“Morning Wally, what’s shaking homeboy?”
“You young folk, always using poor English, text this, smiley hash tag that, you should listen to Flo more, get her to reacquaint you with the hidden art of proper conversational English.” He says this whilst fussing over some equipment, he taught me wisely about looking after my gear and Wally’s lesson No.1 was a place for everything and everything in its place.
“So, this mysterious opportunity, care to share?” My attempt to hurry him up doesn’t go unnoticed. It would be an epic fail to bump into Jonas prior to our crisis coffee meeting.
“Always in a rush,” Wally mutters. “The Harts think it’s a good idea to create a new brochure for Hawkstown. They want something with a traditional feel but modern edge, something to appeal to tourists. It seems the bank and legal eagles are trying to bring in some new shop owners, boost the local community.”
“OK. Cool, I can get in touch with them feel the vibe of what they’re after. Really get this rock on the map.” I wait. I watch. Here it comes.
“We don’t want anything too wacky,” said Wally grimacing like it was a dirty word. “We want to maintain our integrity, attract the right tourists,” he preaches. I already knew this but couldn’t resist in pushing Wally’s buttons. After a minute he spots my smile and breathes a sigh of relief when he knows we’re on the same page.
“There’s my girl, I knew you’d be the one to portray the character this town deserves. Anyway, young Oliver Hart is handling the specifics on the project so please contact him.”
“Will do Wally, anything you need me to do whilst I’m here? OK for shop cover this week?” I always offer because he’s my friend and he’s looked out for me as long as I can remember.
“No, I’m OK at the moment and I know where to find you if that changes,” he says appreciatively.
“Cool, winner. Gotta run, meeting the girls at Mudjoes for coffee, I’ll keep you in the loop about the tourist brochure job as soon as I get more of the specifics.” I know I don’t really need to, but his interest in it is clear, his love of the town is obvious and the experience he brings to my work when I’m having a creative blank is invaluable.
Near to Wally’s is Mudjoes, it is a unique place, it feels homely and familiar as soon as you step through the door even though everything is bright and new. The front door step has been made out of clever printed concrete and as well as the Mudjoes logo it has an imprint of a steaming coffee cup. The door has a traditional doorbell hanging over the back so that Jo gets the chance to greet all the people who enter. The walk way to the counter is down the centre of the shop, with modern mismatched chairs at all the tables on either side. The counter for service consists of a modern glass fridge containing cakes and goodies and a service area where you grab your drink and either leave with a thanks or take a seat and savor the ambience. The walls are decorated in an eggplant color with a thick gold centrally placed border and although the walls are dark, the shiny fridge teamed with modern lighting and natural window light make it feel cozy instead of dark. One small wall to the side of the service area is dedicated to newspaper articles and occasions that have featured Jo or Mudjoes coffee house itself. It’s something that people get caught up in whilst waiting for a takeaway coffee and cake and reminds you of the community you belong to.
However, the oldest thing about the place is probably the owner Jo. She’s had the place for about twenty years and has turned it into a gold mine. What is even more impressive is how at a first glance you look at Jo and place her in the late thirty’s, when really she’s just over fifty. She’s become more beautiful as she’s matured, she dresses to impress, embraces her short pixie bob and is always a flirt with her gentleman customers. Jo has been single for the last ten years since the loss of her husband Rick, she doesn’t seem to want to replace him in her heart and swears that her customers, their hook ups, crazy relationships and general day to day living keep her going....and exhaust her. I wave at Jo as I walk through the door and head for an empty table, there aren’t many because she’s busy so I grab one midway down against the wall.
“Hey Dolly, you’re looking tired, must have been all that dancing and beer bottle swinging you did last night with those crazy girls. What great news that Jonas has returned to our fold safe and sound.”
Someone else in the town that knows Jonas has returned, but in all fairness to Jo, she has a hotline to all of Hawkstown’s comings and goings, her knowledge of his return doesn’t surprise me.
