The Dirty South

by Penelope King

  “Good to see you haven’t lost your appetite any,” he says, arching an eyebrow.

  “Oh, you hush, Cole,” Vivi says.

  He gives her a lazy grin, then turns back to me. I glance down and try to focus on properly chewing and swallowing my food.

  “This is for you. For your claim on the tin can.” He sets an envelope down on the table.

  I casually open it and peek inside. Then I take a sip of coffee. “Thanks.”

  He takes out another key. “Forgot to give this to you earlier. It’s for the laundry room.”

  I notice Vivi’s eyes have widened considerably.

  “Thank you,” I murmur and slide the key into my pocket, avoiding making eye contact. My mind suddenly flashes back to him whispering my name in the dark as I slept.

  He stands there a moment longer, then turns and leaves without another word.

  I look up and Vivi’s jaw is practically hanging open. “You’re staying at Magnolia Manor with him?”

  “Well not with him, but yeah. Lucky me, huh?”

  She giggles. “I know plenty of women who wouldn’t be complainin’.”

  I can’t help the eye roll and the disgusted tone in my voice “Yeah, well, they can have him. He’s really not my type at all.”

  Vivi chuckles again and takes a quick glance around the room. Everyone seems to be fine, but I notice she’s sipping her coffee a little quicker now. “Funny, usually women only get mad at him after they’ve already slept with him and he blows them off.”

  “Then why do they do it? Hook up with him, that is.”

  She arches her drawn-on eyebrows. “Why? You have seen him, right? The man is walking sex.”

  “But if they know he’s just using them, why do they do it?”

  “Using is a bit misleading… and I’d say the using goes both ways. Can’t imagine any woman not having the time of her life with him.”

  “But if he’s such a player, you’d think people who knew his reputation would be smart and avoid him.”

  Vivi raises her cup to her lips again. “Well, you know us women… we all like to think we’re the exception to the rule. That it will be different with us.” She laughs, and I can tell I’m really going to like her. She reminds me of a more innocent version of Stacia.

  “What about you?” I ask casually, hoping I’m not overstepping my boundaries. “You been with him?”

  Her mascara’d eyes fly open in shock. “Me? Ah, no way. I’ve been with my Freddy since we were freshmen in high school. We’re getting married on New Year’s Eve.” She holds out her hand and shows me her tiny diamond engagement ring. I hadn’t even noticed it before.

  “Not that I haven’t imagined it a few times,” she adds with a wink. “I’m engaged, not dead.”

  High school sweethearts. Just like Brandon and I were. I glance at the lovesick expression on Vivi’s face and feel a twinge of envy… quickly followed by happiness. I hope she has the perfect life that I almost had.

  No, not almost. Was NEVER going to have. It was a lie! Remember that!

  “Did I say something wrong?” Vivi asks. “You look a million miles away, and nowhere good.”

  I shake my head and force a smile. “No, sorry… just remembering someone for a moment. That’s great, congratulations.”

  “Thanks. So what about you… you’re not married?” She glances down at my hand, and I hate the pang of sadness I feel when I look at the bare finger. I was never one for wearing jewelry, but the ring had stunned me with its clarity and size, and I loved admiring it. When Brandon had slipped it on my finger after a romantic dinner at the lake, I almost felt like it was happening to someone else – the dream was too good to be real.

  And now the ring… like the dream… is gone.

  I shake my head. “Nope. Single as can be.”

  She narrows her eyes briefly. “Something tells me there’s a story there.” She glances around and waves at someone, then gets to her feet. “No matter. Pretty girl like you won’t be single for long, I’m sure.”

  I shake my head. “No… I’m really not interested in some romantic entanglement right now. Besides, I’m only planning on staying here ‘til the end of the year.”

  She nods at a couple in the corner with a hand raised. “A lot of things can change in a six months,” she says and gives me another wink. “Just you wait and see.”

  Chapter 8.

  I’m back at my cottage getting unpacked and settled in when my phone buzzes. It’s Stacia. I smile and switch it on. “Hey.”

