by Melinda Minx
Marv slaps a hand onto my back. “Yeah, everyone drinks there now. It’s a tourist destination now.”
“Good for picking up chicks not looking for more than a night,” John says, licking his lips. “Maybe Mason’s looking for that?”
Nope. I’m only looking for one woman right now, and I want a hell of a lot more than a single night with her.
I shake my head, “So, where does everyone go now?”
“The Midnight,” John says. “It’s new...ish.”
When we get there, I see what he John means by newish. The Midnight certainly isn’t old, I remember going there a few times in high school with a fake ID, but it used to be a fucking hole. It had more townie cred than Tillman’s did, but if there’s such a thing as being too “authentic,” then The Midnight had definitely been way too much.
Last time I remember seeing it, all the floorboards were nearly rotting. I remember getting drunk and having my boot break through a plank, like the place was trying to fucking swallow me alive. The only bartender had been the owner, and no one I talked to had really any idea how he managed to stay in business. I’d never seen more than two people in there at a time, save for when we rolled in with our fake IDs and bought ourselves few cheap-ass pitchers of Bud Light.
So the place I walk into now is a bit of a different story. There are two perky women with even perkier tits pulling the taps, and the place isn’t quite bustling, but it’s on the verge of it. I see a lot of people I recognize but haven’t seen in over fifteen years. I even see a few of my old teachers, but instead of middle-aged men or women with some grey in their hair, they look straight-up old.
The old rotting floorboards are gone, replaced with gleaming waxed planks. The place is barely recognizable.
It’s almost like I’ve been locked up in some kind of vault, and only now stepped out. Everything around me has changed. But nah, I wasn’t in a fucking vault, I was in hell. And I’ve probably changed more than anyone else. Just hopefully I haven’t changed too much for Sophie.
Or maybe I should hope that I’ve changed enough for her. If I was still the same guy who abandoned her, then I wouldn’t deserve a second chance with her.
“You heard of Ketchikan?” Samuel says, looking around the bar.
“Huh?” I ask. “Catch A Can? That another bar?”
“Nah,” he says. “Ketchikan, it’s a city in Alaska. Killer fishing destination. All the big cruise liners started making stops there. They built a big fucking dock for the cruise liners right touching downtown. It used to be a sleepy little town, shit, it still is I guess. Only ten thousand or so people, but those cruise liners bring in a lot of cash, and they dock right on the city. If you live there, you got tourists flooding into the heart of your city every few hours during cruise season. Good for business, not so good if you want to just relax with some friends.”
“So Tillman’s is Ketchikan?” I ask, grabbing my glass from the bar and taking a long drink.
“Yeah,” he says. “And The Midnight is New Ketchikan. The place all the people built a few miles down the road, far enough where the tourists won’t bother to walk, where they can go to have a drink with old friends. We didn’t bother with a whole new town in Tuckett Bay, but we’ve at least gotta have a bar to ourselves.”
I nod. It seems like the tourists have increased at the same rate as the fishing industry has declined. It’s hard for a town to have a real identity when more than half of the people there aren’t staying more than a week. When the memories of what the town was overshadow what it is now.
I see someone moving toward me out of the corner of my vision. It’s not something I’d have noticed before being in the Special Forces, but I notice it now, from all the way across the bar and through the crowds.
From the size, it’s a man, but I don’t turn toward him. I’d rather he thought he was getting the jump on me.
He sits down beside me, and I finally turn to look at him.
Shit. It’s Sophie’s old man. Older, fatter, and a lot less friendly looking than before.
“Mason,” he says.
“Mr. Sinclaire.”
“I think you can just call me Hank. So you’re back?”
“Yep,” I say, taking a long swig of my beer. “Want a drink?”
“I’m an old man, Mason,” he says. “I already have too many in me.”
How much does he know? He must know I hurt his daughter all those years back. Teenage daughters don’t usually spill their guts to their fathers, but Sophie was real close to her father.
“I saw Sophie,” I say. “She wasn’t too happy to see me.”
Hank laughs. “She’d have been over the moon to have seen you years back, Mason, but you sure as hell fucked that up. She looked furious when she came back from work today. I’ve been pushing her to apply for real jobs for months now, and she hasn’t touched an application. Today though, she was all over it.”
I bite my lip. So I’m driving her out of town? I better get to work on her before she’s gone.
“Mr. Sinclaire—Hank—I’m going to do everything I can to get your daughter back. The biggest mistake I ever made was not coming back to her sooner. It took me longer than it should to realize that, but—”
“Look, Mason,” he says, squeezing my arm and looking me right in the eyes. “I love having Sophie here, but she’s not happy here. She never will be. She’s like a bird in a cage. She can’t spread her wings here. Why don’t you have dinner with us tomorrow?”
My jaw drops open. When he first approached me, I thought he might hit me. When he sat down and started talking, I assumed he’d tell me to stay the fuck away from Sophie. I didn’t expect a dinner invite.
“Didn’t you just say…?” I start, but then it all clicks for me, and I laugh. “You got no confidence in me, Mr. Sinclaire?”