“Yep. Can I have my usual please? And also line up the caffeine for my girls, their arrival is imminent.” I take my seat and await my BFF’s. Neely dashes past the window, swings through the door and heads for the table.
“Yo. Dizzy Dolly,” she says whilst nodding at Jo to start the coffee delivery. She sits down and we talk about how we’re feeling after last night, as Lottie struts past the window. Always the one to command attention on any entrance, she waves a pink nail at Jo and takes a seat. Both Neely and I admire the new manicure she has and give the required compliments when she shares that the color is princess pink, how apt for our dear Lottie. Jo delivers our drinks and we remain fairly quiet whilst adding milk and sugar. There is little point starting this without Flo, it will only mean a recap of what she’s missed when she arrives. No more is said when she bustles through the door dressed in a sharp pencil skirt and cute cream blouse. The kitten heels clatter along the shop giving Jo the heads up that she’s clear to deliver the last drink.
“OK. Shoot Dolly, what crisis needs our attention?” says a flustered Flo.
“What crisis? Did you not see that scene last night with Jonas?” I reply.
“Are you sure it wasn’t old hot rod being protective of you?” Lottie asks me, just what I wanted, a pointed reminder that he feels a brotherly responsibility towards me.
“No Lottie, he was mad, let’s not forget that I didn’t know he was home, which brings me to the random Barbara conversation this morning. She says he’s been home for six weeks, isn’t going back to the navy and was trying to settle in or work some stuff out or something before people get all up in his business.”
“Where’s the man mountain living?” Neely as always poses the sensible questions when Flo chips in.
“Well, I asked Sonny this morning if they had a nice evening when I saw him during morning break and he said the night was ‘average’, but did let it slip that Jonas has moved into the old hunting cabin on Chris’s ranch.” Flo tells me as she’s stirring her drink whilst imparting this information, only half concentrating on our meeting.
“Flo, focus, what do you mean he’s on Chris’s ranch?” I shout a little louder than necessary just as the door opens and our subject matter strolls through it. I stare wide eyed, while Neely huffs and puffs a bit and Flo tries to blend into the chair she’s occupying and Lottie, who has opened her mouth to make a comment in our conversation ends up instead shouting “Cooooeee Jonas.” He’s not a fan of that form of greeting so returns it with a scowl and a quick glance at me, as he contemplates a return comment a breathless Letitia comes rushing in through the door.
“Jonas, baby, didn’t you hear me shouting you? I was wondering if you found my apron at your place after I left this morning?” I look up at Jonas, who is looking at me and not Tits when he gives his direct answer of “No. It isn’t.”
“Are you sure, maybe I left it in the office then at Purps before we left?”
At this juncture Neely smirks into her coffee cup and Lottie mutters “Losing clothes from the night before...the location possibilities could be endless.” Her muttering clearly isn’t intended to be for the benefit of others but it’s loud enough for Tits to hear and she spins around and faces our group.
“Really Lottie, jealousy is an ugly color on you.” Clearly Tits thinks she is all that and more. All I can focus on is Jonas and what must be his attempts to solve the riddle of time travel, he doesn’t want to be here, but he won’t find the answer to his question on th
e ceiling of Mudjoes either. Neely’s smirk turns into an open chuckle because she knows Lottie will not like anyone suggesting she’d wear anything ugly. Flo looks like she is either doing rhymes in her head or is suffering from constipation because her expression is somewhat strained. I just sit there and say nothing as jumping into this scene after learning that body fluids have been shared between Jonas and this cum bucket is not on my Mudjoes conversational to do list.
“Oh look, Jonas, baby sister is here too. Where one of them is the other four are sure to follow.” I blink and count the people with me. Me = 1, Neely = 2, Lottie = 3 and Flo = 4. She can’t even count, but then she didn’t use her fingers to do the calculation. I then start to laugh; it turns a little uncontrollable because I’m embarrassed for her and cringing for him so I stop laughing and chip in to the fun. “For someone who wanted to settle in and get some stuff together you sure hooked up with the perfect ‘blend into the background’ accessory,” I say. His eyes flash, he knows I’ve spoken with Barbara. By delivering his requirements for time to acclimatize back to him, in public, in Mudjoes, he knows the towns busybody brigade will only want to delve deeper into why he’s back.
