Something Old

by Abigail Grey

  Leaning over it, a glass and chrome monstrosity that tried to indicate modern trendiness, Claire asked the bartender, “Where do you work?”

  He responded with a confused glance, but replied, “Sazerac. Why?” He developed a greedy gleam in his eye, taking in her appearance. She knew she looked flawless. She wouldn’t accept anything else. “Going to come find me after work sometime?”

  She tipped her head, considering. He was pretty. She knew the adage—young, dumb, and…well, she had before. Tonight, though, she shook her head. “No. Trying to figure out what not to order from you. Don’t bother with anything mixed. I’ll just take a chardonnay.” She tucked a bill into the tip jar, ignored his scowl, and left the bar with a glass of predictable white wine—the quality one would expect of an open bar.

  Sitting at the table assigned to her by the handwritten number in the corner of the nametag, she sipped at the sharply acidic wine. Looking around, she cursed the sense of nostalgia that had brought her here. It had been ten years—or, nine years and ten months—since she had been back. She couldn’t be faulted for having expected the town that had raised her to have done some growing up itself. The neighborhood may be unrecognizable, but everything else seemed exactly the same—correction, not the same. It just seemed older.

  A commotion started near the door, quickly turning into applause that filled the room. Claire wondered what caused it. Could one of their number have become a celebrity she hadn’t recognized?

  The crowd parted to reveal a man with a familiar smile. Looking at the style of his dark brown hair and the shape of a well-toned body, though, little else about him was the same.

  “Matty?”

  Chapter Two

  Earlier that day

  Matt Brannon hugged Jen. “Thanks for lunch, guys. My place next time?”

  David chuckled. “I don’t know, Matty. Last time, your refrigerator had nothing but beer and a block of cheese in it.”

  “And I’m not sure I could hear myself think over the sounds of that video game Jeremy was shouting at in the other room.” Jen laughed.

  Laughing along, Matt shrugged. “What can I say? The life of a bachelor. A housemate is a necessarily evil for now.”

  Jen released him from the hug. “Let’s just do it here again. It’s nice to have you. Maybe next time we’ll make it a dinner party. The usual crowd—you know, Warren and Trevor, Aaron and Marce, a couple of the book club girls.” Jen’s eyes lit up. “Oh, David, we really could. And I’ll get some pictures. All of those different couples… It’ll be great!”

  David and Matt rolled their eyes at each other, each laughing at the expected enthusiasm Jen had for yet another new project. Matt caught the eagerness in his brother’s smile as the men watched Jen’s enthusiasm. The sight had been rare since Lila—the couple’s paramour—had moved out a few weeks earlier.

  “Another project,” David groaned. “I’ll never hear the end.”

  “Didn’t think you married a workaholic, huh?” Matt taunted back.

  “Oh stop, you two.” Jen smacked David’s arm, then pushed him toward the house. She called back over her shoulder, “Have fun tonight, Matt.”

  David walked into the house, patting his wife’s ass playfully and dodging her attempts at retribution. Matt sometimes envied the ease between them, but he knew the couple struggled. He wished he could be of more help, but the dynamic Jen and David had was too far outside his experience. The loss of Lila seemed to have hit them hard, if the conversation at lunch had been any indication. Twice Jen had excused herself from the table at the mention of her, leaving David looking lost in an emotion he was far from used to—helplessness.

  Climbing into the Hemi-powered pickup truck, Matt began the drive into downtown, toward another night with the friends he’d attended school with. Some, like Sara Dawson, had been elementary through college friends. He smiled, knowing she would never leave that restaurant she loved to come back for a reunion. The job was still too new. Maybe the twenty-year would be enough to bring her back. Others had gone away to college, vowing to get out of the small town life, only to return, settle in a home and build families a short time later.

  A siren in the distance—paramedics from the sound of it—jerked Matt to attention. He leaned to his radio, flipping the volume higher. Reports were being called in about an accident on the highway junction south of town. Dispatch was calling it clear, but Matt left the radio on and turned his truck toward the incident. His heart started to pound the way it always did when the distress calls came. He slowed his breathing, focusing on the positive vibes, praying they wouldn’t need him.

