Pineapple Lies

by Amy Vansant

When it was clear the pawnbroker wouldn’t appear, she bought Harry’s forty-gallon fish tank for twenty dollars. The yellow tang alone was worth that. She thought adding the tank to her living room could be a first step towards “décor.” What was more Florida décor than a fish tank?

  By day nine, Charlotte had to wonder if Declan’s absence meant more than a need for alone time. She couldn’t enter her kitchen without remembering the way she’d spied on him in the shower. The way she’d pounced on him like she’d been lost in the desert and he was a tall drink of water.

  Mortifying.

  He was probably terrified to see her again.

  So embarrassing.

  They seemed to get along so well and then…

  Shameful.

  Every time she recalled petting his leg hair her face burned and her stomach flipped like a small-time crook. Only a complete psycho would do something like that.

  What had come over her?

  She needed to embroider a scarlet ‘N’ to all her shirts for ‘Nymphomaniac.’

  Was he so irresistible?

  Well, yes.

  But still… Why? Why? WHY?

  On day ten, she was considering the pros and cons of Googling the proper way to commit hara-kiri when there was knock on the door. She peeked through the window.

  Seamus.

  She flung open the door.

  “Is he okay?” she blurted, her heart swelling with hope.

  This explained everything! Declan was in a terrible accident and slipped into a coma. He’s in a wheelchair and that’s why he can’t meet me on top of the Empire State Building…

  “Whoa! Hello, Charlotte.”

  Seamus held up his hands as if protecting himself.

  “Hello. What’s wrong with Declan?”

  “Declan? Nothing.”

  “Oh,” Charlotte’s heart and face fell.

  So this wasn’t An Affair to Remember. Bummer.

  Seamus tilted his head. “Did you want something to happen to him?”

  “Huh? No! Of course not. It just would have been conven—never mind. What’s up?”

  “First, thank you for all your help with Erin. I haven’t had a chance to thank you.”

  “I didn’t really do anything, but you’re welcome.”

  “Second, I need you to do me a favor.”

  “What?”

  “Go to the pawnshop.”

  “Is Declan there?”

  “Yes. That’s the point.”

  “But…he hasn’t called or returned a message…I don’t think…”

  “Just take my word for it and go. He’s thinking of you, I promise.”

  Charlotte grimaced.

  “Did he ask?”

  “In a fashion.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “I’ll give you twenty bucks,” said Seamus.

  “You don’t have to pay me!”

  “Then go!”

  “Fine! Now?”

  “Yes, now.”

  “Fine.”

  “Good.”

  Charlotte closed the door and went to her room to get ready. She would have taken more care with her appearance, but through her bedroom window, she spotted Seamus waiting for her in the driveway. She reached for a summer dress and then changed her mind, opting for a less form-fitting polo and shorts outfit. She would have worn a goat-hair turtleneck and a solid gold chastity belt if they’d been handy. She didn’t want to scare him away again.

  Sweetness and light. Humility. Decorum.

  “I’ll drop you off,” said Seamus when she left the house.

  She looked at his truck. It felt strange to drive off with him. Just a few days earlier, she’d thought he was a murderer.

  “I can borrow Mariska’s car,” she said.

  He shook his head. “I’ll drop you off.”

  “Fine.”

  Charlotte allowed Seamus to chauffeur her to the store. Though she begged, he refused to offer any further hints as to what she would find there.

  Seamus pulled up to the door of the Hock o’ Bell and stopped the vehicle.

  “Get out,” he said.

  “Yeesh, fine. You are the rudest kidnapper.”

  She got out of the car and stood in front of the entrance. She wondered if Seamus would give her a moment to vomit.

  “Go in,” he said.

  “I am.”

  “Now.”

  “I am.”

  “Open the door.”

  “Fine!”

  Charlotte shoved the door and it opened to the familiar tinkling bell.

  She stepped inside and froze.

  This is a bad idea.

  She was about to turn and leave when she heard him.

  “Hello! Welcome to—”

  She turned towards the voice.

  “Charlotte?”

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  Declan stared at her for a moment before speaking, just in time to stop her from babbling.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I’m not entirely sure.”

  She turned to motion to Seamus, but he and his car were gone.

  Figures.

  “Um, so how are you?” she asked beginning to stroll around the shop. It was too uncomfortable to stand and stare at him. She wanted to hug him and tell him how sorry she was for his loss and her behavior, but she couldn’t touch him. It was like being a monkey in a cage and someone had left the bananas just out of reach.

  Bananas? Really Charlotte? What is wrong with you?

  She squinted, trying to think of a better simile and stubbed her pinky toe on a dresser.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Fine,” she said through gritted teeth, keeping her face turned from his.

  “Well, to answer your question, I’m good,” he said. “I think I’ve come to terms with everything. I realized not much has changed, really. Either way, Mom’s gone, but now I know what happened to her. That’s better than not knowing.”

  Charlotte nodded, still avoiding his eyes.

  “Good. I’m glad. If there’s anything I can do…”

  Something touched her shoulder and she turned to find Declan standing behind her, a tiny smile on his lips.

  “You’re walking away from me and I need you to stay right here,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Because there are two things you can do for me, actually.”

  “What?”

  Declan touched the side of her face with his hand, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. Both Charlotte’s natural urge to deflect affection and her desire to appear less aggressive failed her. She leaned into his touch.

  Maybe Mariska’s hug therapy is working after all…

  “I want you to go to dinner with me,” he said, looking into her eyes.

  “I think I can do that.”

  He leaned down and kissed her on the lips.

  “I missed you,” he whispered in her ear, his rough cheek brushing hers.

  She led his mouth back to hers and kissed him again.

