Mr. Delavigne, the funeral director, meets me at the door. He graduated with my dad—and as it were, Hadley’s dad. So of course, he’s none too thrilled to see me. Not that my dad’s death was my fault in any way. He fell off a ladder cleaning out the gutters on his and Hadley’s home. But I’d stayed away all these years, since the fallout with Logan, so that made me a terrible daughter.
“Just need you to sign some papers and write the check,” he says with as much curt punctuation in his tone as a business man can without being outright hostile.
“Sure,” I tell him. And follow him in to sign those papers and write the check.
***
There’s not enough bourbon in this state to make me forget today. Half the town still hates me for Logan. The other half, for my leaving my dad, even though they didn’t want me to stay in the first place. Why would I expect the universe to take it easy on me? Driving here after leaving the funeral home, I’m stuck sitting outside my dad’s house. I have to sit on the curb because Hadley wouldn’t let me in when I knocked.
He’s my dad. I loved him even if I had to stay away. And it’s not like he couldn’t come visit me. I’d have welcomed him into my home at any time. We talked semi-regularly on the phone, but it just so happens that he went out and found himself a replacement for both me and mom in one fell swoop. Old enough to sleep with and young enough to be his daughter, Hadley didn’t want to visit, so they didn’t visit. Booty over DNA. She never liked to not be the center of my father’s attention. Of course, this tidbit gets ignored by everyone but me. One of the perks of being homegrown.
Word of the day: Abysmal.
I fail to believe another word exists in the English language to as fully express the sentiment of this trip, and it’s only just begun. I hang my head in my hands, propped up by my elbows on my knees. My pose screams defeated, screams it as loud as if I used jazz hands and spirit fingers to draw attention to myself.
“Elise?”
I look up. And smile, returning the crooked smile of the gorgeous man with the peanut butter bun walking my way. Now I get to admire all the tattoos which had somehow escaped my attention in the darkened bar earlier. Because let’s face it, there’s something super sexy about a man with tattoos.
“Hey. Mark, right?”
His crooked smile grows even bigger.
“How’s it going?”
“Ah, you know… If I was doin’ any better, I’d have to be twins. How ‘bout you?”
“If you’re twins, then I’m a miscarriage.”
2.
Mark
“This your dad’s place?” I take the last drag off my cigarette before throwin’ the butt down on the ground in the gutter, snuffing it out with the toe of my boot against the curb. Sucks to have to pretend I don’t know her, at least the her from five to seven years ago. But she put that ball in play, now I have to run with it.
Elise looks almost exactly as I remember her. Still just as beautiful. Her hair’s maybe a bit shorter, otherwise not much physically has changed. It was so hard to let her leave the bar earlier, but when Margo barged in very unwelcome, I really didn’t have a choice. As soon as Toby showed for his shift, I hauled ass into town to find her. Not too hard in a town the size of Thornbriar.
“Yeah. How’d you know?” she asks.
“Small town, remember? I live just a couple streets over.”
“Then you should remember your place, here. Or moreover, my place. You shouldn’t be seen talking to me. I don’t know how long you’ve lived here, but I’m not well liked in these parts.” From the look on her face, she can tell I don’t much care for her answer. But the truth is, she’s tellin’ the truth. What can I do?
“Couple streets over?” She flawlessly changes the direction of the conversation. “You live by the Hollister’s then?”
“Yep.”
“George and Margo?”
I nod.
“Dave and Lenore?”
I nod again.
“Anyone heard from Beau in recent years? I haven’t seen him since—do you know about Logan Hollister?”
I nod for a third time, lips pressed into a tight line. Don’t mean to, that’s just what happens when I hear Logan Hollister’s name.
“Then you should know… I’m…um…I’m the one he was dating when it happened. So you can see why you shouldn’t be talking to me.”
Shouldn’t be talking to her? I know more than she thinks. “The Hollisters don’t dictate who I talk to. And for the record, I know what happened. You are in no way responsible.”
