by Jean Oram
Which meant Blowtorch was going to end their friendship or at least, severely cripple it.
And Mandy didn’t like that one little bit.
She turned to Blowtorch, forcing herself play nice. “His birthday. I remembered his birthday.”
Blowtorch shot Frankie a surprised look and Mandy felt a jolt of renewed life. “It’s today,” she added helpfully.
“Oh.” Blowtorch seemed to shrink slightly and Mandy felt a pang of remorse. She knew how it felt to be the one on the outside. To be the girl who wasn’t quite as close and important to the man in her life as she had hoped or been led to believe. And how much it sucked to be shown that by another woman.
“Don’t worry,” Mandy said lightly. “He’s never made a big deal about it. He’s weird that way.” She gave Blowtorch an understanding smile, and moved to the door and turned to Frankie. “Are you doing anything special?”
He’d always made sure he was single for his birthday, as he hated the hoopla as well as the obligatory return fuss over his girlfriend’s ‘big day.’ So it wasn’t so hard to believe he wouldn’t have told a new girlfriend it was his birthday but it did seem odd that she didn’t know.
“The usual,” Frankie replied. “Supper with my parents.”
She shot a glance at Blowtorch who was standing with her legs apart as though she was preparing to wrestle a greased pig to the ground. The girl might have a slight build, but Mandy had no doubt the girl could use physics to her advantage.
Mandy forced a smile and a light voice. “Great. Have a good birthday.”
She shook her head at her lousy timing as she walked out. Why was she ready to say yes to Frankie now? Why couldn’t it have been a few months ago? Things had flipped so quickly.
She wished she could get in a time machine and give her old self a severe shake. It must have just about killed Frankie being on the outside end of things for so many years because it sucked. Sucked hard.
She froze as Frankie called after her, “Talk to your brother.” He leaned out the back room. “He’s been a real jerk since you let him go. Nobody’s been able to hold him.”
“What do you mean?” She hadn’t seen Ethan in what felt like months.
“You’re the only one, Mandy.” He met her eyes with a strange sadness and repeated softly, “You’re the one.”
Mandy pasted a smile on her face and tried not to sweat or look guilty as she stopped in front of the hardware store. Her movements felt about as natural as Tin Man’s in The Wizard of Oz.
Frankie’s words had felt like a message.
She bit her bottom lip, doubting her plan. But how much time did she have? Without a doubt Frankie would be taking Blowtorch--what was her real name anyway?--home tonight to celebrate his birthday with his parents. She was quickly replacing Mandy which meant it was time for the grand gesture, no matter the consequences. If she wanted his love, she was going to have to show him in a way he’d understand exactly how serious she was.
Her plan was only a little bit illegal and nothing would probably even happen if she did manage to get caught. Straightening, she entered the hardware store and marched to the paint section. A girl could buy paint--especially a business-owning (well, sorta) gal such as herself--without it being an indicator of some evil plan about to be hatched. Right?
She nodded to herself and carried on.
She grabbed the closest spray can and turned to go pay for it.
Halfway to the register, she paused. How much would it cover? She read the back of the canister. Square footage certainly wasn’t helpful. She had no idea how much area she would be covering. She’d better get two cans, just in case. She pivoted on her heel to double back to the shelf and nearly smacked into her mother. Immediately, her face flushed and she hid the paint behind her back before mentally taking the boots to herself for acting like an idiot.
“Mandy,” her mother said quietly. “What have you got there?”
“A…a…” She pulled the can around in front of her and tried to act sheepish. “A surprise.”
Her mom raised her eyebrows. “Oh!” She clasped her hands together after a second. “Are you going to fix my car?”
Mandy gave her mother a look. Of course she wasn’t going to fix her red fender with spray paint that was--she checked the can--pink. She smiled and gave her mom a quick hug. “Happy Mother’s Day.”
“You’ve got the wrong color and Mother’s Day was months ago.” Her mom flicked her nails along the various spray cans until she got close to her Impala’s color. “How do we tell if it’s a match?”
Mandy put the cans back on the shelf and sighed. “You know what? I should talk to Frankie about this.”
“Good idea. He’s such a smart boy about these things. He was on television and everything.”
“Uh, assuming he has the time,” Mandy said, shuffling her feet. “He has to finish the episode soon.”
Her mother patted Mandy’s hand and gave her head a little shake. “You know what?”
“What?” Mandy asked, her eyes on the paint behind her mother. She needed paint. Without paint, there was no plan. No Frankie.
“You take after my mother. Everyone says you take after me, but that’s just our hair. You’re so much stronger. You aren’t afraid to speak up and get what you want.” She gave Mandy’s hand a squeeze, looking at her with something she hadn’t seen before: pride. “So strong,” she mused. “And bold like I never was.” She gave a light laugh of astonishment, as if she couldn’t quite believe Mandy was her progeny. “You astound me. Just look at you. All grown up and independent and making your place in the world.” She held Mandy’s hands out at her sides as if they were about to engage in a round of Ring Around the Rosie and looked Mandy up and down. “Always so immaculately dressed. You are so much more than a small town girl. I’m so proud of you, finally seeing that in yourself and making your world open up in front of you.”