“Hank,” he says. “And no, not really. I think having you over to dinner is the best way to get Sophie to stop wasting her time here, to leave, to do something with herself. I’m happy to bet against you, Mason.”
I stand up from the barstool. “Should I bring a bottle of wine?”
7
Mason
Fifteen Years Ago
I get out of my last class early. It’s one of those “history” classes where the football coach teaches it. Coach usually only manages to pretend he knows about history for forty-five minutes, and then he lets us leave early. No one complains.
I gotta wait in the parking lot for Sophie. I don’t really know why I’m doing this, but it felt like the right thing to do. I’ve never really been into girls like her, and I’m not even saying that I’m into her…but as I lean against my car and wait for her to show, I realize I feel fucking nervous. Me, nervous over a girl?
My car is an ‘89 Camaro. My pride and joy. I’ve fished almost every day after school since I was fifteen to pay for it. Like most guys in Tuckett Bay, fishing is what we do to make some extra cash. And if you fuck up and get C’s on your chemistry tests, fishing ends up being your career.
My Camaro is gleaming black, and even though its boxy frame is pretty outdated, I still think it looks cool as shit.
Plenty of girls seem to think it looks cool, too, though a few have complained because it doesn’t actually have a back seat. It can be a bit difficult and uncomfortable to fuck a girl with the shifter box right in between the bucket seats, but I like a challenge.
“Mason,” a voice calls out.
I look up to see it’s my brother Eric.
He’s younger than me, but only by about ten months—Irish twins.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Can I get a ride?”
“Uh,” I say. “I would, but I’m meeting Sophie.”
I look over at my car, as if to emphasize there are only two seats.
“Sophie?” he asks. “Sophie who?”
“Sinclaire.”
He looks confused, but then his eyes widen. “Robot Girl? You’re fucking Robot—”
I sh
ove him into the side of the car. “Watch it!’
He laughs. “Dude, I didn’t know you were into chicks like that. I mean she’s got some big tits, but—”
I pull him off the car and shove him into it again, harder this time. “Alright!” he says, smiling, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry, bro, I was just giving you a hard time. Sophie’s nice, you two would be good together.”
“She’s helping me with chemistry,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. “That’s all.”
“Call it whatever you want,” Eric says. “It’s cool.”
I roll my eyes and let go of him. He adjusts his collar and starts to leave.
“Hey,” I say, stopping him. “I’ll give you a ride tomorrow. You gonna be home tonight?”
Eric shrugs. “I dunno, maybe. I’ll get a ride from Grossman.”
“Danny Grossman?” I ask. “Come on, man—”
“Drop it, Mason, it’s not like you don’t drink sometimes, too.”
“Yeah, well, if he tries to get you to smoke crack or something—”
“I’m not a dipshit, Mason. See ya. Have fun with Sophie.”
He waves to me and walks off in the direction of the school.
The bell rings in the distance, and crowds of people start to flood into the parking lot. I lean with my back up against my car with my arms crossed, just in case Sophie doesn’t know which car is mine.
I finally see her, only after she’s right on top of me. She’s no longer wearing the torn sweater, so I didn’t even recognize her.
I notice my eyes wandering down to her chest. My brother was right, she really does have big—
“Hey,” she says.
I smile. “Hey.”
We close our chemistry books. We’re sitting at a table in a coffee shop.
“You think you got it?” Sophie asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “It all kind of clicked just now. You’re better at teaching this stuff than Mr. Holloway is.”
She smiles really wide. She’s been smiling a lot, and I can’t help but notice that she looks pretty damn good when she smiles.
“You can go if you want to,” she says. “I mean, you probably have other stuff to do.”
I cross my arms. “Remember the deal?”
“You don’t have to help me with...that,” she says. “It’s my own fault.”
“You’re bad at it,” I say. “You gotta treat yourself with more respect. Don’t assume you’re always inconveniencing everyone.”
“I’m not,” she snaps.
“How far do you live from here?” I ask.
“Uh,” she mumbles. “Three miles or so?”
“So, just now, you told me to just leave you here. What was your plan to get home?”
She blushes, and both of her cheeks redden. “I dunno.”
“Walk?”
“I was going to call my dad.”
“But I’d be happy to drive you home,” I say, “so why not just ask me? It’s because you have no confidence.”
“I took off the sweater,” she says. “That’s good, at least, right?”
I look down at her tits. And not for the first time tonight. “Yeah...that’s good.”
I force myself to look back up at her face. She smiles. Again. She looks pretty good all over, I realize.
“Are you going to Homecoming?” I ask her.
Her face drains of color. She shakes her head.
“No?” I ask.
“No.” She looks down to her lap. “I mean, I wouldn’t be against going, but it is just—it’s kind of stupid, right?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I wasn’t going to go.”
“It’s stupid,” Sophie says. “Pay a lot of money to dress up and play pretend for one night? And it’s embarrassing, I wouldn’t want everyone thinking I was trying to be someone I’m not…”
I lean forward, my elbows digging into the table. I lock eyes with her. “That sounds like...a lack of confidence?”
