Sugar and Gold

by Brea Viragh

  Too bad I’d broken the machine. And woken up in a bad mood. Some captain. Even my yard didn’t want to obey.

  The slanted rays of sunlight glinted off mid-morning dew, and patches of clouds drifted lazily along the horizon. Shadows shortened until the trees appeared to grow taller. Two of the crows broke away from their comrades and flitted through the leafy branches of the nearest stand of pines.

  I jolted at the jarring squawk from an open beak. In the hush of my private oasis, the sound was unwelcome. A warning. The thought of all that was going wrong in my life weighed heavy on my shoulders. There was nothing like the solace of privacy to wipe the soul clean.

  No one is going to tug you up by the bootstraps.

  The phone rang and I debated whether or not to answer. I was taking a personal day, enjoying the only time during the week where I felt comfortable enough to let down my guard. The one day a week when I closed shop. No one should have bothered calling me, and the number didn’t pop up as the police station. I’d given them the story of my attack and waited patiently for them to find the answers. So far, no one had.

  I was done rehashing my issues with friends and family, and I certainly didn’t want to talk about a certain someone anymore. I just wanted to relax.

  On the other hand, it might be one of the girls calling to tell me about their news. True, I didn’t recognize the number, but Shari was prone to ringing from whatever phone she had handy. Whether it was her own, the shop’s, or belonging to her newest boy toy du jour.

  I finally answered on the sixth and final ring, preparing to open a sympathetic ear should it be a girlfriend with man trouble.

  “How could you do this to me?” Isaac snapped.

  Trying to shift gears, I spent a good fifteen seconds blinking and staring at the wall. “How did you get my number?”

  “Stop trying to change the subject. You sent the police to my goddamn house. They spent an hour searching for drugs and nearly led me away in handcuffs for spite,” he half-yelled. “How could you, Essie? I told you that I’m not out to get you. Hell, the kiss should have proved it to you! Don’t get wrapped up in your own hurt and involve my family in this”

  “I didn’t do anything,” I exclaimed, eyes widening. “It’s not my fault the police decided to search you.”

  “Sure. They burst in with a warrant saying an anonymous tip had been called in. Are you suggesting it wasn’t you? Because you seemed pretty damn quick to pin something on me yesterday.”

  This was too weird. I tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for the police going to visit Isaac. I hadn’t mentioned his name when they took my statement, even though I’d been desperate to blurt it out. It begged the question: Who had?

  “You must have me confused with someone else,” I said with as much diplomacy as I could muster. “I made no such phone call. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have cookies baking in the—”

  “Someone else?” he demanded. “You have to be joking! Who else would place a fake call to the police? I’ve just gotten out of jail and I won’t let you insult me because of your imaginary grudge. Let me assure you, princess, I’m not the asshole you must think I am. I’m not risking my freedom for anyone.”

  I sputtered. There sure were a lot of anonymous tips going around. “Whatever happened, I’m not responsible. Sorry you got searched, I am, but it’s neither my fault nor my problem.”

  “I’m about to make it your problem real soon if you don’t lay off of me.”

  “Lay off of you?” He’d just taken things a step too far. “No, sir. You take whatever idea you have bubbling in your brain and turn it around. You’re the one who needs to lay off.”

  “Oh, am I?”

  “You’ve stressed me out since you got home and I can’t take it anymore.”

  “I love how you automatically switch the conversation around and assume no blame. It’s ridiculous.”

  “Are the police still there?” I asked suddenly.

  “No, they left about ten minutes ago. Thanks for asking. You never think about anyone other than yourself, do you? Did it ever cross your mind, even once, how something like this would affect me? Half the population of Heartwood already thinks I’m a degenerate.”

  “Because you are!”

  I paced around the house with Frank at my heels, cell phone pressed against the non-throbbing side of my head. Isaac and his attitude were putting a damper on my day off.

