Whole Again (Hometown Hero's Book 1)

by Colleen S. Myers

  She ran up and pulled a lounge chair close to John’s. “Dish. Is she pretty? You didn’t mention this when I popped by last night to help you unpack. When did this happen? What is her name? What are her parents like? Is she from Pittsburgh? What does she like? Why didn’t you bring her to lunch? What does she—”

  He made a slowdown movement with his hands. “Mom, Mom, calm down now. It’s just a date.”

  “But you never go on dates. You were always so busy with the military and getting your degree. You’d pick up some of those horrible women at bars and see them for a while, but that is different than a date.”

  John covered his face with his hands. “Mom!”

  Mrs. J put her glass in front of her face. Mr. J picked up a towel and wiped off his face, covering his grin.

  Flick didn’t bother hiding his mirth. He laughed like a loon from the court. “Yeah, Mrs. L. Some of those women. I shudder in horror, man. I shudder in horror.”

  John flipped Flick off. “Hey, asswipe, go back to letting your daddy kick your ass at basketball.”

  Mrs. J pointed her finger at John. “Watch your language, young man.” Her finger went to Flick. “Both of you.”

  Flick grumbled and threw his hands up. “What did I do?”

  Mrs. J ignored him. “So tell us about the girl.”

  Flick grinned and wandered over while his dad resumed shooting hoops. “Yes, tell the moms about your date.”

  John’s cheeks heated. “Well, um, it’s with Vicki Masterson.”

  “Vicki Masterson! The rich girl that used to live around here? Isn’t she married?” his mother yelled, putting down her towel.

  The tea John had been drinking spewed from his mouth. “What?”

  “Now, moms. Vicki is divorced now. It was finalized six months ago,” Flick stated after pouring his own beverage and sitting down.

  John grabbed his mother’s towel and mopped up his mess. “I hadn’t even heard she was married. Who was it?”

  Flick fanned his shirt out. “That Watters dude.”

  John sat straight up. “What? That jackass from high school who—”

  “Dude,” Flick said.

  “Who what?” Both moms leaned forward, and even Flick’s dad stopped toweling off and his ears perked up.

  John waved his hand. “Never mind. You’re not shitting me with that?”

  “Nope. Word is he cheated on her and she caught him. And that was the end of that. She ended up with a tidy bit of Watters’s enterprise as a result. No prenup, and well, she apparently took pictures of the pretty tableau. They were screaming about “the incident” at dinner one evening downtown. It was quite the scandal.” Flick sipped his tea.

  “How is it that the moms don’t know this gossip, but you do, Flick?” John asked.

  Flick waved his hand. “Vicki and Sara used to be besties, man. Sara keeps up on all that stuff.”

  “Sara didn’t mention it to me last night!” John exclaimed. Why wouldn’t she mention an important detail like that? Though Vicki did shoot him down by text when she was there, so she probably didn’t think she had to, but still . . .

  Flick shrugged. “Well, I babysit Mina for her all the—”

  John stood and pointed at all of them. “And that! How come no one here told me that Sara was pregnant and had a baby? Brae is going to flip when he finds out!”

  “Brae? Why would Brae . . .” Mrs. L’s words tapered off as the picture clicked in her mind. “But she always denied Mina was his. She said that was why they broke up. That she cheated on him and got knocked up. She wasn’t proud of it, but she fessed up right away. We always thought it was a bit sad. But we understood . . .”

  Flick glared at John. “Not your secret to tell, jackass.”

  “Language.” Mrs. J intoned.

  Flick rolled his eyes at her. “Mom.”

  “Randolph.” She leaned forward and gave him the beady eyes. With her arms crossed on the table and her disapproving expression, she looked like the retired grade school teacher she was.

  Flick’s jaw gritted. “My name is Flick.”

  “Only when I am in a good mood, young man!” his mother asserted, and she smiled at them behind her tea.

  John grinned at his mom. She put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Fine.” Flick stalked inside, to change most likely. Sweat stains lined his shirt. His dad trailed after him.

  Flick had his own apartment, but he came by so much that he still kept a pile of clothes at his parents’ house even after being gone all those years at school. John did as well. Habit.