  He heard the additional sirens as the piercing alarm sounded on his frequency. The emergency response light on the top of his truck lit as he flipped the switch, and he picked up speed. The heavy-duty truck raced toward the fire and smoke that was now causing more drivers to impact the tipped semi, visibility dropping to zero.

  * * * *

  Matt pulled his truck into the parking lot, catching a lucky spot near the entrance. He was two hours later than he would have liked. He’d stopped to station his truck in a muddy embankment to be the first warning of danger ahead. He’d helped the state highway patrol lug sandbags for detour signs. He’d only left because there was no more for his team to assist with, the patrolmen had announced that there would be a body count from this disaster. The hospital already had pronounced one dead on arrival.

  Matt locked the truck, his cell phone at the ready for the next emergency. He could still smell the smoke clinging around him, despite the fresh clothes and rushed shower. The little old lady at the dry cleaners was going to yell at him again. He was pretty sure it was in Korean, but the shake of her head over the grass stains and occasional spatters of blood on his shirts and pants was universal language for her disapproval. He always apologized, never sure if she understood, but her shop had been faithfully perfect in removing the blemishes of disaster from his clothing.

  Matt entered the building, mounting all the steps two at a time in his eagerness to have a night out with old friends. He wondered who else would be around. Would Evelyn make it out, or was the ‘Lady Leather’ business going to keep her in the shadows? Would Ted be out with Marissa, celebrating the upward movement of his career with the local supermarket chain? Would Kayla have found a sitter for her kids so she and Chas could enjoy a night out?

  His nametag was one of the few remaining on the table and he peeled the back from it, then slapped it onto the breast pocket of his only clean shirt. Entering the hall, he stopped short as he ran into the familiar form of Evelyn Grant. In greeting, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Matt hugged her back with enthusiasm. As they pulled away from each other, she wrinkled her nose.

  “Oh, Matt, is that smoke I smell?” At his nod, she shook her head with a tsking noise. “Playing with candles, again? I thought you were done with wax play, darling.” Evelyn smiled teasingly as Matt chuckled.

  “Oh, I am. You know that pain thing isn’t really my strong suit.” Matt took a moment to appreciate Evelyn’s outfit. “You look great in leather, as always, Evie.” She had paired a high-waisted leather skirt with a pretty pink top, making a piece she had surely worn to the Sanctuary play parties into a functional skirt for cocktail parties as well.

  Evelyn posed prettily. “Why, thank you, kind sir. I’m thinking of wearing it to the next party. Will we be seeing you out this weekend?”

  Matt grinned. “I’m planning on it, but you know how it goes.” Tapping the cell phone on his belt, he continued, “Duty calls.”

  “So true,” Evelyn responded. “So, tonight… What happened?”

  Matt relayed the story, constantly interrupted by hellos and handshakes. A small crowd soon surrounded Matt and the tall woman as he detailed the tipped semi and the work he’d been able to assist the officials in doing.

  In answer to a panicked question of whether the highway would be open and safe to travel, Matt smiled and assured them, “When I left,
the road was clear and open.”

  He heard a collective sigh and was surprised to hear a smattering of applause start. It quickly gathered until the clapping surrounded him. Speechless, he looked at Evelyn, who shrugged, smiling and clapping along.

  She leaned close to his ear and urged, “Take the win.” Then she stepped back to allow him an exit from the group.

  He waved, a bit self-conscious at the unexpected attention, then walked by a few more people before he heard the quiet question.

  “Matty?”

  He met her unusual gray-green eyes. Her hair was different. The color was wrong somehow, like the unnatural wrong that he only saw in magazines and on the hair color boxes at the pharmacy. It was shorter, too, and sharp. She looked good—he couldn’t deny that—but it was the good a guy would only admire from a cover photo and not in the real world.

