by Abigail Boyd
My shoulders relax a little, but threaten to tense up again when I realize that there’s got to be some reason he was keeping this from me. “Is that a problem? Do you have a gambling addiction?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s just…” He shifts on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m trying to get information.”
“Does this have something to do with our eyes?”
He starts for the door, but I get up and follow him. “Why do you keep bringing that up? It’s just discoloration.”
“Now I know you’re lying.”
He spins around and faces me, and when he speaks, his voice is low and forcibly calm. “No, that’s what any reasonable person would say.”
“But you don’t believe it.” I search his face for an answer. “Why don’t you tell me?”
He takes both of my hands in his and kisses my knuckles, holding them against his chin. “Just wait until the time is right, okay? I promise I will tell you everything. Please, can you trust me?”
The problem is that I already trust him. I nod and he hugs me to his chest, pulling back so that he can kiss me again. I reach up on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck. I don’t think I will ever get enough of this, I think, as our mouths move in perfect rhythm, my knees going weak.
“Go get some rest,” he says, and then heads for the door.
After he leaves, I turn the skull button over in my hand, and wonder when the time he’s planning for will arrive.
Sure enough, Russell is not happy about me wanting to take the day of the concert off. When I go in on Monday, he corners me in the kitchen to tell me that my work’s been slipping. He’s got his sincere face on, but I know he’s still full of shit.
“Don’t make me put you on probation, Remy. It hurts me to say this. You’re messing up orders and we’ve had complaints. Then you go and miss yesterday at the last minute.”
“I’m one of the best employees you have,” I say through gritted teeth. “You said so yourself.”
“You were one of my best employees,” he corrects, shaking his head. “You’re not on the top of my list anymore. Beth, hell, even Quinn, is outshining you. And I thought I’d rather shoot myself in the foot than admit that. I’ve already talked to you about stepping up your game, you need to actually do something about it.” He stalks off, leaving me to tie my apron and get ready. Of course he would confront me right before work, and now my hands shake.
“Here, let me get that for you,” Beth says, coming over. She was just in earshot the entire time, typing in her tickets. I let go and she takes the sash of my apron, tying it tightly.
“Thanks.”
“I’m sorry, Remy,” she says as she steps back. “I have never once said anything bad about you, and I make mistakes all the time and tell him, but he just doesn’t seem to pay attention.”
“I know it’s not you, Beth,” I assure her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s me, I have been slipping. It’s my own fault. I took it for granted that I couldn’t get in trouble with him.”
“I think you’re doing a great job,” Beth says sweetly, hovering over my shoulder as I clock in.
“But it doesn’t really matter what you think, now does it?” Quinn says just as sweetly as she comes around the corner and leans against the fridge. Beth casts her eyes down and hurries away.
“Wasn’t that a trifle harsh?” I ask, fastening my ponytail.
“Sometimes you’ve gotta be harsh, so they get the hint,” she says, staring at the door through which Beth went as it stops swinging.
I was in a tense mood for the rest of the afternoon, paying extra close attention to every move I made, double checking orders and counting my change out one cent at a time. Finally, Tasha came in to replace Russell, and I felt like I could relax a little for my last couple of hours on the clock.
Near the end of my shift, a new guy was seated at one of my tables.
“Well, what a coincidence,” he says, smiling at me. “How are you?”
His name is on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t place it. His strong jaw and blond chin stubble look familiar. I smile at him apologetically. “Sorry, who are you?”
“Leo,” he supplies.
“Leo, hi.” I remember him now, vaguely. The guy from the bar—the one who wasn’t James. “I”m good, how are you?”
“Great, just great. I didn’t know you worked here,” he says cheerfully, smiling with a mouthful of straight, square teeth. He proceeds to order breakfast, which we offer all day long—over easy eggs and extra sausage.
“You gearing up for a workout with all that protein?” I ask, scribbling it down.
“You bet. I like to keep myself in shape.” He leans back and sucks in his stomach, patting his t-shirt.
