by Mysti Parker
“Yeah, I’ll be posting some openings in June,” Dwight said. “Apply, then come by, and find me in person, and I’ll interview you first.”
“You know,” the father said, "the man who used to work here, older man, gray hair, big mustache? He was really great. Did he retire? I’d like to shake his hand some time.”
“He passed away in July,” Gabriel said. “That was my dad. He was the best that ever was.”
Chapter Two
Harper Wheeler tossed a garbage bag full of stuffed animals into the back of her pink pickup truck. It was the last item on her mental checklist of things she needed for the trip. But it wasn't just a trip, she reminded herself. It was a lot more permanent than that. For the first time since she had received the job offer, she felt lightheaded and doubtful. She'd traveled, sure, but had always found her way back home to Kentucky.
Someone touched her shoulder. Startled, she spun around.
Her friend Lena laughed. "Girl, you need to relax. I'd be more afraid of this rent-a-roommate you found on Craigslist. You sure she's legit? You sure she's a she?"
"Yes, I've spoken with her on the phone. I've Skyped with her. She even told me to do a background check and had one done on me. We've fully investigated each other's criminal histories or lack thereof. So, don't worry. Besides, she's got a brownstone she inherited from her parents - really nice place for Brooklyn. Of course, I'll be paying her two grand a month for rent. At least this job pays well. I just hope I don't screw it up."
"Oh, you'll do great at the water park."
"Aquarium."
"Right." Lena curled her upper lip in mild disgust. "You'll do great with the fish."
"There's a lot more than fish. There are seals and penguins and otters. All kinds of creatures. But I'll be working with the education department, giving tours to school groups and stuff. I won't have to handle anything slimy...I hope."
"Good. I dated a fishmonger once. And I do mean once. That smell doesn't wash off."
Harper smiled and hugged Lena tight.
Lena hugged her back. "Don't get eaten by a shark, got it?"
"Got it. Don't let Jaxon drive you bananas or make you airsick."
"He's cleaning it up if that happens. Best deterrent there is."
She'd miss Lena's smart-ass humor. Despite her distaste for all things fishy, as a native New Yorker, Lena had been like a fish out of water coming to live here in Kentucky. Thankfully, Harper could rest easy knowing her friend was in good hands with her brother, Jaxon, who operated a hot air balloon and helicopter tour business. Lena had been hired to do their marketing and was doing a brilliant job of it. But she and Jaxon had been like nails on a chalkboard before they had stopped being dimwits and hooked up.
"Speak of the devil," Harper said with a grin.
Jaxon walked out of their mom's trailer with three bottles of root beer. "Soon as Mom gets out of the bathroom, she'll be out to tell you bye. Good thing is, I finally talked her into going to bingo and bunco nights at the Ladies' Auxiliary. They even have a van to pick her up."
Harper nodded. "Good. She needs to get out and talk to people."
Their poor mom had been a handful for both of them the last few years. Increasing health problems along with growing social anxiety had kept things interesting to say the least. Harper would miss her mom and brother, and, as much as she hated to admit it, she'd miss the comfortable familiarity of this place, not that it was anywhere close to a grand estate like Ellison's family owned. She also felt a little guilty for leaving Jaxon to handle the loveable but high-maintenance Dorothy Wheeler. Harper's years of fantasizing about her ecstatic departure from her redneck roots dissolved into an uncertain reality.
Jaxon handed Harper a root beer and wrapped his arm around Lena's waist. Then he nuzzled her neck.
Lena giggled. "God, shave already!"
Harper made a sick face. "You two are pukeworthy. Get a room."
Jaxon grinned. "Lighten up, sis. You just might find Mr. Right up there in the big city."
"That's like way on the bottom of my bucket list. Like so small you need a magnifying glass for it." She imitated holding one and squinting.
"Yeah, okay. Just remember love can find you even when you're not looking for it."
"When did you get all sentimental? Spending too long in the greeting card aisle?"
