Fix Me Not

by Carey Heywood

  I shoot her a grateful look.

  “She's getting around okay on her crutches. There are a couple level walking paths around her complex that she uses to get out of the house. I've also been taking her to places around town. She’s used to being active so not being able to drive is making her stir crazy.”

  “Your mom is such a sweetheart. I was so upset when Asher told me what happened. Is she up for visitors? Maybe Abby and I can drop by today,” Daisy says.

  “She'd love it,” she replies with a nod and then looks at me. “Can I use your phone to let her know?”

  “Of course you can,” my mom butts in to answer for me.

  While Paige makes her call, we put away the rest of my groceries. Luckily, my mom doesn't share any more opinions on my eating habits.

  Paige hangs up the phone and turns to us. “She was so happy you asked. She'd love to see you both.”

  Then she looks at the now clear island and adds, “I forgot your mail in the car. I'll be right back.”

  The moment the front door closes behind her, Abby focuses her gaze on me. “She's very pretty.”

  My mom jumps in. “Is she single?”

  I groan.

  “What?” my mom asks defensively, “it’s a reasonable question.”

  “Paige is not my type,” I reply, unable to hide the annoyance in my tone.

  There's a cough behind me before Paige quietly sets my mail on the island.

  I shift, turning to look at her, regretting my words and the annoyance at which I said them with. I'm struck by the coolness of her expression. Her face seems formed from stone, only something, something that looks a whole lot like pain quickly flashes in her eyes before she can mask that as well.

  Shit.

  “I'm going to start cleaning upstairs.” She lifts her hand to wave to my mom and Abby. “It was nice meeting you.”

  Before either of them can reply, she turns on her heel and leaves.

  “Wait,” Abby says, following her, but Paige is already halfway up the stairs.

  Abby returns, her eyes on me. “Real smooth.”

  My eyes are still glued to the spot I last saw Paige.

  “Why don't you like her?” Abby asks after a moment of loaded silence.

  “Can we talk about something else?”

  Abby crosses her arms over her chest. “She seemed nice. I'm only asking because I don't get why you wouldn't like her.”

  “She’s pretty too,” Mom interjects.

  Great, two against one.

  “Even if I did like her, which I don't,” I clarify. “It'd be pointless to start anything considering how different we are.”

  “They say opposites attract,” Abby sing songs.

  “Speaking of, are you dating anyone?” I ask.

  Abby blanches as our mother turns her attention to her. “Don't go turning this on me.”

  “How did your date with that Robert fella go?” Mom asks.

  Abby glares at me. “It went.”

  Our mom pouts. “That doesn't sound promising.”

  “Pretty much,” Abby agrees. “I've decided to get a cat. He or she can be your new grandkitty.”

  Our mom presses a hand to her chest. “A grandkitty?”

  Abby nods. “Yep. If you want I'll even use a family name for traditions’ sake. Maybe Imogen after Nana or Josiah after dad’s uncle.”

  “You will not name a cat after a family member,” our mom exclaims.

  “Why not?” Abby argues.

  I have to hand it to her, she got mom’s mind off of Robert big time.

  They’re still arguing as I walk them down towards the beach to Abby’s car. They pause long enough to hug and kiss me goodbye. Standing there, I watch as they pull away. Then, my gaze moves to the second floor of my house.

  I need to apologize.

  There’s a reason I prefer being out here all by myself. I'm not good with people. I either say the wrong thing, case in point, or nothing at all. I pull in a breath and head back inside.

  She's pissed.

  Or at least I'm guessing she is based on the amount of noise she's making as she cleans. She sees me the moment I step into the second spare bedroom.

  Brandishing the duster like a sword, she points it at me. “You're not my type either. In fact, just so you know, I like guys who shave, wear nice suits, eat food that doesn't come in cans, and know how to use a laundry hamper.”

  I push the duster to the side, suddenly wanting to strangle her instead of apologize to her. “I came up here to say sorry, okay?”

