by Eden Connor
What was Colt thinking? And why in the name of God was Caine so laid back about their budding relationship?
Because he’s like his father, and here I sit, still acting like Macy.
Sighing, I headed for the gas station where I’d bought doughnuts the week before.
Only a week ago? It felt like a year had gone by.
The place was deserted, but a recent-model Mustang sat near the front door. I took the spot on the opposite side of the handicapped space and eyed the matte black paint job, tricked out with a pair of glossy Carolina Blue stripes on my way past.
There was no clerk behind the counter. To my delight, despite the late hour, I spied several doughnuts in the clear Lucite box. Musing on how much I’d miss the twenty-four hour Krispy Kreme in Spartanburg, I turned left, heading for the drink coolers.
“Long time, no see, Lucy.”
Fuck me. Dumbass. If I had a dollar for every time someone had called me ‘Red’ or ‘Lucy’—after the actress, Lucille Ball—what could I buy?
Three race cars, for sure. Problem solved.
I jerked open the cooler and debated between Dr. Pepper and an RC. I’d give Colt’s left nut for a chat with Ernie right now, so I grabbed the RC Cola and turned for the counter.
“Not speaking to me, huh? That hurts, Lucy. I mean, as close as we been?”
I searched the front of the store to my left. That had to be where the voice came from, but the aisle was empty. I scanned the rest of the store. No heads poked above the low shelves. Not in the mood for a game of Where’s Weirdo, dipshit.
One of the five doughnuts was an éclair. Staring at the vanilla cream leaking from one end, I wanted to cry. Why couldn’t it at least be chocolate? I grabbed the tongs with a silent groan.
“Stop! Let me go.”
Jerking toward the cry, I spied movement in a small hallway I hadn’t noticed. I squinted, trying to see the clerk. Oh, lovely. He wasn’t talking to me. He’d taken a break to make out.
The woman he had pinned to the wall twisted in his arms. Glaring fluorescent store lights lit close-cropped platinum hair.
How many girls in this one-horse town cut their hair like a man and bleached the remainder within an inch of its life?
I stared in shock as Marley Taggert struggled to push the clerk away.
Goddammit. Didn’t you take self defense classes? Bring the heel of those kick-ass boots down on his instep. Lock your hands together and smack him in the nose when he looks down to see about his fucking foot. Then, knee him in the nuts and run.
The woman driver’s answer to being mauled was to bang her head against the wall and sob. Pressing her hands to his chest wasn’t gonna do a damn thing, except maybe sprain her wrists.
Thanks for volunteering. Sending up a silent apology to Dr. Jamison, I took a deep breath and strode toward the pair, tongs in hand. Neither noticed me. My outrage spiraled when the store clerk thrust his knee between Marley’s leather-clad thighs.
“No.” Her voice was barely a whisper. Mascara streaked her face—and God, was I ever tired of every woman in sight looking like a refugee from a wild night with Gene Simmons. Had they put an extra tax I didn’t know about on waterproof mascara?
“Get off her!” I whacked the tongs across the back of the guy’s neck. He jerked his head toward me.
“Ow! What the fuck, bitch?” Straight, sandy hair fell over his eyes.
“Wrong answer.” I stabbed him in the thigh with the tongs, regretting he had his dick wedged against Marley’s groin. “I said, let her go. ‘No’ means back the fuck off, buddy.”
Marley turned dazed eyes my way.
“Marley, move!”
“Shelby?”
Thank God for small towns.
I didn’t dare turn my back on this asshole, but relief flooded me. “Back here, Caroline!”
Goddammit, rather than running for the front door, Marley fled across the hall to the ladies’ room, just like a damn kamikaze squirrel who had the chance to avoid a car, but doubled back to meet his doom.
Yo, that’s called panic.
The clerk spun away from me to pound on the door.
“Aw, Jesus, Lucy. Don’t be such a drama queen.” He landed a final blow, then sauntered past me. “Just havin’ some fun with an old classmate.”
“Oh, yeah? I could tell she was having the time of her life.” I flipped the tongs, deciding I’d go for his gonads with the stiffer end if he made a move toward me. “How about you have your fun behind the damn cash register?”
Caine strode through the door, nearly bowling Caroline over. “Rinehart? What the fuck are you doin’ here?”