  “Hey, girl. You made it there alive?”

  God, it’s so good to hear her voice again. I relax on the couch and kick my feet up on the armrest. It’s been almost a week since we’ve talked, due to her crazy work schedule and my crazy driving schedule. My eyes fill with unexpected tears, but I quickly blink them away.

  “I’m here… I’m alive…” Barely.

  “You wearing flannel and listening to country music yet?”

  I chuckle under my breath. “Getting fitted for a cowboy hat and spurs as we speak. How are you? How’s Manhattan?”

  She must be outside… I can hear the distinctive sounds of the city in the background. In stark contrast to the complete silence here.

  “It’s amazing. Perfect. Intense. New York really is the center of the world.”

  I stretch my body out along the couch and smile again. “If you say so.”

  “It’s just so much more everything than I imagined it would be. I mean, it’s a whole different experience actually living here, not just visiting for the weekend. Every day there are fabulous new restaurants to try, interesting people to meet, and the men… oh my, do they make them pretty out here!”

  So far I’ve eaten at the same place for both my meals and keep running into the same guy everywhere I go. And I certainly wouldn’t call him pretty. Well, maybe his eyes–

  “I just never ever thought it would be this insanely amazing,” Stacia continues. “I couldn’t have even imagined it. You just have to come visit soon! Once you’re all settled, that is.”

  “Yeah. Maybe. I just landed last night. I haven’t even unpacked or met with my employer yet.”

  There’s a brief pause, and then she asks, “Have you heard anything from anyone?”

  At least she has the decency to be vague and not say the bastard’s name, unlike my mother. Stacia is one of the few people who knows the truth about what really went down with Brandon and me. Not the manufactured lies that are now being spread to explain our sudden split so as to maintain the perfect Hartford image. Or even worse, the ones being made up to totally discredit me should I decide to say anything. As if I actually would.

  I get up and wander over to the big bay window. I have an unobstructed view of the gardens, including two of the guest cottages. It’s a beautiful, bright summer day, and it’s almost as if the sun is mocking my dark feelings with its cheerful rays.

  “No, I haven’t heard anything from him or anyone else, thank goodness, and I’d like to keep it that way. I promised to keep my mouth shut, and I will. I know they’re making me out to be the bad guy, and crazy. But whatever. I don’t even care anymore. I just want to close that chapter and move on with my life.”

  “Yeah, but that was a pretty long chapter,” Stacia says softly. “A very important and meaningful chapter.”

  Tears fill my eyes again, and I shake my head. “Yeah, it was important and meaningful… for a while. At first he was my lover… then he was just my friend… then he became something else. But even forgetting all the ugliness of that night, as if that were possible, truthfully, it was over long before that. I was just too stupid and blind to actually see it.”

  “You weren’t being stupid or blind. You were in love.”

  I laugh dryly. “Same thing.”

  My eyes perk up as I catch a movement by some flower bushes. A moment later an elderly black gentleman appears, walking with a cane. His hat is down low on his face, but from here he reminds me of the a
ctor Morgan Freeman. Maybe that’s the Willie guy that Colton mentioned?

  “How are you feeling, though, overall?” Stacia presses. “Are you doing better?”

  I flop back down on an oversized chair and sit with my knees pulled up to my chest. “It’s weird,” I murmur. “I had the whole way out here to do nothing but think. About everything. I don’t have it all figured out exactly, and I still have my moments of being royally pissed off… but now I think I’m almost more sad for him than I am mad.”

  “Really?”

  I shake my head and rest my elbows on my knees. “I have residual anger… comes on occasionally, out of nowhere. In small spurts. It might take me a while to get over that entirely, just knowing that I was so blatantly used by someone I trusted… like my feelings didn’t matter at all.”

  “I know,” she whispers.

  “But I know he’s not evil. He’s never been violent, before that night. For him to do what he did…I’m sad that he felt he had to do it, you know? He was like a wounded animal who’d been cornered and was fighting for his life or something.”