“Did you ever get a new TV?” I ask, remembering his fascination with the one at the Longhorn and wondering if he would bring up the Amish joke again.
He laughs, seeming a little embarrassed. “You know, I did. I got the biggest Sony they had in the store. Luckily, I live on the ground floor. It still took two guys to get it set up in there.”
“Wow, you know brand names now,” I teased, nodding. “Aren’t you worried about being shunned?”
“I think it’s worth it. You know, Haven is a lot like Ocela, actually, not quite the same, but close. My family preferred the…country life, but it was never for me. I feel at home in the city, you know? The smell of the steel and the oil, the crowds, all the energy.”
“I think you’re the first person to list crowds as a positive attribute,” I say, tapping my pen against my cheek.
“I see you’ve met my new boyfriend,” Quinn says, coming over and beaming.
“You guys are together? Since when?”
Quinn slid on his lap and he gave her a look that was both flirty and intimate, tweaking the end of her chin and kissing her quickly.
“Yep. We met over at the Longhorn,” Quinn explains. “I was going to tell you, Remy, but you’ve been so busy lately. We really need to catch up, now that we both have boyfriends we don’t want to toss out.”
“Gee, thanks,” Leo says, and both he and Quinn laugh. Then he turned his yellow-green eyes to me. “Are you lucky in love, Remy?”
I tucked my hair behind one ear. This is the first time I’ve been asked since James and I talked, and I haven’t had the chance to get Quinn up to date. But she answers for me.
“Oh, please.” Quinn stood up off of Leo’s lap and puts one arm around my shoulders. “Remy and James have been inseparable for the last few weeks. You’d have to pry them apart with a crowbar, I’m surprised she doesn’t come to work still attached to him.”
“All right, ladies, get back to work,” Tasha says, walking past us. Quinn scrunches her nose up, but she exchanges another kiss with Leo and goes about her business.
I watch her as she goes to her next table, practically dancing, and smile. I’ve never seen her in an actual relationship before. It suits her. Then I feel a hand roughly encircle my wrist and I look down. Leo is clutching my wrist tightly, and his eyes lock mine in a fierce gaze.
Suddenly I feel like my mind is distant, floating inside my body. He tightens his hold on me and grins, not a friendly grin, his square teeth now looking huge, like those of a predator, too big for his gums. I float in the haze, with only his face as my anchor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“WHAT DO YOU want?” I whisper. It’s so dark around us now, and I’m afraid of what’s in the dark.
“I’m a friend of James Cain,” he says. “From way back. We grew up together, him and me. He’s your new boyfriend, correct?”
I nod, my tongue feeling like a piece of thick, greasy rubber. His fingers tighten again, making a circle around my wrist so icy that it burns.
“You need to stay away from him, Remy. He’s not a good man. He’s done a lot of bad things. Ask about his father, Remy.”
“He doesn’t talk about his father.”
Leo tilts his head to th
e side, and in those ocher eyes, the pupils swirl, hungry for my soul. “And isn’t that strange, that he won’t talk about him? What do you think he’s hiding? Something so dark that he can’t even bring himself to face it.”
There was a loud crash that knocked me out of my trance. For a moment I had no idea where I was, then my eyes cleared and I saw I was still at Lucky’s. I turn and see a child has knocked over his plate, and Tonya and Quinn are busy helping to pick it up while his mom soothes his crying.
I turn back to Leo, and see that his table was empty. Did he even order? I look down at my notepad and see his breakfast order. But why did he leave? In fact, I don’t remember anything after Quinn jumped off of his lap. My head throbs, and I groan as I feel another fierce headache coming on. This time I’m at least slightly prepared, and I pop some aspirin out of my purse.
Deep inside my thoughts, the river churns, dark and mysterious and full of secrets.
###
The day that James invited me to the concert comes, and I’m anxious but excited. We’ve still seen each other, but he’s been working a lot, so we haven’t had any of our dinner sessions. I don’t get the whole Saturday off, but Russell grants me the afternoon free if I help with a huge catering order of party platters before the store opens.