  “You know what, Essie? Kiss my ass.” Isaac slammed his phone down, which didn’t exactly have the effect on a cell as it did a landline. I was rewarded with a click and then silence.

  “Yeah, real mature,” I told the silent screen. My headache exploded into one colossal bloom of pain.

  Suddenly I was fed up with the past. I thought I’d managed to outrun the incident at Brad’s trailer, make something of myself. What a joke.

  “I am one of the most controlled people on the face of the planet,” I said to Frank, glancing down and catching his one good eye. “Anyone who has a problem with me can go to hell.”

  Isaac was mad about being searched? Since the intrusion hadn’t led to another arrest, he should have been thanking his lucky stars rather than calling to harass me. A swarm of guilt had my eyes dropping to the floor.

  “I’m going out. I can’t stay here.”

  The dog continued to stare at me.

  I blinked the uncharacteristic dampness from my eyes. The phone rang again and I shoved it down deep in my pocket. Better to have it vibrate against my behind than worsen the headache.

  Frank padded in my wake as I made my way to the door. The prospect of going into town was daunting, but better to be among a crowd than have to deal with self-imposed solitude. My mood had taken a turn for the worse and I was too tense, too depressed to sit and relax.

  Better to try and eat, I thought, changing quickly into pants and a sweater. Fill my belly and pretend things weren’t strange. On a normal day off, I would have spent the morning getting my chores done. Washing dishes, folding clothes, tidying the house and so forth. I would have gotten the lawn mowed and the garden beds cleaned and the car organized.

  Today I decided I would take myself out to lunch. Here’s hoping I’d get my appetite back in time to enjoy it.

  I pointed to Frank. “You stay here.”

  My gut told me to stop fuming and get out before I did damage to myself. With Frank in the tiny backyard enclosure my father had built for him, I drove to town. Always one eye over the shoulder. Each time a truck came up behind me, I took a back road, and in the end my short commute became a thirty-minute expedition. One could never be too careful.

  I sighed. After weighing the options, I swung the rental into the tiny parking lot of the Mexican restaurant. There were only a few cars parked around as the majority of the lunch crowd had yet to arrive.

  The attendant glanced up from behind the host podium with a smile designed to put me at ease. I could not help but grin in return when he led to me a corner booth. With half an ear, I listened to a waiter explain the difference between a corn tortilla and a flour tortilla to a couple I did not recognize. In a small town, the lack of recognition meant one thing: tourists.

  Heartwood thrived on a booming tourist trade, especially this time of year when the leaves displayed their best colors and a couple of national parks were a mere stone’s throw away.

  My order was taken with promptness, and a glass of water with lemon delivered. I reached out to raise the glass to my lips when a hand fell, heavy, on my shoulder.

  “Fancy seeing you here.”

  The glass knocked into the table top with a kerplock, water sloshing over the sides. I fumbled to catch it before it rolled off the table and shattered.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to catch you off guard.” Isaac stood his ground, one shoulder resting on the side of the booth. Sure, he hadn’t meant a thing. And I was an anteater. “Hope you didn’t spill anything on your pretty sweater.”

  Content, easygoing, he looked
as though he’d spent the last few minutes observing me from a distance and planning this moment. He probably had. My thoughts scrambled in an attempt for order and I wondered what to say.

  All activity in my head ceased. I closed my eyes. Did I have time to count to one hundred before opening them again? “You’re a mirage brought on by lack of sleep. Return to your dark origins and leave me in peace.” My fingers rose to massage circles around my temples.

  “No can do, sugar. Funny, us showing up here at the same time.”

  “Funny seems to be the way of my life nowadays,” I said darkly.

  A shiver of surprise overtook me when he shifted, kneeling beside me and coming into my full view. “What are you doing here by yourself?” he asked.

  “None of your business,” I retorted, scooting farther away. “Go torment some other hapless woman. One whose guts you don’t hate.”