"I don't know. I'm just happy, I guess, and want the same for you, even if you have to find it a few hundred miles from here." A touch of sadness pulled at the corners of his dark eyes. Dang it, now guilt really nagged at her. She and Jaxon had been tight out of necessity ever since their father abandoned them. Surely he'd be okay without her here to remind him to eat right and floss.
Lena turned to smile at him and kissed his cheek. They really were in love, it seemed. Harper was happy for them. Maybe somewhere, way in the back of her consciousness, she wished for that kind of love, but it would have to wait. She was just twenty-three, fresh out of college and eager to make a splash of her own somewhere before she ever considered a serious sidekick.
Mom shuffled out of the trailer and down the steps. She had a plastic grocery bag full of something and handed it over to Harper.
"What's this, Mom?"
"Snacks for the road."
Harper quickly inspected the bag's contents. Moon Pies, beef jerky, BBQ chips, pork rinds, Pop Tarts and a bunch of random Little Debbies and hard candies. It looked like she had cleaned out her pantry of all the stuff the doctor told her she shouldn't be eating. Although Harper didn't really want to eat it either, she was proud of her for making a positive step.
"Thanks, Mom." Harper hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. "Take care of yourself, okay? No cigarettes."
Mom shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Can I at least have my glass of wine every night? Doc says it's good for the heart. Can't take away all my vices, or I'll go nuts." She sighed and stroked Harper's hair. "I wish you could be happy close to home. What does that big ol' city have that you can't find around here?"
Harper opened her mouth to answer, but the words evaporated on her tongue. What did Brooklyn have that Lexington didn't? More traffic, more people, more pollution, more crime...and here there were horses, and rolling fields of bluegrass framed with pristine white fences, and picture-perfect trees that turned red, gold and vermillion in October.
She settled on a shrug and the most I'll-be-fine smile she could manage.
Momma sighed. "You be careful up there, and call me at every stop so I'll know you're safe."
"I will. Love you."
"Love you, too, baby." She sniffed as she gave Harper one final hug.
Harper shared more hugs with Jaxon and Lena before forcing herself to walk away. She got in her truck and turned the key. Driving toward the highway, she saw them waving in the rearview mirror. Then she couldn't see them anymore. She focused on the road ahead, took a few deep breaths, and turned up the radio. "Brave" by Sara Bareilles was playing. Truth be known, she was terrified, but true courage meant you go after your dreams even if you have to go scared. Harper turned up the volume and sang along.
****
Harper finished off her gas station coffee and pulled up to the curb in front of her new apartment. She'd filled up her travel mug at every stop. At least the fall foliage had been nicer the further north she drove, which am.
Note to self: Don't drive to NYC for the first time when you've only had a couple hours of sleep on an ancient mattress in a room with paper-thin walls.
The Psycho-lookalike motel she'd slept in overnight near Pittsburg had been the best she could afford without having to use a credit card. She didn't want to start her career by adding to her debt. Hopefully her new job would ensure that. Repaying her college loans was challenging enough. The brownstone was similar to others in this part of the Williamsburg neighborhood. Smooth concrete steps with wide concrete handrails led up to a fancy dark wood door that had a half-circle window above it. Harper lucked out and found street parking right outside
after a Mercedes pulled out and left a spot open. Her pink pickup stood out sorely among the luxury and hybrid cars lining each side of the street. She got a few head to toe scans from frowning passersby as she took a couple of her bags from the pickup's bed before locking up the tailgate and making sure the tonneau cover was secure. She didn't have much, but she'd rather not have it stolen just the same. Like her mama had always advised, she flashed her new neighbors a bright smile and a nod as though she'd known them all her life. Her tactic didn't sway the folks with the iciest expressions, but the friendlier sort returned the gesture.
As though she'd been awaiting Harper's arrival, Sailor opened the door, greeting her with crossed arms at the top of the brick steps. "I expected you an hour ago."
Funny, Sailor hadn't seemed so stuffy on Skype.
Harper flushed, her aggravation flaring up again from the traffic jam she'd just survived. "And hello to you too. I would have been here sooner, but I got stuck behind a wreck."
"Sorry. I'm running late for work. Want some help with your bags?"