The prep table is cleared off, and I join Quinn, Beth, Tom and another cook named Nick there, slicing up meat, and cutting up heaps of cucumbers and carrots and cheese. I mix up a bowl of our signature Lucky’s ranch—the secret recipe consisting of different name brands of ranch all squirted into a big bowl.
“So, ladies, how have things been for you? Any new business ventures? Anybody getting lucky?” Nick asks. He likes to think he’s smooth, but he’s anything but.
“That’s getting to the point,” Tom scoffs.
“Well, unlike you, I have no interest in staying a virgin forever.”
Tom smacks Nick in the back of the head, and I think he might be blushing. “I am not a virgin. I lost my virginity after prom.”
“To who, your sister?” Nick asks, trying to put Tom in a head lock.
“There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin,” Beth speaks up in her small voice, returning from the slicer with a platter full of shaved ham. Quinn chuckles derisively and I elbow her. Beth looks up at us with her big eyes and blushes. “I mean, nothing wrong with waiting for the right person and the right time.”
“To answer your question, Nick, things have been great,” Quinn says. “My boyfriend Leo and I have been getting lucky enough we should probably play the lotto.”
Beth blushes deeper and stares at Quinn, hard. I haven’t witnessed her get angry before, but she’s practically swallowing her lips, and she’s definitely she’s pissed now.
“I’m with Beth. I think she’s right,” I say, feeling like I should stick up for her.
“Is this, the invasion of the virgins?” Nick complains.
“It all depends on the person,” I say, shrugging as I core a few green peppers. It’s the method that James taught me, cutting off the tops and scooping out the seeds, and the irony isn’t lost. “And some people choose to stay a virgin. It’s a personal choice, just like banging fly honeys is a choice for you.”
Nick laughs at me. “I’ll stick my my choice.”
Quinn picks up a block of cheddar cheese and walks past me, leaning close so she can whisper in my ear. “Stop sticking up for her, Remy. That’s a mistake.”
She carries the cheddar over to the slicer, and I discreetly glance at Beth. She chops the tomatoes in front of her fervently, her arm jerking roughly. Then I heard a scream, and when I look, Quinn is holding up her bleeding hand. I rush over to her side, grabbing a roll of paper towel off the sidebar.
Quinn holds her finger level with her head, staring at it as if it’s an alien part of her body as blood oozes a trail down her hand. The contrast of her dark makeup and red lips against her white skin makes her look like a ghost.
“It’s okay, come here,” I say, and wrap several folded paper towels around her hand, pressing them to stifle the bleeding. I fold them back and then peek at the wound.
“How bad is it?” she says, shutting her eyes.
“You might need a few stitches, but it doesn’t seem too deep.”
“I can’t look at the blood. I’m going to pass out,” she gurgles, swaying shakily. With Tom’s help, I guide her to a nearby chair, and he hands me the first aid kit. I dig through it and replace the paper towel with a gauze wrap.
“What happened?” Tom asks over my shoulder. Russell is immediately in the room.
“The damn blade protector wasn’t down all the way,” Quinn says, finally opening her eyes, but turning green the instant she peers at the gauze. “Whoever used the slicer last left it up.”
“Who was the last one to use the slicer?” Russell barks, whipping his head around.
Beth clears her throat, then holds up her small right hand. “I was, sir.”
Quinn’s eyes fly open again, and I can see rage in them. “You set me up. Why you…”
She’s struggling to her feet, but I push her gently back down.
“I’ll drive you to the hospital,” Tom offers. “I’m only volunteering today. Is that okay, Russell?”
I can tell by his constipated frown that he doesn’t want to agree, but he doesn’t have a choice. Tom leads Quinn out and she glares at Beth as she passes her. Beth shrinks as small as she can against the wall, looking fearful.
“You’ll need to fill out the workman’s comp paperwork and an incident report,” Russell is saying, following Quinn as she walks out.
