of the man I was going to marry. When I’d called in that morning, I’d told him about Damien’s death. Tim knew Damien from when Damien and I were together. They had actually been friends once upon a time. Not close friends, particularly given Tim’s crush on me, but casual acquaintances at the very least.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice consoling.

  “Thanks. It’s a shock, but I’m dealing.”

  “You’re here to talk to Barry?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Mind if I ask what about?” He looked anxious.

  I didn’t think it was an appropriate time to let him know that I was planning to buy the store. “I’d rather not say.”

  “Just tell me you aren’t leaving.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  He smiled at me, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I can never tell if you’re just telling me what I want to hear or if you’re being real.”

  “Time will tell,” I said cryptically, and then I led Parker to Barry’s office located off of the side of the break room.

  Barry was sitting in his chair behind his desk. He was rubbing his forehead like he had a bad headache. His glasses sat on the desk in front of him.

  I knocked on the doorframe. He opened his eyes and looked in my direction. “Come on in,” he said. He rubbed his eyes and put his glasses back in place.

  Parker closed the door, and then the two of us sat in the chairs that faced Barry’s desk.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked.

  I glanced at Parker nervously, and he gave me an encouraging nod.

  “Two things, actually.”

  Barry looked at me expectantly.

  “First, Parker and I are getting married. This coming Saturday.”

  He smiled broadly. “Congratulations. Take the rest of the week off, obviously. And whenever your honeymoon falls, too. We’ll figure out coverage.”

  “Thank you,” I said, knowing that was what he’d say. It felt good to tell someone whose immediate reaction wasn’t to judge the speed at which we’d decided to wed.

  “So my little Roxy girl is getting married,” he mused. He looked at Parker. “You better treat her right.”

  “Always, sir.” Parker’s dark eyes were full of love when they met mine.

  But it was time to get to the root of why we had asked for this meeting. “I have a confession to make, Barry.”

  He raised his eyebrows toward me, and for the first time, I noticed how incredibly stressed he looked. His wr
inkles that typically made him look jolly now just made him look withdrawn and weak. He looked like he’d lost some weight, and dark circles shadowed his normally bright eyes.

  He didn’t say anything, so I continued. “I saw an email come through on your computer the other day when we were talking about schedules. I didn’t mean to look, but it popped up.”

  He looked momentarily angry. “What email?”

  “From a lawyer. About bankruptcy.”

  Barry sighed, and an awkward silence descended.

  I was about to continue when Barry spoke first.

  “I figured I couldn’t hide it much longer. I’m glad you’re the first one, Roxy, because I trust you. I know you love this store as much as I do, but it’s been losing money for a long time. I’ve put everything I have back into it. Everything. I’m broke. The business is broke. I’m going to have to shut down.”

  “That’s why I’m here.” I looked over at Parker again and cleared my throat. “Why we are here.”

  Parker nodded and smiled encouragingly.

  “Barry, I want to buy Vintage from you. I want to run this place. You know how much I love it, and I want to save it.”

  “Oh, Roxy, I can’t let you do that. I can’t. It’s in the hole more than you know. I haven’t turned a profit in thirteen months. It’s not worth it.”

  My heart started beating faster. The thought that he might not accept my offer never for even a second had entered my mind. “Money doesn’t matter. I’ll put in whatever I need to because it’s worth it to me. I love this place. This has been a home to me for a long time, Barry, and I can’t just watch it die.”

  “It’s already dead, honey.” His voice was gentle, but the underlying meaning tore at my heart.

  I was persistent. “I need this. I know I can save this.”

  “I love your enthusiasm, but there isn’t much left to save.”

  “This place is worth a lot. To more than just me.”

  “You can’t count Tim and Virginia. Or even the part timers. Besides, there’s very little inventory left. You’d be starting from scratch. I’m not trying to be harsh, but do you even know how to run a business?”

  “If I may, sir,” Parker interjected, “that’s where I come in. I have experience working with bankrupt companies. The two of us are partners in this, and we agree that this place is worth it.”

  Barry sighed again. “I’ll have to think about it. Talk to my lawyer, run some numbers, that kind of thing.”

  I smiled, the fear of him saying no replaced with hope. And a little bit of giddiness.

  His eyes narrowed at my smile. “I didn’t say yes, Roxy. I said I’ll think about it.”

  “I know. And that’s good enough for me for now.” It wasn’t, but I had to keep the positivity up.

  He shook his head and pressed his lips together. “Thank you for the offer. I will get back to you in a few days.” It was an effective dismissal.

  Parker and I stood and headed toward the door. With my hand on the knob, I turned around. I needed to say one more thing before I left, because if I didn’t, I knew I’d always regret it. I had to throw my petition out there one last time.

  “Thank you for talking to us. This is my dream, Barry, and I know that you understand how much I love this place. I love it as much as you do. It’s worth it to me, no matter the price and no matter the risk.”

  He nodded, tossed his glasses on the desk in front of him, and went back to rubbing his forehead.

  I knew we’d thrown a wrench into whatever plan he had for Vintage, but I could only pray that my plea would work. I had to hope that he’d be willing to let me take on the risk.

  eighteen

  “I think it went well, Jimi. I think he’s going to let us do this.” His eyes checked the rearview mirror. He turned to check behind him as he backed out of the space, and his eyes locked on mine for a brief moment.