Mandy stared at her mother for a long moment before managing to say, “Thanks.”
“I’ve never wanted to interfere, Mandy. You get that enough from your father’s wife…”
Her mother lowered her voice and glanced around, checking for eavesdroppers. She stepped closer to Mandy, which would surely only encourage someone to listen in. “Now, what are you going to do about Frankie?”
“What do you mean?” Mandy asked, leaning closer despite herself.
“You two would be good together. Terrific, even!” her mom exclaimed, tossing her hands in the air. “You two need to get over whatever it is you need to get over and--”
Mandy put out a hand to stop her mother from continuing. She shook her head.
“Oh.” Her mother nodded slowly. “I see.”
Mandy crossed her arms and watched the sunlight stream through the store’s front door, clearly a sign that she should step toward the light--and away from this conversation.
Her mother placed two cans of black spray paint in Mandy’s hands. “Now, go buy your paint.” She turned and trundled down the aisle, trilling a hello to someone in the electrical aisle. Mandy stared at the cans of paint, mouth open.
So much for being stealthy.
The teenager at the cash register, Trey, checked the labels and frowned. “What do you need spray paint for? Hasn’t all the painting been done by those city folks?”
Mandy tried to focus on his lips. Maybe she’d understand what he was saying if she could read his lips.
“Your restaurant? Whatcha painting?” He took her money, flipping the bills over and lining them up so they all faced the same way.
“Oh!” She drew in a quick breath, twigging on. “Right! Um, just some projects.” She shot him a wink, trying to distract him, but found she just couldn’t do it. That Mandy was gone.
“I see.” He shot her a grin, his crooked front tooth jumping out at her. “Oh, I forgot to ask. You wanna buy an M?”
“An M?” What was this? Wheel of Fortune?
“Yeah. Oh.” He froze, staring at her as though h
e’d just told the guest of honor about her surprise party.
“What are they for?”
“Well,” Trey shifted uncomfortably, his cheeks pink. “Not sure I was supposed to tell you, but I guess maybe you know? M? For Mandy?”
She shot him an uncomprehending look.
“For your restaurant. You need money, right?”
She nodded slowly, feeling self-conscious and failure-ific.
“So like, everyone’s raising money for you. You buy an M.” He held up a bright pink paper M from a stack behind the register. “We’re seeing how many Ms we can add to ‘Mandy’s.’ ”
“What?” She gave an amused laugh.
“Didn’t you see it in the window?”
She turned, facing the street. “Oh. My. Blueberry Springs.” They were everywhere. Bright Ms of a zillion different colors raced in a line across the hardware store window, making it say MMMMMMMMMMandy’s. She stepped closer to the glass. All the shops on Main--except hers--had lines of bright, colorful Ms. She blinked back tears, overcome.
“A dollar an M. It’s so those who don’t have twenty-five bucks can still show their support. Once we get twenty-five Ms, we buy one of those micro loan things. And when you pay it back we’re gonna put the money toward a new roof for the arena. We started this morning. But others started yesterday. We’re trying to get your website’s thermometer to move faster. You’re running out of time, you know.”
She nodded absently and turned to the window again. All these Ms in less than 48 hours? Wow. Just wow, Blueberry Springs.
She needed to sit down. She needed to freak out. She needed to cry. She needed to laugh. She needed to hug everyone she saw.
She flung herself onto Trey and gave him a tight squeeze.
“I bought ten,” he said in a squeezed out voice. “I can buy more if you want. It’s my comic book money, but I have lots of comics already.”
“I love you, Trey!”
“I thought you loved Frankie?” he said.
“Him, too, Trey. Him, too.”
18
Gripping the cold metal hand rails, a can of spray paint tucked down the back of her turtleneck, Mandy crept up the ladder and into the night. Part way up, she had to pause to catch her breath and allow the dizziness to wane. Thank goodness it was dark enough that she couldn’t see the full depth of her stupidity, nor the full height of the water tower.
She began climbing again, letting out a crazed laugh. How on earth was she going to open a restaurant from jail? Because surely that’s where she’d be when she got smacked with a fine she wouldn’t be able to pay. Her steps faltered. She should climb back down, save Frankie’s building and then worry about making a gesture he’d understand--a gesture that would speak to the daredevil romantic inside him.
But her feet began climbing again, propelled by the need to make a statement now. Before it was truly too late.
She reached the top of the ladder, her arms shaking with adrenaline. On the narrow walkway that went halfway around the tower’s tank, she backed herself against its wall, palms against the freezing metal for support. The slim railing that would likely fail today’s safety laws hadn’t prevented Frankie from falling nearly a decade ago; how would it save her if she needed it? Careful not to look down, she sidestepped into the brisk wind that whipped around the curve of the tower. The wind pushed the clouds away from its cover over the moon and it shone down on her, lighting her way as she eased toward the faded black M-A-N Frankie had sprayed on the light blue tower.
She was going to finish what he’d started all those years ago and then some. As she glanced at the writing over her shoulder, she realized she was going to have to toss her perfectionist streak over the railing. Not having the reach Frankie had, half her name would be around a foot shorter than the other half.