The clerk rubbed the back of his neck. “I work here. That crazy redheaded bitch hit me!”
“And she’ll hit you again if you come on back, asshole,” I yelled, tapping on the restroom door.
“Some folks are hard of learnin’.” Colt shoved through the door. His voice held an edge that made me halfway sorry for the clerk. Nah. Kidding. Not sorry.
Of course they know Chester the Molester. He’s their age. Town’s no bigger than a postage stamp.
“C’mon, guys. I was just foolin’ around. That stuck-up bitch is too sensitive.”
The knob turned, so I pushed the door open.
Marley was wedged between the sink and the paper towel dispenser, her back pressed to the flimsy wall of the single stall. Pine disinfectant made my eyes water, but the last time I’d seen hands shake like hers, they’d been mine, in a dark cul-de-sac, while the stench of Budweiser and fat cop clung to my skin.
“Don’t’cha just love how we’re the bitches in this scenario?” I almost asked if she was okay, but I’d had a gutful of lies. “Who is he?”
Caroline peered into the tiny bathroom. “Jackie Rinehart. All-state tight end a few years back. You both went to Robinson High, right?”
Marley didn’t respond, so I moved closer. Caroline slipped inside and shot home the bolt.
“I don’t understand why he called you Lucy. Is it a joke? Like Lucille Ball?” I smiled. “Dipshits call me that all the time. I guess they think it’s original.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. I knew to my bones, she’d rather eat dirt than cry in front of me and Caroline.
“We went out once. Biggest mistake of my life.” She snatched a paper towel from the dispenser and folded it into a point. “It’s not L-u-c-y.”
She dabbed at her streaked eye liner. “Because of him,”—tears spilled again—“I dropped out in the tenth grade. The only thing that kept me from killing myself was drivin’ real fast. Which is ironic.”
Because driving real fast is a good way to kill yourself.
There weren’t many reasons I could think of for her to unburden her soul to us—unless there was absolutely no one else.
Is everyone bleeding inside, all the time?
Marley studied me and Caroline in the mirror. “I always felt that girls like y’all knew somethin’ I didn’t.” She tossed the folded paper towel and grabbed another. Laying the brown square on the counter, she folded one corner down, dragging the edge of her nail along the crease, but had to start over three times before she made it all the way down the short length. I had the urge to hold her, but she looked like she’d shatter under the slightest pressure.
“I never got what all the fuss was. About sex. Tried it a couple of times. Never felt anything, except stupid. But Jackie acted like he knew somethin’ other boys didn’t know. Girls at school nearly passed out if he paid them attention, so I jumped at the chance to fuck him. He didn’t even take me out. He just crawled into the back seat of my car.”
I bit my tongue, disliking the wave of empathy crashing through me. She swept the paper towel to the floor with a sob and jerked her sleeves up her forearms.
“This is hopeless. I’m hopeless.” I cringed when she pumped anti-bacterial hand soap onto her fingertips, then slapped her fingers over her eyes.
“You both look like the kind who carry around make
up. I’ll buy you new if you think I might contaminate yours.”
Caroline dropped the large bag off her shoulder and held it out. Concern clouded her eyes. I dreaded the rest of Marley’s confession. I sensed that the weight of her next words would leave a bruise. I let my gaze drift to the scarred walls and just wasn’t sure which of us would bear the mark.
But it’s always us who bear the marks. Never them. Dr. Jamison’s right. Why do we bruise each other?
Cupping her hands under the stream, Marley splashed her face. Caroline snagged a few paper towels, pressing them into her half-sister’s hand. While the young driver dried her face, I dug out Caroline’s fat makeup bag.
“Liquid liner. Pencil liner. Mascara. Eye shadow.” I placed each item on the edge of the sink. Marley crumpled the wet towels and missed the can. The fluorescent strip above the sink accented the hollows in her cheeks, but without the defiant eye makeup, she reminded me of a mollusk that’d lost its shell.
“Want me to put it on for you?” Caroline offered. “You have really pretty eyes.”
All I saw was despair, outlined by red rims. “Caroline’s good at makeup. And y’all have the same eyes.”