“Well, I didn’t use to think so, but five years down the road, and they’re still blaming me. Maybe you can call a town hall meeting, enlighten them. Because from where I’m sitting, their version of the truth seems highly contradictory.”
“I’ll get right on that.” I tease.
Couple things about our conversation to focus on. First being, well, I’m not gonna lie, it stung that she didn’t remember me at the bar, and yeah, still stings a bit now. But thinking about it, she did me a favor. It’s better for the both of us she don’t remember just yet. Gives me time to prepare, and looking at her with the way my heart gets tight again, there’s a lot to prepare for. Plus, it ain’t like I haven’t changed completely since the last time we were together. Neck, arms, chest and back covered in tattoos. My hair, as in, I have it now. Don’t keep it shaved like I used to. My face, don’t keep that shaved either.
For the second, as I said, Elise Manning is as beautiful today as she was seven years ago when she first rolled into town. Only then, despite her parents’ divorce, she still had this sparkle in her eyes, which turned them from average blue to like, I don’t know, a gemstone or something. Just her face emanated this natural light, something which brought out a smile to folks old an’ young. If she stood next to you…shit. No straight man in this town, married, single or otherwise, stood a chance against her magnetism.
Now that light has been all but snuffed out. Sure, she’s here to bury her father, which can’t be easy. Her light, though, started fading out years ago. Everyone in town knew Logan was a train wreck waiting to happen. The kids just didn’t care because he was so cool. The adults ignored the situation because he was the golden boy. Or should I say, another golden boy. Another Hollister golden boy.
She hitched her cart to the wrong horse. And then she fell in love. Love makes us stupid. Don’t I know it? But Elise—she wouldn’t unhitch that horse, even when it turned rabid and needed to be put down.
Toward the end of their relationship, I’m not sure if she had any love left for him, but if she did, it was residual. Loved him out of habit, but she wasn’t in love. By the time she made her break, Logan Hollister wasn’t a train wreck waitin’ to happen, his train was in the process of wreckin’.
What I do know, she never did what they accused her of. I knew it then, know it now. So for her to think she shoulders any responsibility—I just wanna beat the shit out of Logan Hollister. Jackass didn’t know how good he had it.
“Come on.” I hold my hand out to help her up off the curb. “You can’t stay here all day. Let’s get some lunch, then I’ll take you back to the bar. Show you why I call it Lady Sings the Blues.”
“You don’t have to be so nice to me, Mark. It will come back to bite you.”
I don’t say anything back. She’s right again. It will come back on me. But this girl needs a friend to get through the next week, and I finally have my shot with Elise. I’m not blowing it this time because gossip mongers can’t keep their noses out of other people’s business.
Looked everywhere to try and reconnect with this woman. A social media ghost. Short of hiring a private detective, which woulda just been creepy, she didn’t exist anywhere. I mean, I knew she had to live somewhere, work somewhere. Worked up the courage to ask her pops once. Elise, you’d probably be surprised to learn your dad ripped me a new one. Doc Manning wasn’t known for using the words flying out of his mouth at me that day. No one fro
m Thornbriar could wanna know her whereabouts because say, they missed her laugh or her smile. Or her kindness toward just about everyone she met until Logan did what he done.
I guess Doc couldn’t have known how much I missed those things, because she didn’t know. I didn’t have the guts to tell her when I should’ve. No point in it, she had Logan from the beginning. And then once she didn’t have Logan, I don’t suspect she much trusted any of us from around here.
Placing her hand in mine, I tug a bit too hard causing her to stumble into my arms. I couldn’t have planned that any better if I’d tried. Her being so close, looking down into those eyes, breathing in her scent. Sometimes a man can’t help the physical reaction to having a beautiful woman in his arms. If she notices, she’s kind enough not to draw attention to it.
“We can walk from here. It’s a nice enough day.” As we start to move, I casually adjust myself. “You still like Whippy Dip?”
She stops walking to stare at me. “How do you know I liked the Whippy Dip?”