With fear scraping at her she shook the spray can, the marble inside jangling through the silent mountain air. She shook it fast and hard and well below the minute long recommendation, wishing there was a quieter way to get the business done. She pivoted on her foot and aimed the spray nozzle at the space after N and committed her first felony.
Slowly, she sprayed the letters D and Y, then sidestepped to her right to add a heart, which she had to admit looked pretty good despite the shakiness at its top from a combination of nerves and having to reach so high. She shook her hand to work out the cramp and set to work again.
F-R-A-N
She completed the downward stroke of the K, then reached up to begin the slanted arm down to its middle when a bright light splashed across her work, making her draw an involuntary horizontal line as she jerked in surprise.
She spun around in the tight space and her left foot lost its traction on the girding and shot out into nothing, her ribs slamming against the metal railing. She’d never understood how Frankie had missed the railing and plummeted all those years ago, but now she got it. Scrambling like a frightened cat on ice, she spun onto her front and clawed her way back to the wall, breathing hard at her near miss.
“Take it easy, Mandy,” called a voice.
Mandy, knees drawn against her chest, glanced up at her unfinished declaration. There was no way she was leaving it this way. She pushed against the tower, sending herself to her feet. Quickly, she corrected the messed up K and added a quick down stroke for an I, ignoring Scott, who was not only her first kiss but also the local police, bellowing for her to stop.
Four more final brush strokes to create an E and she shakily lowered the can. Scott had grown silent despite his police searchlight still being aimed on her. Checking her surroundings, she realized she was at the end of the walkway, leaning far over the railing, her footing precarious, as she’d completed the final letters. She skittered backward, gasping. She could have gone over.
“Mandy, come down from there,” said Scott in a low voice that made him sound weary beyond his years. “And next time, when I ask you to stop, please do so.”
She shielded her eyes, trying to make her way across the walkway, but found her footsteps less than confident. She backed against the tower and slid her way over a few more steps toward the ladder. “Turn off your light!”
“No can do, Mandy. You’re likely to take off when your feet hit the ground. Plus, I don’t want you falling. This is stupid, Mandy. Stupid.”
“I can’t see anything. You’re blinding me.”
The light edged down a few feet so it stopped blinding her, leaving looming shadows instead. Her hands, splayed across the tower, felt sticky. She lifted one. Was she bleeding?
She groaned and leaned her head back against the tower. Wet paint. Her hair, dangling down her back, would be ruined.
Turning, she carefully made her way down the ladder, stepping onto the roof of her truck where the ladder ended several feet above ground for safety reasons.
This was it. The end.
As her feet hit the grass with a muffled thud the spotlight, having followed her the whole way, remained focused on her truck as Scott clamped a hand on her arm. Anger made his voice tremble as he scolded her. “That was really stupid.”
Mandy tried to shrug out of his tight grip.
“I’ve been waiting since you bought the paint. I knew you were going to do this, and I can’t believe I almost missed you.” He shrugged at her questioning look as to why he hadn’t been there sooner and he admitted, “Mom’s meatloaf night.”
She refrained from saying “I know” and, instead, apologized. “Can you overlook my misdemeanor in the name of love?”
He let out a bark of laughter. “Nice penmanship, and nice declaration, but no.” He guided her to his police truck, holding out a hand for her spray can.
Handing it over, Mandy reminded herself that at least she’d managed to finish what Frankie had started.
Mandy studied her most serious business suit in the green room mirror. Funny how becoming a criminal suddenly made her business goals that much more intriguing to the press. But on the bright side, she’d be doing the te
levision interview in her own attire rather than a prison jumpsuit seeing as Judge Radcliff had only sentenced her to a whack of community service. She smoothed her imitation Chanel jacket and skirt reminding herself that barfing or passing out weren’t an option today.
An assistant with more piercings than a tribal warrior mumbled tips and rules at Mandy as he led her to the studio. He set her in front of hot, bright lights, across from newscaster Russell Peaks, the boyfriend of Blueberry Springs’s own Amber Thompson.
He grinned at her and perked an eyebrow. “Ready to go?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice. She took a big swallow of water from the glass beside her and coughed heartily as it went down the wrong way.
Drowning in studio, live at five!
A man near the cameras made hand signals and just like that, they were on the air with Russell speaking fluidly and her trying to swallow her coughing fit. “We have Mandy Mattson here in the studio with us today, recently arrested for proclaiming her unrequited love for her childhood crush by trespassing and committing vandalism.”
The camera moved to Mandy and she felt every single one of her body’s two-hundred-and-six bones bear the tension of her seizing muscles. When he put it that way...
“Why not simply send a card?” he asked with a smooth smile.
She stared at the cameras as they focused in. Was she really ready to reveal everything publicly? How could she even consider putting herself back in front of cameras after the way the editors for Frankie’s show had portrayed her?
What would Frankie think of her being here? She was coming off as desperate--again.
No, Frankie and her love wasn’t why she was here. The water tower story was just the hook.
“I did send a card,” she replied finally. “It was just a little larger than average and on town property.”