The face staring back at me could’ve been one of Harry’s G.I. Joes. Except, the pain in Marley’s eyes burned like the flame in Caine’s welding torch.
“It’s L-o-o-s-i-e. As in Loosie Goosie. The next day, he told every guy on the football team that he leaned to the left the whole time, hopin’ the other side of my pussy got lonely and came over to join in the fun. And they told their girlfriends.”
My mouth fell open before I could stop it.
“Guys just laughed when they walked by, but the girls made up the name to taunt me. I—I never went back. Why? What do girls like you get out of being bitches? Is it some contest? What do you win?”
The betrayal in her eyes shut off my breath. I had no trouble imagining the gleeful whispers and cruel smiles of the mean girls, because mean girls were all the fucking same.
“Don’t ask me.” Caroline pried the lid up on the tiny compact of shadow. “They were too busy tauntin’ me about my mama throwin’ up all over Jesse before I was even born. And bein’ illegitimate, of course. Because that matters.” Caroline swept bronze powder across one of Marley’s lids with a sure hand. “Even while they wore Jesse T-shirts and Jesse hats and talked about what a god Jesse was.”
“But, she was pregnant with you!” Marley protested. “Dad—Jesse—said she wasn’t drunk.”
Caroline faltered with her hand halfway to Marley’s face. “Well, he never bothered to come to Father-Daughter Day at my school and explain.”
Caroline gestured with the tiny sponge. Marley closed her eyes. “Like you think he was there for me? He was always somewhere else, while my mama cried about how racin’—and your mama—ruined her life.”
“My mama?” Caroline blurted.
Marley raised and dropped thin shoulders. “My mother might have the tiaras, but Robyn’s prettier. I always admired Robyn. For not lettin’ her man stand with a foot in each camp while he made up his rabbitty little mind which soft lap he wanted to land in. Told him to stick his money up his ass, too.”
The young driver darted a look my way. “When Mama’s had too much wine, she taunts Jesse. Says Robyn left him because he wasn’t half the man Dale is.”
“Yeah? Her pride looked good on me at school. I was always the best dressed.” Sarcasm dripped from Caroline’s tone.
“Maybe she and my mom can form a support group. She thinks racing’s the root of all evil, too.” I blew out a breath. “They’re getting divorced.”
A tap sounded on the door. Caine called, “Shelby? Colt’s gonna get arrested if we stick around much longer. What the fuck’s goin’ on in there?”
“You tell Colt I won’t bail his ass out if he does something stupid. We’re gonna be a minute. And go away. This isn’t for your ears.”
“Aw, fuck. All Colt needs is an excuse to blow.”
I listened for Caine’s footsteps while I tried to care if Colt beat the asshole clerk’s brains out. “He’s gone.”
While Caroline deepened the crease over Marley’s eyes with sure strokes, Marley dragged her tongue across colorless lips.
“I grew up with Colt and Caine. Neither of ‘em ever looked at me the way they look at you.” She clenched a fist and drove it down on the edge of the sink. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re so worried about. I mean, how many can you be with at once? Didn’t you tell your mama at the hospital you were with Caine?”
“It’s complicated.” The monster reached into my chest and squeezed my heart so hard, I couldn’t breathe. My hand ached so bad I glanced down, half expecting to see the stone I’d been willing to hurl at Marley—Marley, as it turned out who was my sister in blood.
On every surface, the bathroom bore names, both inked and carved. Whores. Women who sucked cock. Good times waiting for a phone call. Sluts and bitches of every description. Cunts, every one of us, even to each other.
While I read each name, their pain vibrated inside me, making it hard to breathe. Did their silent screams drive Marley’s confession?
Marley’s chest hitched from the effort to hold back tears. “I know it’s stupid. But, the things I hear about Colt make me wanna give it one more shot. I tried girls, but—”
She ducked out of Caroline’s reach and blinked away a fresh round of tears. “When’s that gonna bite me on the ass? It’d be my luck to hook up with some bitch lookin’ for instant fame. Jesse reminds me on the daily, ain’t no sponsor gonna write checks for a lesbian driver. And that’s not who I am.”
Caroline pinned Marley’s jaw between thumb and forefinger. She painted a thick, perfect line above her pale-tipped lashes, but I feared my friend might bite through her own lip.
