by Tess Oliver
The woman presenter marched on her high heels down the narrow aisle between the chairs. She had the type of straight posture that every person should envy, but all I could think was 'damn that looks uncomfortable'. She clapped her hands sharply to go along with the military posture. "Hello out in the hallway. We are about to start, so if you could take a seat, I'll shut the doors."
I slumped even more and found a small space under the chair in front of me where my big feet wouldn't bother the lady sitting in it. People rolled in, bringing their loud hallway conversations into the room with them. The seats filled up fast, including the empty chairs behind me. I didn't turn around to look at them, but the person directly behind me had big shit kicker style boots. He rested them against the leg of my chair. It seemed that it was going to be a long session.
The presenters who had looked so prepared, as if they'd been ready to give their talk since they were ten years old, couldn't get their very informative power point up on the screen. Her posture was just a little more wilted as they circled the projector and laptop tapping keys and fidgeting with connections. Their white veneers disappeared behind tight lips, and they began quietly blaming each other for the presentation fiasco. It was probably the most entertaining thing to happen all day, other than the overly plump guy filling his plate with too many stale blueberry muffins so that the paper plate collapsed and his muffins rolled all over the floor.
Big foot behind me was getting restless, and I could feel him push against my chair. I chewed on my sucker to keep from turning around to say something. Although, the tense presenters would probably welcome a bar owner brawl for some diversion.
"Hey, check out this picture I took of Zoe bending over to pull napkins out from under the counter," the guy behind Kennedy said to big foot directly behind me. I still hadn't looked at him, but something told me we were going to be looking each other directly in the eye long before the end of the presentation. If there ever was a presentation. In the meantime, the red faced presenters had called for some tech support from the hotel that was hosting the conference. Two confused looking workers wearing maintenance uniforms shuffled into the room.
Kennedy laughed. "They need Barry, the tech nerd I went to school with. Every teacher had him on speed dial in case they couldn't get their stuff to work. I swear that poor guy spent more time racing between classrooms to fix computers than actually sitting in one."
I nodded. "Yeah, our guy was Roland, and if he wasn't available, it was his sister, Patty. Apparently, computer genius ran in the family."
Thankfully, Kennedy's phone buzzed. She pulled it out to have a text conversation.
I tilted my head to hear more about the sleazy bar owner who was taking pictures of his servers as they bent over for napkins. "Those mini skirts were genius. And man did Vandy hire some hotties. I'm having a hard time just trying to keep all their names straight because I can hardly think clearly with all those smooth legs and plump tits."
"Yeah, well, you keep your hands off of them or the boss will be handing you your ass, cousin or not." At least it seemed big foot had some integrity as compared to cousin.
"I know. I know. I just like looking."
The conversation was reminding me of Dylan and me.
"Yeah, look all you want. Not like Vandy isn't always checking them out," big foot said.
"Oh, especially that one girl. Oh man, is she a love and a half. You know the one I'm talking about. Like the brightest star in the sky."
At least his sleazy cousin had a bit of poetry in his heart.
"You know which one I mean? Damn, I wish I could remember names."
"That's because you have mush for brains," big foot noted.
The lights went out, and it seemed we were soon going to be treated to the presentation, only the presenters looked a little frazzled and less enthusiastic about the whole thing.
Behind us, mush for brains was still trying to come up with the name. "She's got those beautiful green eyes, and oh yeah, she has the sweetest little tattoo on her neck that says Rebel, Rebel."
I shot up in my seat and nearly choked on the candy. I moved so abruptly I kicked the chair in front of me. The woman twisted around with a fiery scowl.
"Sorry."
She turned back around and then adjusted her ass on the chair to let me know I'd really disturbed her.
But I didn't give a fuck about the woman in front of me or the clownish presenters or the chatty person next to me. My mind was racing as fast as my pulse as I put together a quick plan.