  “That does not excuse him laying his hands on you—!”

  “I know, I know! Not by a long shot. I saying, I’m really just the collateral damage here. He’s the problem. Someday I’ll start over, a new chapter, a new book… but he’ll still be trapped and miserable. Living a lie. They all are.” I let out a long, deep sigh and play with the fringe on the throw pillow.

  “But I know it wasn’t all a lie,” I continue, my voice softer. “Not all of it. I know he cared for me… He did. Just not the right way.”

  “It’s just crazy that in this day and age he’d go to such lengths to hide the truth. Be willing to sacrifice so much.”

  “Not just him, but his family… my family. It makes me sick. Ugh, don’t get me started on that again. I need to turn the page! The past is the past.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetie, I didn’t mean to make you feel worse,” Stacia says quietly, and I can practically feel her hugging me through the phone.

  My mind flashes back to all those nights when she and I had stayed up late, binge-watching TV series on Netflix and stuffing our faces with Nutella and ice cream and pizza. All those nights I never once questioned where Brandon was, or what he was doing, or with whom. Safe in my delusion of happiness.

  “So, any interesting books you feel like reading yet?” she asks.

  “Huh?”

  She laughs. “I’m continuing your metaphor. Any hot prospects?”

  I stare at the phone. “What, like a guy?”

  “Sure.”

  I roll my eyes. “You realize I’ve been here like five seconds, right? I mean, I haven’t even finished unpacking yet.”

  She laughs again. “Well just don’t let too much dust gather. Use it or lose it, babe.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean—?”

  “Oops, gotta run. We’ll talk more later, okay? Glad to hear you’re doing okay. Miss you, love you.”

  “Miss you, love you too,” I reply automatically. This has been our standard goodbye for the past fifteen years anytime we’ve been separated for more than a few days. And the words were never truer than right now.

  Chapter 9.

  I turn on the radio to a local station. Country. Not my first choice, but the girl has a pretty voice and lots of sass, going on about taking all sorts of revenge on her cheating lover.

  Sing it, sister.

  I open the windows to let in some fresh air, happy they all have screens behind them. I’ve seen the size of some of the insects flying around out here, and if one gets inside the place, I’ll probably have to move out.

  I start to hang my clothes in the small closet. Good thing I left most of my stuff in storage. I figure if there’s something I really need, I can buy it. Throw a little money at the problem. That always fixes everything, right?

  But as I gaze outside my bedroom window at the picturesque beauty of the woods surrounding the inner gardens, the one thing I do wish I had thought to bring is my set of oil paints. I hadn’t been inspired to paint in years. It was something I absolutely adored growing up, but after Brandon once called it ‘a silly little hobby for dilettantes’ I had pretty much abandoned it. To him, being an artist only mattered if you had shows in galleries and legions of fans. He only respected writers who were published bestsellers. Only admired actors who were famous or award-winning. Anyone else was just a wanna-be poseur.

  But now as the first breath of inspiration I’ve felt in years takes hold of me, I realize the only sad poseur is him. Painting makes me happy. I may not be famous or open galleries, but I like painting pretty pictures and capturing that tiny moment of space and time and making it my own.

  Why did I let him take that away from me?

  I’m folding some shorts to put in a drawer when again a movement from outside catches my eye. I scoot over to the window and peek out, leaning into the wall so as not to be seen. Colton is walking toward one of the other bungalows, and someone is with him. It’s not the man I saw before. This guy is slightly shorter than Colton and not as powerfully-built, and he seems to be walking with a bit of a limp. He’s wearing a hat and carrying a small, black duffel bag. I can hear them talking, but I can’t make out the words. At one point Colton starts to turn in my direction, and I quickly press closer against the wall, out of sight.

  When I peek again they’re gone. I presume they went to the little guest house next to mine, the one where he said Willie lives.

  About half an hour later I feel like I have everything arranged pretty much the way I like it. I’m almost finished organizing my toiletries in the bathroom when there’s a knock at the door. My heart stops for a moment. I can think of only one person who’d come to see me here.