  Her nose crinkles as her brows furrow. “Is that your idea of an apology?”

  “Look, I don't care if you accept it or not. What I said was rude so I'm sorry. You can keep on not liking me, and for the record, I do know how to use a hamper.”

  “Evidence suggests otherwise Bucko.”

  “Bucko?” I blurt.

  She rolls her eyes. “It just came out.”

  I've gone from feeling guilty, to frustrated, and now find myself wanting to laugh, all in the span of a couple minutes.

  “You said what you needed to say so if it's cool with you, I have had a long day and would like to finish up here so I can go crash.”

  Toe to toe, I glare down at her. “What? Did watching TV all morning wear you out?” I scoff, annoyed that she'd make this big a deal about grocery shopping and light cleaning.

  I doubt she's known a hard day's work in her life.

  Her eyes shift from annoyed to glacial, the blue of them looking more like ice than anything else.

  “You know what they say about people who assume things?” She asks.

  “What?” I reply.

  She turns her back to me. “That they should mind their own fucking business.”

  I take that as the dismissal she intended it to be and leave her to finish her work. I don't want to be the reason she's here one moment longer than she needs to be.

  I'm frustrated and more annoyed than I've ever been. Mind my own business? Whether she likes it or not I care about Millie and don't want to see her using her.

  Needing to cool off, I'm grateful for the old pair of cargo shorts I pulled on this morning. My steps lead me to my dock, and I pull my shirt off when I reach the end of it. It's a moment's work to step out of my shoes and tug off my socks before I dive in.

  The water is cold even though it's June. The temperature of the lake stays cool year-round, only getting slightly warmer in late summer. The brisk chill is exactly what I need to cool the blood simmering in my veins.

  I surface, shaking water from my hair and reach up to wipe it from my face. Then, I swim. With each stroke across my lake, my mind clears. There is nothing except the command for my arms to pull me forward and my legs to kick.

  My body adjusts to the coolness, not only accepting it but relishing the way it eases any lingering frustrations away. This, like building something, is one of the few things I can do to turn off my thoughts and mentally check out for a while.

  When I'm not in my workshop, I swim if it's warm enough, and fish when it isn't.

  I cross the lake, straight across its middle to the beach on the far side. Pausing only to catch my breath, I turn to swim back to the dock. Halfway, I lift my head to make sure I’m heading on a straight path.

  The sight of Paige standing at the end of my dock halts my movements. What the hell does she want now?

  It's not like I can stay out here and tread water until she leaves. Knowing my luck, she'd wait until my legs gave out and then bill me for the time.

  It dawns on me then that I didn’t reimburse her for the groceries or pay her for her time before I stormed out of the house.

  Shit.

  With a groan I continue toward her.

  It's not until I reach the ladder on the side of the dock that she steps back from the edge.

  “Do you have the receipt for the groceries?” I ask.

  Her eyes stay focused on the lake. “It's on the island.”

  “Ar
e you finished inside?”

  My question pulls her attention to my face. “I wouldn't be out here if I wasn't.”

  Her tone of voice has me wanting to jump back into the lake.

  Six

  Paige

  As much fun as it was to watch him swim across the lake, the muscles of his powerful arms and back on full display with each stroke, I've got shit to do. I’m not the kind of woman who loses her mind over some muscles.

  I'm not his type?

  Fine.

  Well, he’s not my type either.

  Walking in just as he said it was less than enjoyable. As much as it sucks to admit, even if just to myself, it was the exact blow to my vanity I needed. I'm not here to flirt or be desirable.

  Asher Thompson might be standing right in front of me but in my mind, he's already in my rearview mirror. Smiling at the thought, I give him my back now and walk back to his house. I could have brought him a towel. Hearing him dripping behind me makes me smile to myself that I didn't.

  It's a warm day, but that lake water had to be freezing. Serves him right for being a dick.