I needed to get information before the self-important presenters got heavy into their bullshit. I turned around in my chair. The guy with the big shoes had that forced, I'm too fucking cool for everyone, look on his face. He had an ugly ass tattoo of something that I couldn't quite make out on his neck, and he was wearing a blue button up shirt that was way too small. Cousin was a skinny guy with an extra long nose and a gooberish expression that looked permanent.
Before big foot could sneer a 'can I help you' at me, I struck up a conversation. "Hey, I was just hearing you talk about your servers, and I've got this group of friends—once a month, we leave the women at home so we can go out for beers. Some of them have big wads of cash to get rid of by the weekend. Your place sounds pretty sweet. In every respect." I was putting on a good show. "What's the name of the place? Do you have a business card?"
Big foot blinked at me and tilted his round head. "Don't you have your own bar?"
I'd forgotten that I was sitting in a conference filled with bar owners. Except for the woman next to me. "Uh, yeah, eventually. I'm still working on getting shit together. So should we check your place out? Or maybe you don't need new customers."
I'd gotten Kennedy's attention, and I was just waiting for her to point out my lie. Instead, she elbowed me to let me know I'd become the center of attention in the room. The presenters were waiting for me to turn around like I was sitting in a fucking classroom. I scooted back around and resisted the urge to flip off all the perturbed faces still staring my direction.
Seconds later, a silver and black business card slipped over my shoulder. I grabbed it from cousin's fingers and looked at it. Vandy's was a bar and grill in the city, about an hour from Camden Beach. I moved my eyes down to the phone number, website and name of the owner.
Trent Vandermeer. Fuck. What the hell was Rebecca up to now?
For the millionth time, I wondered just how different everything would be if not for that damn kiss.
Chapter 12
Joshua
Five years earlier
Emily sat down on the porch step and wrapped her arms around her knees to bring them closer. She had pouting down to an art, and it seemed she had to practice that art more and more each day, but only around me.
I sat down next to her, but what I really wanted to do was just keep walking down the brick path to my car. Nothing worked right between us anymore.
"I thought you'd at least be excited for me," I said as I pulled a strand of grass up from the crack between the steps. I rubbed it between my fingers, pressed it against my mouth and blew to create a shrill whistling sound. I lowered my makeshift instrument and looked at her. "You used to laugh when I did that. Seems like nothing about me makes you smile anymore, Em." In my heart I knew it was over between us. We were just hanging on to those leftover threads, the ones that formed out of familiarity, out of knowing each other so well that it seemed impossible to think of a life apart. And then there were still those threads that seemed to have been woven and put into place by friends and family and all the people who seemed convinced that since we were such a perfect couple in high school, we needed to stay together forever. Like there was some unspoken law written by heavy duty romantics that said high school sweethearts were bound for eternity.
"I thought you'd decided to take that job at the lumber yard. You were going to put your music on the back burner for awhile." If I needed to name one thing, one wedge in our relationship that had helped f
ray all the threads, it was that Emily had never supported my music career. When we were young, she loved to tell everyone that her boyfriend was in a band, but when the reality of growing up hit, the band sheen faded. Now I was the boyfriend who was always dead broke because making money in music was hard.
"Tru Excess is a popular cover band. They get a lot of gigs, and I'm fucking excited as hell that they asked me to play with them. Can't you be happy for me instead of perpetually disappointed?" I'd gotten an offer to play with a mid list band. For me, it was like winning the fucking lottery. The money wasn't great, but I'd be playing on stage with an awesome group of musicians. Unfortunately, my excitement was directly proportional to Emily's disappointment.
She didn't respond. She lowered her arms and zipped up her sweatshirt. A year ago, I would have put my arm around her to shield her from the cool night air. Hell, three months ago I would have done it. But the true unraveling of things had begun at the beginning of summer, right after she moved home for the break. It was obvious then that we were growing apart. At least it was to me. But Emily was still holding onto those damn threads, determined to rework them to her liking.
