Lipstick & Lattes

by Tracy Krimmer

  “How’s your dad doing?”

  “Has my brother complained to you?”

  “Not at all.” It’s a tiny lie, but I don’t want to cause any problems in his family. I don’t know if Leann is aware of the problems Ed has been having at the café, and if he hasn’t told her, it’s not my place to do so. I’m certain if he weren’t dealing with the decline of business, he’d be able to focus more on helping out with his dad.

  “He’s getting by. He misses work. Physical therapy begins in a couple of weeks, and that should get him out of the house more and help pull him out of this little slump. I’m worried about him getting depressed.”

  “Being cooped up inside can drive you crazy. I have an uncle who insists on never leaving his house, and he’s definitely none the better for it. He’s a cranky old man.”

  “Exactly.” She wipes sweat from her brow and catches her breath. I’ve been doing all the talking and none of the work. “I don’t want my dad to become a miserable person since he has a choice about it.” She stands and wipes her hands on her shorts, now smeared with dirt and strawberry juice.

  “That should do it.” I’m transported back to grade school when she claps her hands together. My teachers always clapped to get the class’ attention when we weren’t listening. Depending on the teacher that was often.

  Leann’s basket is practically overflowing with strawberries, shoved in every nook and cranny they can be to get the most she can. Mine is sad compared to hers. “Do you want mine? I didn’t pick too many.”

  “No. You picked them, you keep them. Thanks, though. I appreciate the offer.” She starts the trek back to the barn so we can pay. “Are you seeing Ed later tonight?”

  “Maybe? We haven’t discussed it. I think he’s been so busy at the café he doesn’t have much time to think about it. We kind of plan things on a whim these days.”

  “I hear that.” She grunts as she swings her basket onto the scale. “And we lost someone this morning. Kathryn. She works the late morning until close. She gave two weeks notice when she came in. At this rate, we’ll need to close at noon just to save money.”

  Either she’s privy to the situation or she’s smart enough to figure out on her own what’s going on. I vote for the latter. I’m hesitant to continue this discussion. I don’t think I have a right to comment on it.

  “I could probably help in a pinch.”

  “Oh, Whitney, no wonder Ed likes you so much.” She pays the attendant and takes her strawberries. “You truly are as sweet as he says.”

  “He says that?” I gulp, my voice shaking.

  “Of course he does. I hope you stick around for a long time.” We reach her car and fill the trunk with our treasures. “He needs someone like you in his life.”

  And I feel the same about him.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” The music is so loud I think the drum set is in my brain. I’ll have a massive headache by the time this night is over. Hannah convinced me to come back to Vogue after literally falling to my feet and pulling on my leg. “I should have made you come alone.”

  The minute I stepped foot back into this place I thought I may have an anxiety attack. Hannah yanked me in, guiding me through the stuffed room of people, and promptly sat me at the bar. With a White Russian in hand, I allow its sweetness to consume me while Hannah blabs in my ear.

  “So this guy Matt comes into the store the other day looking for something for his mom. He’s tall, blond hair, and these brown eyes that just…. Ugh, he’s gorgeous!” She’s shouting into my ear.

  “Just your type.” Hannah’s like a Barbie doll and every man she dates is a Ken.

  “Totally. We got to talking, and we’re going out next Saturday!” She grabs my arm and jumps up and down. “I really like him.”

  Over the past few months, Hannah has shown interest in a few guys, but she’s never lit up like this before. Her face is bright, glowing, and her voice excited, and I can even hear it over the blaring music. Now may be the time she’s finally able to move on from her ex and date seriously. No more of these random hookups. “That’s awesome, Hannah. I’m happy for you.”

  “We’ll have to double some time!”

  She’s sure enthusiastic. She’s not even been out on one date with this Matt guy, and she’s already planning future dates. I’m hopeful it will work out for her. Over the past few months she’s lost her faith in love and I don’t want her to feel that way.