"No, thanks. I'd hate for you to trip on those heels trying to drag my life up your stairs."
"Not an issue, but I'll be right inside if you change your mind."
Harper hoisted her duffel bag on her shoulder, rolled her suitcase onto the sidewalk and up the brick steps. The sweat mustache forming on her upper lip made her almost wish she'd taken Sailor up on her offer. She came through the arched entryway and stepped cautiously onto the glossy parquet flooring then dropped her luggage and gasped. No one could accuse her of being a frequent gasper, but this place deserved a good, lung-filling one. Though the building was maybe only twenty feet wide, the super high ceiling, wide trim and enormous fireplace in this four-story house made the place look plumb huge. Pictures had not done it justice.
"Wow, it's amazing," Harper whispered.
Her new roommate, or rather landlady, Sailor, shrugged and nodded. "It's pretty standard for this neighborhood, but it's been maintained well while keeping a lot of older features like the original fireplace mantels, stained and etched glass, mahogany staircase and wainscoting, among other things. But I put in all new HVAC, new appliances, completely winterized and insulated the place. Makes a huge difference in utility bills."
"I bet."
Sailor Kingston was just twenty-four, but looked as though she carried a few decades of weariness on her sagging shoulders. Dark circles under her eyes were visible through a thick layer of concealer. Her straight blonde hair was pulled up high in a severely tight ponytail that ended midway down her back. The dress she wore reminded Harper of a 50's era business woman. Solid black skirt just above the knees, a wide black belt cinched around the narrowest part of her hourglass waist. A white bodice with black polka dots, short sleeves, and black collar topped it off. She even wore black strappy heels. All business and no pleasure, no doubt. Kind of like an iceberg.
"Come on upstairs. I'll show you the apartment," Sailor said while heading for the stairs. She ascended each step with the speed and grace of a gazelle, which was pretty impressive considering the height of those heels.
Harper grabbed her bags and followed up the spiraling staircase, much less gracefully in her consignment shop Doc Marten boots. Purple suede with only a few scuffs on the toes - she'd take those over heels any day.
Sailor the gazelle kept bounding up the steps while she spoke, her even-keeled voice echoing slightly in the tall column of stairs. "You lucked out - the second floor is the best. It opens onto a deck with stairs to the terrace garden. You're welcome to place some potted plants on your deck if you like. You can also decorate the apartment anyway you'd like so long as you don't paint or wallpaper or make any other permanent changes."
"Great. But unless the place is as bare as a buffet table after a Baptist homecoming, I won't bother anything." Truthfully, she'd never been much into decorating, shopping, cosmetics or jewelry like most of her friends. How her laissez-faire attitude would fit in with this fancy neighborhood that boasted so many pretty people and things, she didn't know.
Sailor paused a moment on the stairs and looked over her shoulder with a half-puzzled, half-amused expression. "That's one I've never heard before. Is it a Kentucky thing?"
"Not really, more like a Harper-ism."
"Hmm, okay."
Dang, not even a laugh. So much for thawing the iceberg.
They arrived at the top of the stairs where a solid mahogany door with a brass '2' greeted them. Sailor turned a key in the lock, opened it and walked inside, high heels clicking across the hardwood floor. Though less airy and spacious as the parlor-level floor, it was still way more than Harper had expected. She stared up at the ceilings and their elaborate wood trim. The large living area ended with an open kitchen.
Sailor walked through the place, pointing as she walked. "Twelve foot ceilings in here. Completely furnished with all the basics. Fold out sofa and matching loveseat, dining table with four chairs, queen bed, nightstand and dresser in the bedroom to your right. You have room to add some extra furniture if you wish, but if you move out, you'll have to take it with you or leave it to be sold at my discretion. As I said on our Skype call, utilities are included in the rent. In the case of a utilities price hike, your rent will increase accordingly."
"Do you always sound like this?" Harper asked, growing giddy as she spied her new deck through the sliding glass door in the kitchen.
"Like what?"
"Like a recording."