  His eyes widened. “I was passing by when I had a hankering for something spicy.” Isaac’s grin grew until it dominated the lower half of his face. “And here you are. Face all flushed. Tell me, did you have an argument with someone?”

  “If you’re trying to be suave, then I’ll stop you right there.” His cat-devouring-the-canary smile made me want to squirm. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “I’m not going to be deterred by your bad mood. In fact...” Isaac hitched up his pants as he rose, shuffling over to the empty side of the booth. “I’m over mine and planning to join you.”

  “Absolutely not. You want to make my mood worse? This was supposed to be a relaxing day for me and I’d rather not add any stress, thanks. Go do whatever it is you normally do.”

  He refused to listen, seating himself without further ado. “Aw, I’m sorry you’re stressed, you poor thing. You deserve a break.”

  I started to push to my feet. Ready to abandon my lunch plans in favor of peace and quiet. Instead, his hand caught mine.

  “Please let go.” My tone chilled, temper chained down. “Why are you following me?”

  “It was happenstance, Es. Nothing more. At least sit down and we can have lunch together like adults. It will be easier than me yelling at you from across the room and the entire restaurant hearing.”

  His face was close to mine. Too close.

  “It would be easier if you stopped touching me,” I said softly.

  “I’ll try, but I make no promises.” His fingers trailed over the palm of my hand and up to the soft spot of my elbow.

  “Try harder.”

  “Does this make you uncomfortable? Tell me, please...what can I do to alleviate the stress? I’m all ears.”

  It was hard to form a cohesive sentence in my fight against the attraction. I could handle the sexual buzz between us, better on days when my mind wasn’t fragmented in a million directions. I was, however, going to have a pretty difficult time fighting his obvious concern.

  “I didn’t call in any stupid tip,” I hissed out between clenched teeth. “I’ve been too preoccupied trying to figure out how to intercept the health inspector.”

  “Sure you’re okay? You look like you’re about to puke.”

  “I’m fine,” I insisted. “Not even a little hungry.”

  He managed to tug us both back to a seated position. Considering the matter of lunch settled between us, he stated, “Great. What are we having?”

  Ten minutes later, I was adjusting to the intrusion of his company. Happy he hadn’t reached across the table to strangle me yet. Or vice versa, my fingers itching for a little death grip action. It wasn’t that Isaac was a bad guy. Or bad company. I’d had my heart set on a little alone time...a heart currently doing the herky-jerk at his nearness.

  “There. Are you happy?” I spread my arms wide. “You interrupted a perfectly good time. Feel free to berate me in public while you’re at it. I don’t think I’ve had enough embarrassment yet. Anything else you want to scream at me about?”

  Isaac used his chin to gesture to the half-eaten bowl of tortilla chips. “I’m not sure how good of a time it was. You were alone.”

  I bit into a chip with force, keeping my gaze trained on him. “I prefer to be alone,” I mumbled around the mouthful.

  “My mother raised me right. A beautiful woman should never have to dine by herself. Those are the rules, sugar. I don’t make them.”

  “You don’t follow them either, from what I remember.”

  “Are you trying to make a joke?”

  The sudden blackness in his voice had me fighting down a fresh round of gastrointestinal-itis. The worst kind of itis. With the restaurant as my witness, I would not let this fear burp escape. “No, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “You think I’m a fuck-up.”

  “If the shoe fits...”

  He gestured for me to move closer before telling me in a covert whisper, “The shoe fits half the time. I’ve got big feet.”

  Ugh, a penis reference. I guess it was safe to say he’d gotten the worst of his temper out over the phone. Maybe I wasn’t in for a continuation of our previous argument. I let my spine relax inch by inch. “What are you doing out here, interrupting my ‘me’ time? Is tracking me down part of your revenge plan?”

  “I’m here for you. Not revenge.” His gaze narrowed speculatively. “Why else?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t count your chickens there, bud.”

  “You can be so funny when you’re stuffing your face full of corn.” His dark, unreadable eyes studied me.

