I looked around, twisting my earring like a madwoman as Lucy handed me a beer.
“So,” Lucy started and motioned for me to drink my beer. I did as she asked, and when she seemed satisfied with my second sip, she said, “Don’t kill me.”
That was never a good start to any conversation. I immediately assumed she’d fixed me up with someone.
“Oh, Lucy. I don’t know if—”
“No, no. Hang on,” she said and lifted the bottle to my lips. “Two more sips and I’ll tell you what I should have told you when you bought your place three weeks ago.”
I had a very bad feeling, one that caused me to finish the beer. “Done. Now tell me,” I insisted.
“So, you might run into Quentin.” She looked around. “Sooner rather than later.”
I’d been here over six months, and no one had mentioned his name to me. If anyone would have, I assumed it would’ve been my aunt and uncle. But when I looked back to her, the guilty glance to the bar and back to me, I knew she’d been reluctant to share.
“You could have told me sooner,” I rebuked. The truth was, I tried not to think about him. I did my best to get on with my new life and do it on my own. No dating, no man to complicate things.
Now, I was at a bar, experiencing the limited nightlife and dating scene Guerneville had to offer. And I knew, when I left the narrow existence I’d built in the cottage, I was opening the door of possibility to have someone in my life.
“I don’t think he’s here,” she informed me. I decided that was a blessing. At least I’d have time to prepare for the inevitability of seeing him again.
“Let’s find somewhere to sit at the bar. Get something a little stronger to drink.” She led the way through the crowd and said over her shoulder, “You know, I kissed your brother that last summer you were here, during a rousing game of truth or dare.” I turned to look at her since this was something she hadn’t mentioned previously. “I knew he was more about getting laid than having a girlfriend though.”
“He’s single now,” I shouted over the din. “Seattle’s not that far, and he’ll be down to visit soon, I think.”
And the look on her face told me she hadn’t just liked my brother; she’d really liked my brother.
“Anyway,” she quickly got back on track, “I remember, Quentin came down to the bridge and tried to ask him about you, and your brother was all, ‘Don’t go there, man.’ Quentin’s brother, Miles, had to break it up. It was all super-macho posturing. But Quentin kept pacing around, his hands in fists like he wanted to punch somebody. But after Miles got involved in the conversation, he just looked devastated. Like he wanted to jump off that bridge. Then he left.”
At first, I had a little tinge of adolescent joy knowing he’d suffered. But it didn’t last. Right there in the middle of a busy bar, I turned to her and gave a little more history of my first heartbreak.
“We exchanged letters,” I told her as quietly as I could and still be heard. “For years, and the occasional phone call. We talked for hours about anything and everything. And when I was thirteen, I wanted to get my ears pierced, but my mom said no. So he used his allowance and bought a pair of earrings.” I lifted my hair to show her the diamond stud. “The next time I came to visit, I did his left ear, and he did mine.”
Since she was completely attentive, I continued. We were closer to the bar, but we had to wait as a crowd of patrons in front of us ordered their rounds.
“I always thought I’d come here. Maybe go to college in The City or something. He and I would get a place; that was certain. In the summers, I’d work at the cottages with my aunt and do the same silly things he and I did as kids: pick berries, make jam, and watch meteor showers, all with him. And then…” I blinked, and only then realized I was blinking back tears. “After that summer, knowing he’d kissed another girl, someone who wasn’t me, I never returned another phone call, and I ripped up every letter he sent. But that was a long time ago.”
I fought the urge to get emotional and straightened my shoulders. Lucy listened, she was patient. But when she saw I’d finally pulled my shit together, she put her hand on my arm and asked, “Can you dance?”
“What kind of dancing?”
“Like, two-step kinda dancing. You have the footwear.” She laughed.
“Yes, but not yet.”
I actually loved country music. My husband, not so much. As a joke, I’d taken a class called Boot Scootin’ Babes, and though it had been a while, I felt my skills were probably still passable. While the volume of the next song increased and Lucy started giggling, I sent her off with my blessing.