  John’s mom lived over the Johnsons’ garage and did their cooking and cleaning for rent. With those arrangements and John’s pay, she had been able to come out on top of the breast cancer that they’d found during his senior year of high school. Their insurance had sucked and had left them with huge debts after everything. Thank God for Flick and his family. Thank God for Brae. Thank God for Sara. Without family and friends, they wouldn’t have been able to make it. Just another statistic. He owed them more than he could ever repay. His eyes flickered around the table, taking in all their faces. His chest grew tight. He was a lucky guy.

  “So where are you going on this date of yours?” John’s mom grilled him after exchanging a glance with Mrs. J.

  John leaned back in his chair. “Well, I was thinking of taking her to the Hanger. She said drinks. I don’t really know of any ritzy places—”

  John’s mom scoffed. “The Hanger? That’s a bar. Not a date. Take her to Roy’s, that Hawaiian fusion place, or Ruth’s Chris maybe. I heard it’s all swanky in there.”

  John crossed his arms. “Mom, I don’t have that much cash to throw around.”

  Mrs. J scoffed this time. “But this time’s different. A lady needs to be pampered a bit. Listen to your mother. Take her someplace nice.”

  “I don’t have any suits or anything. The only one I have is for funerals and weddings. And I wore it yesterday. I don’t have anything else. I’m not a ritzy kind of guy. Workout clothes, uniforms. That’s all I have.”

  Mrs. J shook her head. “That is so sad, baby. But, hmm, Flick has a bunch of suits. For all his graduations, etc. You two are about the same size now, right? Plus, you are getting that job for your MBA. You’re going to need suits. We can take you shopping! But for now, Flick!”

  John tried. “But—”

  “No buts . . . Flick,” her voice rang out again.

  None of the moms ever listened.

  “What?” Flick’s voice filtered from inside the house.

  “Bring down some nice slacks and shirts for Johnnie,” she replied.

  “Aw, are we dressing him up for his date? How cute.” His smarmy tone was easily discernible.

  John’s teeth ground. “Flick, do not make me come up there.”

  “Oh, I am so scared. Why, I am practically shaking in fear. Fine. I will bring down suits in a little bit. Business casual all right, man?” he called back.

  “That would be perfect, Flick!” shouted John’s mother.

  Both moms turned to him with beaming smiles.

  Oy.

  His phone beeped, and he fumbled to get it out of his pocket. Saved by the text.

  Seven

  Vicki spent the afternoon talking men and protection—of course—with Joonie. The fact that her grandmother then gifted her with a box of ribbed condoms made the afternoon that much more surreal. Yet the time passed too quickly, and she still had hours to go before her date.

  How did one go about getting ready for the date of one’s childhood dreams? That was the question. She’d already discarded a slew of dresses and skirts, and the castoffs lined her bedroom in a frothy wave. One which her kitten was having a grand old time attacking.

  The Hanger was a small hole-in-the-wall bar. She didn’t even know what type of food they had, if they had any food at all. How did one dress for that?

  After fretting for what felt like an interminable length of time, she finally broke down an
d texted John.

  Are we still going to the Hanger tonight?

  Maybe.

  How should I dress?

  John replied immediately.

  Be your typical beautiful self.

  Aww.

  Sweet, but unhelpful. Should I wear jeans, sweats, a tank top, a dress, a gown, what? A girl has got to prepare.

  The phone dinged.

  Wear a nice dress.

  For . . . ?

  For a date.

  -_-

  &:) I like emojis, too.

  She snorted in laughter, her senses singing. Jerk. His words, while funny, did not help her in this situation. Plus, most of her dresses were for cocktail parties. She didn’t think they would be appropriate for going to a bar. She needed something more versatile. Hmm. Maybe she should buy something new for the occasion? That sounded like a plan. Shopping was never amiss. Maybe a matching pair of shoes, too. Stilettos . . .

  Vicki grabbed her purse and headed out the door. Her steps slowed when an old Camry pulled into the spot next to hers in the otherwise deserted parking lot. Sara Beaumont climbed out from the compact, and they contemplated each other over the dinged-up roof.