  If he's still dripping by the time we reach the back door he'll have to clean up the mess himself, I've already cleaned enough for the day. He walks close enough behind me to catch the door before it swings closed in his face. When I reach the island, I lean against it and motion toward the receipt.

  Asher walks past me and into his room, coming out a couple moments later in dry clothes, his checkbook in hand. With a smooth motion, he sweeps the receipt up and examines it. A minute later, he pushes a now filled out check to me.

  I don't look at it before shoving it into my pocket and walking out the door. He'd never shortchange me out of respect to my mom. Four hours of my time means eighty dollars toward my goal of getting out of here. Asher doesn't say goodbye, he's probably just as happy as I am that I'm leaving.

  During my ride back into town I mentally add the eighty dollars I just made to what I've already saved up. I want at least three grand before I move. It’ll be another four weeks before my mom’s cast can come off. With working for Dana, and for Asher, I should have $2160 saved, that plus the $500 I had to start with still won't be enough.

  Maybe I can talk Dana into giving me thirty-five hours a week instead of thirty. Even with that, I'll still be a couple hundred short.

  As soon as I make it back into town, I pass my mom’s condo and drive straight to the local tavern. In a town this small, there's only a couple of bars. Neither of them are anything like the swanky nightclubs I used to hang out in. At this point, I don't care. My only goal is the end game.

  Asher reminded me I have nothing here.

  Not.

  One.

  Thing.

  Why prolong my escape a single minute longer than I have to? As soon as my mom’s cast is off, I'm out of here. So what if I have to wake up at the crack of dawn to pour coffee, or clean the house of an asshole. I might as well add serve booze to the list.

  The closer of the two bars I stop at isn't hiring. Undaunted, I drive to the other one. It’s not seedy, but it isn’t nice looking either.

  Holding my purse tightly, I push open the front door and head right to the bar. Thankfully, the inside looks a lot nicer than the exterior. The bartender looks me over, his gaze lingering on my chest before he shouts for someone named Malcolm.

  A man who I can only assume is Malcolm, struts out from a back room. He's tall, though not as tall or built as Asher. Though not wearing a suit, he is clean-shaven and regardless of the fact that he seems to run a less than seedy bar, he is attractive.

  “She's interested in a waitressing job,” the bartender says, tipping his head toward me.

  Malcolm's perusal of my figure is even more blatant than the bartender’s. I suppress a cringe.

  He motions for me to come with him. “You'll need to fill out an application.”

  It’s by sheer willpower alone that has me following him. I've been looked over by men before. Malcolm and the bartender weren't the first and I doubt they'll be the last. Let them look. Let them think things about me.

  “Do you have a boyfriend?” Malcolm asks after handing me an application.

  “Will the answer affect me getting this job?” I ask.

  He pulls out a chair for me. “No. But it will affect whether or not I ask you out.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not interested in dating anyone.”

  I decide against telling him my plans to leave town in case it’ll dissuade him from hiring me.

  Instead, I explain, “My mom was hurt in a fall. All of my free time is currently going to helping her get back on her feet.”

  He leans back in his seat and winks at me. “In that case, I wish her a speedy recovery. I'll give you a few minutes to fill out the application. When you're done bring it to the bar.”

  With my head tipped to the application, I roll my eyes. Few men can pull off a wink without looking sleazy. He might be good looking, but there's no way I’d ever go out with him. The application is a joke. The only real info it asks for is my contact information and my social for taxes, nothing about my previous employment or experience. As Malcolm asked, I walk back out to the bar with my completed application in hand.

  “When can you start?” He asks, after I hand it to him.

  “Tonight. I just need to check on my mom first, but that won't take long.”

  He nods. “Come back at nine, and you'll get better tips if you show a little skin.”

  I keep my annoyance at the thought of showing skin for tips to myself.

  “See you then.” I try for a genuine smile but worry it’s as fake as it feels.

  The weight of their stares as I leave feels like a physical press against my back. It lifts the moment the door swings closed behind me.

