Sugar and Gold

by Brea Viragh

Funny? No, I was trying to catch up. Wondering why he could be hateful one minute and flirtatious the next. Nibbling at another round of chips, I leveled a glare in his direction. “You aren’t as funny as you think.”

  “On the contrary, sugar, I’m a regular Rodney Dangerfield, who, in my opinion, is one of the greatest comedians who ever lived.”

  “You’re disgusting.” I pressed my lips together. Where was the food? My stomach rumbled and I wished to be anywhere but stuck sitting on that hard plastic seat, across from the one person I hadn’t wanted to see.

  Then again, I’d be damned if I walked out on a perfectly good plate of tacos. One way or another, I was going to eat them.

  “Can’t you pretend to enjoy yourself for once? Let go a little. It isn’t going to kill you to loosen your grip.”

  “I think it may, actually. I never plan to find out.”

  “Look.” He reached across the table and tried to grab my hand, his brows drawing together when I jerked away. “I’m sorry about what I said on the phone. I was angry. I don’t think it was you who called in the anonymous tip. Not really.”

  My face brightened. “You don’t?”

  “I think someone is upset about me coming back to town. They want me gone.”

  “Who did you manage to tick off now?”

  He leaned back in the seat with arms crossed behind his head. “Any number of good, law-abiding citizens who don’t believe I’ve atoned for my mistake. We can’t all be Trent Zacklin, his daddy’s little golden boy.”

  I stifled a groan at the mention of my ex-boyfriend. “Please don’t bring him up. He was a six month mistake I made right after high school and nothing more. ”

  The food came then, interrupting our tête-à-tête with a wave of steam and spice. “Why not, sugar? You embarrassed about something? Maybe about dating a potential drug dealer?”

  “Nothing beyond your mentioning a disastrous relationship. It belongs in the past. And he is not a drug dealer, by the way. He got the meth from a friend. He told me.”

  “Once again, I find it hard to believe you didn’t question him more.”

  “We all make mistakes.”

  The way Isaac stared at me let me know exactly what he thought. Now, in the moment, I was the mistake he’d made. All those years ago, on a dark night, a split-second decision changed both our lives.

  “Doesn’t it get old? Trying to be perfect all the time?” he asked softly.

  I dove into my tacos with vigor. “No. You get used to it and it becomes second nature.”

  “I don’t remember you being so tightly wound,” Isaac replied with a shake of his head. “You used to live a little. A tad too well, I might add.”

  With knife and fork clenched between my fingers, I leaned close to hiss, “Can you stop? I don’t want to talk about any of this. Period.”

  “If not now, when?” Isaac shoved a forkful of food into his mouth and spoke through the mass of cheese and beef. “I’ve been so patient with you.”

  “Patient with me?” Out of the stuff myself, I shifted, shoving the plate aside. “Are you kidding? You’ve done nothing but plague me since you’ve been back, and I don’t appreciate it. You brought the health inspector into my place of business—”

  Isaac held up a finger. “On my good faith, I plead not guilty on the health inspector. When is he due, by the way?”

  “Good faith my butt. You have it out for me,” I interrupted. After shooting Isaac a heated look, I turned back to my plate. “I should have left the second Shari dropped the bombshell that you were back.”

  He raised a hand to his chest. “I’m hurt. Es, you do me wrong.”

  “Why are you really here, Isaac? Tell me the truth, for once. I’m not sure what to believe anymore and I would appreciate you cutting to the chase.”

  “I don’t know why you think this is anything other than a friendly meal. I want to get to know you a little better.”

  “We know enough about each other. You’re the joker and I’m just...”

  I’m the one who put you away. Damn.

  The mariachi music still blared from the four corners of the room, and around us, people chattered. I wondered how many of them whispered under their breath about the bakery hack and the jailbird.

  “This is awkward,” I said finally. “Say something.”

  “What? Is this an invitation to talk?” Isaac’s smile slipped into place. “I knew you would come around eventually.”

  “Call it a weak spot.” I leaned back with a small, satisfied grin. “It’s definitely not you playing on my sensibilities.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Where do we go from here?”

