Clean Slate

by Holley Trent

  “Yes.”

  He held the hand out a little closer to her, cocking up one eyebrow.

  “Huh?”

  “Your hat?”

  “Oh.” She peeled it off and pressed it onto his palm. She tried to wrangle her curls into a quick braid, but gave up the endeavor quickly because she had to grab the rails. They had gone down their first drop and endured a massive splash in the process. Further, the fall had jerked Ben forward on their bench so his front pressed against her back.

  Jerry, Trinity, and Ben laughed at the dousing, but Daisy was frozen yet again, as if Ben’s touch had rendered her nervous system dysfunctional. She didn’t have the good sense to wipe the water out of her eyes until he backed up a bit.

  He gave her shoulder a little squeeze. “Sorry. I’ll hold on for the next one.”

  “Don’t bother.”

  He leaned forward so his lips were near her ear and said over the churning of the rails ride gears, “I’m sorry, what did you say?” He was so close; his breath was warm on her cheek as she turned her face to the right.

  On the second try, she got the words out. “I said it wasn’t a problem. You couldn’t help it.”

  “Oh.” He leaned back as Jerry called up, “There’s a camera mounted at the top of the next fall. Try not to pull the donkey face, all right, Ben? We’re making memories and shit.”

  Daisy giggled, and the ball of tension in her gut unfurled somewhat. She’d seen the donkey face. Ben sometimes perched against Jerry’s desk when he was on the phone with clients and pulled it. Jerry always had to close his eyes to get through the calls. When he hung up, he’d spend the next five minutes wrestling Ben until one or the other cried “uncle.” It was good fun at the N-by-N barn. Sometimes the shipping guy, Juan, took bets on the winner.

  “That funny?” Ben asked with a chuckle.

  All she could manage was a nod, because they were approaching the second fall. She reached for the handles, but couldn’t complete the action because he wrapped his arms around her torso and put his chin on her left shoulder right as they approached the decline.

  “Smile pretty, Daisy,” he said as the log tipped over the edge and hurtled toward the pool below.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “I think Moeder would like it, don’t you think, Jerry?” Ben held the log ride photo T-shirt against his torso and wriggled his eyebrows.

  Trinity groaned. “Two out of four ain’t bad. Jerry, you’re pretty as always, although the hang ten sign language is a bit over the top. Ben, you asshole, you look smiley and wonderful and terrified poor Daisy in the process, so she looks like she saw a ghost. Me, I just look grotesque with the way I’m cringing. Wouldn’t you rather do one of those Western costume portraits and give that to your mom instead? That thing is majorly humiliating.”

  Jerry laughed and wrapped an arm around his girl’s neck, steering her toward the next attraction. “Oh, pix, if it makes you feel better…” Jerry turned his head and gave Ben a wink.

  Ben winked back.

  “We’ll give her something else.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely, pixie.”

  “You’re lying, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I love you, though.”

  As they meandered up the path, with Ben on Jerry and Trinity’s heels, Daisy lagged behind.

  He stopped walking and turned to find her deftly plucking up thick cords of her curly hair and weaving them into a loose braid. When she caught up to him, by then tying off the end of her braid with a rubber band she begged off the photo technician, he held her sodden hat out to her.

  “I hope what I did on the ride didn’t upset you. Moeder expects any photo I’m in to be at least a little foolish.”

  She shook her head and offered him a wan smile as she pulled wet cap over her coppery hair. “No, it was okay. Just a bit of sensory overload.”

  “Ah.” He held his elbow out for her to take. “Shall we?”

  Her cheeks flushed pink, and he felt his heart fill. A woman that was shocked by such small things? How unusual. This was a woman who hadn’t been hardened, who hadn’t closed herself off from feeling things. What would she feel about him if he pressed a bit? Would she make some excuse and run? He gestured to his bent arm.

  She swallowed. “Sweet of y’all to ask me to tag along for the log ride, but you don’t have to babysit me all afternoon. I’m not a hell of a lot of fun, and I don’t want to hold you back.” Her eyes, shadowed by her hat brim, widened a bit.