  His smile dimmed slightly as he looked her over. This surprise may not be as welcome as he had expected. “Claire,” he stated carefully, measuring his syllables with no inflection. “You came.”

  She chuckled softly. “I did. I had a special invitation.” Her gaze traveled over his plaid shirt and charcoal pants. He shifted uncomfortably at the scrutiny. He took the same opportunity in the quiet moment, though, and looked at the dress that wrapped around her. It enhanced the sharpness of her with its slash collar and hem. Her stockinged legs were sex personified, but ended with those tall shoes women seemed to covet and that made men cringe. Everything about her seemed like a knife aimed to cause pain. “How are you?” she asked, after her inspection of him, making Matt wonder how he measured up.

  “Good,” he replied. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” Matt approached, closer, until he stood at the chair beside her. “May I?”

  Claire looked up at him, speculation in her eyes. “Sure.” As he sat beside her, she continued. “It seems we both get to be surprised today. Look at you, Matty. What happened?”

  He shifted in discomfort. “Just Matt. No one calls me Matty anymore, except David. Not even Mrs. Putnam.”

  “Oh. She’s still kicking around, is she?” Claire laughed. “She was ancient even when we had her in third grade.”

  “She’s over at Heritage Farms now, but she’s still sharp most days.” Matt leaned on the table, braced on his elbows. Of all the people he’d expected to see tonight, he’d been sure she wouldn’t be one of them.

  Claire’s disappearance from town had felt abrupt, especially after that summer night following graduation. For most of that summer, Matt had beaten himself up, sure he could have done something so she would have stayed. Her parents had been sure she would return after school, but that tune had changed. They’d spoken often of the success Claire had been having in the city. When they visited with the Brannon family, the conversation had circled around her career and her new adventures in the nearby metropolis. The few calls Matt had made to her hadn’t left him as convinced, but she had been adamant that she was too busy for visitors and trips back home. After the accident that had taken her parents, Claire seemed to have changed. She didn’t call anymore to check in. Instead, Matt had taken to calling her with news that seemed important. Strange to think those calls were fewer with every passing year.

  He didn’t know what had made him call her this time. Maybe it was a wild hope. Claire had answered, which was strange in itself as he had spoken more to her voice mail in recent memory than to her. He had asked her if she was planning to attend the reunion. Her voice had gotten distant and she’d responded with the old familiar phrase.

  “Oh, I’ve been so busy.”

  Matt had interrupted her, something out of character for him and he’d simply said, “I miss you, Claire. A lot of us do. Please just come. We’d like to see you.”

  She’d gone silent before a quiet ‘okay’ had come over the line. Matt had said his goodbyes quickly, afraid to give her a chance to change her mind. Now, though, he wondered if it had been the right thing, inviting her back here like this. She didn’t look like someone who belonged here anymore.

  Chapter Three

  His shoulders had filled out a bit. He still had that lean look to him. Back then, it had been undefined and whip-thin. Now it was clear he was a man who worked, physically, for a living. His hands were scarred, and she could see a slight twist to his upper lip from another wound she remembered hearing about on one of his ‘check in’ phone calls. His hair hadn’t been cut for a while and was getting shaggy in length. His clothes were presentable, though nothing special. When he got up to get them more to drink, another poor excuse for wine for her and a domestic ‘good ole boy’ beer for him, she noted the way people deferred to him. He was the hometown hero, the big fish in this small, algae-infested pond.

  She wanted him.

  Claire watched him stroll back, a drink in each hand, pausing to trade pleasantries with people he passed. She recognized some of them—the quarterback turned military then lawyer, the cheerleader turned housewife, the nerds who still held up the wall at social functions. She turned, her legs extended to her best advantage to draw his eye.

  She accepted the glass, surprised that he remained standing. “You’ve changed, Matty.”

  “You, too,” he replied. “You cut your hair.”