“You go on. I’m gonna get a little more liquid bravery in me.” But before she took off, I held her elbow to stop her. “Hey.”
Her answer was to smile at me.
“Sorry I snapped at you. You know, before. There never would’ve been a good time to tell me he might be here.” I grinned. “But you’ve been…” I began, but hesitated, because I’d thrown away all the people who’d cared about me when I lost Nick. I hadn’t valued them or their patient support. So I didn’t want to fuck up like that again. “Thanks for being a friend, Lucy.”
“Back atcha.” She winked, and before weaving her way through the crowd, she stopped and raised her voice to be heard over the music. “At some point, you’re gonna run into Quentin. And by the way, Miles is bartending.”
Quentin’s big brother.
Instead of staying with me to ensure my sanity and tamp down my sudden urge to flee, she vanished and left me to fend for myself at the busy bar.
I found a seat and wedged myself between two men who happened to be good-looking in the way they knew it. And if I was right, they loved nothing more than the tag-and-release bar scene.
When Miles nodded toward me at the appearance of a twenty in my hand, I said, “I’m gonna need gin, dirty martini…please.”
First he stared. Then he squinted. Then his face spread into a wide, knowing grin. “Holy shit.”
“Hey,” I said back in the smallest, silly, sheepish smile my face had ever donned.
“Heard you moved here,” he said, multitasking with a bottle, a shaker, some ice, and all the rest. I said nothing, but did take note that Miles had grown into a handsome man. He was totally different than Quentin though. He was the light to Quentin’s dark. His hair was a burnished coppery blond, but he had the same striking eyes as Quentin. Time had been kind to Miles, which meant it had probably been to his brother, as well.
“Heard you were married.”
With the end of his statement, he poured the drink into a pretty glass, popped in a speared olive, and leaned in, ignoring the other patrons completely.
“And, correct me if I’m wrong, I heard you’re single.”
I took a little sip. “You heard correctly.” Then I downed the rest and blinked really fast.
Miles took the empty glass and started making me another.
“Heard you’re planning on staying a while. Also heard you bought a place not far from your aunt and uncle.”
He’d certainly been kept in the loop of town gossip, and I knew he got his information from my brother, the informant.
“Seems the town telephone tree is alive and active,” I commented as he presented the next glass.
“Drinks are on the house. You come in, you never pay, Rylie.” And the blue eyes and dimpled cheeks smiled at me, different this time. The grin was gone, a softness replaced it when he reached out and placed his hand on top of mine. “I’ll make you another drink in a bit.”
As the alcohol kicked in, I was starting to feel a little crowded on my bar stool. “Hey,” the man next to me said when I tried to scoot over.
“Oh, uh, hey, yourself.”
And from the opposite side. “You’re new.”
“Not really,” I told him. “I’ve been here for a good ten minutes.”
“He meant, you’re new in town. I’m Royce.”
I studied him for a sec and thought,
who in the hell would name their kid Royce.
“And that’s my buddy—”
“Rolls?” I laughed, because, as lame as my remark may have been, I still thought I was hilarious.
Gin.
“Sorry, Chicky. I’m Dave.”
In my head, I was thinking of all the pop culture movie quotes with the name Dave. But, alas, I knew only I would think it was funny, so I continued to nurse my drink and pray they moved onto other, fresher meat.
Then Royce moved his finger down the back of my arm. I’m sure, under the right circumstances, it would feel fabulous. But this didn’t feel fabulous. It felt creepy, and it tickled me.
“You’re gonna make me pee my pants if you don’t stop that. A golden shower seems a bit preemptive since we just met and all.”
The friend, Dave, laughed so hard, his beer came out his nose.
“Woohoo!” I yelled, throwing a little gin out of my glass as my arms went into the air above my head. “I’m funny, motherfuckers!”
Aw, gin. How I’ve missed you.