  He knew it. She was waiting for a gentle letdown. Well, she wouldn’t get it. “Bullshit. You let me decide what company I want to keep, ja? Besides, I’m the…” He snapped his fingers and tried to pluck the correct idiom out of his memory. “…spare tire?” He lifted one eyebrow for her confirmation.

  Her smile broadened, and finally she slipped her arm around the crook of his. “Third wheel is what it’s called.”

  “Yes. Trust me, you’re doing me a favor. I get a stunning woman on my arm and my brother won’t have to fret so much about keeping me entertained.”

  “Right. Stunning.” She turned her face away and blew a raspberry. Uh…does Jerry do much fretting?”

  Ben nodded. “He’s a bit of a mother hen.” He caught sight of his brother’s blond ponytail several yards up the path. He steered her toward it.

  “Listen, Ben…uh…”

  “Looks like they found Nikki and Charlie. We should break them up before they stage a business meeting in the middle of a theme park.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like Nikki. Working while she plays.”

  “I’m sorry, what were you going to say before I interrupted you?”

  Her bottom jaw grated side to side in a manner that put him on guard, but then she tightened her grip on his arm as they approached the N-by-N delegation. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

  He didn’t believe her, but wouldn’t press. He wedged them into the clump congregating very near a refreshment cart.

  She let go of him and eased back.

  He breathed a little sigh of relief to find she hadn’t run. She was very near, staring at the cart’s menu board. His heart rate had spiked just from that little snub. She’d raised the stakes and he hadn’t even known what game they were playing.

  “What are you all talking about?” he asked, keeping one eye on the slippery redhead.

  Nikki, a short, dark-haired firecracker of a woman, guffawed. “There’s some country music group I’ve never heard of playing in the amphitheatre, and Charlie wants to go see them. Megan and the Cleavers, they’re called.”

  Charlie, her husband, shrugged and adjusted his hat to scrape his hair back from his eyes. “I like what I like.”

  “Oh, I love them!”

  They all turned to look at the source of the bright voice behind them, and found Daisy actually smiling as she plucked a red sports drink out of the vendor’s ice bucket.

  Hmm.

  “I knew I liked you for some reason, Daisy,” Charlie said. “You’ve got good taste, sweetheart.”

  “And you don’t want to go?” Ben surmised, directing his gaze to Nikki.

  “Not even a little bit. I’d rather roll this park map into a cylinder and use it to stab my own eardrums.”

  “You’re wrong for that. You better be glad you’re cute,” Charlie said.

  “You want to go, Daisy?” Ben edged over to the cart and handed the vendor a five-dollar bill before Daisy could pry her cash out of her bra. Yeah, he’d noticed. It was hard not to after they’d all gotten soaked on the log flume. At least she’d had the good sense to keep it in a plastic sandwich bag.

  She nodded.

  Ben held his arm out for her once more and she took it. “Okay, Daisy and I will go with Charlie. Jerry and Trinity, you can adopt Nikki. Maybe we can meet up afterward.”

  “You’re a brave man, Ben Thys,” Nikki called back as she let herself be swept toward a vicious-looking roller coaster’s entry line by her senior staff members.

&nbs
p; “Oh, don’t listen to her, Ben,” Charlie said, adjusting his hat again. “If it ain’t fancy, Nikki don’t like it. Come on and let me show you what real music is. I’m gonna teach you all about redneck rock stars.”

  “Oh boy.”

  * * *

  Daisy couldn’t remember when she’d last had so much fun. Charlie seemed to be just as worked up as she was at the band’s rousing performance, but Ben had only seemed bemused. She supposed bemusement was a hell of a lot better than outright boredom, but she still felt a bit guilty for subjecting the poor guy to something he wasn’t getting a whole lot of enjoyment out of…even if he had been the one to volunteer.

  She kept waiting for some insult to pass his lips, but one never came. He just sat there politely at her right, occasionally bobbing his head to the beat and smiling whenever she cheered along with Charlie about the next songs coming up in the set.

