Cry Me a River

by Devyn Dawson

  Lucy changed the dynamics in Heather’s and my relationship. In the beginning, Heather was a doting mother, playing dress-up with Lucy and bringing her to the set for everyone to see. She told me she needed more energy to keep up with the demands of a mom. She started with Ritalin, convincing the doctor she was A.D.D. Someone she met out at the beach told her that if she took her Ritalin and snorted some coke she’d have the energy to keep up with Lucy. If I ever find the fucker who told her it was a good idea, I’ll personally put them six feet under. I’ve tried a few drugs here and there, but it never appealed to me.

  Hey Caide - we’re headed back to your house. Do you need anything from the store?

  I check the text and again I’m reminded of the difference between Heather and River. Heather loathed the store, and wouldn’t ever offer to go for me.

  I’m good - will be better when you’re here. See you soon.

  As I slide two trays of muffins into the oven, I hear Rusty barking. She’s a much better guard than my cat. Damn cat, never lets me know when someone’s around. As though he could hear my thoughts, Dex looks up at me from his perch on the back of the couch.

  “Yeah, I’m talking about you.” I say to the cat just as River and Jed reach the top step.

  “Is someone else here?” River asks.

  I sigh and laugh, “Nope, just me and my guard-cat. Did you guys find anything out?”

  River crosses the room, her eyes are red and her hair is draped over her shoulders in two braids. The look on her face is giving away the stress she’s under. She hops up on a barstool and snags an apple from the fruit bowl. “The fire marshal came and talked to me saying there’s evidence that a homemade bomb went off. Someone literally bombed my business,” her voice strains on the last word. “Caide, what did I do to this guy to piss him off so much?” The hand she’s holding the apple in trembles to the point she sets it down.

  “I’m not sure River, something is amiss though. Jed, what’s your take?” I glance over at Jed who’s on the other barstool.

  “It all sounds really off. River told me all about the club and everything that’s happened since… it doesn’t sound normal. Most people who are afraid of you going to the cops won’t make such a public assault on you. I can’t help but wonder if this was all a set up by her friend Gwen. On the off chance this isn’t Lance, it is someone with a bone to pick with one of you two.”

  I stopped working to register what he said. “You think it could be someone else? I never even considered that someone else would harass us. If you have a private investigator that you recommend, I’d like you to give them a call for me.”

  “After the incident at River’s store, you probably won’t need to hire anyone. The North Carolina Bureau of Investigation will be checking this out sometime today. They may even bring in the FBI, it depends on what they find about the bomb.” Jed stands up and pushes his stool back up to the counter.

  “That’s interesting, and insane. I’m sorry, but right now, I have to focus on getting this cooking done.” I study River’s face and realize it might have come out rude. “Hey River, if you’re not too tired, would you like to help me with some stuff?”

  “I’d love to. Let me go throw on some other clothes real quick, I can’t get the smell of the fire out of my nose.” She bounces up from the bar and sprints away to her room.

  “She’s a great girl, I can tell just by the talks we had while we watched her place burn down. She has a positive attitude for someone who’s had a few hard knocks. Thank you for bringing me on, I like working for smart people.” Jed pauses, “I’m going to grab a nap while you do your show. Unless you need me to stay.”

  “No, we’ll be safe for a few hours. Sleep well.”

  ____________________________________________

  My legs are like lead as I walk up the stairs for the tenth time in twenty minutes. The final production team members just left, and now, it’s River and me to clean up. I’d sent Becky home at 8:30, which was almost an hour ago. River’s wiping down the counters and humming to herself and for the first time since yesterday, we are officially alone, minus Jed.

  Her shorts show off her tan legs, which remind me how they were wrapped around my waist in the pool. My existence is hyper-aware of everything about River and her body. The way her lips opened wide as she took a bite of her apple hours ago, it sent my imagination over the edge of sanity. I love how she tilts her head to the right when she’s giving all of her attention to a story. At Al Anon, she tilts and listens intently to every person as they speak. Her North Carolina accent comes out most when she’s tired, I suspect she tries to hide it, but she can’t. I especially like it when she says please and thank you, that girl can talk country to me any time.