  For a second, Vicki saw Sara as a young girl—bright red, bushy hair, a bruise over her left eye from the bully who had shoved Vicki. Sara had screamed and run at him like a locomotive. It was brilliant, one of the best memories of her childhood.

  That, and John rescuing her from David’s over amorous advances senior year. Her only regret? That she didn’t stay away from the aforementioned jackass afterward.

  But the Sara before her now looked much different, less cocky, more confident and sleek. Her auburn hair was tamed into long waves around her face.

  Vicki raised her hand in a tentative wave. “Hi.”

  Sara inclined her head and waved back. “Hey, Vicki. So I heard you got pissed at John for having me over.”

  And that was Sara, straight to the point. Vicki’s stomach twisted. “I didn’t recognize you. You look beautiful—not that you don’t always look beautiful. I’m just saying. Anyway, so it’s great to see you.” Vicki shifted and leaned into the car for support.

  Sara blinked and ran a hand through her tresses. “Thanks. Good to see you, too. Where are you heading now?”

  “Well, I was going to hit the mall. I need a dress.”

  Sara’s lips twitched. “What’s the occasion? As if I need to ask.”

  “John and I have a date tonight.” Vicki smoothed her hands down her sides.

  “Where are you going?”

  Vicki pulled a face. “I think the Hangar, but he won’t tell me. He said wear a dress.”

  Sara rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that just like a man? Doesn’t he know that women need to know this stuff so they can get ready?”

  Ha. “Exactly!” Vicki observed Sara a moment longer and pushed her hair behind her ear. “Want to come with me?” As soon as the words left her mouth, Vicki wanted to bite them back. They weren’t exactly friends now, though they’d been close before. It would be nice to have a girlfriend to hang out with.

  Sara raised her eyebrows. “Me. You want to go to the mall? It feels like high school all over again.” She covered her heart with her hand. “But I was about to go visit John. I got some stuff for his new place.”

  “Oh, well, he’s at Flick’s. They had a barbecue, I think. I’m pretty sure he’s still there.”

  “Oh crap, yeah, they told me, and I completely forgot.” She tilted her head and looked at Vicki for a minute.

  A really tense sixty seconds followed. Do do do do do do do.

  “I would like to go shopping if you have the time,” Vicki said.

  Sara shrugged. “Well, okay then. I guess. I hate shopping, but I do need a dress for my own date tonight.”

  Vicki’s eyebrows flew up. “What about you and Brae?”

  “That’s been over for years now. Why don’t we take my car?” Sara gripped her keys until her knuckles turned white and then yanked open her car door.

  “Okay.” Vicki climbed into the car next to Sara and clicked her seat belt.

  Sara didn’t say anything as they backed out of the parking lot.

  Vicki wrestled with what to say. The mention of Brae had not gone over well. “I like what you did with your hair.” Now that Sara had let her natural hair color come out and put on some weight, well, with those curves, she was stunning.

  “Uh, thanks.”

  “It looks great. Maybe we could play up the color with some dark browns, blues, and add some figure-hugging jersey.” She was babbling. God. But shopping would be good. And it was the perfect distraction. This way Vicki wouldn’t be bald, having pulled her hair out while she waited for her date this evening.

  Sara blinked and shifted in her seat. “Okay.”

  Vicki’s grin grew wider. “Relax. I don’t bite. This will be fun. We can hit Saks. There was something there I saw the other week that would look perfect on you.”

  “I don’t know about that. That place is pretty expensive.” Sara’s eyes darted to Vicki’s clothing and then back at her beat-up jeans.

  It had been decades since they’d last hung out, but even Vicki knew better than to offer to pay. “Well, then how about Kohl’s? That’s my favorite.”

  “Um.”

  “Trust me.” Vicki’s smile gleamed in the afternoon sun.

  “Okay.”

  Once they reached the store, Vicki set a rampaging pace. “So, wardrobe basics. You have a kick-ass figure, so we need to play that up. That means tight T-shirts, a crisp blazer, nice slacks. Afterward, we will need to tidy up the haircut, but the color is fabulous.”