  Her ex-husband would have volunteered to come along, too. She’d give him that much credit. But his jaw would have started flapping from the very first twang of the slide guitar, and he wouldn’t have stopped criticizing until days or weeks later.

  Before the divorce, she’d gotten to the point she just wouldn’t go anywhere anymore because the fun wasn’t worth the aftermath. She’d tried to go off on her own a time or two without him, but Barry had always found out and given her the third degree. “Who were you with? What’d you do? Why are you so late?”

  “Who were you with?”

  “Who were you with?”

  “Who were you with?”

  Always the same damned thing, and she regretted it took her as long as it did to reach her breaking point.

  Then, a year passed before she even thought about being with anyone else. The marriage had left a bad taste in her mouth, and she knew she wasn’t being entirely fair in judging other men before they’d had a chance to meet or exceed Barry’s particular brand of fuck-up-itude.

  Still, she wasn’t going to start letting her guard down for a man who was due to return to Europe in a bit over two weeks. That just sounded like the worst kind of stupid. She was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them…regardless of what Barry had said.

  “That was a damn fine concert,” Charlie said as they waited comfortably on the benches for the amphitheater to clear out. “Well worth the cost of park admission.”

  “You’re not a fan of roller coasters, Charlie?” Daisy asked.

  He rubbed the sandy blond scruff on his chin and shook his head. “I tolerate them for Nikki, but I kinda like having my feet planted firmly on the ground.”

  “I suppose you’d never take a trans-Atlantic flight?” Ben asked.

  Charlie closed his eyes and shook his head again. “Fuck. No.”

  “How about you, Daisy? Do much traveling?”

  “No.” She could never afford it.

  “Want to?”

  They stood. The crowd had thinned enough that the trio could make it up the aisle without becoming separated.

  She had to think about it. She’d never fantasized much about traveling, save for the occasional thought of being on a tropical island. Perhaps in a little hut with no air-conditioning where she’d be forced to lounge around semi-clothed or else sweat to death. Maybe she could share a double-hammock and a bucket of ice with a tall, sexy swimmer with an accent she couldn’t make out half the damn time.

  “Daisy?” Ben nudged.

  She gulped. “Yes. I want to.”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “Oh, nowhere in particular.”

  “Ever thought of visiting Europe?”

  She laughed. “I haven’t, really. Seems like such a cold, rainy place.”

  “Parts of it are. Doesn’t get hot in Belgium like it does here. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the feeling I’m being roasted alive.”

  “Hmm. I love the humidity, but I can’t handle the sun…for obvious reasons.” She held out her pale forearms.

  “I’ve never had sunburn.”

  She stopped walking and stared at him. “You’re lying.”

  “Nope. I’m an indoor swimmer.”

  Charlie turned and said, “Don’t worry, Ben. You’ll have your very first one tonight, judging by the way your nose looks right now. If you stay out of the sun, you might be golden brown instead of lobster-esque by the time the wedding rolls around.”

  “Hmm.” Ben pressed two fingers against his forearm and watched the coloring shift from pink to white and back to pink.

  “N-by-N makes a sunburn butter that’s pretty good. Makes the itching less noticeable.”

  “Itching?”

  “Oh, yeah. It’ll burn, then it’ll itch before it starts peeling.”

  “Peeling?”

  “Yep. It’ll be all done before the wedding, I promise. Jerry and Trinity probably have some burn butter at the house. Lord knows Jerry gets a burn or two each summer those first couple times he forgets to take his wetsuits to the beach. Remind ’em when y’all get home.”

  Daisy gave Ben’s hand a little squeeze to get his attention. “I have some. On the bus. I figured I’d get scorched today.”

  “Oh.” His grin was sweeter this time, but no less arousing. “Well, I know who I’m sitting with on the way home.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Oh, I think I will. I have a perverse enjoyment in forcing you to talk.” He winked at her. “But don’t worry—I’m pretty sure we’re all given an unlimited supply of words. I think you can afford to waste a few on me.”