  That night when Lance drugged her, I sat in the chair and watched her breath for hours, never getting tired of watching her chest rise and fall. She mumbled in her sleep, making me want to invade her dreams to know what she dreams about.

  “What’s got you deep in thought?” River’s voice interrupts my thoughts, bringing me back to this moment.

  “Sleep with me,” I boldly say.

  Her eyes are as wide as saucers and she’s absently biting her lip as she searches my face for any hints of teasing.

  “I want to hold you in my arms and fall asleep. I’ve wanted to hold you close all morning, to feel your warmth against me. No funny business, just sleep. This way I won’t worry about you in the room, all alone….thinking about me.”

  She playfully swipes the dishtowel at me. “Yep, that’s what I do…. I pine for you through the night.” Her sarcasm amuses me, just as she intends to.

  I hold my hand out to her and she takes it in hers. I lead her away to my bedroom, to the safety of my bed.

  “Tell me about her…” River says as she settles into me.

  We’re in my bed, she has on one of my t-shirts and the shorts she had on in the kitchen. We’re both on our side, her back to me as I spoon her body. My arm is draped over her and she is holding my hand to her chest. “Who?” Surely, she doesn’t want to hear any more about Heather, it feels odd to be in this position talking about a dead ex.

  “Lucy, I want to know more about her.”

  “You do?”

  River turns over to face me. “I do, you’re going through so much to have her with you, when other dads would walk away. You take the responsibility seriously… and I like that about you. I think that’s what makes you so sexy,” she says bashfully.

  “Sexy, huh? Flattery will get you….anywhere you want. No seriously, yeah, I guess some guys would turn their back. That would be the last thing I’d ever do. Sure, her grandparents love her, but I’m her dad. I think girls need their dads.” Good going dumbass, make her feel bad about not having a dad.

  “You’re right, we do need our dads. God knows I could have used mine, especially on nights when my livelihood is burned down. Dads make it better.”

  I lean forward and touch my forehead to hers. “Lucy is full of laughter and silliness. She has never been a crier, she will pout, though. I can bribe her with a slice of an apple just as easy as I can with a cookie. Lucy loves all things fruit. If she could have her way, fruit would be the only thing she eats. When she’s here, I have to actually hide the fruit bowl, or she’ll stand and point at it until I cave.”

  “I bet you do cave pretty easily.”

  I think about it for a moment and realize it’s true, I do. “Guilty as charged. I’m ready for her to come home. Damn, I nearly forgot!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The painters are going to be here at noon to paint her room. I’m going to send a text to Jed and tell him to let them in. You think that’s okay? It isn’t like he’s the maid or anything.”

  “I’m sure he’d understand, I wouldn’t worry. What are you doing with her room?” River wraps her arm around me and scoots in closer. We’re an inch away from her tits crushing against me, and my brain wanders to that thought for a moment. “Are you
sleeping with your eyes open?” She says and nudges me.

  “Oh sorry. I’m having her nursery fixed up into a fairy garden bedroom. I’ll show you the sketches when we get up, if you’d like to see them. So, tell me, what do you think of kids?” There it is, the question men dread being asked, and now I’m the bitch asking.

  Her body goes rigid for a second, just like mine would do if I were her being asked about kids.

  “I haven’t put any thought into having kids. I guess I’m afraid of being like my mom so it scares me a little. No kid deserves that life.”

  Heather would have been that type of mom, the one whose kid prays they’re nothing like her.

  A look of sadness passes over her expression, only for a moment, but I noticed.

  “You’re right. Let’s get some sleep, we can talk about this heavy stuff another time.” I kiss the tip of her nose and my arms pull her in until our bodies meld together as one.