She puts both hands up and waves them, dismissing me. “No, no, that’s not what I meant—”
“You’re going to Homecoming,” I say, grinning. It’s exactly what she needs, and I wouldn’t mind seeing her in a nice, tight dress. “And I’m taking you.”
8
Sophie
Fifteen Years Ago
The red satin dress is the complete opposite of my big sweaters. Rather than hanging loosely on me like a burlap potato sack, it… squeezes me. It presses my breasts together, but it only covers the bottom half of them, leaving the top of my cleavage open and exposed. I feel naked.
Even where the dress does cover me, it squeezes me. It hugs my hips and ass, leaving nothing to the imagination. It’s the complete opposite of how I usually dress.
And that’s why I have to wear it, right? I can’t hide from life; Mason keeps telling me that. I only get to be young once, and all I’ve tried so far, it seems, is being timid and afraid. How has that worked out for me?
Why not be brave? And having the hottest guy in school right at my side can make me feel almost fearless.
I finish applying my makeup with not a minute to spare. I hear the doorbell ring, and my heart pounds against my chest. I feel blood surging through my cheeks.
“Sophie!” my dad shouts up the stairs. “Mason’s here!”
Mason and my dad have already met. Even though Mason has quite a reputation at school for being a player, he’s good at acting like a complete gentleman to my dad, and my dad loves him. I can tell he’s already hoping that Mason and I will get married someday and be happy together forever, but I try to play it off. Like this whole thing is all no big deal to me.
It’s a big deal to me that my Dad likes Mason. After my Mom died, he’s been extra protective of me. I worried that I’d never be able to bring a boy home, because he’d never be good enough for my Dad. It seems, amazingly, that Mason’s charm even works on my Dad.
As much as my Dad wants me to be happy with Mason, I probably want what my dad wants even more than he does. Ever since Mason has started spending time with me, my life has felt like a fairytale.
I take in a few deep breaths at the top of the staircase, and then I start walking down slowly, step by step.
Soon Mason comes into view. He’s wearing a black suit and blue tie. The suit is perfectly cut for his strong frame, and he’s clean-shaven. The tie perfectly matches his gorgeous blue eyes. His smile reveals his perfectly straight, white teeth.
I smile, too, as I descend the last few steps. For once, I’m not self-conscious about my braces. I know I look the best I’ve ever looked, and I just want to feel happy for once.
Dad overdoes his reaction, but Mason’s seems genuine. He takes me gently by the elbow and says, “Ready to go?”
I nod.
“You guys get a limo?” my dad asks.
Mason grins. “Nah, Mr. Sinclair, I love my car too much to let anyone else drive.”
My dad laughs. “Good man.”
We step outside, and the night air is still warm. The autumn chill hasn’t set in yet. Everything feels just perfect.
Mason opens the Camaro’s passenger door for me, holding it like a perfect gentleman until I’m inside his car. I buckle up while he shuts the door and crosses over to the driver’s side.
He slides into his seat, fastens his seatbelt, and then starts the car.
“This is really nice of you,” I say. “I really appreciate it.”
He takes his hand off the wheel and looks over at me. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“What?” I ask, my eyes widened.
“I thought you’d made so much progress, but here you go again.”
My mouth moves, but no words come out.
He grabs me by the hand and squeezes. “I’m not doing this as some kind of favor. I mean, maybe when I first asked you it was sort of like that? But come on, Sophie, don’t you see how I look at you?”
I’m blushing so hard now that I feel like my entire body is blushing, not jus
t my face.
“I…” I stammer. “Okay.”
He laughs. “Okay? So you do see?”
“It feels a bit too good to be true,” I say quietly.
“And can’t I feel that way, too?” he asks. “I’ve messed around with a lot of girls, Sophie, and I never really was looking for more than that…”
He looks away, down at the steering wheel.
“Who’s being shy now?” I ask.
He laughs, then leans closer in toward me. “Come here.”
His voice is soft, and even though I’m not one hundred percent sure he means what I hope he might mean, I decide to apply everything he’s taught me and just assume that my life, the here and now, is what I want it to be. That fortune is on my side.
I reach out and grab hold of him, and the next thing I know, Mason Steel’s lips are pressed against mine. I gasp and part my lips, feeling his tongue slide earnestly between my lips. Warmth overtakes every part of my body, and I meet his tongue awkwardly at first. I focus on what he’s doing, trying to match him as best I can. Soon my tongue is fighting back against his.
His masculine scent surrounds me, and his taste fills me up and tantalizes my senses. This is everything I could have wanted, and more.
After what seems like a long time, I feel him pull away from me.
He licks his lips, and my mouth is just hanging agape. I can’t believe it happened. It’s like everything before that kiss occurred in another life, and everything after it is my new one. It feels like one hundred years divide the time before that kiss from the time after it.
“I feel like your dad is watching us through the blinds or something…” Mason says.
I laugh. “He would, too. Let’s go.”
Mason shifts the car into drive and toward the dance.
9
Mason
Ffiteen Years Ago
When we step into the Homecoming dance, I see everyone whispering and pointing. I see a lot of jealous girls scoffing at Sophie, but I also notice a lot of guys checking her out.