  Money is money.

  This won't be my last time waitressing.

  As annoying as it is to be told to show skin, it's a quick way to make some serious cash.

  If the tips are better, I'll wear a low cut V-neck shirt every night.

  When I get back to mom’s, I'm surprised to find Asher’s mom and sister are still visiting with her. My mom and Mrs. Thompson are both sitting on the sofa that folds out into my bed, and Abby is perched on the armchair next to it.

  “Are you alright?” She asks as I enter.

  “Why wouldn't I be?” I reply, and then add, “Hello again,” to Mrs. Thompson and Abby.

  “You were taking longer than normal at Asher’s. Was everything okay there?” She gives me no time to answer and says, “Daisy said Asher said some things that could have upset you.”

  Great.

  I slap on a fake grin. “Everything is great. I'm only late because I stopped to fill out an application at The Drunken Moose. I got hired and am starting tonight.”

  “Tonight? Did you quit working for Dana?”

  I shake my head. “I'm going to do both.”

  Her eyes widen. “You're already dead on your feet when you finish the morning shift with Dana. You're going to kill yourself if you take on another job.”

  “Who is Dana?” Abby asks, glancing between us.

  “Dana owns that small coffee house up the road,” Daisy explains on my behalf.

  Abby’s gaze fixes on me. “You're working there?”

  She might seem nice but, sitting there in her fancy clothes I can feel the judgment in her question.

  I lift my chin. “I am.”

  Before she can say anything else, I excuse myself to take a shower so I can get all spiffed up for my first shift at the bar. Both Abby and Mrs. Thompson are gone by the time I'm done.

  “Did you have a nice visit?” I ask my mom.

  She ignores my question. “I'm not sure how I feel about you working there. It's not a nice place.”

  “It's just a crappy bar,” I agree. “But don't worry, I can take care of myself.”

  “Paige,” she warns.

  I stop her before she gets going. “This
isn't a new career path. It's a temporary gig that will help me earn some cash while I'm here. I had hoped between Dana and Asher I'd be able to make enough. Since that isn't the case, I needed a place I could work in the evening. Sadly, there aren't many options here.”

  “You won't talk me out of worrying about you. Do you have any idea of what time you'll be home?”

  “The bar closes at 1:30. I guess it depends on if I'll need to stay later to clean.”

  Her lips part. “You wake up at five. When will you sleep?”

  “If it's cool with you, I'm going to take a power nap now and finish getting ready right before I have to go.”

  She takes the hint I intended and leaves me to sleep. This is only for the short term. As much as it sucks, nothing will ever be as humiliating as losing my business was.

  Luckily, I fell asleep quickly but sadly, my nap is too short and soon my alarm is going off. I groan and roll out of bed to start getting ready. Staring at my reflection in the cramped bathroom, I stifle another yawn.

  My mom peeks her head around the corner. “Want me to warm something up for you?”

  One bonus to her kitchen being small is she's getting good at getting around it with only one crutch. I doubt she'll admit that to her doctor at her next checkup though. She's supposed to be taking it easy. For her, being trapped in the condo is as good as it gets.

  I'm not that hungry but I know it'll make her feel better if I eat something. “Sure. Thanks Mom.”

  Now, with my hair and makeup done, a stupid outfit that will hopefully help me get tips on, and a full belly, I'm ready to hit the road.

  I give myself another head to toe glance in the mirror wondering if Asher Thompson would rethink his assessment if he saw me now. It doesn't matter that I don't even like him; I don’t like being so easily dismissed.

  “I won't sleep a wink until you're home,” my mom grumbles as I walk past her.

  “Mom, don't be dramatic. I'm not some young, naive twit. I'm thirty and used to live in one of the most populated cities on the planet. I'll be fine, plus I caved and reactivated my old cellphone so I’ll be able to call for help if I need it.”

  She mutters something to herself but I let it go since I don't want to be late.