by M. E. Carter
“What? That he’s your boss? That he’s older than you? So what? From everything you’ve said he sounds amazing.”
“He is.” I can admit that much. “But he also has made it very clear that there is a no fraternization policy at work and that means even for him.”
Nicole takes a bite of her pancakes while making a noise that can only be interpreted as disagreement. “That is a load of crap. He made the rules. He can break the rules. He just needs you to give him a reason.”
“No way. I’m not in the game of trying to convince a man why I’m good enough for him. I either am or I’m not. But I don’t have time to play games. I will never do that again.”
She lifts her sleeve to scratch her shoulder and that’s when I see it. Bruises. Bright yellow and purple bruises on her bicep. My heart drops and my whole body runs cold. That can’t be what I think it is. Oh please, don’t let that be what I think it is.
“Nic,” I say slowly, my eyes glued to her arm. “What happened?”
Looking down at where her shirt is raised, Nicole’s face reddens and she pulls her sleeve down quickly, stumbling over her words. “Oh um. I fell.”
“You fell.” I’ve heard this excuse before and only on television or in movies. It’s practically a giveaway for a domestic violence situation. The look on her face, her terrified expression, her refusal to make eye contact are even bigger clues that she’s lying to me. “Nicole, it looks like you have bruises in the shape of finger marks on your arm.”
“What? No. It was at the gym. I fell over a weight on the floor and rammed my arms into this weird machine. It had this odd sort of shape. I hit it just right. I’m fine. It’s fine. Don’t worry about me.”
She keeps yanking on her sleeve, making sure it’s in place. And suddenly weird comments she’s made for the last couple of months start flooding back to me. Like how Jeremy refuses to leave her side at parties. How he likes “showing her off” in public. How she made last second plans to visit using Carson’s birthday as an excuse even though it’s such a long drive. How her phone has been blowing up all weekend and she refuses to answer unless she’s in private.
I can’t believe this. My baby sister is dating a guy who abuses her. I have no doubt. I just don’t know what to do about it.
“Nicole,” I say slowly trying not to scare her off. I’m not sure what else to do. “It’s not fine. Those are finger marks from someone putting their hands on you. Was it Jeremy? Are you afraid of him? If you need to stay here for a while—”
“I’m not lying,” she interrupts a little too quickly. “You don’t know. You’ve never even met him. Don’t accuse him of something like this. I swear I was at the gym and I fell.”
I nod slowly, unconvinced but needing some time to regroup. She’s safe for the moment. “Okay. But you know if you need something, or if you’re afraid or can’t get out, I’ll do anything to help you.”
She slams her fork onto the table, which is completely uncharacteristic for her normally even keel demeanor. “I don’t need your help.” Pushing away from the table, she quietly adds, “I have to hit the road soon. I’m going to take a shower.”
I watch her storm off, slamming the bathroom door closed behind her.
Having lost my appetite, I drop my fork on my plate. Of all the issues I ever expected my sister to have, being in an abusive relationship is never one that crossed my mind. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do now.
SEVENTEEN
Paul
It’s technically my day off and I should be sleeping away the weekend of manual labor, but I want to be here for the grand re-opening today.
There’s not actually a celebration beyond my own excitement. Banners and streamers were not only out of my budget but didn’t seem necessary. Mostly I want to be here to see the reaction on people’s faces when they see the updates. Plus, we still have a little bit of organization to do on the shelves and I’d like to get that all done.
Having been employed here longer than the rest of us, Tammy knows pretty much all the history of this place. And she says she doesn’t remember the last time there was a fresh coat of paint on the walls, let alone actual renovations, so the changes really seem to excite her. Personally, I think she just had a good time doting on all the football players this weekend and is still reveling in the memories of that day. Whatever keeps her happy while she’s here.
On the other hand, something’s wrong with Kiersten. She’s been acting strange since she walked in the door, sort of downtrodden and distracted. It’s a complete one-eighty from the other day. I want to ask her about it because I’m honestly worried about her, but we’ve been busy getting ready to open up I haven’t had time. Plus, I’m not really sure it’s my place. I shut her down pretty quick when we almost kissed. Drawing her back in seems like giving mixed signals.
As soon as the door is unlocked, it swings open and our numero uno patron comes walking in, right on cue. Before the door even closes behind him, he stops, mouth wide open in shock.
“Whoa,” Dwayne breathes, as he looks around the room taking in all the changes.
“You like?” I call out, hoping he gives me the answer I want after all that time and money.
“I feel like I walked into a fancy place.”
“You’re about to have your mind blown then.” Tammy points to the back corner next to the stage. “Check out the new pool table.”
His eyes widen. “I love pool. Can I get one of those fancy ales, too?” he adds as he takes off across the room to check out the new set up.
“Coming right up,” Kiersten replies before grabbing his drink from the small fridge. “Thank god for small miracles. I was sure he’d never leave that dartboard.”
I blow out a breath, releasing some of the nervous tension I’ve been carrying around now that I know things are being well received. If Dwayne can be swayed, there’s hope.