Sailor's mouth opened, then closed again before she crossed her arms and looked away. She heaved a big sigh. "I've been under a lot of stress at work." She came over to where Harper had gone out to inspect the deck and stood in the open doorway. "Do I really sound like a recording?"
"Oh yeah," Harper said, laughing. "So what do you do? You mentioned owning a business?"
"Yes, I recently inherited a bar just a couple blocks from here."
"Cool! What's it called?"
"The Hole."
Harper arched an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"Yes, is that a problem?" There she went crossing her arms again.
"No, it's just this neighborhood is rather fancy. The Hole sounds like it might be in a rougher part of town."
A shrug accompanied another sigh from Sailor. "Well, it's supposed to be a nice bar, a high-end establishment. I certainly put enough cash into it to make it that way. Unfortunately, it's not turned out like I expected."
"How so?"
"It's complicated." A phone buzzed in Sailor's well-manicured hand. She looked at the screen and shook her head. "Damn it. Sorry. I have to go. Here are your keys. If you need anything, you have my number. There's a binder there on the coffee table with emergency numbers and all the best local delivery places if you're hungry."
Wow, Madam Iceberg was quite organized. Though lacking in that talent herself, Harper appreciated attention to detail.
"Say, does The Hole serve food?" she asked.
"Of course. We have a full menu."
"Mind if I go with you so I can grab something to eat there?"
Sailor's face registered shock, then a shaky smile. "Sure, if you'd like, but don't you want to carry in the rest of your things?"
"I locked the tailgate, so they're safe and sound under my tonneau cover."
"Your what?"
"It's a cover for the bed of a pickup. Keeps things safe from the elements and bargain hunters."
"Bargain hunters?" Sailor laughed then as the meaning dawned on her. "You mean thieves, right?"
"Yep."
"Good. You can never be too careful. If you're ready to go, I usually walk if that's fine with you."
"In those heels? How are your feet not dead?"
This time, she coaxed a genuine laugh from her stiff new landlady. "I pamper my feet on my downtime. But that's the least of my worries."
****
The Hole, its name displayed on the window with a round logo in trendy all lowercase letters, seemed to fit in with th
e modern hipster culture of Williamsburg. A bouncer with a black t-shirt sat on a stool outside the door, staring at his smartphone. Funky music drifted from the door as a group of guys stumbled out. One of them face planted right on the sidewalk.
"Excuse me!" Sailor yelled over the din of drunken laughter. "Axl, there's a man down over here!"
The bouncer snapped to attention, stuck the phone in his shirt pocket and rushed over to the scene. The fallen guy's buddies had already helped him to his feet. Axl looked at Sailor and shrugged before returning to his post on the stool and the mesmerizing glow of his smartphone.
Sailor groaned and opened the door for Harper, motioning her on past.
"Hey," Axl called, "ID!"
"She's with me," Sailor snapped. "You texted me about these rowdies. Why didn't you just throw them out?"
"I don't know. They weren't fighting. Just thought you'd like to know."
"Next time, do something, then let me know." She followed Harper inside.
The interior of The Hole was decked out in brightly colored paint and interesting geometrical architecture. Barstools of shiny chrome and red vinyl seats surrounded the circular bar. A band with a xylophone, ukulele and conga drums played on a low stage in the corner by the front window. Sailor led Harper to a table in the rear corner, where they both sat in uncomfortable silence for a few long seconds. It would have been totally up Harper's alley had it not been for the mingling smells of stale beer, cigars and urine. Or was that puke? Or maybe both?
She applied an encouraging smile. “It’s…nice.”
“No, it’s a shit hole.” Poor Sailor hung her head and massaged her temple as though a massive migraine had found permanent residence there.
“Maybe you should call it that.”
“Call it what?” She waved over a harried-looking server.
“The Shit Hole.”
Sailor looked up at her, brow furrowed, before her frown stretched up and outward into a bright smile. God, she even had perfectly white teeth while Harper still had a piece of beef jerky that she hadn’t managed to dislodge stuck between her bottom incisors. At least she had Sailor smiling now. Maybe that would get her a free dinner.
