A Year of You

by A. D. Roland

  In the process of scooting the chair closer, she bumped the table and jostled the water glasses. Justine and McKendrick both shot her irritated glances.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  A waiter bustled over and recited a long list of mumbo-jumbo. It took Mattie a second to figure out it was another wine list. The McKendricks and even West ordered, all using flawless accents. The waiter turned expectantly to Mattie.

  Her mouth went dry. She didn’t know anything about wine, other than the cheap grocery-store stuff she bought once in while. “Um—uh—”

  The waiter’s eyebrow twitched slightly. Smug bastard, Mattie thought. West saved her by ordering for her. “Way to go, Borat,” Emeline said.

  “Bite me,” Mattie replied.

  McKendrick cleared his throat. “Girls, please. Mattie, don’t embarrass me.”

  “Sorry,” she said again. Having to spend too much time with this family was going to get real old, real fast.

  The wine arrived. Serving it was a process that quite possibly could have sent Mattie into an anxiety attack, had she not had West sitting next to her, quietly coaching her on the right way to drink it so she wouldn’t look like a total idiot.

  Justine sat on Mattie’s right. She turned toward her and gave her a weak, insincere smile. “So, Matilyn, how has your first day as a McKendrick been?”

  “Oh, um, wonderful, Justine. It’s great to be here.”

  McKendrick leaned back in his chair, wine held in one hand, reminding Mattie of an insane brooding tyrant. “Just realize that everything isn’t final yet. You aren’t the first woman to claim to be my missing daughter.”

  “I understand that. Ruth Ellen told me as much.”

  “Grandmother thinks she sees Elaine in dreams,” Emeline scoffed. “She’s always begging me to go dig up West’s orange grove.”

  Mattie forced out a laugh along with everyone else, who found it to be the funniest thing in the world. On her left, West pushed out a single half-hearted chuckle and busied himself with his phone until they were done laughing.

  File that one away, Mattie thought. West didn’t hold Ruth Ellen in contempt like her actual family did.

  Mattie’s heart flip-flopped when she saw the waiter approaching again. She hadn’t had a chance to look at the menu, although she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to understand it anyway.

  Once again, the waiter spoke in French, detailing the specials of the day with a passion in his voice that vaguely made Mattie feel like she should be aroused. Emeline placed her order. A heartbeat later she excused herself. She hurried to a table across the room and fell into the more-than-friendly embrace of another guy.

  Scandalized, Mattie wondered why West was letting her do it before she realized he had his back to that table. He’d even adjusted his chair when he sat down so his back was squarely to that table.

  Why had he done that?

  Emeline sat down at the other table, leaning all over the other guy. The girl sitting across from them had an unhappy expression on her Barbie-like face.

  West leaned over and whispered, “Chicken, fish, or steak?” Relieved, Mattie sighed. “Chicken. As normal as possible.” He bit back a smile and nodded. It floored her when he spoke French back to the waiter, pointing at the menu, gestured toward her, and back to the menu. When the waiter moved on to take Justine’s order, Mattie poked West in the leg, subtly so she wouldn’t draw attention to herself.

  “You don’t seem like the type to speak French,” she said softly.

  “I’m a man of many talents,” he replied. “And spending most of my life around this family has forced me to learn certain things.”

  McKendrick and Justine made small talk until the first course arrived. Emeline reappeared. Mattie noticed his slight scowl, and her heart went out to the guy. Mattie unrolled her napkin and managed to knock one of the many spoons lined up beside her plate to the plush carpeting.

  Emeline giggled and made some inane comment that made Mattie want to smack her. She wasn’t sure whether she should leave the spoon or pick it up. She wasn’t sure what she would do with it once she picked it up, but she didn’t want to look uncouth by leaving it lying there. She decided to compromise and move it under her chair.

  As she leaned down to move it over, the table cloth shifted and she saw Justine’s foot rubbing her brother’s ankle, all the way above his sock. Her hand was on his thigh.