  He took his time swallowing. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “This!” I gestured in a wide circle between us. “If you’re going to follow me around, we need to come to an understanding.”

  “Rules.”

  “Exactly. You should be good at following rules by now.”

  “Oh, sure, my jail time really beat my rebellious streak to shit.” He tapped a chip against the side of the salsa bowl before biting down.

  I frowned, noting the narrowed look on Isaac’s face. “I am sorry about that. Please know that you weren’t the only one doing some serious thinking over the years. I wondered how you were.”

  “Yeah, I got your letters.”

  I smiled wide with relief. My efforts hadn’t been wasted.

  “Don’t grin like you think it makes up for what you did. I got you out of there, Essie. The least you could have done was talk to the judge in private. Or my lawyer, for that matter.”

  My gaze met his and I nodded, the clammy hand of fear fluttering its fingers at the base of my throat. “I should have. I knew, as soon as the sentence was passed, I’d done a terrible thing. Especially after you took the fall for me. And those two jerks walked away with nothing more than a slap on the wrist.” His throat worked convulsively and I pushed his glass of water closer. “I thought about ways to make it up to you,” I continued. “But nothing seemed good enough.”

  “I’m not sure anything would have been,” Isaac admitted. “I was in a dark place, thinking the best years of my life were going to be wasted behind bars. I blamed you, and there wasn’t much good in my life to feel grateful for. I shredded the letters. Didn’t read them.”

  That kind of shocked me a little, I admit, but I nodded again. “I understand. That’s why you’re back here with me now. To make me recognize the error of my ways. Right?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “It might be one of the reasons.”

  This was a turning point for us. Whatever was, whatever had been, would be different from this point on. My life and everything I’d had previous to this turned on its head. It came down to a choice. Did I want to continue to see Isaac as this horrible person hell-bent on revenge? Or a friend from the past? One with amends to be made?

  “Tell me, then,” I prompted. “Why are you really following me?”

  “I’ll tell you a story, first.” Isaac grabbed the bottle of hot sauce and liberally doused his meal. “When I was a senior in high school, I thought I had the world by the balls. You may not believe this, but I wanted to get out of this town and try my hand at standup comedy.”

  I caught the gleam in his eye, and lifted my fork to my lips before he could lean over to touch me. “Go on.”

  “A lot of people make jokes, but I lived for the prank. I could superglue a foot to the floor while the person was walking.”

  “It takes a lot more than a knack for pranks to make it to the Apollo Theater,” I stated wryly.

  “Yeah, I realized that soon enough, even though I kept the dream in the back of my head. After all, there was still plenty of time to think about the future and the real world. There wouldn’t, however, be time for me to scope out the high school girl scene. Particularly a scrawny raven-haired beauty with incredible cheekbones who had her eye on me.” He caught my panicked glance and laughed. �
�What, you think I didn’t see how you looked at me? How you gossiped to your friends about wanting to get me alone for those seven minutes in heaven?”

  “I...I might have had a crush on you, once upon a time.” I scoffed. “Schoolgirl fantasies. Things are different now.”

  “Whatever scent you wore back then, it was amazing. A lot of girls were spraying artificial shit on themselves to be more appealing. Not you. You made me wonder what you tasted like. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  “It was vanilla. Straight from the bottle,” I answered with some embarrassment. “I didn’t wear it for you.”

  “Oh, I know.” His voice was teasing. Letting me know he understood my slight humiliation. “I still felt the attraction, though.”

  “When did you decide it was better to threaten me than be attracted to me?” I asked defensively.

  “About halfway through my prison stint.”

  “Ah, so it’s true.” I swirled my fork absently. “I knew I was right.”

  He leaned back, placing his palms flat on the table surface. “Well, I guess that’s the end of my story, then. Since you already know the ending.”

  We were reaching the finish line of our meal, and though I’d eased into the conversation initially, Isaac was tense. I couldn’t help feeling affected. “Give me the abridged version and we’ll see if our stories match.”