  Claire chuckled. “Yeah, people do that sometimes. I needed to try out something new, you know?” She tipped her head at what she knew was an alluring angle. “Haven’t you done any…experimenting, Matty?” She saw and felt the reaction, the sudden heat that seemed to roll off him. She sipped her wine, feeling it wet and shiny on her lips. “What do you say we get out of here? Talk about old times?”

  He was quiet, but nodded. Ever the gentleman, he offered his hand to assist her to her feet. Claire took it, grateful that someone in this town had some idea of how to behave well. He walked her to his truck, pausing behind where it was parked.

  “Where do you want to go? The lookout? Max’s?”

  Claire’s laughter was loud in the night air. “Max’s? He’s still serving the grease-on-a-bun burgers?” She loved the idea but shuddered at the idea of dripping oil on to her silk or getting grass stuck to the famous red soles of her shoes. Sidling up to Matt, she purred, “How about my hotel?”

  His forehead wrinkled as his brows raised then furrowed, but he nodded. He moved to open the passenger side of the truck, bringing another laugh from Claire. “How about you follow me?” she asked, clicking the key fob that disarmed the Beemer’s alarm system.

  Matt looked at her rental, then at his mud-spattered pickup. With another silent nod, he waited for her to start her car then he climbed into his, starting the truck with a roar.

  * * * *

  Claire slid the key into the electronic lock on her door. The elevator ride had been filled with tense silence that continued into the room. The door closed behind Matt with a soft click. A single lamp gave the room mysterious shadows. Claire placed her purse carefully on the desk and turned to him.

  “What happened to you, Claire?” Matt’s brow was furrowed again, like he was trying to figure out a math problem.

  Claire shrugged, an offhand raise of one shoulder. “I grew up, Matty, just like you did.”

  “Matt,” he corrected sharply. “Just Matt. And you didn’t just grow up, Claire. You’re different now.”

  Stepping closer, her feet placed in calculated steps to move her body sinuously, Claire stopped a breath short of touching her body to his. “So are you.” She stretched up, her lips brushing his. That long-ago night flashed in her mind.

  They’d just graduated the month prior. She and Matt lay in the bed of his pickup, their outfits nearly matching—denim cutoffs and white T-shirts. They laughed at the shenanigans that had been pulled by their fellow graduates before they fell quiet. Side by side, they contemplated the stars.

  Claire ached to open her mouth, to tell the secrets, to warn one of her best friends about what she had to do. She’d accepted a prestigious employment offer in Chicago, but had agreed to a confiden
tiality clause until she completed the training. Her excitement had seemed contagious for weeks, rubbing off on everyone around her. Today, though, it seemed bittersweet. She would leave soon. Instead, she deferred, distracting herself from the desire to tell him.

  “What did you decide to do?” Claire asked the sky and the empty air above them.

  “I think I’m going to stay,” Matt replied with a sigh. “Go to Haven U for a while. Mom needs my help. You know? It’s getting tougher for her to get around. I’ll be the miracle child a little longer, until Dad retires and can be home with her.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Claire smiled. “You’re such a good guy, Matty.”

  The silence grew prickly then, the tension settling around them as they turned their heads to allow their gazes to meet. Claire’s smile faded as Matt inched closer to her, but returned slightly when his lips met hers.

  The kiss had only gone on a few moments then Matt rolled over her, tucking her body under his. She lifted her arms, putting her hands at the back of his neck as she opened her lips to his tongue. Matty made a helpless-sounding noise, the weight of his lower body sinking onto hers.

  Claire’s mind had gone fuzzy. New experiences had a habit of doing that—creating a dreamy space around her. She would remember the expression in his deep brown eyes as they both struggled to get her out of her shirt and bra. Matt had bent his head to her, flicking his tongue at her nipples. Claire’s surprised laughter at the intense sensation had spurred them both into carefree giggles and guffaws. When the silly feeling passed, she skated her hands over his back while he again found her sensitive places.

  As he braced above her, both of them finally naked, their gazes had met again. “Are you sure, Claire?” he asked.