  The chip dropped at the mention of food. My appetite diminished the longer we sat. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re bipolar.” I shook my head. “First you’re yelling and telling me to kiss your ass. Now you’re here trying to flirt.”

  Isaac settled into his seat, flipping a napkin onto his lap. “You come here often?”

  “Ha! See what I mean? This isn’t funny anymore.”

  “If I told you why, it wouldn’t be nearly as fun to watch your reaction,” he stated. “Am I still mad at you? You betcha. Somehow, I feel as though pushing you into another fight is counterproductive. I have better uses of my time than fighting a losing battle. I’d like to sit and enjoy a meal, if it’s not too much to ask. Maybe make up for the hellacious morning I had to endure.”

  I scoffed, crushing my straw into the table in one quick motion before leaning forward. “Please tell me you aren’t trying to make this intrusion into a date.”

  “Why not?” Isaac’s voice was hard. “Is there something wrong with the idea of me wanting to spend time with you? I already told you there’s something about you I can’t shake. You’re in my head like a a song stuck on perpetual replay. It’s a puzzle and I want to figure it out.”

  “What makes you think I want to go on a date with you? If I did then I would have invited you here.” I spread my hands in the air above the table. “I clearly didn’t invite you. You were mean and rude and all kinds of things on the phone. I wanted to keep my distance.”

  Isaac flagged down a waiter and ordered a glass of water for himself. “You deserved every word. I won’t apologize for speaking with honesty. Logically I realize it couldn’t have been you, you don’t have the spine, but at the time I had a head of steam. I’m sorry.”

  “However you want to spin it, I’m making it clear.” I pushed the rest of the chips aside, drawing an imaginary line in the middle of the table. “This is my line in the sand. Understood?”

  “Sure, I understand. Now, did you order already?”

  I turned away, unable to look at his horrible, handsome face any longer. “Yes.”

  Isaac spouted off a request to the server before turning his attention back to me, continuing as though I’d never spoken. “I’ve been meaning to ask you out to lunch. I haven’t been able to get up the nerve.”

  “So you decided to intrude and tell me to kiss your ass. Much better, Isaac.”

  “The ass-kissing is still out there. I’d love to feel your lips on my—”

  I cleared my throat when the server came around
to place the water on the table. “Thank you so much!” I told the man, the tips of my ears heating in embarrassment. The smile on my face must have reeked of lunacy. The poor fellow bolted the second the glass was out of his hand.

  “There’s a certain matter I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.” Isaac tapped his fingers against the table, matching the rhythm of the mariachi blurting through the speakers.

  “Oh? Tell me.”

  “The last time I spoke to you, really spoke to you, it was four years ago.”

  “I don’t see your point.”

  “I want to get to know you again. A lot can change. I know I certainly have.”

  I met his gaze steadily. “I’m the exact same person I was then, although I couldn’t say the same for you. Jail does strange things to a person.”

  Isaac smiled and said nothing for a few seconds. “There’s a certain strength a person carries within them. Those bars either make or break you, sugar. I’ll give you one guess as to what happened with me.”

  “Are we back to talking about your physicality now, Isaac? Because I can tell you, that’s never been a question,” I responded.

  Isaac took a tortilla chip from the basket and brought it to his mouth in a slow, deliberate arch. Drawing my attention to those plump lips. The ensuing crunch brought me back to myself, shaken.

  “All the years of solitude gave me a chance to do a good inspection of myself. I realized a few things. Some meaningful things.”

  “Please, enlighten me.”

  “I realized that, one, I have a lot of time to make up for. Each moment is precious, after all, because you never know when things are going to be snatched from your grasp.” He made a fist in front of me so swiftly I jumped in response. “Poof. So, two, it’s better to go after the things you want.”

  I didn’t like where the conversation was going. “I suppose you’re going to tell me how you want to go after me, eh?”

  Isaac pointed to his nose then pointed to me. “And people say you’re slow on the uptake.”