  Apparently satisfied, Isaac nodded. “I went with you that night because I couldn’t stand for you to be alone with those assholes. Trent and Brad, the two kings of the county with the football creds to back up the claims. You wanted to break out so badly, you didn’t understand the implications. The risks.”

  “You went to protect me?”

  “I went because out of the three men, only one of them had your back. And only one took the fall to prove it. Do you understand now, Essie?” He held out his palm for me to take. “Do you understand?”

  “I’m not sure I do yet. I’m trying.” Touched by his admission, I reached out to take his hand. Intending to keep the contact friendly, casual. Nothing important enough to make my belly stir and my heartbeat quicken.

  He kept his eyes on me. “It hurts when I think about it. I didn’t expect you to step up and take the blame. I wouldn’t want a tit for tat between us. Couldn’t...couldn’t you have said something? Three years.”

  “Three years,” I repeated. “I still don’t know what to say.”

  Alarm bells rang when his index finger curled to stroke my palm. “Give it time. You’ll work on it.”

  We finished the meal in relative calm, with nary a worry burp between us. The conversation flowed smoothly, to the point where I almost forgot about the man across the table.

  And his earlier vow to destroy me.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The migraine threatened to topple me. Not topple, but demolish. Demolish any last shred of humanity left. Whatever the reason, the pounding in my head chose to come at the least opportune time. Namely, farmers’ market day.

  “Will you be okay?” Leda cast a fretful eye in my direction.

  I slumped against the counter, trying to count cupcakes and getting stuck at ten when my vision blurred. “Yeah, I’m fine. Never better.”

  We made it through the rush, through the constant ebb and flow of customers in dire need of a fix for their sweet tooth cravings. Afternoon rolled into evening soon enough. Muscles sore, Leda and I finished our cleaning. The pounding in my head had lessened, and I did appreciate her concern as I headed for home. Frank slept soundly in the front seat, with no memory of our calamity the other day. Such was the mind of a dog. I envied the little bugger.

  I’d spent most of the day with an eye out for the health inspector. I would practice my famous eggshell waltz until his or her blessed arrival. Unfortunately, the side effect of my constant stress and anxiety was a headache strong enough to topple a blue whale and a less-than-stellar appetite. No appetite, in fact. Leda assured me the bakery was in capable hands when I burned not one, but two batches of rose-water macaroons. Watching those delicate little puffs of deliciousness turn black, she pointed to the door and said she would handle closing herself.

  Who was I to say no when she was eying the rolling pin like a deadly weapon?

  Keeping my gaze trained for any odd activity on the road, I traveled home to prepare for my baking rituals. “What’s your poison, Mr. Frank?” I switched on the radio and soft rock crooned through the speakers. “A little jazz? Some R&B?”

  He huffed at me and nibbled his left paw.

  “Driver’s choice, then.”

  Channel-surfing with one hand and navigating with the other, I traversed the hilly roads until my driveway came into view. Singing off-key with Adele, I turned in and had to shield my eyes against the unexpected glare of headlights.

  Headlights? Headlights!

  High beams winked on, and behind them I barely recognized the SUV from the other day parked in the driveway. Facing me. Cowboy hat tipped just so over the driver’s face. Panic laced through my veins as adrenaline rose and I did the first thing that came to mind. I slammed on the brakes and threw the car into reverse, speeding back down the hill, dividing my attention between the road behind and the driver in front. I looked over my shoulder at the trees blurring into a single shadowed mass.

  Amidst Adele’s throaty ballads, the SUV revved its engine, gravel spewing when it lunged forward. My screams rose to staggering heights and threatened to break the windshield. I pressed my foot down to the floor, hard. The motor responded and I spun out of the driveway.

  “Leave me alone!” I screeched out the open windows, knowing it would do no good. The best way to outrun him was on the back roads. Unless he knew the shortcuts as well as I did.

  The moment the car hit pavement, I was in gear. The sounds of the engine faded when I burst onto the main road. Sparing a terrified look in the rearview mirror, headlights flashed and I gunned it, the car putting on a burst of speed.