  I keep dodging my head around, scoping out everyone in the crowd. I’ll never forget what that creep from last time, Bryant, looks like, and I’m cautious in case he’s here. I don’t know if he would remember me. I hope not, but the thought he may scares me a bit.

  “I don’t think he’s here, if that’s who you’re looking for.”

  Busted. “Aren’t you a little paranoid he’ll round the corner and say something? Or worse yet, do something?”

  “No. I’m not going to let some punk like that run my life.”

  “I’m not letting him run my life.”

  “Well, you’re certainly not having any fun because of him.” She flips her hair back and takes a drink. “Let’s go dance!”

  She grabs my arm and pulls me onto the dance floor. I start to move my feet and sway my hands with the music, but I’m not into it as I was that first night. People surround me, some so close they’re almost touching me. Someone brushes my arm, and I swat the person away, a girl about my age.

  “Relax, Whitney!” Hannah yells. “Loosen up.”

  What she wants me to do is easier said than done. She wasn’t almost hit in the face the last time she was here. She didn’t have unwelcome advances while dancing. This club is tainted. I don’t know if I can enjoy this place again.

  The music slows a little and Hannah grabs my hands. “We’ll dance together.” I’m back in grade school when we learned to dance. She’s leading, and we’re in an awkward stance. We’re both smiling though, and I’m finally beginning to enjoy myself.

  “Thanks for making me come out.”

  “See how things change after you’ve had a few drinks, and you’ve allowed me to show you a good time?” Hannah winks and then dips me. When I dip back, I catch a glimpse of a familiar face.

  I let go of Hannah and march over to the table. “Excuse me? What the hell are you doing here, Ricky?”

  Hannah is behind me in seconds. “Ricky! You’re not old enough to be here!”

  “And you’re too old.” Ricky gives his friends a high five.

  “How did you get in here?”

  “Fake ID’s of course.” One of his friends says to me, flashing it at me.

  I snatch it out of his hand and hold my hand out for my brother and the rest of their crew. “Hand them over.”

  “Don’t be such a prude, Whitney.”

  “Oh, I’ll be a prude. You are too young to be in here. And are you drinking?” I stick my face near his, and I can smell the alcohol. I hand the ID’s to Hannah and pull out my phone.

  “What are you doing?” Ricky is frantic.

  “I’m calling Mom.”

  “No!” He jumps up from the table and tries to knock my phone out of my hand but instead falls flat on the floor.

  “Dude! That was epic! Are you okay?” One of his buddies laughs as he helps him up.

  I step away as I dial my parent’s phone number. My mom picks up on the fourth ring, groggy as I’ve apparently awoken her from sleep. I quickly explain the situation and hang up the phone.

  “Mom’s on the way to get you and your friends. Let’s go.” I start to march out of Vogue, but my brother remains in his seat. I grab a hold of his arm. “Now.” I pull him up as his friends make fun of him for his big sister treating him like a child, but that’s what he is.

  Everyone follows behind me as we spill onto the sidewalk. “I can’t believe you, Ricky. You’re willing to throw your life away for a few drinks at a nightclub.”

  “Whoa, lady,
slow down,” one of his friends says to me.

  I dart my eyes at him and he backs off. “My brother is smarter than this. I can’t speak for the rest of you. He’s got colleges begging for him to come play for them, and he’s going to mess it all up if he gets caught. All of you go home and sleep it off.”

  I’m fuming at this point, and it’s all I can do not to shake my brother and get in his face. He’s only seventeen. He doesn’t need to grow up this fast. I’m biting my nails to stop from yelling and by the time my mom arrives, I’ve chewed up two of my nails.

  “Ricky, get your butt in the car, now.” My mom is in her bathrobe, and her hair a total mess. She opens the door and waits for his friends to pile in the back. Before Ricky gets into the car, his face loses color, and he runs to a trash can outside. I cover my ears as he retches into the bucket and finally throws up.

  Once in the car, my mom approaches me. “And you. I can’t believe you let this happen.”