I chuckled to myself for a good thirty seconds, my shoulders still moving with my laughter when a song I knew came on about honkytonks and slapping your grandma.
“Sorry, boys, I gots a date with my boots and a dancefloor. Miles,” I shouted, and a chin lift came my way. “I’m scootin’. Can you mind this for me?” I finished my drink and handed him my purse as I pushed off the bar stool.
It seemed the two men had exchanged some kind of silent coin toss and it was down to Royce as Dave stayed at the bar and Royce followed me to the dance floor.
“What’s your name?” he asked, shouting over the music.
“Crown Princess Calliope of Castagna.” I said this with a regal, straight face and everything.
“Well…Princess…how about a dance?”
“Oh,” I said, attempting and failing to actually see my feet. “I’m not really a dancer, as such. I just like to move to the beat.”
Lying through my teeth. Such fun.
“Oh yeah?” he said, and, if possible, he moved closer to my neck. “You just follow my lead.” His hot, beer breath was right in my ear. “I know my way around a dance floor.”
I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see it.
“Yeah. I’ll do that.”
I caught sight of Lucy, who was some kind of two-step champion, and gave her a wink. Royce was behind me when I made a gun to my head motion and shifted it toward him. I could hear her laugh over shouts and yells and people signing along to Trace Adkins.
“You lied,” he said, chuckling across from me as I slapped my thigh like I was returning my gun to its holster. Luckily, he didn’t notice.
“I guess I’m a natural.” I laughed. “Excuse me a sec.”
I abandoned Royce, knowing full well he would continue to cast his line into that sea without me. I made my way back to the bar and asked Miles for another drink. Then I stood to the side and sang along to the next song with everyone else, since the crowd of drunk women seemed to love Shania Twain as much as I did. I was enjoying myself, having a great time, and when my drink was all done and my olive was eaten, I strolled back to the dance floor.
Then a low baritone began to croon, and I recognized the song, but couldn’t remember the artist. A large hand splayed across my belly, a scruffy chin found a home along my shoulder and against the curve of my neck, and when the second arm crossed and took my hand, I was spun around to stare at the tee covered chest of a man I knew back when he couldn’t grow facial hair. I watched his Adam’s apple move, but didn’t dare look up. The music shifted my feet without my control. Held close and hearing the words of two arms, two hearts, and a lifetime of tomorrows, I felt like we were the only two people in the room.
When the song stopped, so did he, but he didn’t let go.
“Good to see you, Rylie May.”
He was the only person who ever used my full name. My parents tacked my birth month onto my first name without caring they’d christened me with a redneck call sign. Not once had they scolded me with it. But Quentin…he used it like it was his and only his.
When I finally lifted my eyes, I was all wrong about my heartbreaker.
“I see you didn’t have the common decency to age badly,” I told him. He was like one of those really expensive bottles of scotch that just got smoother and richer with age.
The asshole.
He laughed with a half grin and pulled me toward the bar, my hand wrapped tightly in his, keeping me right at his side.
“Fair warning,” I said above the rising twangy riffs. “Gin makes me unpredictable.”
He put his hand in the air like a signal and came right back to me and whispered in my ear, “Then we should get you another drink.”
It was safe to say, at that very moment, I didn’t want a drink. I wanted the crowd to part like the Red Sea and give the patrons of The Boon a floor show they’d never forget.
A waitress handed a drink to Quentin who handed it to me. I took it, drank the entire thing down, and smacked my lips together.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Elixir of Whores.” I grinned up at him and lifted one eyebrow as I explained, “It’s the drink of my people.”
“Your people?”
With all my inhibitions gone, I pulled him down by his shoulders so I could, in turn, whisper in his ear. “Gin makes me dirty.”
I watched as his face spread into the same grin Miles had given me before.
Dimples and all.
Quentin lifted his hand in his special signal once again, never breaking eye contact with me, and, what seemed like seconds later, my purse appeared.
“Ready to go?”