It seemed the conversation had ended like so many we had lately, with Emily falling silent and me trying to figure out what the hell to do next. It shouldn't have been so complicated but it was. I was close to her family. I was close to her brother, Dylan. And then there was Rebecca. More than I liked to admit, I couldn't bring myself to break up with Emily because I worried that I'd never talk to Rebecca again.
"Well, should we go to the party?" I got up from the steps. It was the last weekend of summer break, and there was always a big party at the Muir's beach house. It could get pretty wild, but it was one of those traditions that had endured the test of time . . . and at least four police breakups.
"You go ahead." Emily got up from the step. "I'm not in the mood. Oh, and keep an eye on Rebecca, would you? All of her sense and reason seem to fly out the window when she has a few beers. And she's been hanging out with some real losers lately. It's almost as if she's trying to live up to that damn nickname you created." Emily had never tried to hide how much she hated the nickname Rebel.
"You can't be serious about the nickname."
"Just go and make sure she stays out of trouble. Are you still going to drive me to the university tomorrow?" she asked as I walked away.
"I said I would. I'll be here at nine sharp."
Evan met me at my house, and we drove out to the beach house. Cars and motorcycles and every other mode of transportation were lined up along the narrow beach highway. The air was already vibrating with music and voices and beer bubbles.
Evan turned off the car. "I'm thinking eleven o'clock before the cops show up."
"Yeah? That might be wishful thinking."
Two hours in and no sign of flashing red lights, but with each keg drained, people were getting louder and more obnoxious. Three beers was my limit. Watching a perfectly great dad drink himself literally to death was a great deterrent from sucking down too much booze. But since my buzz was light and almost everyone else's was heavy, the whole party was starting to get on my nerves. But no one was standing more on those exposed nerves than Gregory, Rebecca's ex-boyfriend. He was off-his-ass drunk, and he was following Rebecca around as if he owned her. I'd practically worn my back teeth down from jaw clenching every time the jerk went near her.
Evan walked over after a long debate about music with a guy who used to hang with our band when we were still just garage players. "Marty is such a douche. And he's even more douchey when I haven't had a beer." Evan was driving tonight, and with his multitude of driving citations, he figured the last thing he needed was a DUI. Plus, Rhonda told him not to drink, and she was the type who would sniff his breath to make sure.
"Don't know why you bother to debate him all the time," I said absently as my attention was grabbed by Rebecca heading out to the beer keg with her plastic cup. She was doing more skipping than walking. The springy step had more to do with being tipsy than being enthusiastic. I knew for a fact that she couldn't stand firmly in one place when she'd had too much to drink.
"Dude— Josh." Evan's voice tripped me from my thoughts. "You're doing it again. You've been watching her all night."
"You know what, Evan? Sometimes you're the douchebag, and frankly, I wish I'd driven so you could get drunk. You're less annoying."
"And there you go getting really fucking defensive again when I mention it."
"Fuck off, Evan." I headed out to the beer keg. Rebecca had smiled her way up to the front of the line, and the guy in charge of filling cups was more than happy to fill hers to the top.
I elbowed through the line and grabbed the cup before he could hand it back to her.
"What are you doing?" Rebecca grabbed hold of the sleeve of my shirt. Not to retrieve the beer but to keep herself steady.
I looked around at the surrounding faces and decided not to sound like the asshole dad in front of everyone. I also knew Rebecca would be pissed as hell if I embarrassed her in front of her friends.
I took a big swig from her cup, draining about half of it. "I just wanted a drink." I backed out of the line with the cup. Rebecca followed after me.
She had seen right through my act. Once we were out of earshot of the beer line, I dropped it. "Rebel, you have had more than enough to drink. Trust me, you'll thank me in the morning."
"Butthead." Her hand shot out and she grabbed the cup, but the beer sloshed all over her hand. "Super butthead. Stop following me around. If I'd wanted my dad to come to the party, I would have invited him." She stomped away, proving that stomping away mad could look ridiculously cute on the right person.