  Sara retreated and bumped into the nearest sales rack. It toppled with a crash, earning a glare from the girl at the counter.

  Vicki called out a merry, “Sorry about that,” then turned back to Sara. “Don’t be nervous. I know fashion. It was the one thing my mother considered essential to my education.” Her dry tone said it all. “So all women need a basic black trouser, a good white shirt, and tank. Plain sexy black heels complete the outfit, but not too high so those suckers can go with anything.” Vicki clapped her hands. “This is going to be fun!”

  “Yeah, sure.” Sara tugged her frayed T-shirt down as Vicki started to hold up clothes against her. She grabbed Vicki’s wrist.

  Vicki stopped and looked at her. “What?”

  “Why are you going out with John? He’s not really your type, now is he?”

  A flush stained Vicki’s cheeks, and she yanked her arm away. “How do you know?”

  “Well, look at David. John and David couldn’t be more different.”

  “Maybe that’s why I like him. Why I’ve always liked him.” Why I panted after him like a poodle all through high school.

  Sara shrugged. “Okay, fine.” She idly picked a shirt off one of the nearby racks. The tan color wouldn’t do a thing for her with her skin.

  Vicki snatched the shirt out of Sara’s hand and added, “That’s not really the problem though, is it? You don’t think I’m good enough for John, do you?”

  “It isn’t that. I don’t want to see my friend hurt.”

  Vicki put her hands on her hips. “Why would I hurt him? How could I hurt him?”

  With a sigh, Sara turned to face her. “By leading him on. He’s had the hots for you forever.”

  Say what? A smile teased her lips. “Well, good, because it’s mutual.”

  “You could have fooled me.” Sara snorted and glanced to her right.

  Oh no, she didn’t. Vicki’s stomach churned, and her finger flew and poked Sara on the chest. “I fooled all of you, and you know how? Because no one freaking cared, that’s how. My mother certainly didn’t. No one at school did. You didn’t! I was practically invisible. As long as I did what my mom said, batted my eyelashes, and dressed pretty, things went okay. But I was miserable. And all I ever heard was how I had the perfect life. Well, there is no perfect life. Everyone has trials. Everyone needs som
eone. And when I was young, that person was you. And you let me down. So don’t give me any horsesh . . . pucky.”

  Sara glanced around. “What do you mean by that, princess? You were the one who didn’t want to be friends anymore. Not me.”

  “Bull crap. I wasn’t the one who stopped coming to see you. You were the one who ended our friendship. And you know what is funny, even with that, I always thought you were still my friend. But I guess I was wrong. I was never good enough for precious Sara and her little crew.” Vicki strode to the front of the store, passing the home department.

  Sara trailed after her. “Shut up, you drama queen.”

  Vicki turned and grabbed a square Hello Kitty pillow off a nearby display and whaled Sara with it. “You shut up.”

  Sara’s head jerked back, then her eyes narrowed. With a growl, she commanded her own Scooby-Doo pillow and whapped Vicki upside the head. “You spoiled witch.”

  Oh, no, she didn’t. “You reformed Goth nightmare.” Vicki threw the pillow in a spiral at her face, and Sara blocked with an upraised forearm.

  Sara swung her arm in an arc, aiming for the chest. “Take that.”

  Vicki darted down the aisle and grabbed another generic white pillow. “For such a brawny girl, I expected better hits.”

  Sara shrieked and wound up for her next hit.

  A salesclerk in a snappy black uniform ran toward them. “Ladies, please. You need to stop this now.”

  Both women glanced at the clerk and rolled their eyes.

  “Why did you bring me here? So you could take shots at me?” Sara shouted. She slammed Vicki upside the head onto a nearby bed.

  Vicki scrambled up. “No, you crazy cow, I brought you here because I wanted a friend. A real one. Not one of those fakers like at school.”

  Sara stopped a second and pushed back her hair. “Really?”

  “Yes,” Vicki growled. She landed a solid hit to Sara’s face, causing the pillow to rip. Feathers flew around then in a downy wave just as two burly security guards walked up, holding Tasers.