He didn’t bother waiting for me to answer. I was out the door, in a truck, and headed for uncharted waters…
Into the future.
SEVEN
I wasn’t sure where he was taking me, but as he passed the turn-off for the cottages, I assumed we were going to his parents’ house.
“You still live at home?” I asked in shock. I’d assumed Quentin would have moved as far away as possible from not just the house, but the memories it held for him.
“Dad isn’t here much, mostly in Bodega Bay now. Since my place isn’t ready yet, I stay here.” He put the truck in park and said in what sounded like an accusation, “You got married.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re not married anymore.”
I kept staring out the window as he cut the engine.
“Rylie.” He waited for me to look at him, but I didn’t, couldn’t. “Please look at me.”
So I looked at my hands instead.
“You never read my letters.”
“No,” I admitted. “I tore them into little tiny pieces.”
“I’ve been waiting a long time to say I’m sorry I hurt you. But if you’d read them, you’d know I didn’t betray you. You were my everything.”
I closed my eyes tight, feeling every wired inch of my body on fire. “I need to breathe.” I jumped out of the truck, the chill causing me to shake beneath my gin-blanket. Quentin was in the process of taking off his coat when he got closer. “I’ve had a lot to drink tonight.”
“You paced yourself,” he said sarcastically.
I smiled through chattering teeth. “I had fun.”
Then he leaned over me, his lips at my forehead, his shoulder-length hair falling on my cheeks, and put his coat around my shoulders. “Why, Rylie?”
“Why…what, exactly?”
“Why didn’t you read them? I explained everything.”
I looked at him and met his eyes with my angry ones. “Why didn’t I read them? Are you fucking serious right now?”
“Hang on there, Rylie May—”
“Hang on my ass!” I pushed him away, yelling and stomping into the night.
“I see you’ve been holding onto the same thing I have for twenty years. Why don’t you get it out of your system so we can move on and, eventually,
we can fuck.”
He was so calm with his not so sensitive crude recitation, and hearing every word come from his beautiful, goatee-framed mouth, I wanted to smash his face in.
“Fine. First of all, you are a giant asshole!” I lunged on the giant and asshole to really cement my point.
“Giant?” He smirked with his arms crossed.
“Gaping,” I countered, spitting the word up at him. “And you’re all…all…”
“All what, baby?” He smirked again.
“All man! You’re too tall to talk to, and you have facial hair and—”
“Seems I have a lot of things working against me, while you only have one.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” I invited stupidly as I got back in his face.
“Two. Actually.”
I waited, while his mouth spread into a grin. “You’re an unforgiving bitch who can hold a serious grudge.”
Now, I knew exactly what I was getting into when I got into his truck. I wasn’t thinking about unfinished business, even knowing our paths were going to cross. I wanted to be in control of my life, of my choices. I wanted to be in control of my emotions. Unfortunately, I seriously miscalculated my role in the scenario. Because one look at smug Quentin, remembering how hurt I was all those years ago, I wanted to beat the shit out of him.
Then I wanted to fuck him.
And if there was one thing he and I always had, it was straight-talking honesty.
“You know what?” I began, reining in my anger and speaking as calm as could be. “You’re right. Back then, I’d come here prepared to give my virginity to the guy I’d loved since I was eight years old.”
His face changed as I kept talking.
“And when I got here, having worked myself up for the big event for over a year, I find out you’d hooked up with Tatiana Titties…”
He started to chuckle. “Her name was Tania, but that was a nice touch.”
“Shut. Up.” I continued. “And then I left—”
“Tried to talk to you…”
“Yeah. You did.”
Then he took two steps back before he totally blew my mind. “Like every summer before, I knew you’d get here in June. I marked down the days on a calendar in my room. I used to check the mail every day. I had no interest in any other girls. Spent most of my time reading, writing in my journal. I didn’t want to go to college; didn’t have any interest in going to fuckin’ prom. That’s when my parents got worried, thought I was on drugs.”
Watching the Sky Cry Page 6