  “Me?” Here I’m expecting a thank you and I’m getting in trouble. “What did I do?”

  “You and all these clubs.” She says “these clubs” like I frequent them nightly.

  “This is the second time I’ve been here.”

  “And if you ask me, it should be your last. Your brother looks up to you. I don’t know why, but he does. You work in the mall and go out and drink. No wonder he wants to drive a semi and throw his life away. That’s what you’re doing.”

  My eyes well up with tears. I can’t believe the words my mom is saying. I thought they were on board with Ricky and his decision. Either way, why am I to blame for this?

  “You’re almost in your thirties, Whitney. Grow up.” She turns from me, and before she backs the car up, she stares at me for a second, my mascara running down my face, and shakes her head.

  I stand outside the club, the stench of my brother’s poor choices making me heave, as I watch my mom’s car until I can’t see the taillights anymore.

  “Are you okay, Whitney?” Hannah puts her arm around my shoulder.

  I peer down the street as I think about what she’s asked me. Yeah, I’m almost thirty, but I still have a few years. And I’m enjoying my life. Sure, I work in the mall, but I’m making money. I don’t have kids or a husband, but I’m seeing someone. I don’t own a house, but I throw my money away every month and pay rent. I may not be living a dream, but I’m at least I’m living.

  “Yeah. I’m okay.” I slide my arm around her waist. “Let’s drink.”

  ••••••••

  More shots than I care to count later, Hannah and I are ready to close the club down. I made it through three hours of pounding music, a couple fairly attractive but annoying guys hitting on me, and not running into Bryant. Neither of us are in any condition to drive, so we call an Uber and wait outside the club for our ride.

  A sleek, black car pulls up ten minutes later. We’re both crazy in giggles, and I need to pee.

  “You should have gone before they locked the doors.” Hannah reminds me of the obvious as I pound on Vogue’s doors. A bartender glances my way but ignores me. It’s no use. They won’t let me in after hours. “The car’s here. Let’s go.”

  I tighten my body. I’ll have to hold it in. “Let’s hope I don’t pee in this car!” I burst out in laughter as I slide into the backseat.

  The driver reminds me of Watts from Some Kind of Wonderful when she chauffeurs Eric Stolz and Lea Thompson around. She’s in a black outfit complete with a cap. We head off to my place, thinking it’s time Hannah crashed with me after a crazy night. We’ll call another Uber in the morning or Josie can take us back to Vogue to get our cars.

  “Best. Night. Ever!” Hannah throws her fist in the air. The seat bounces, and I grab a hold of the door handle. Squeeze tight. Hold it in.

  “We’ll have to go again soon.”

  “And with Ed and Matt!”

  Maybe. It would be kind of cool to come back here with Ed and show everyone the man who came to my rescue is now my boyfriend. But I wouldn’t want him to see me this drunk. “I miss Ed.”

  “Have you two done it yet?”

  “Stop it!” The Uber driver glances in the rearview mirror, and I immediately disconnect eye contact. “And no. Oh, but do I want to. He gets me tingly in all the right places.” One place in which I have to pee now.

  Hannah grabs my arm and shakes me, and I stop her before I lose my bladder. Her eyes widen as she yells, “You should text him. Tell him you want to have all his babies!”

  “No. I don’t think so.” He’s going through enough right now. But he could use some cheering up. Maybe a text wouldn’t be a bad idea. “Okay. One.”

  I fumble through my purse and find my phone. He’s in my favorites list so he’s simple to find. What should I say? Not what Hannah said. Heck, no. He’d go running for the hills. I don’t want to tell him I miss him. That’s too mushy, too. I tap my phone against my chin as I contemplate all the ideas.

  Hannah snatches my phone from me and types, then tosses it back into my lap.

  “What did you do?” I open my Messages app and stare in horror at what she wrote.

  You have a cute butt. The cutest I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot.

  I smack her on the arm. “I could kill you!”