Over the next couple of hours, a few customers trickle in; some new, some familiar faces. The increased traffic probably has less to do with the number of people and more to do with them staying longer. That’s exactly what I was hoping for when I splurged on comfortable furniture. So far, everything is going well for our first night post-reno.
The only downside is Kiersten. She can’t seem to shake whatever mood she’s in. Sure, she’s smiled at all the right times and laughed at silly things, but I can see something else is going on. Several times, I’ve caught her wiping her eyes when she thinks no one is looking. Even now, as she rinses out the blender, it looks like she’s about to cry.
I place Tammy’s order on her tray and lean in to talk to her quietly. “Is everyone good for a few minutes? I need to talk to Kiersten privately.”
“Yeah you do,” she replies, keeping her voice low. That’s unusual for my very boisterous lead waitress. If she’s trying to be discreet, I know it’s not just me noticing the change in attitude. Tammy glances around the room quickly to make sure none of her patrons will need a refill any time soon. “We’ll be good for a bit. If it gets busy, I’ll come get you. But you need to find out what’s going on with that girl first.”
I nod my thanks as she grabs her tray and hustles away. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself to be shut down. If Kiersten doesn’t want to talk, there’s nothing I can do to force the issue. Still, I need to try. Even if it’s just so she knows I’m here for her.
Walking up behind Kiersten, I lean in. “Hey,” I say quietly. “Come with me for a second.” She looks surprised when I grab her by the hand but doesn’t pull away as I lead her into the office, closing the door behind us.
Turning to face her, I try not to get too much in her space, but I’m worried. “What’s wrong.”
She smiles, like I knew she would. It’s fake and I still see the shimmer of pending tears. There aren’t many, but they’re there. “Nothing, I’m okay.”
“I don’t believe you, Kiersten. Something has you distracted and sad. I just want to help.”
Sniffing once, sh
e crosses her arms over her chest in a very obvious defensive stance. “Maybe I’m on my period.”
The remark gets an incredulous look from me. “You’ve worked here for three months. By that logic, I should have seen this mood at least twice before, but I haven’t.”
She crinkles her nose. “That’s kind of gross, Paul. That you would notice that kind of thing?”
Deflection is not her strong suit. I shrug my shoulders because, “I’m not trying to make it weird. I just want to know what’s really happening.”
Sighing deeply, she moves to the couch and sinks down onto it, putting her face in her hands. Now I’m really concerned.
“Is it Carson?” I ask, sitting next to her. Alarm bells are going off in my head. Please don’t let it be her kid. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” she says quickly, and I find myself breathing an unexpected sigh of relief. “As perfect as a three-year-old can be.” She takes a shaky breath, still holding back tears. “It’s my sister. I think… I’m almost positive, she’s in an abusive relationship.”
I suck in a breath, her mood making perfect sense now. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Before I can stop myself, I wipe a stray tear off her cheek. She quickly sits upright and I immediately pull back, knowing I’ve made things awkward. Quickly, I grab a tissue box off my desk and hand it to her. “Are you sure? Did she say something about it?”
“I accidentally saw her arm when she lifted up her sleeve. She has bruises, finger-shaped bruises on her bicep. She claims she fell into a piece of equipment at the gym but I know she’s lying. Hell, that’s not even a creative lie.” Kiersten sniffles again and wipes more tears away. No wonder she’s been “off” today. If I remember correctly, her sister only left yesterday to go back to school. I can’t imagine how out of control this makes her feel.
“Have you talked to her since she left?”
Kiersten shakes her head. “She texted me just to say she made it back okay, but she didn’t answer when I called.”
“Wow.” I shift my body, my hands resting on my knees. Now that I know there’s no immediate solution, I don’t want to crowd her, just be supportive. “What are you going to do?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know.” She sniffles and blows out a breath. “She was so mad when I confronted her that she just walked away and refused to talk about it at all. I’m afraid if I keep pushing, I’ll lose her. But I’m afraid if I don’t push…” Her breath hitches.
“You’ll lose her anyway,” I finish for her.
She nods sadly and dabs at her eyes with a tissue. “See my dilemma?”
“She’s what, eighteen?”
“Yeah. Just went off to college.”
“So, she’s a young adult. What about telling your parents? Surely, they can get involved or call the college. I bet they have protocols in place for situations like these.”
Kiersten huffs a humorless laugh. “My parents believe that when you make dumb mistakes, you end up with the appropriate natural consequences. And basically, any mistake qualifies as being dumb in their eyes. I guarantee my mother would tell Nicole she wouldn’t be in this situation if she had played harder to get.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Not at all. But in her mind, if Nicole had waited and played the game, it would have given her time to see what kind of a man he really is before getting so deeply involved.”
This thought process baffles me. “I don’t even think that’s true. An abusive man can manipulate things for a damn long time before showing his true colors. Even still, your mother would say that to an eighteen-year-old girl who is being beaten by her boyfriend?”
Kiersten scoffs, clearly no love lost between her and her mom. “You should hear the things she says to me. I almost never take Carson around her because she doesn’t see a beautiful little boy. She sees a bad choice on my part, and I won’t ever let him feel like he’s a mistake. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me. She’s not going to sabotage his self-confidence because she has to be right.”