“Jo, a black coffee to go please.” Just as he finishes delivering his order she’s already at the side of him with a drink in a takeaway cup. He slaps five dollars on the counter and strides to the door. Tits must assume that’s her cue to follow, so she does, although to those that know him, we know he doesn’t care if she does or not. I imagine any discussion between them now about the Mudjoes drama won’t be pretty.
“So....now the trash has been taken out. What’s the plan Dolls?” asks Lottie re-inspecting her manicure.
“Ladies, I will begin to bug Barbara, she will crack and spill the information eventually. Flo, you dig deeper with Sonny; he’s tight with Chris and must have a view on the Sarge’s return to Hawkstown. Lottie, you schedule a country club breakfast with Oli and find out all you can. Neely, you monitor the main street for any comings and goings that could be relevant.” What I really want to say is look out for Tits and Jonas together. There is only so many times a guy hits the same piece of ass without it becoming a permanent thing or he tosses it aside. I know my preference in that choice. “Next rendezvous to be rescheduled once people have critical information to report back.”
“Jesus, did anyone else see her bring in a selection of spy kit gift bags for us to use during our assignments?” whispers Neely.
“Ssh Neely, if he’s back for good and she becomes a permanent fixture...well I don’t want to think about that now,” I say, determined to enlist the usual soul sister help.
A lot of OKs and head nods come from the table followed by the usual departing sister kisses and Neely and Lottie leave with a wave to Jo. Flo remains with me, she places her hand on mine and asks “How are you really feeling?”
“Betrayed, confused, lustful, even if he never feels the same for me he shouldn’t have hidden his return. It’s made me feel small and insignificant. He’s never done that before and it hurts. What have I done to deserve that, if nothing else we’re family and I’ll settle for having him in my life as a brother rather than this current torture.” All this pours out of me in relief at being able to say it.
“Dolly, don’t get any crazy ideas. See how things play out, he’s acting odd and you don’t want to go all Dollytude and force a reaction from him. You know you’ll get one you don’t want and we both know how hard it is to say sorry. It’s even harder when that sorry is played out in front of the family.”
I smile, I know she’s right, but we both know I’m unpredictable. So I put on my most convincing smile and tell her what she wants to hear.
“No problemo Flo. It’s all good. We have a plan and they always work, even if sometimes they take a bumpy route.” We laugh because we both know those crazy plans are the reason for our other nickname, Team Chaos.
Chapter Four
Flo and I left Mudjoes together; she scoots to her Beetle, gets in with a wave and revs away in the direction of the school. For someone who looks so traditional on the outside she turns into a racing car driver when she gets behind the wheel. I jump in my 4x4 and head back home. Before I forget I place a quick text to Oli Hart about the tourist brochure and then remember I’ve set a reminder to call the magazine back. I begin musing about possible photo locations and I’m not really concentrating on my surroundings anymore; I’m acting on autopilot. So much so that when I walk through the front door I’m thrown by a very angry looking Jonas propped against the hall wall. Admittedly, I freeze both out of surprise and the fact that there is a great big lump of hulking muscle in my home that shouldn’t be.
Ditching the keys on the hall unit, I face him. He looks beautiful; it’s a shitty way to describe a rugged guy but it’s not often I get the chance to focus on just him, I’m usually staring from far away or stealing glances across the dining table at Barbara’s. His lilac/blue eyes can move through a range of color and intensity depending on his mood, unfortunately the one he’s displaying now is one I’m familiar with, anger. His plain v-neck t-shirt is strained because his arms are crossed over his chest, but it also gives me a hint of the powerful muscles in his arms, not forgetting that the v-neck also gives me another glimpse of that body hair I spied last night. His t-shirt is partially tucked into his distressed old jeans at the front and it reveals a simple black webbed fabric belt with a silver buckle. Daring to look just a bit lower confirms what I’ve always suspected, he’s PACKING. I flash back to that day when I caught Tits’s head bobbing him and I wonder if she could take him whole in her mouth now. I’d give it a good go but this however reminds me I AM PISSED.