Well… I reach in my pocket and pull out my pack of Kentucky’s Choice, pull another one from the pack, put it up between my lips, cup my hands around the tip and light the end, taking a long drag and exhalin’ before I calmly answer. “It’s Thornbriar. Everyone likes the Whippy Dip. But you haven’t been here in a while. So your tastes might’ve changed.”
She seems to accept this answer and nods as I take another lengthy drag from my cigarette. Shit, that was close. How could I be so stupid to let my guard down this soon? She’ll have to remember me eventually. But not now. Not ‘til she knows how I feel, how I’ve always felt.
We get looks from everyone we pass on the way. Hers are for having the nerve to show up back here after all these years. Mine for betraying the town. And the Hollisters. Because heaven forbid someone ruffle those precious Hollister feathers. Don’t care if she’s the town pariah. I’m a shit-ton bigger than I was back in the day, and I could take on just about anyone then. That’s another change. Back when she knew me, I was streamlined muscle. Running back muscle. Started gaining when I took over the bar. Put on twenty-five pounds of bulk because drunks can be unpredictable, and I couldn’t afford to hire enough bouncers just starting out. And I needed a certain number of bouncers to keep my liquor license. Let’s face it, a bar ain’t much good without a liquor license.
Still like the girl she always was, Elise don’t let those looks stop her from walking up to the window of the Whippy Dip to order. I knew that girl was still in there, despite how defeated the woman on the outside appears.
We order two Everything Burgers and a large plate of chili cheese fries to share. With so much of our worlds in flux since we were teens, it’s nice to see her still get excited over chili cheese fries and an Everything Burger. Of course, even that’s changed some. Instead of ordering her usual drink, she tries to order an unsweetened iced tea. Well, I don’t think so.
“Vanilla Coke.” I order over top of her. Now she really glares at me. Smooth move, again. Getting too excited. Showing my hand too early. “What?” I try to play it off. Because for a little thing, she kind of looks scary when she’s pissed off. And right now with me ordering her old favorite, she looks pissed right the hell off. “This is the Whippy Dip. Everyone drinks Vanilla Cokes. Make it two,” I tell the girl taking our order, even though I hadn’t planned on drinking one. My stupid mouth getting in the way again.
I was actually one of the few who didn’t like Vanilla Coke. Don’t matter they use the real vanilla syrup and mix them on the spot. But surely she’d remember the guy who didn’t like the vanilla. And Elise, it’s far too soon for you to remember.
We move to sit at one of the outdoor picnic tables. She sits across from me so we can talk while we eat. I watch her take a big bite of drippy burger.
She chews on it slowly, clearly lost in thought. “I used to spend a lot of time here with Logan and Beau Hollister. I mean, I guess, everybody. But that first year, Logan and Beau were my world. The way they took me in. I needed them. Especially after my parents’ divorce, which had gotten particularly nasty. Then I met those guys and decided to stay here with my dad. She didn’t take it so well. I’m not sure mom even really wanted me. I think she more just didn’t want my dad to have me.” She stops speaking to shake her head as if trying to shake away the unpleasant memory.
“Sorry.” Elise bites the tip of a fry. As she chews, she double-dips the end back in the cheese sauce. “That was a little heavy for lunch at the Whippy Dip conversation.”
“I think you get a pass. It ain’t like bein’ here’s easy for you.”
“No. I mean it’s hard knowing I don’t get to see my dad. That’s a regret I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. But this place holds a lot of good memories for me, too. Your bar, Logan used to sneak us in through the backdoor. Then he’d steal whatever bottle was closest to us behind the counter. He and I and few friends would party in the banquet room. Beau did too, until he went off to college. It wasn’t quite the same once he left. Still, this one time we were so drunk, and it wasn’t snowing, but icing out. We wouldn’t have made it home. I had the brilliant idea to call Beau to rescue us.” She giggles.
God I love hearing her laugh of any sort. Her giggle, well that shoots straight to my heart. I got the feeling she don’t do it near enough anymore. Seems like everything made her giggle back in the day. Now with that little burst of sound, her guards fall. Her guards fall letting me see that I’m right in deciding to pursue this with her. Knowing that happy girl is still inside just confirms it’s me who’s supposed to help her let go, to bring back that happy all the time. The woman, she’s still too important to me. Five years since I’ve been in the same room with her, and my heart gets that familiar squeeze. My mind continues to fill with my happy, pushing all the other shit out. I wasn’t man enough to fight for her then. Damn Hollisters. But I sure as hell am man enough now.