  She raised her chin so he could see her eyes beneath the brim of her hat. Her expression was wary and she knew it. “Why would you want me to talk?”

  “So I could listen.” His voice was softer when he added, “The ones who don’t talk usually have the most important things to say.”

  Charlie butted in, “Y’all, Nikki just sent me a text message. They’re just now getting off the ride they got in line for an hour and a half ago. She’s pissed. She didn’t think there’d be so many people here on a weekday and she’s ready to bounce.”

  Daisy looked down at her watch. “But it’s only three o’clock.”

  “I know. We’re all going to meet up with the rest of the staff at the brewery. Well, everyone except Gabby and her friend since they’re underage.”

  “Oh. Uh, I know they’re sixteen, but if you want me to keep an eye on them…”

  “You don’t want to do the tasting tour?”

  “I already did it. I actually don’t like beer.”

  “Why did you do it then?” Ben asked.

  Because I made a goddamned fool of myself this morning.

  “I just think people should try things once,” she hedged. “I’m going to go find my mom a souvenir.” She backed away before either man could rebut.

  Ben, for some reason, looked conflicted. His mouth had opened as if he was going to say something, but instead of speaking whatever it was, he furrowed his forehead and pressed his lips together.

  “I’ll just meet you all at the bus in a couple of hours, is that okay? Let everyone know. Don’t take off without me if I’m not there.” She let out a nervous chuckle and waved as she walked away.

  Mute and now anti-social. Someone should give me a tiara, scepter, and a sash because I’m the lamest of them all.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Ben watched as Daisy scrambled off the bus and hurried to her small car like a bolt of lightening. While most of the staff, groggy and sluggish from the long hot day at the park struggled to get off the bus, she seemed to possess unbridled energy all of a sudden. Where was she going in such a hurry?

  When he’d boarded the bus at the very last minute with the brewery crew, she’d been already tucked away in her seat with her back to the aisle, headphones on, eyes closed, and oblivious to the commotion around her. Although he’d been tempted to slide into the seat next to her and pepper her with questions all the way back to Chowan County, he worried too much would be lost in translation—that he
’d come across as unctuous when he was trying to be funny. He left her be, figuring patience was a virtue he should extol.

  In the window reflection, Ben watched Jerry, across the aisle, raise his arms and stretch. He let a bear-like yawn contort his face. “Hey, little brother, you want to head into Edenton and get dinner? Either we eat out or we have frozen pizza again.”

  Ben pulled his gaze away from the window as Daisy’s car as disappeared from sight. “I can probably cook something fast, or we can have cereal. Whatever.” He brought his wrist up to eye level and stared at the hands of his watch. Earlier than he thought. “I want to use the landline to call Moeder.”

  “What is it, two a.m. there?” Trinity asked as she edged into the aisle.

  “Yes. She’s the night manager at the hotel. I want to catch her on her second break.”

  “All right, cereal it is. Maybe I can get on the other extension,” Jerry said.

  “She’d like that.”

  Once Trinity was nestled into the bend of the sectional sofa with a bowl of sugar-o’s on her lap and wielding the remote control, the brothers filed into the home office. Ben carried the cordless phone.

  “You want to dial and I’ll pick up?” Jerry asked, hand already on the desk phone’s handset.

  Ben studied the sleek, black phone in his grip and turned it over and over in his hand. “In a moment.” He met his brother’s blue gaze, and chose his words carefully. “Can I ask for your counsel on something?”

  Jerry furrowed his brow and sank slowly into the leather desk chair. “Must be serious. Your voice just dropped half an octave.”

  Ben chuckled and set the phone on the desk. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his shorts and strode across the room to the picture window. As it was twilight, he couldn’t see much beyond the illuminated garage, above which he temporarily resided, and the small lights that marked off the boundaries of the in-ground pool.

  Jerry was a lucky man, and a smart one. He purchased the land cheap at auction and had the house built to spec thanks to his considerable savings from the career he had before he was N-by-N’s tech guy.