  Eww. Oh man. Mattie forgot the spoon and sat up straight, trying her best not to look at Justine, who sat prim and proper, like nothing at all even slightly disgusting was going on under the table.

  West gave her a funny look. “You all right? You look a little pale.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, just sat up too fast.” After the main course was finished and cleared, McKendrick steepled his hands on the table top.

  “Now, Matilyn. As I said, you aren’t the first woman to claim to be Elaine. Most of them I know right away cannot be Elaine. You, on the other hand, bear a striking resemblance to both my wife and my mother-in-law in her younger years.”

  West shifted in his seat and narrowed his eyes at her, studying her. Mattie stuck her tongue out at him. He stifled a laugh and rolled his eyes at her.

  McKendrick cleared his throat again. Reluctantly, Mattie broke eye contact with West and turned her attention back to the other man.

  “The results of the DNA tests should be in within a day or so, and my private investigators will be researching your background. If you’ve got anything to hide or that you don’t want brought to light, I suggest you reveal it now.”

  “I have nothing to hide, Mr. McKendrick.”

  “We’ll see. If you do prove to be my daughter, you’ll be awarded three different trust funds from my mother-in-law and her late husband. There are stipulations that must be met before you can have any of them, but I don’t believe any of them will be an issue for you. They total over seventeen million dollars.” The restaurant dipped to the side and got really dark all of a sudden. Pin pricks of light flashed in front of her eyes.

  No, that’s the chandelier over the table. Why am I looking up at it? West’s face appeared over hers, his eyes wide with concern. Was that his arm under her head?

  Crap, she was in his lap! Mortified, she struggled upright. The entire restaurant was watching her, staring. The waiters gathered by the low wall jut watching. Good thing I wasn’t choking to death. The owner shoved through the bunch. McKendrick was on his feet, mouth open like he was about to yell for help.

  “Mattie, are you all right?” West asked, helping her back into her seat.

  “I—yeah. I just got lightheaded there for a second. I’m good.”

  West handed her a water goblet. It wobbled in her hand, and a few drops splashed out onto her lap. West closed his hand over hers and helped steady it all the way to her lips.

  “O-M-G, I swear,” Emeline said. “We just need to start calling you Borat.”

  Mattie groaned. “Lay off me for a little while. And calling me Borat makes no sense whatsoever. If you’re going to use pop culture to humiliate me, at least find a character that matches the situation, Regina.” There was no way Em would understand the Mean Girls reference.

  Hmm. Maybe she did. Emeline sat back in her seat, flashing wounded, reproaching eyes at her father.

  “Why don’t I take you to the ladies’ room so you can freshen up,” Justine said, breaking the tension. Mattie nodded in agreement even though she didn’t want to leave the warm circle of West’s arms.

  The fact that he cared enough to help her made her feel hot and woozy inside. It had been a long time since anyone had shown her any consideration.

  He helped her to her feet, earning a sharp glare from Emeline. The haughty bitch stared at him with a petulant expression on her face until he shrugged in frustration and demanded, “What?”

  With Justine hovering beside her, Mattie hobbled on her too-high heels to the ornate restroom. She didn’t care about her runny mascara as she splashed
cold water on her cheeks and forehead.

  “Brant seems taken with you,” Justine said. The line of lights over the mirrors was too bright. The play of highs and lows on her chiseled face made the woman into something sinister.

  Mattie began to feel halfway human. “He’s a nice guy.”

  “Emeline deserves better. Much better. He’s a gardener, for heaven’s sake.” Justine shook her head and adjusted a strand of hair that had come out of the perfect French twist on the back of her head.

  “He’s a really nice guy,” Mattie repeated. ”He seems honest and hardworking. I don’t think anybody could ask for anyone better than that.”

  “You’re more suited to him,” her aunt said, narrowing her eyes. “Yes, much more suited.” “I—okay.” Mattie wasn’t sure if it was an insult or just a badly-phrased statement. Cold, hard hands grabbed her shoulders, and she nearly lost her balance as she tried to twist around as fast as the woman was turning her. Justine’s blazing eyes startled her, and a tendril of fear and unease crept to her heart.