  I smiled at his “us.”

  We were a team now.

  “I hope so,” I said.

  I checked my phone, which I’d left in the car during our meeting, and I saw that I had a new voicemail. The number was unfamiliar, but when I listened to the message, the voice was familiar.

  “Roxanna, hello. It’s Carla Williams. It’s been a long time, and I hate that I’m calling you under these circumstances…” Her voice trailed off for a moment, and then she cleared her throat. “Anyway, I’d love to meet for coffee or…something. Give me a call.” She left her number and ended the call.

  It had probably been nearly two years since I’d heard from Damien’s mother. She’d always been civil toward me, but we had never been close. Damien hadn’t really been close with his parents. They were always busy working.

  I briefly wondered how she’d gotten my number. I’d changed it after Damien and I had split, but I supposed she had my dad’s contact information somewhere.

  “What was that?” Parker finally asked, breaking into my thoughts.

  I replayed it on speaker for him.

  “Damien’s…?” he trailed off, his voice asking a question.

  I filled in the answer. “Mom.”

  “You want to call her back?”

  “Not really.” I looked out my side window as I mumbled.

  “I’ll go with you if you want.” He reached over and squeezed my leg.

  I glanced over at him. He looked worried.

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “I know you will. You’re a strong, beautiful woman. I know you can take care of yourself. But you don’t have to because I’m here to take care of you.”

  I pressed my lips together. Sometimes he said things like that and I just wanted to cry. I wasn’t sure how fate had stepped in to push us together—and by “fate,” I meant my dad—but I was grateful.

  I was grateful for at least one parent who seemed to understand what I needed better than I did.

  And speaking of that other parent of mine…

  My phone started ringing in my hand as I contemplated calling Carla back. “Material Girl” by Madonna started playing, and Mom flashed across the screen.

  I held it up so that Parker could see, and he chuckled at my choice of song. “You gonna answer that?”

  I took a deep breath and swiped the screen before I lost my nerve. “Mother!” I said with fake enthusiasm. I caught Parker’s barely concealed quaking laughter out of the corner of my eye.

  He knew me well enough to catch the insincerity in my voice. My mother, on the other hand, did not.

  “You’re getting married in six days?” she practically screamed into the phone. I couldn’t tell if she was screaming because she was pleased or pissed. Parker laughed again. He could hear every word she was saying. I put the call on speakerphone just for shits and giggles.

  “I am.” I wasn’t sure how she knew—either my dad or the tabloids had informed her.

  “Roxanna, really,” she berated. The answer to my earlier question was pissed. “I haven’t even met this boy yet.”

  “Dad has. Dad highly recommended him, in fact.”

  “Your father is an idiot.”

  “He has nice things to say about you, too.” That statement earned another chuckle from Parker. I winked at him, catching the amusement around his eyes.

  “I’m sure. How the hell do you expect me to get home in six days?”

  I had two ways of responding to that. The first thought that came to my mind was that I didn’t really care if she came. Had I invited her?

  I went with the high road. “Dad will get you here. You know he still cares about you, Mom. Where are you, anyway? Why haven’t I heard from you in…” I paused and did the math in my head. “God, in six months? Has it been that long?”

  “I’m in London. Fashion capital of the world, you know. I’ve been busy designing.”

  “Do you have a job out there? Have you sold any of your designs?”

  She contemplated my question, and ultimately she gave me the most honest answer she could while still managi
ng to save face. “I’ve met with a few top designers. I’ve got some things in the works.”

  So that meant a big, fat no.

  I should’ve felt bad for her, but at least she was attempting her dreams. That was more than could be said for most people.

  I saw a quote somewhere that said if you’re up and running, you’re lapping everyone sitting at home. It rang true for my mother.

  And I supposed it rang true for me, too.

  I’d never had a life’s ambition. I never cared about it until I met someone who pointed out to me that hopes and dreams were an important part of life. And now I was working to achieve it.

  I knew the advantage I had because of my father. I was accepting that fact with grace and gratitude where my future was concerned.

  “I’d love if you could make it Saturday,” I lied. If she was there, the day would become a circus that was more about her than anything else.

  “I have nothing to wear.”

  I laughed outright at that one. She was designing clothes in the fashion capital of the world, my dad still paid her child support even though I was twenty-two and she’d never raised me anyway, and she had nothing to wear?

  I sincerely doubted that.

  “If I can find a dress in six days, so can you.”

  She huffed with irritation. “What’s with the rush? Did this boy knock you up?”

  “Jesus Christ, mother. No. Even if he did, who cares?”

  “You can’t love him. How long have you even known him?”

  “I’ve known him long enough to fall in love with him. The forever kind, Mom. I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

  “I heard about Damien. I’m so sorry.”

  Of all people, she should have known my aversion to the “I’m sorry” that came with the deaths of loved ones. But the words fell out of her mouth, so I repeated them back.

  “I’m sorry, too.” I didn’t know what else to say about that. Everyone kept telling me they were sorry, but I’d been out of touch with him for a year. Did his death leave a hole in my heart? Absolutely. Was he someone I would miss for the rest of my life? Definitely.