I tap him on the shoulder. “Hand it to me, I’ll take it up to her when my shift is over.”
He glares at me, flustered by another thing going wrong. “You’ll need to pick up the slack with the two of them gone.”
“I’m aware of that,” I say, and he stomps away.
Beth confronts me the instant I push through the doors to the kitchen. “Remy, I swear, it was an accident!” She wrings her hands and I pat her on the shoulder. She looks genuinely upset, tears standing out in her eyes.
“I know, Beth. Quinn was just hurt and she tends to lash out when that happens. Don’t take it personally. Can you help me make the cold cut platters? We’re running low on time, this needs to be out by noon.”
“Sure thing,” she says, and rushes off to the refrigerator to grab the platters we need.
I clean up the tomato slicer, careful to avoid the gleaming blade and the pool of blood mixed with pale pink juice. Seeds and tomato flesh litter the top. She seems like such a sweet girl, and so genuinely concerned. But the image of her glaring at Quinn enters my head, and it won’t leave.
###
I drop off the papers for Quinn when I leave work. She’s already at home with her feet up, a box of cookies next to her. She ended up having to get three stitches, and she’s still blaming it on Beth when I leave. I can’t say that I disagree, but I don’t agree, either.
I rush home and spend the next hour getting ready, showering and spending way too much time blowing my hair dry and styling it right. Since this is our first official date, I want to look my best. I dress in shorts that hug my butt and a flowing tank top, leaving my unruly hair loose.
When I answer the door, James takes one look at me and gets a sappy grin on his face. “Hey, beautiful.” He pulls me into a deep kiss.
We drive out to the concert venue with the windows rolled open. Despite spending so much time on my hair, I love the air blowing it into tangles around my head, like I’m flying. We make small talk on the way, discussing our favorite bands, and find that our musical tastes are pretty conflicting. We can both agree on hating country, but he’s a pop fan and I’m more partial to classic rock. It takes us a while to park, and when I get out of the car, he comes around so he can check out the back of my shorts. I look back over my shoulder and smile at the blatant way he’s checking me out.
“Baby, you’re beautiful, but you’re go
ing to get me into a lot of fights,” he says, shaking his head. I loop my arm through his and we start walking across the lawn.
“You’re not allowed to beat anyone up,” I tell him sternly, not actually thinking he would. I hate to admit it, but I like this possessive streak—it reminds me of how I feel with him around other girls. I would never admit it out loud, though.
He wraps him arm around my hip and pulls me to his side as we walk. “Just do me a favor and stick by my side. I don’t want to share you with anyone else.”
We have tickets for a spot on the crowded lawn. The pavilion is completely full and the energy is high. It’s late afternoon, the sun shining bright and perfect, as though it could never go down.
“Does this work?” he asks as we find a clear patch on the lawn. I nod and he shakes out a blanket for us and sets it down. “I don’t know if we’ll be sitting much, but we can see the pavilion at least a little from here.”
Groups of fans chat loudly around us, and James get into chatting with some men beside us and sharing the beer in their cooler. I hadn’t drank since my hungover morning, and I was glad when he didn’t ask me to. The herbal scent of weed mixes with smell of summer carried on the breeze.
The sun sets and the stage lights go on as the opening band takes the stage. It’s indie rock, nothing special, and yet being there in the crowd elevates it to a kind of magic. James stands behind me, swaying and moving against me with the music, rubbing my shoulders and sliding his hands down my arms to my wist. His jean fabric grazes against my bare legs as I press back against him. The male singer laments about lost loves, and his simple words sounded like poetry.
I move away, shifting my shoulders, tossing my hair. The rest of the crowd begins to clap from a prompt by the band, and James and I join in, lifting our clapping hands above our heads. He watches me, his eyes full of desire, his jaw tense. It was like when he watched me that night at the club, both of us creating fantasies inside my head. He grabs my hand as I bring it down and twirls me around again, then pulling me back against him. I rest my head back against his chest, almost deliriously happy, and yet still wanting more of him.