  “I missed you, too. You didn’t call back…”

  “I know. It wasn’t that I wasn’t thinking about you. I was in a weird place. I wasn’t sure I was ready…but seeing you here now…I can’t think of anything I want more.”

  He gave her a peck on the forehead and then straightened, putting one arm around her shoulders.

  “Which brings me to thing number two,” he announced, waving his hand toward the corner of the store. “Voilà!”

  She looked, finding only more furniture and knick-knacks.

  “What?”

  “See this corner? This is proof I’ve been thinking of you. This is all for you. I mean, if you want it. I busied myself decorating your house…without your house.”

  “Really?” Charlotte said, scanning over the sofa set, tables and lamps.

  “It’s totally up to you. I’m not pushing it on you. It just made me happy.”

  “You could have just called…
”

  “I suppose. This seemed easier at the time.”

  Charlotte smiled. “Thank you. I was actually going to ask you to help me pick out a few things. You have good taste…I mean, Abby will love sleeping on that sofa. I’ll pay you for it all though.”

  She walked into the diorama of her living room.

  “Except this lamp,” she added. “Not a fan of the lamp.”

  “Yeah…I was on the fence with that myself. Good call.”

  “And seriously, let me pay for it.”

  “No, really, it’s no big deal. Anyway, you’ve already done enough for me.”

  “What have I done to deserve a room’s worth of furnishing? It’s like I won a game show.”

  “You broke into Harry’s house to prove what he did.”

  Charlotte closed her eyes and shook her head. “Try not to say that in public.”

  “It was that important to you to find my mother’s killer. You did that for me.”

  “It was important. It kept me up at night. But it wasn’t totally selfless,” said Charlotte. “Not totally for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She crossed her arms across her chest and took a deep breath.

  “Before this all started, I felt lost. I didn’t have…I dunno…a calling. I always thought my purpose would come to me, but as year after year went by, I had less faith.”

  “And now?”

  “I want to keep trying to help people. I think I want to be some sort of private eye. Maybe your uncle could tutor me?”

  Declan laughed. “Tutor you in what? Bad jokes?”

  “Bad-assery. Detective stuff.”

  “The next time something interesting happens in Pineapple Port, you’ll probably be fifty.”

  “That’s true.” Charlotte shrugged. “I’m still ironing out the details.”

  “Sheriff Charlotte,” said Declan.

  “I was thinking more like Charlotte’s House of Snoopery,” she said.

  “That’s terrible.”

  “I know, isn’t it? But it’s kind of cute. It would look good on a t-shirt.”

  Declan looked as if he was trying not to laugh.

  “You’d better not be laughing at me!” she said, slapping his chest.

  Bouncy.

  No. Bad Charlotte! Focus…

  “I’m serious!” she added. “This stuff made me feel alive.”

  “I’m not laughing at you. I’m just remembering…I think I know one reason why you felt so alive.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Remember when we were in your kitchen?”

  Charlotte blushed so hard she thought her eyebrows would burst into flames.

  Oh no. Here it comes.

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I don’t know what got into me—”

  “I do,” he said. “You were on ecstasy.”

  Charlotte laughed.

  “Very funny.”

  “No, seriously. The pills you took. The ones Al left on your counter?”

  “The aspirin?”

  “Not aspirin. X. Al told Seamus he left ecstasy at your house.”

  “Al? Seventy-something, five-foot-nothing, Al?”

  Declan nodded. “Apparently, there’s some kind of underground club in Pineapple Port where the old folks get crazy…”

  Charlotte couldn’t find a way to close her gaping mouth. She remembered the feel of fabric between her fingertips. The gorgeous roughness of the cement around the pool…

  “So you’re saying that’s why I felt so—”

  Declan smiled. “Well, I like to think I had something to do with it.”

  Charlotte scoffed and turned to hide her smirk.

  “Hey…if you’re going to be like that I won’t tell you what the divot above your lip is called.”

  “Oh!” she said, turning. “I forgot to look that up! What is it?”

  “A philtrum.”

  “Ew. That’s not a very pretty word. Philtrum.”

  “Well, it has another name.”

  “What?”

  He walked towards her and tapped her philtrum with his finger.

  “Cupid’s bow.”

  As he said the words, he leaned in to kiss her again. She reached up and pulled him closer to her.

  When their lips parted, he smirked.

  “I’m going to admit it. That was a little corny,” he said. “I mean, it is called Cupid’s bow, but still…corny. It sounded cooler when I planned it.”

  She nodded. “I wasn’t going to say anything but…yeah. Not as corny as admitting you planned it but…”

  They grinned. She hugged him and looked over her new furniture as he held her in his arms.

  Decorating the house is going to be fun.

  THE END

  Look for the next Pineapple Port novel coming winter 2015!

  Thank you for taking time to read Pineapple Lies! If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a review on Amazon or GoodReads or wherever you like to roam. Word of mouth helps poor starving authors so much!

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Amy has been writing and finding other creative ways to make no money since high school.

  She specializes in fun, comedic reads about accident prone, easily distracted women with questionable taste in men.

  So, autobiographies, mostly.

  Amy is the former East Coast Editor of SURFER Magazine but the urge to drive up and down the coast interviewing surfers has long since left her. Currently, she is a nerd and Labradoodle mommy who works at home with her goofy husband.

  She has rocked water aerobics at a fifty-five and over community, but has yet to play bingo. She’s heard it’s vicious.

  Other Books by Amy Vansant

  Slightly Stalky (romantic comedy)

  Angeli (funny/dark urban fantasy adventure)

  Moms are Nuts (editor: humor anthology)

  The Surfer’s Guide to Florida (non-fiction: out of print)