  ____________________________________________

  “Stew, I told you I’d meet you at the beach. It’s Friday night, and the beach isn’t going anywhere. I told you already, River went to Wilmington to take care of some business, she’ll be back tomorrow. Before you ask, yes, you can stay the night. I picked up some beer earlier so I’ll get the ice-chest ready and meet you there in an hour.”

  “See you then.”

  “Later.” I’d been on the phone with Stewart for the last fifteen minutes. He stopped by the set the other day as I was doing the segment for the local news asking if I wanted to party this weekend. It wasn’t until I knew that River was going out of town to talk to the State Insurance Company, that I knew I’d be able to go out with him. River and Jed left for Wilmington at six this morning. Garrett is staying here tonight since we agreed to beef up security since Jed left for the night with River.

  My flask hasn’t been used in a couple of weeks, until tonight, I plan on filling it with Four Roses and getting fucked up. I’m sick of living in a fishbowl without any control over everything. How Heather dying has sent my entire simple existence into a tailspin is eating me alive. Alex has been leaving me messages about having River stay at my house. It all sucks, how I’m not allowed to have a life because I have a daughter. I’m not turning my back on someone I care about because Alex thinks it looks bad. It is the courts fault in the first place…if they hadn’t sent me to Al Anon meetings, I’d never have to deal with this crap.

  Damn, I don’t mean that…actually, I like going. River and the people from the meetings have shown me that there are people everywhere dealing with heavy shit. Last night, the group noticed River and I arriving together. They were like high school kids wanting the scoop on our relationship and about the fire.

  I grab my shorts out of the dryer and throw them on, being careful not to burn my fingers on the metal zipper. I leave on the green Polo I’ve worn all day and trade my Tom’s for a pair of Rainbows flip-flops. My mom brought over a box of steaks and a bottle of cologne she bought for my dad but he hated it. I don’t remember him ever wearing cologne. I splash some on before I walk out the door.

  Garrett’s outside on the phone, I signal for him that I’m walking over to the beach. I don’t want everyone to know who he is, so he’s dressed similar to how I am. I’d be called a pussy for sure, if they knew he’s my bodyguard.

  He hangs up and rushes over to help with the cooler.

  “Do you do this every weekend?” Garrett asks as he takes one of the handles.

  “Pretty much.”

  “You live the life Caide, I envy you. You’re pretty cool though, you’re not an ass like so many rich kids are. I guessed you to be in your mid to late twenties by how mature you are compared to some of our clients.” His phone buzzes but he doesn’t answer it. “Some people might recognize me as a cop, I hope that doesn’t cause you any trouble.”

  I shake my head back and forth. “A couple of cops party with us, so it won’t be conspicuous for you to be with me. The guys that party with us are drug free, but I can’t say the same for the tourists. You never know who you’re really dealing with when it comes to people headed to the beach for vacation.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t bust anyone for weed or anything like that, but I wouldn’t suggest handing drinks to under-aged kids. You don’t want that kind of trouble.”

  “We run off the under-aged kids when we spot them. Some of the people are hard to tell though. Chicks can be especially hard to figure out if they’re legal. Nothing like going to bed with someone who tells you they’re twenty-one and wake up with their confession of being seventeen.”

  “No shit!” Garrett laughs to himself.

  It isn’t long before the party gets lively and the parents usher their kids off the beach. I introduce Garrett to Stewart and the regular crowd. Stew gives me a hard time about being whipped and not coming out to play since I started playing with River.

  The beach DJ this weekend is known for his beach music and getting the party started. A few girls are twirling around and drinking beers. The DJ is talking to the crowd in a Jamaican accent, which I’m not sure if it’s real or not.

  “Where’s Double D, Stew?” I ask.

  “She’s back in Texas, she left on Wednesday. Turns out she has three kids and a not so ex-husband,” he holds his beer out for me to clink with mine.