A light hand landed on my shoulder. Even through the salty coastal breeze and the smoke from the fire pits, Mindy's extra powerful perfume made my eyes water as she circled in front of me. "Seems like Rebecca still has a long way to go before she's grown up."
I shook my head. "Not true. You just don't know her."
Her penciled in brow lifted. "And you do?"
"Yeah, I do."
Mindy had been Emily's best friend since the eighth grade, but I sure as hell could never figure out what Emily found so friend worthy about her.
"I still can't believe Emily didn't come tonight. She wouldn't tell me why either." Mindy's words were stretched slow from drinking. "Why didn't she come? Did you two have a fight?"
"You have asked me that three different times tonight. I suggest you wait until you're sober and ask Emily herself."
I tried to make a hasty exit from the conversation, but Mindy took hold of my arm. Then surprisingly, she trailed her fingers along my entire forearm and stopped at my hand. "Such a talented guitar player. It's a shame that Em doesn't appreciate how amazing you are." She was swaying enough on her feet that I was sure she had no fucking clue what she was doing, but she reached up and tangled her fingers in my hair. "I love your long hair. Emily is always complaining about it, but I think it's hot." She pressed her body against mine. It was all that was needed to grab the attention of the people around us. Emily's boyfriend and best friend standing way too close. That was all I fucking needed. I stepped back abruptly and caught Mindy before she fell forward.
"Mindy, you should lay off the beer. I'll let Emily know you said hi." I winked at her and rushed away from the scene.
I walked back into the front room of the beach house. It was a cool room surrounded by glass windows with an awesome view of the water. I looked around for Evan hoping he hadn't left without me. I walked through the corridor to the kitchen and passed the game room where people were playing video games. A familiar voice caught my attention.
"Stop," Rebecca said. "I told you no."
I shot into the room. The lights were turned low for the video game, and a group of heads stuck up over the back of the couch, all engaged in the game. Music from the next room pounded through the walls as I searched around.
In the far corner, behind a
half open door, Gregory's bleached blond hair flashed like an explosion in the dark room. Rebecca's pale, scared face poked around his shoulder as she tried to push past him.
"No, you asshole!" she cried as he pushed her back into the small corner. My loud footsteps dragged everyone's attention away from the game. I grabbed the back of Gregory's shirt and swung him around.
He came out of the sudden turn with fists flying. His massive silver skull ring flashed toward me, but I ducked away from his wild right hook. I came right back with a much more precise hook. My knuckles landed squarely against his nose. Bones crackled and blood sprayed as he stumbled back. Rebecca squirted out from the crevice between Gregory's stumbling body and the edge of the door.
Tears streamed down her face. She reached for my arm as I pulled it back to hit the guy again. "No, Josh, don't. It's all right," she pleaded.
But I was past reason. "Don't ever touch her again, you motherfucker." My knuckles pulsed with pain as I landed another blow to his jaw.
In my haze of rage, I felt strong hands grab hold of me to keep me from taking another swing. The guys playing the video game had stepped in to stop the fight.
Gregory was leaning against the edge of the door for support. He stared at me as he cupped his hand under his nose to keep the blood from dripping onto his shirt.
I pulled out from the hands that were restraining me. "I'm not going to hit him." I stuck my finger in his face. "Don't ever touch her again."
Through the dribbles of blood and swollen jaw, he managed a mean smile. "Why the fuck you don't just get it over with and fuck her already. Everyone fucking knows you want her."
A sob sounded behind me. I turned to see Rebecca running from the room. I took off after her.
People stepped out of the way as Rebecca pushed through the curious onlookers. She ran out onto the beach and fell to her knees. But she pushed to her feet and ran before I reached her.
"Rebel, Rebecca, stop." I followed her across the sand and down to the water. She kicked off her sandals and ran through the froth along the water's edge.