  One hand held Frank still as I tried to outrun the maniac behind me. The windows were tinted to the point where it was impossible to see any clear features. The final rays of the sun kept a glare on the windshield so the only thing I made out was a smile. A very male smile. A flash of white teeth in a thick, furious face. Oh yeah, he wanted me splattered. Whoever he was, he enjoyed my reaction. Liked watching me run away.

  I realized something then. It was someone I knew.

  Any faster and I risked skidding and overturning on the curves. Still the SUV kept pace, going so far as to nudge the bumper and send me into a panic.

  Before I could second-guess myself, I tugged the steering wheel. Hard. “Hold on!” I yelled to Frank as I took a frantic left at an open space and spun across to the other lane, riding halfway off the road as decapitated daisies and chickweeds fell in my wake. The game of cat and mouse continued when the vehicle turned with me, racing me toward the single stoplight.

  I stayed one step ahead of the maniac hell-bent on crashing me, disobeying the posted speed limit. Lights flashed and I approached the heart of downtown. There were people walking the streets, enjoying the end-of-summer heat wave. They browsed store windows, licked their ice cream cones from the Country Store, and mingled in the way tourists did, enjoying their glimpse into the window of small-town Americana.

  Then I came barreling through.

  Frank propped his paws on the window and barked at them. I envied him, completely oblivious of the terror on four wheels stalking us from behind. The SUV came closer to my rear bumper, chrome-plated grille glinting. Then the light turned red.

  I screeched to a halt, smoke rising from the tires and brakes squealing in protest. The car responded and stopped inches over the line. My forward momentum came to a halt, the world rushing around me.

  “Damn it anyway,” I said to the cameras peering down at me. Teeth chattered and goose bumps rose on my skin despite the temperature outside. Those damn headlights reflected in the mirror as the SUV crept closer. There was no way he woul
d push me into oncoming traffic. Right?

  The truck’s nose made contact with my bumper in a boom slightly quieter than an earthquake. I screamed once, looked into the rearview mirror at the man in the driver’s seat. Hovering close. Watching. This was a kind of fear I’d never known before. It took root inside of me. Chilling. Tingling. A cold sweat broke out over my skin, and fear brought me under its embrace with icy tendrils winding up my spine.

  This was scarier than the movies. I wanted to gun the gas more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. But I couldn’t. There was too much traffic. Someone could get hurt. And while I didn’t want it to be me, I certainly didn’t want it to be some innocent person either.

  The SUV bumped me again and my car lurched forward. Terror shot through me the closer I came to the intersection, adrenaline coursing by the gallons as I screeched and stomped the brakes.

  “No, no!” While the other drivers casually navigated their lanes and enjoyed the sights, I kept my foot glued to the brake pedal and prayed for a miracle. One where I would make it out of this in a single piece. Preferably alive.

  Inch by inch, the truck with superior horsepower exerted its might, nudging me further into traffic. Even jerking the parking brake did no good.

  “Goddammit, stop!” The curse burst forth, shaped by sheer terror. “Stop!”

  The brakes locked and black-tinted smoke rose up from beneath the fenders. The car slipped forward, powerless, everyone oblivious to my plight except the person responsible. My bumper crept dangerously close to oncoming traffic and I grasped Frank’s collar, pulling him away from the window and preparing for a T-bone. I said my prayers and hoped for the best. Expected the worst.

  As quickly as the attack came, the truck let off. I felt its energy from the disconnect reverberate like a zap of electricity, standing every hair on my body on end. He backed up in the small space between him and the next car before swiveling around into the tiny parking lot on the other side of the street. The roar of his engine disappeared until nothing remained but the whispered tunes from the forgotten radio station.

  I fought to get my breathing under control, scared out of my wits when the car pulling up behind me honked its horn. Above, the signal had turned green and I bolted across the intersection. A few more feet, and there was the turnoff to my bakery. I dashed over the curb, ignoring the harsh scrape of the car’s underside, pulling to a stop in front of the garbage cans. Shaky fingers turned the key off and I sat in the hushed quiet.