  I take a quick glance in the mirror and frown. This dang humidity and my wavy hair are really going to have to learn how to work out their differences. I run a brush through my hair and dab some pale gloss on my lips. Then a fast spritz of perfume. Been working in the heat, after all.

  I take a breath and wipe blank my expression before opening the door. But it’s not Colton standing there, it’s the man he was walking with earlier. I hope I don’t look disappointed.

  He gives me a gentle smile, and I’m immediately struck by how kind his eyes are behind his wire glasses. And how much younger he looks closer up. Early thirties, maybe.

  “Hello there,” he says in a soft, Southern drawl. “I’m Dr. Daniel Monroe. Folks around here call me Dr. Dan.” He holds out his hand. His grip is gentle, and he has the kind of energy that immediately puts a person at ease.

  “Hello…?”

  “I hope this isn’t a bad time. I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

  I shake my head and shrug. Who is this man? And why is he here? I glance around for Colton, but I don’t see him anywhere. “No, I’m just finishing unpacking and getting settled.”

  He just stands there, smiling, until it finally dawns on me.

  “Oh! Um… would you… like… to come in?”

  Normally I’d never in a million years consider letting a stranger I’d just that second met come into my house. Even one claiming to be a doctor. That would be crazy. But I get the feeling it’s expected here, and I’m the crazy one for not being more hospitable.

  He nods. “Thank you. I won’t take up much of your time.”

  He follows me in and waits for me to motion to a chair before he takes a seat.

  “May I get you something to drink?” I ask, using my most polite voice. I can be a charming hostess, dammit.

  “Maybe a glass of water if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “No trouble.”

  I pour us each a tall glass of ice water, then take a seat across from him on the couch. I suspect I know the reason for his visit, but I ask anyway. “What brings you by, Dr. Dan? I’m Cady, by the way.”

  He smiles again, and I notice he’s cuter than I first gave him credit for. Handsome, in a sweet, scholarly w
ay.

  “I stopped by to give Willie his monthly checkup, and since I’d heard about your troubles last night, I thought it might be a good idea to come by and introduce myself… make sure everything is okay with you.”

  I give him a small smile. “I’m fine, really. It was just my lip.”

  “Okay…” He peers closer and nods. “Well, that looks to be healing nicely. No stitches needed, obviously.”

  He reaches into his bag. “May I?” he asks, holding up a silver pen thingy. I nod, and he leans closer and briefly flashes the light back and forth in my eyes. “Good. Pupil dilation is normal. Any headaches or dizziness?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Pain, soreness… especially in the neck or back area?”

  I roll my head a bit and quickly massage my shoulders. “Yeah… Not pain, but definitely some tightness and soreness. But I did just drive across the country. That would wreck anyone.”

  He gives an understanding smile. “I imagine it would. There is a decent massage clinic in town that may help if you’re interested. If the pain becomes too uncomfortable or doesn’t work itself out, you’ll come and see me, won’t you?”

  I nod. “I will. But I’m sure I’ll be fine. I just need to get back to doing my stretches and yoga.”

  This time his eyes seem to sparkle as he smiles. He stands to leave, and I get up to walk him to the door.

  “So, I heard you just graduated from law school in California and now you’re going to be working with Sheldon?”

  Jesus. Vivi really wasn’t kidding when she said everyone knows everything. “Yes, he’s an old friend of my father’s. I’ll be working as his assistant for the next several months.”

  “That’s great. His office is across from mine. Happy to see he’s getting some help in there.”

  “Yeah—” I open the door and stop short when I see Colton standing right outside. I catch my breath as his eyes fix on me momentarily. Then he turns to the doctor.

  “Doc, I need to talk with you about Willie for a minute.”

  Dr. Dan nods and puts his hat back on. “Sure thing.” He turns back to me and holds out his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Cady. Do come and see me if that neck gives you any trouble, okay?”