  “Do you honestly think yourself to be Elaine McKendrick?” Justine hissed, staring into Mattie’s face. “Do you? Do you know how many other liars and con artists have tried to get money from this family? I will not allow it again.”

  “Justine, I am Ruth Ellen’s granddaughter,” Mattie said, extracting herself from Justine’s grip. “I have nothing to hide.”

  “Just remember, little girl lost, that this family guards its secrets very well. Blood or not, you would be better off going home.”

  Mattie sighed and pulled a paper towel out of the shiny chrome holder. She dampened it, blotted at the dark arcs under her eyes. The action kept her hands from shaking. “Justine, I’m here because Ruth Ellen asked me to come. For now, this is home.”

  ***

  Blindingly loud hip-hop music saturated the air of the club. Stuck together at the back of Emeline’s posse, Mattie glanced at West and raised her eyebrows. She felt self-conscious in her flirty dress, but at the same time, she felt good. More than once she’d caught West gazing at her. His expressions were unreadable, other than the usual suspicious glaze over his eyes every once in a while.

  Mattie assumed she’d passed some sort of test when she survived the dinner two nights earlier. West spent more time talking to her, less time trying to make her slip up in her story. “Want a drink?” West hollered into her ear. She could barely hear him over the music pumping from what seemed like the very walls.

  “I don’t drink very often!” she shouted back.

  “Coke, then?”

  “Yeah!” He squeezed through the throbbing crowd. Mattie looked around for Emeline and her friends. “Of course,” she muttered to herself as she searched for a safe place to stand out of the way of the gyrating bodies crushing against her. “They drag me out here and dump me.” Nobody had really wanted her to come along. Since the dinner, Em had ceased all efforts at friendship. She’d seen it in Emeline’s friends’ eyes and in the way they whispered to themselves, glancing at her. Text messages zapped back and forth between the women on the short drive from Daytona to Orlando.

  A hand clamped on her upper arm. Mattie gasped and jerked away. Being grabbed suddenly brought back terrible claustrophobic memories of K.

  The heat of dancing bodies rolled over her. The music was too loud and ate away at her sanity. The couples bumping and grinding all around her clutched at her with sharp fingers and glared at her with red-hot eyes.

  If she didn’t get out soon, she would lose her mind!

  She fought her way through the stream of people pouring in. She waved away the burly guy stamping hands and burst into the cool night air.

  “Hey, Mattie.” West squeezed out the exit. He looked worried. Honestly worried. It made her feel warm inside. “You all right?”

  “Yeah.” She gestured back to the club. Music pulsed through the pores in the brick walls. “That’s just really not my thing at all.”

  “Mine neither.” He looked delicious, in his leather jacket, jeans, and vintage-wash T-shirt. She gave him a cockeyed glance.

  “Then why did you come?”

  “Emeline can get a little crazy. I have to keep an eye on her.”

  “Really. That’s gotta suck.”

  He shrugged. “So, what is your thing?”

  “Not that. Back home, a lot of my friends were in bands, so I just sort of followed them around to different venues.”

  “Rock?” “Yeah. Alternative, metal, anything but pop and that mess.” She pointed at the club. He snapped his fingers, his eyes brightening. “I got an idea. Come on.” He grabbed her hand and hurried toward the parking garage.

  “What about Emeline and her friends?”

  “They’ll text me when they’re done. They’ll be there all night.”

  “You don’t worry about what your girl’s doing in there?” He stopped and glanced back at her. “I trust Em.”

  Surprised, Mattie said, “Then why do you follow her to the clubs?” Surprised, she clapped a hand over her mouth. His annoyed glare cut through her. “Yes, really. She wouldn’t hurt me.”

  She kept her mouth shut about the guy on the phone earlier that day, and Em’s hushed, giggling conversation. “That’s good. I’d hate to see you hurt.” His gaze softened. Mattie broke away from his warm-summer-sky-colored stare. “So where are we going?”