Just hearing it second-hand makes me burn with rage for her. For them both. Here is this beautiful, hard working woman who always has a smile on her face and a beat in her hips, and her mother is still giving her grief over having a kid three years ago? It’s no wonder she packed up and moved here. She has a better family dynamic amongst her friends.
I wish I knew how to help Kiersten with her sister, though. It’s clear she’s really torn up by the whole situation. Unfortunately, I’ve got no idea how to fix this for her. I don’t even know where to start.
Before I can even try to help her come up with a solution, there’s a knock at the door, and Tammy’s head peaks in.
“Sorry to interrupt but we’ve got some new customers and y’all know better than to have me mix drinks.”
I snicker. She’s right. I tried teaching Tammy how to make a gin and tonic once. Even with only two ingredients, it didn’t go well.
“I’ll be right out.”
She nods and quickly closes the door, leaving us to finish up.
Grabbing Kiersten’s hand, I squeeze, ignoring the feel of her soft skin and the way she squeezes back. Now isn’t the time for attraction. “Give yourself a few minutes and when you’re ready, you can relieve me, okay?”
She smiles gratefully at me. It doesn’t reach her eyes, but it’s something. “Thanks, Paul. Again.”
“Any time. I care about you.”
She looks up at me from under her lashes and for a split second, I feel the chemistry between us. But again, there are bigger issues on the table right now. My job is to be a supportive boss, no matter how much I want to pull her into my arms and hug her.
Patting her leg, I leave her to her own thoughts and head back to the bar. Tammy is already popping the tops off some beer bottles so I know I probably have some orders to fill.
“What do you need?” I ask as I brush past her.
“One mojito and a dirty martini. Extra dirty with extra olives.”
“On it.”
First, though, I approach the lone man at the end of the bar who’s glued to whatever game we have on the television. He catches my eye because of the biceps straining through his cotton t-shirt. I recognize an athlete when I see one. Probably pro, judging by his shoulder span. He can’t be a Steer though. They’re at training camp.
“Welcome to Frui Vita,” I say as I approach and toss a cocktail napkin down. “What can I get ya?”
He tears his eyes away from the screen. “I could go for a Jack and Coke. Hold the Coke.”
I chuckle and pull the tumbler out, placing it on the napkin in front of him. “Neat or rocks?”
“Rocks, please.”
I go about grabbing the ice and some small talk. Call me curious but I want to know how he ended up here. “Straight whiskey, huh? Rough night?”
“Nah. Just new to the area. I’m tired of being alone in my house and I got a recommendation to come check this place out and here I am.”
Now he definitely has my attention. “Who in the world recommended our little place? We’re kind of off the grid.”
“Which is exactly what I was looking for.” He takes a sip and nods his approval. “I asked my agent if he happened to know somewhere to hang out with low drama. I guess one of his other clients had told him about you.”
“Hmm. Well, now you’ve piqued my curiosity. I’d love to know who is recommending us.”
“Some guy named Heath is all I know.”
“Heath Germaine?”
He thinks for a second as he lifts the glass to his mouth. “Sounds right. You know him?”
“A bit. He was here this weekend helping out with some projects for the low payment of beer and pizza.” The guy chuckles because we’ve all been suckered into doing the heavy lifting for food and booze before. “He plays for the Steer. I take it you don’t follow football.”
“Not as much as I probably should, being that we’
re in Texas and all. I’m a hockey player. My time is spent on that more than anything.”
Suddenly him being here makes more sense. He must be starting with our hockey team, the San Antonio Slingers. I’ll ask him at some point tonight but should let him get more comfortable with me first. Still, I’m glad to hear Heath is talking us up in his circle.
“Well, I’m Paul.” I hold my hand out. He takes it and I can feel his forearm strength in his grip.
“Liam Tremblay.”
“Liam, nice to meet you man. If you need another drink just let me know.”
Liam raises his glass and goes back to watching the game.
It seems I’m going to owe Heath more than just a couple of drinks.
EIGHTEEN
Kiersten
I take a deep breath.
Then another.
And another.
I have been in full-on avoidance mode all day, but I have to leave for work soon and I’m running out of time.
I haven’t talked to Nicole for a week. Seven days of her giving me one-word text replies and sending me straight to voicemail. It’s so out of character for her and terrifies me. Not being able to hear her voice, to hear that she’s okay makes me assume the worst. The scariest part is knowing “the worst” might be reality in this case, which is why I have to stop avoiding.
The last thing I want to do is call my mother, but she may be the only one who can help. I’m worried about Nicole and no, she doesn’t live at home so maybe there’s nothing my mother can do but maybe there is. Maybe she can talk some sense into my sister or call the police or, hell I don’t know. I just know I’m out of my mind with worry and at a loss as to what to do. Spinning in circles isn’t helping anything. At least this is an attempt to do something.
I take one last deep breath to steady my nerves and dial.
Three rings later, I’m about to hang up when she answers.
“Kiersten. Hello.”
“Hi, mom.”
“How are you? Is everything alright with you?”
“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