  “Please, no murders in the car.” The driver smiles in the mirror.

  “I should text Matt something about… about his penis!”

  “Fine.” She hands me her phone. “Go ahead.”

  I should have known that would backfire. Hannah doesn’t care what I type. I could type that she loves him and can’t wait for their wedding, and she’d laugh it off. I wish I didn’t care that much.

  I wait for a text back and nothing. I can’t leave it like this.

  That was my friend. Sorry. I didn’t mean it.

  I mean your butt is cute.

  I mean, it’s not. It’s okay. I like your butt. Sorry. I like you. I’ll shut up.

  I do like you. I hope you like me.

  I mean, I like spending time with you.

  “Whitney, you’re being psychotic. Give me back your phone.”

  “No! Never!” I tighten my grip on the phone and hold it between my knees. My legs are dancing I have to pee so bad. We won’t be home for five more minutes. I hope I can make it.

  She reaches over and starts to fight me for it. We’re slashing back and forth, giggling and arguing, and I’m afraid I’m about to wet myself so I let go. It’s the text messages or my bladder. My bladder wins.

  I wait in terror as she types. I can’t even look at what she typed. My face is flushed and I’m starting to get dizzy. We arrive at my apartment, and I take a look once we’re out and about to go upstairs.

  Seriously, I do like you. And I’m really, really drunk. And I have to pee. Call me!

  That seals the deal. Ed’s never going to talk to me again.

  Chapter Twelve

  Who’s ringing my buzzer at… I turn to my clock… ten-thirty on a Sunday? Ugh. How did I sleep so long? And my head feels like I’ve been banging it against a wall all night. I sit up and wipe my face down. Hannah is still asleep next to me. “Wake up.” I shake her quietly before I slip on my robe.

  My hands search for my intercom. I’m pounding on the wall missing it every time. My balance is out of whack. Coffee and a container of aspirin should solve that. “Who is it?” I call into the buzzer once I finally tap it.

  “Your father.” I stand upright at the sound of his voice. Crap. He must be here to discuss Ricky. I’m not in the mood for this. I need drugs, caffeine, and a shower—in that order. Or even my coffee in the shower. Can my shower spray coffee onto me? That’ll get me moving.

  I’m sidetracked now. Normally when my parents come by I clean up a bit, but I’m in no shape to race around the apartment and pick things up. It’s not too bad. He can deal with the dishes in the sink and Josie’s basket of clothes. He may not even notice. It’s not like he does any of the housework at my parents’
house.

  The knock on the door startles me and reminds me again I need to get my hands on some pills. Hannah is still conked out in my bedroom.

  “Dad! Hi!” I fake a smile when I open the door. He barges in without even a hello.

  “What happened last night? Why was Ricky at a nightclub?”

  “Maybe you should ask him that.” I cross my arms and lean into my door. “Last I checked I wasn’t his parent.”

  My dad’s eyes burn through me. If I were twenty years younger, I may have gotten a spanking. “You watch it, Whitney. Your mother is so upset over this, she couldn’t even sleep the rest of the night. She missed church this morning because of the stunt you two pulled.”

  Someone call the police. Mom missed one Sunday out of fifty-two. I hope there wasn’t a test. “What stunt are you referring to? I was out with my friend at a club I legally got into. Ricky is the one who obtained a fake ID and broke the law. Why am I to blame?”

  He begins pacing the room. Hannah peeks her head through a crack in my bedroom door and cringes. I hate she’s hearing this.

  “Your brother is vulnerable right now. He’s going into his senior year, and he has to focus. Colleges are calling and if we’re going to steer him away from this weird goal of driving an eighteen-wheeler, he can’t be mesmerized by the trashy world of clubbing.”

  Where do I begin? There are so many things wrong with what he said. “I’m not trashy because I go to clubs. I like to dance. And occasionally drink. There’s nothing wrong with that. And I thought you supported his decision. When did this change? I don’t understand you and mom.” Her words were similar last night. I’m so confused.