  “Music store. They always have a band or open mic night or something on Friday nights. Friend of mine owns the place.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “It is.”

  Back in the Navigator, Mattie grabbed her ragged denim/sweatshirt half-jacket hoodie that Emeline had forbidden her to wear. The amount of cleavage she bared had her nervous. One wrong move and her wardrobe would malfunction tragically. She buttoned the bottom two buttons.

  West fiddled with the radio. He found a hard rock station and, after getting an approving nod from Mattie, turned the volume up.

  Mattie sighed and settled into the cushy seat. The tension eked out of her muscles slowly. She felt good around West. Even though he didn’t believe she was who she said she was for an instant, he still treated her like a friend. He was good at ignoring the elephant in the room. If she didn’t chatter like a magpie, it was cool with him. Being able to just sit and chill and listen to music made her night perfect. She indulged in a little fantasy where she wasn’t trying to scam money from a sick woman, and he wasn’t ‘almost engaged’ to her half-sister.

  He turned the radio down and passed her his cell phone. “Hey, text Em and tell her we’re going to Joe’s.”

  She took his sleek smart phone and tapped the screen until she stumbled over the text message function. She tapped out a quick message to Emeline.

  The reply came back almost automatically. “Wtvr”

  “W-T-V-R?” Mattie asked.

  “Whatever,” West clarified. “She doesn’t care. She’s too busy dancing and drinking.” He parked in a tiny cramped parking lot next to an unobtrusive brick building in an old neighborhood. “Here we go.” Instead of going to the front door, he took her around back to a steel door. He pounded on it with the flat of his fist.

  While they waited, Mattie asked, “Ever bring Em here?”

  “God, no. Well, I did once, and she’s still never forgiven me for it.”

  Mattie laughed. The door creaked open. West greeted the skinny guy who stepped out of the shadows. “Yo, man,” the guy said. “Who’s this?” He grinned and winked. “Please tell me you’ve upgraded from that—”

  “This is Em’s sister, Mattie.”

  The grin faded from the skinny guy’s face. “Not another one, man.”

  The familiar strains of music registered in Mattie’s mind. “Is that Hinder? I love that song.”

  “She’s cool, man. I wouldn’t bring her if she wasn’t.”

  “You pull another stunt like you did with that one chick, Joe won’t ever let you back.”

  “Yeah, I know. Trust me. Mattie’ll be up th
ere headbanging next to Georgia if you give her half a chance.” Mattie snorted with laughter.

  “All right, West. Watch her though.” The skinny guy took out a cigarette and stepped outside.

  “Yeah.” West took her arm and walked her down the narrow stairs. He leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Joe doesn’t have any licenses for this place, so he freaks out about new people. Emeline nearly brought the place down around their ears.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yeah.”

  To Mattie’s surprise, the basement was much bigger than she thought. It was dim and packed with people, but it was comfortable. From a stage at the far end, a cover band pumped out a mangled version of Papa Roach’s “Last Resort.” West winced. “Joe can get some really awesome bands sometimes. Other times...he only lets them up because he either owes them something or they’re friends.”

  “Which is that?” Mattie pointed toward the band. West scooted his chair closer so he could hear her.

  “That’s his brother.”

  “Oh.”

  “He sucks.”

  “Yep.”

  “The band’s not too bad. I think it might just be the song they’re trying to do.”

  “At least it’s not Metallica.”

  “You got a problem with Metallica?”

  Mattie laughed. “No, just cover bands who insist on doing “Enter Sandman”.” They stood in silence for a minute before West spotted an empty table near the bare brick wall.

  “I’ll be right back.” Mattie soaked in the ambience and felt herself relaxing even further. West reappeared with two margaritas. “I know you said you don’t drink much, but Kate makes the best ‘ritas around.”

  “You never asked why I didn’t drink. I could be allergic.”

  “You’re not. I saw you drinking wine last night at dinner.” He sat down, close enough to brush her arm and thigh. Mattie scooped salt into the end of her straw and sucked in a big mouthful. The tequila burned her throat for a moment.