  “Dude, that’s fucked up.” It’s obvious he’s more upset about the husband thing than usual. He’s been trying to go a summer without fucking another man’s wife. I don’t believe he’s ever done it intentionally, but he’s lied to about husbands on a regular basis. It’s one of those problems that goes along with tourists…they don’t like to tell you about their real life. If we believed everyone who came around, we’d have had sex with Kate Middleton’s cousin, Oprah’s maid, and Bret Michael’s sister.

  My flask is cool in my hand as I raise it to my lips. The whiskey lends the familiar burn down my throat, reminding me of the night of Heather’s funeral. I close my eyes and take another swig, only a longer one.

  “Caide Palmer, the sexiest chef on the island,” says a cute little red-headed vixen. “Where have you been hiding? My friends told me if I came out here often enough, I’d find you here. And guess what! You’re here!”

  Garrett looks at me with a puzzled look, and I shrug my shoulders in reply.

  “Oh honey, you are so fucking hot in person. Everyone back home will shit their pants when I tell them I partied with you on the beach. Can I get a selfie with you?” The red-head asks.

  “Selfie?” Garrett and I say in unison.

  Red-head has a pair of cut-offs, cut off right under her ass cheeks and a blue and silver top tied in a bow between her boobs. She reminds me of a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader with her outfit and perky personality. “Geez, you don’t know about selfies? You know, when you hold the phone and take a self portrait? Well sweetie, that’s a selfie. So, can I get one with you, Caide?”

  “I have a rule though.”

  “You do? What?” She asks.

  “No selfies with people that I don’t know their name,” I tease.

  “Oh ha ha! You’re so funny. I’m Mira Libby, you know like Libby’s corn. Remember those commercials? Libby, Libby, Libby, on the label, label, label? That’s my family.”

  Wow, she should get off caffeine. I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I don’t want her to explain it to me. I’ll look it up on YouTube if I remember. “Nice to meet you Mira Libby…it is safe to do a selfie now,” I say sarcastically, but it’s wasted on her.

  Mira takes our picture about ten different ways. She wanted us to do a silly face, a duck lip face… I didn’t even know ducks had lips. Five of the pictures were deemed not good enough. Thankfully, one of her friends came over and escorted her away. All the while, Mira was crying out my name and saying how happy she was that she finally met me.

  “Is everyone you come in contact with a psycho?” Garrett asks as he finishes off his beer. “You want one?” He reaches in the ice-chest a
nd pulls out two beers.

  “Pretty much. Some weeks have more psychos than others. This week is quickly becoming the all-star psycho week.”

  An hour later, I’ve finished off the whiskey in my flask and replaced it with trashcan punch. The beers running low in the ice-chest, but I’m done with beer for the night. I’ll be up pissing all night if I have any more.

  Everyone’s hooking up with someone or too drunk to care. I’m pretty close to being too drunk to care, when a sassy blonde I met earlier this summer comes walking over to me. She’s trash talking about some girl and drinking punch from a red Dixie cup. She stumbles a little and I steady her by putting my arm around her to stop her from falling over, but I lose my own balance. We crash to the ground, me on top and she’s on her back. I look down to ask if she’s okay and she puts her arms around my head and pulls my mouth to hers. I pull back, rejecting her advance in time to look up to River watching me with shock across her face.

  FUCK! I scramble to my feet. “River! Stop!” I race after her.

  She turns around, coming to a complete halt, glaring at me with venom. “I knew you were a man-whore! I can’t believe I’m gone less than 24 hours and you’re already figuring out who you’re going to bed tonight. I’m so glad I didn’t fuck you!”

  “It isn’t like that River, I swear!” I try to take her hand but she pulls it away.

  “Don’t touch me,” she growls. “I’m finished with you! I’m packing my shit and I’m leaving. Tell your little groupie that your bed is empty and you can finish where you left off.”

  “River, stop…please,” I plead.

  “I’m so stupid! I was falling for you! You fucking bastard! Ughh!”