Secrets in Battle: Secrets of Savannah Series Book 3
Page 19
***
After losing my parents, I couldn’t stomach the thought of living in that house again. I tried to, but everywhere I turned, my mind was filled with images, and my nose was filled with the smell of blood. I hired professional cleaners to come and bleach it ceiling to floor, but I could still smell it. I sold the house and moved an hour away, to Shelley Beach.
They say that in the aftermath of a tragedy, you shouldn’t make any life changing decisions. Well, I like to go against the grain. I moved four times in the first year of losing my parents. I felt like I couldn’t get comfortable. No matter where I went, I just couldn’t settle. I tried big towns, small towns and different states – nothing worked to settle my soul. So, I continued to run.
Four years after my parents died, when my boyfriend hit me and sold some of my things for drug money, I ran again. This time, I decided to go to someone familiar.
Jenn and have been best friends since we were eight. She’s been the only friend I’ve ever really had. She’s the only other person who knows exactly what my home life was like, so she understands why I do the things I do. After my parents died, she helped me grieve, and then she helped me heal. It doesn’t matter where I am, I know she’s only a phone call or a text away.
A couple of years ago, Jenn had moved from our home town of Fortlawn, to Salt Rock. I had never been to Salt Rock, but she seemed happy there and I was ready to move back to Alabama. I packed my shit and left Florida without a second thought.
I felt bad, leaving without giving my boss notice, but that was life. I’d done it before, and no doubt I’d do it again. That thought made me a bit sad, so after popping a sucker in my mouth, I turned up my music to drown myself out and instead, focused on Shooter Jennings singing “Fourth of July”.
***
A day later, I arrived in Salt Rock. It was already dark and Jenn said she’d be at work from five, so I drove to the address she’d given me. Finding a car spot was proving difficult, it was a Friday night and the place was packed but after driving around in a loop three times, I finally managed to find a space in close proximity to the entrance. A large illuminate sign, advertises Joe’s Bar. Reaching over into the back, I grabbed my makeup bag and quickly applied a light cover of foundation, some mascara and a swipe of lip gloss. Then, I locked up my car and made my way to humungous black man that was manning the door.
I pull my ever present sucker out of my mouth. “I’m here to see Jenna Mason,” I tell him.
“Name?” He barks back.
“Lacey Monroe,” I reply. He looked down, searching his clipboard, before looking back at me and telling me to go on in. I took a few steps forward and then turn back to him. “Uh, where do I find her?”
His tone was softer as he gave me directions. “Turn left. Three doors down on your right.”
“Thank you.” I walk inside and I’m immediately assaulted with the loud music coming from somewhere in the large establishment. It’s so loud, I have to resist the urge to cover my ears with my hands. I turn left and count three doors. Just as I am about to knock on the closed door, it swings open and Jenn walks out.
“Lacey,” she squeals when she spots me.
“Jenn,” I shout, and we run into each other’s arms. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Oh! I’ve missed you too, girl. I can’t believe you’re finally here. Give me a look at you.” She holds me at arm’s length and takes in my appearance. I’m wearing tight, skinny leg, black jeans with a burgundy halter, which I’m sure is creased from sitting in the car for so long. My dark brown hair is hanging loosely down my back. I look her over as well. She’s barely changed a bit since I saw her last. She’s still as gorgeous as I remember. Her light brown hair is cropped to her shoulders and she’s wearing wide leg black pants with a light red blouse that has a Joe’s Bar logo above her left boob.
“You look amazing! You certainly filled out, Miss Curvalicious,” she laughs. I smile huge and nod. When I was younger, I was skin and bones. All gangly legs and arms. All elbows and knees. Now, I had filled out, nicely, I thought. Well, I definitely liked how I looked now, compared to my teen self. Jenn leads me back out the hallways and through a large set of glass doors. Looking around, I can see a bar running the full length of one wall and out in front of that is a large dance floor. It’s full of people bumping and grinding. Sliding up on a stool, Jenn calls over a young guy and asks him for ‘her usual’.
“You want?” she asks me.
“I’ll take a beer.”
As soon as the bartender slides our drinks across the counter, I take a long pull.
“How’s things? You were vague when you said you were coming here. Did something bad happen?”
I shake my head. “Nothing a bit of distance won’t fix.”
“You sure? I worry about you, Lacey.” She looks so concerned.
“Hey, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.” I raise my drink and point it in her direction. She gets the hint, and clinks hers with mine. “Cheers.”
“To best friends,” she adds on a smile.
“To best friends,” I repeat.
“How’s things with you? Still got a hot biker dude to keep you warm at night?” I bump my shoulder against hers and grin. Jenn had been dating the same guy for the last few years. He’s in some motorcycle club that’s based here in Salt Rock.
“Yeah, Switch is amazing. You’ll get to meet him soon enough,” she grins.
“You look happy,” I say, taking in her glowing face.
“He makes me happy,” she shrugs.
If only all men were like that. If only all men were decent and made it their life’s work to find a great woman and treat her like a queen…not that I want to be treated like a queen – just being treated like a human being would suffice.
Later, after we’d had a few more beers and had taken to the dance floor to work out some of the alcohol we had consumed, we went back to Jenn’s place. Since Switch had driven her to work that evening, she caught a ride with me.
“How long do you plan on staying for?” Jenn asks. Neither of us had barely taken a breath for all the catching up we’d been doing on the short drive home from the bar. Now, we were relaxing on her sofa, still talking.
“A while, I think. I missed ‘Bama,” I grin ruefully.
“Bullshit. You just missed me.”
“Yeah, that too. If I can find some work and a place of my own, I think I might stick around,” I tell her.
“Well, you know you’re welcome to stay long’s you want.”
“Thanks, Jenn.”
I stretch out and yawn. “Think I might go to bed, if that’s okay. I’m wiped.”
“Of course. Come on, I’ll show you to the guest room.”
Jenn shows me into my room and I dump my bag on the bed. Taking out my shower bag, some pajamas and a towel, I make my way into the shower just off the bedroom.
I’m proud of how well Jenn has done for herself. Her house is a two bedroom cottage style place, with an open kitchen slash living slash dining area. Each of the two bedrooms has their own bath attached and it’s everything a home should be – warm, inviting and comfortable.
I have a quick shower and fall into bed. That night, for the first time in as long as I can remember, I sleep like the dead. I don’t wake up until the sun is shining bright through the window at nine o’clock the next morning. As I stretch out in bed, I can’t help but thinking that coming back to Alabama was the best decision I’ve made in a long, long time.
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