I want to hear the rest of her story. “Go on,” I prod. “You called Beau to come rescue you.”
Though instead of answering, she drops the lighthearted from a moment ago, replaced by a serious expression as she stares over my shoulder. Then just as quickly, she shakes her head again, to clear it like, and continues. “Yeah. And he did. He drove all the way from UK in an ice storm to pick us up.” Elise pauses long enough to sip from her straw.
“We had a secret parking spot only about a hundred feet from the bar,” she goes on after swallowing. “Logan and I had to walk it. The idiot fell, hitting his ear. It stayed black and blue for a good week. We were frozen icicles when we reached Beau. He had this old orange Chevy pickup. Rusted out fender, wheel wells and doors. Rust bucket, we called it. But that damn thing ran like a dream. Beau was always so good with his hands. Kept that engine purring like a contented baby kitten. It always surprised me that he opted for UK when I thought he’d be happier at one of the technical colleges learning how to build and fix expensive engines.
“Did you go to college, Mark?”
“For a while. Wasn’t really my scene. Old man Gallbraith who owned the bar decided to close it and retire at a time when I’d kinda lost my way. So I took my tuition money and bought it from him, cheap. He was a good man. Gave me the downhome discount.” Not lying again, I love that she’s interested in me, my life. Interested enough to ask questions.
“What about you? Where’d you go to college?”
“Well, I didn’t. I mean, I did and I didn’t. I—life got pretty hard after Logan and Beau and the town. I found it really hard to be around people for a long time, so I mostly stayed in my apartment and went to school online.
“I worked as a telemarketer for a time, which sucked, but I could do it from home, so I stayed with it until I found something else that allowed me to work from home. Set my own hours, and it paid much better.”
“So, what’d you do?”
Elise avoids looking at me, wiping her hands on the napkin and moving the remaining chili fries around on the plate with
her fork. “I don’t want to tell you,” she admits. Then takes another long sip of her Coke.
“C’mon, it can’t be that bad. It ain’t like you were a sex worker or somethin’.”
Right as the words leave my mouth, Elise chokes on her drink. Coughing up liquid. She grabs her napkin again as pop spurts from her mouth and nose. Poor girl, her eyes water.
I jump up to pat her back hard several times so she don’t die on me.
Eyes still watering, once she can catch a breath, she answers. “Phone sex operator.”
Sputterin,’ I choke, spittin’ out my pop, spraying the ground because I’m smart enough to twist my head so she don’t end up wearing my backwash.
“I’m sorry?” I finally cough out.
“You heard me just fine. Don’t make me repeat it, not around here. These people already have a skewed opinion of me.”
Right.
I don’t want shutting down Elise. I want laughing/giggling Elise back. “Okay, so tell me what happened after Beau picked you up.”
Her eyes light up again with her unspoken thank you.
“The Hollister boys—hey, do you see that?” she asks, staring over my shoulder again.
“See what?” I turn to look behind me turnin’ my head left and right, but I don’t see nothin’. “What am I lookin’ for?”
“I thought I saw—nothing. I’m just being paranoid. Anyway, as I was saying, I’m sure you know, they were big. Beau, a little more than Logan, though not by much. So they squeezed me in the middle of the two of them. Even being as little as I was, it was a tight fit. Beau had this dingy Navajo print seat cover. Between the pattern on the seats, being squished between two Hollister men and the full blasting heat blowing directly on me, because you should know the rust bucket only had on and off for heat. No turning up or down option. At any rate, all that coupled with my drunken stomach—”
“You puked.” I chuckle.
“No. Puke would suggest a normal amount. I erupted. Like, a high pressure geyser. All over the seat, the dash, Beau and his steering column, Logan, the floor.”
Lady Sings the Blues Page 2