Marley’s cheeks blazed. “I don’t want to be part of your damn race team. Doris makes my skin crawl, but at least people can’t say Jesse handed me nothin’ if I stay there. I just want to have sex with Colt. To know if I’m defective.”
“You’re not defective. And for the record, I wasn’t popular.” I tried to laugh. “Since when have the mean girls ever let anyone who got free lunch into their inner circle?”
Caroline and I exchanged glances while Marley’s eyes were closed. I searched my friend’s face for pain, but saw only empathy. She laid a hand on Marley’s arm.
“Colt’s got a baby elephant trunk in his pants. And he knows how to use it.” Starting at Marley’s inner eye, Caroline swept a thick line across her lid, dragging the point upward at the outside corner with such perfection, I marveled at her steady hand. “If you don’t come like a fire hose whenever y’all hook up, I’ll finish you off myself and never let Colt live that down.”
Marley’s eyes flew open. Her cinnamon and green irises reminded me of desert sand and seaweed, sculpted by a gifted hand. They were so beautiful and so sad—was that why Caroline leaned in to kiss her?
Caroline pulled away with a giggle. “Sorry, sister. I got carried away. I think it’s the boots.” She wrinkled her nose as Marley stared. “What? Shelby never looks at me like that when I play tongue tag with her.”
Marley blinked, then stared into my eyes for a long minute. The next thing I knew, my back was against the flimsy stall wall and Marley’s tongue swept past my lips. She tasted like mint, cherry cola, and despair.
When I slid my tongue across hers, she moved one hand to my breast. I grabbed her shirt, tugging her closer. Each tender stroke across my nipple summoned strikes of lightning in my core.
She backed away, leaving me panting. “I thought you’d freak.” She narrowed her eyes. “You look... like the delicate type.”
I’m freaking. I’m freaking.
Caroline giggled again. “You’ll learn. Shelby don’t really freak. Think of those wide, innocent eyes as... camo pants durin’ huntin’ season.”
At last, Marley smiled. “Just don’t wreck her ‘Cuda?”
I grinned. �
�Exactly. But I reckon it’s your ‘Cuda now.” Heart pounding—what the fuck just happened?—I tried to play off my confusion. “Your eyes look gorgeous. Let Caroline put the mascara on. After that, we’re walking out of here. Right past Jackie. He works in a convenience store, for fuck’s sake. You drive for NASCAR.”
“That’s right.” Caroline tossed her head. “Jonny says you’re going to be the first woman to win the Cup series.”
Marley’s eyes widened. “He does? I figured he resented me. Because of havin’ to split time in the car.”
“That’s what he says,” Caroline assured her.
“Why does winnin’ a Cup championship seem easier than just bein’ a woman?” Marley swept her gaze my way. “For the record. That’s Jesse’s ‘Cuda. He almost had a damn fit when he found out Dale was lettin’ you put miles on it.”
I shrugged. “Hannahs don’t believe in trailer queens. Cars were meant to be driven.”
Caroline used one finger to drag Marley’s face her way. “Because you been tryin’ to do it all alone. We have each other now and a shit ton of wasted time to make up for. Look up.”
She dragged the brush along Marley’s lower lashes, then swept it over her upper lashes. “Perfect,” she declared. “Now, can we get outta here before this strong-ass air freshener collapses a lung?”
“You? Why would you want to be my friend?” Marley blinked.
“Listen.” Caroline slung her bag over her shoulder. “If I learned one thing from watchin’ my mama curl up around her anger, it’s this. Let it hurt. Let it heal. And let it fuckin’ go. You were a baby when Jesse hooked up with your mama, same as me. What say we don’t feed their monkeys?”
I understood the hesitation I saw in Marley’s eyes. Unbidden, my brain threw up the last image in the world I wanted to see—the church sign across from Caroline’s house. The last time I’d seen it, it’d said, some things must be believed in order to be seen.
If I believed in love at all, it was because of Caroline.
“Hey, she became my friend for no reason. I couldn’t even shift. You can do this, Marley.” I smiled and held out my hand. “Maybe fifty steps is all it takes to get the hell up out of here. There’s a reason rear view mirrors are smaller than windshields. The view’s less important.” I gestured from me to Caroline. “We’ll be your spotters.”