“You’re here because?” No answer comes back. “Well whatever the reason, I’ll take my key back, that’s for emergencies. Can’t have you just letting yourself in, I could have been up to anything.” The inference is implied, I don’t need to spell it out. No answer comes to that either. “Seriously, what do you want?”
He leans away from the wall, stands straight and speaks “What the fuck gives?”
“I...”
“I do not want my business being a topic of conversation between you and your bitches in Mudjoes.” He’s talking quietly and I was right, he’s angry.
“Now hang on...”
“No. You hang on. Stay out of my space; I don’t appreciate you giving me fuckin’ shit in public. I’m back and the reasons for what I’m doing and why I’m doing it have shit to do with anyone until I say it does.”
“If I could get a FUCKING word in, or were you planning on this being a monologue? I’m not in your business. I didn’t know you were back. I’m not passing opinions on shit because I don’t know SHIT! I will repeat, I didn’t know you were back.” He begins to take exception to my tirade and its escalating intensity.
“Who the hell do you think you are letting yourself into my place and giving me shit, isn’t it bad enough that you made me look like a fool last night by throwing me out of a club? Let’s not forget the fact that I’ve been in contact with you via text and never once did you mention that you were coming home and coming home for good...” I hiss in his direction.
He leans in, “Dalton, don’t...”
“Don’t fucking interrupt me. So, seeing as I’m clearly the only person who isn’t someone important enough to know you’re back, yet you think you’re someone who feels they can threaten to drag me out of a nightclub, I will remind you. I KNOW FUCK ALL. NOW GIVE ME MY MOTHERFUCKING KEY BACK AND GO AND HELP YOUR SLOPPY ASS PIECE OF PUSSY FIND HER APRON,” I shriek in his face.
At this he stalls and opens his mouth to speak, but thinks again. This is first time he has seen me flip from reasonable to nuclear in a long time so he takes the key to my apartment off his key ring and puts it on the hall unit and walks out. I don’t even turn around to watch him. As soon as I hear the door slam shut and his engine revving I breathe again. Making my way to my fridge I grab a bottle of beer, pop it open and mumble “What th
e fuck was that?” I seriously don’t understand why he needs time to settle in without me knowing, it’s not like I wouldn’t help, we’re fucking family. Thinking through lots of permutations the only sensible answer I can come up with is he actually doesn’t like me, in any way, even as a sister. He must have tolerated me because we were younger and growing up in the same house. I understand he’s moody and broody, but for the love of God, Barbara and Harrison did their best to give us all good family values. Maybe he escaped to the navy, as in, literally escaped. He came of age and didn’t want to build a life in Hawkstown, but knew his hands were tied as a minor. It doesn’t fit though; he’s never been hostile towards the Griggs and has made a decision to return here. Unless it’s a stop gap and if it is, it’s sad to think we won’t be in each others lives, but it will be even sadder for Barbara and Harrison. But it is what it is.
I have an epiphany.
Jonas not being here for good or him treating me how he really sees me is liberating. I feel like I should be making my own plans for the future and I can start to close that place in my heart that I reserved for him, knowing it’s never going to be. I can stop judging all men because they’re not him. I feel relief that I never opened up to Barbara and told her how I felt about him and I realize that he never once, over the years, gave me the impression that he felt anything for me.
This is it then.
With that final moment of clarity, I burst into tears. I cry for what I’ve always wanted but never had, I cry for what I gave up over the years because my heart lay elsewhere, but most of all I cry for me. I’ve loved him for so long that the prospect of not loving him is daunting and scary, but it’s my only real way of having a life again.
Fostering Love (The Soul Sisters Series Book 1) Page 3
