by Holly Hood
Delaney brought her gaze to her mother’s scheming smile, one that she knew all too well. She wasn’t being sweet and concerned about her choice. She was trying to pick apart the situation once again, “Yeah, six months.”
Anna lifted her wine glass to her lips. Delaney’s brother and sister passed side dishes. Delaney watched the trail of steam waft through the air, trying her best to disregard her mother.
Darcy, Delaney’s older sister by two years, gave her a compassionate smile. Knowing their mother could be rude and insensitive. She had learned to grow a thick skin. She also learned to keep her private business far away from her family.
“He didn’t think it was polite to pay us a visit? He was just fine letting his fiancé come home without him?” Anna pushed. She rested her empty wine glass beside her plate, picking up the knife now, sawing into her steak as she did her children’s lives.
Delaney pushed her hair behind her ears. Her eyes full of concern. Concern for what she was about to say next. “Could we just talk about something else?”
Everyone besides her mother seemed to go about their business, but not her mother. She kept her dark eyes glued to Delaney’s frown, offended that her daughter would tell her to shut up, even if she hadn’t used those exact words.
“He doesn’t seem to be making much of an effort to be a part of this family. I find that a bit concerning.” Anna opened her mouth and took a bite of her steak.
Delaney’s dad sighed, dropping his napkin on his plate. “Let’s leave it alone, Anna.”
Anna shot daggers at him. Darcy cleared her throat. “How about we talk about something else besides Delaney’s fiancé for once, you do have two other kids sitting right here willing to share with you, Mom.”
Delaney without a sound thanked Darcy for helping her out. But sadly it wasn’t enough. Anna was enraged. She stood, shoving her chair behind her with enough force to knock it over. She took her plate and lifted it with both hands before she decided she wasn’t going to clear the table and slammed it with all the muscle she had in her back down on the table.
Delany jumped at the noise, refusing to look at her mother’s temper tantrum.
“Oh, come on. Do we have to go through this every time she comes around?” Dorian asked. Dorian was the oldest of the siblings and the most boisterous when it came to adjusting his mother’s attitude. “Give it a rest. So the guy didn’t come eat your outlandish soup and overcooked steak. I don’t blame him.”
This was enough to send Anna out of the room, squawking like a riled bird that had just lost her worm. Her footsteps echoed the hallway until they were nothing but a faint memory.
“Well, that was quite over-the-top,” There dad said, staring off at the place his wife should have been sitting enjoying the company of their children. He watched as Delaney poured a glass of water and headed in the direction of her mother’s tantrum. She was the only one of their kids that hated to see her upset.
Delaney hurried up the long staircase of plush maroon carpet and dark oak woodwork. She cautiously steadied her movement as to not spill the glass of water. She wrapped on the door before she let herself into the dark bedroom, walking past the familiar bookcase that went from floor to ceiling and the drawn curtains that plunged the room into utter darkness.
“I brought you some water,” she said, the darkness making it hard to see, her other senses kicked into gear and she followed the thick smell of cigarette smoke to the bed, until she was inches away from the orange ember of her mother’s cigarette, taking a seat on the edge of it.
“I always thought you could do anything.”
Delaney pursed her lips. She had heard this speech over and over again.
“And now you’re simply falling into love. Making a mess out of your life before it even had its chance to start. I want you to learn from my mistakes.”
“I have. That’s part of the reason I am in love. Dad loves you.” Delaney smiled. Her father was the epitome of a loving man. He would do anything for her mother, even if her mother wouldn’t do the same for him.
“Dad loves me. But I didn’t love him. I married because I was pregnant. I never got to experience true love. I’m stuck in this boring life, a boring unfulfilled existence. And I’m watching it happen all over again. It’s really upsetting,” Anna said with a light sigh. She exhaled, blowing smoke out into the darkness.
Delaney hated to hear her mother talk so badly about her life. Her regrets. Why hadn’t she just lived it the way that she wanted to? “I’m not you. I’m not pregnant. I love him. It wasn’t anything I planned, but I love him.”
Anna chuckled. “You don’t know a thing about love. You never have been in it to have anything to compare it to. First loves don’t last because we soon understand that it wasn’t love at all.”
Delaney stood up. It pained her to hear her mother’s lack of faith in her relationship. One that was making her lose sleep at the moment. She wished she could talk to her and confide all her fears in her. But she knew her mother would only tell her that she was right. And maybe she was. Delaney was losing faith that love was anything more then what her mother said it was.
***
Frankie took a back booth at his favorite bar. Lone Bar. Usually he was front and center. But tonight he was happy to take a booth and let all the pigheaded macho types do their best to pick up the college girls. And the old bar flies that put on their best attire to pick up a useless young man to sleep with for the night. They were all desperate.
He sucked down beer after beer, enjoying the collection of beer bottles on the table in front of him, and the old classic rock music permeating from the surround sound.
“Excuse me,” he said to the passing waitress. She arched an eyebrow, stepping closer, pulling her notepad from her black apron. “I want something stronger.”
The waitress bit her lip, studying Frankie. Trying to figure out what species of drinker he was. Judging by his dozen beer bottles she wasn’t so sure. “What about gin? We have many kinds.”
Frankie leaned back in the booth. “What kinds do you have?” he asked, expecting a clumsy response.
“Hendricks. It’s an Irish gin, infused with cucumbers and rose petals.” She smiled, pleased with her choice. “Do you care to try it?”
Frankie nodded, “whatever you say, sweetheart.” He didn’t care. He only wanted something to shock his nerves and erase any ounce of compassion he had for mankind.
The waitress appeared with a small glass. And a napkin that she neatly rested his drink on. “Enjoy.”
Frankie downed the gin in one swallow, letting out a satisfied grunt, as he sat it back down. He twitched two fingers in the air calling her back. “Two more, you have first-class taste.” He swallowed, enjoying the warm sensation nipping at his chest.
“Someone looks like they need to be here,” The bartender said, setting down the entire bottle next to his glass. She took a seat across from him, admiring his cool blue eyes, his dark hair. But she didn’t admire the sadness that exuded from him.
She secured her pencil in her hair and rested her hands on the table, her green eyes studying Frankie.
“That’s what bars are for.” He tipped the gin bottle, watching carefully. “Tell me about yourself. Why are you a waitress in a bar?”
“I’m going to school. This pays my way.” She smiled at Frankie as he licked his lips. She liked the way he did that and the way he smiled without knowing he even was. Frankie pushed the glass to her offering her a drink. “Oh, I better not. I have to drive home later.”
Frankie gripped the glass. “You’ll sober up before closing time. Have a drink with me. Save this poor pathetic man from doing something completely stupid.”
She sniffed the gin, staring at Frankie. “Like what?”
“Like, going home and jumping off my fire escape, or driving my car off the bridge.” He cleared his throat, enjoying the small reaction in her features as she let the gin slide down her gullet.
“Happy?”
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“I’d be happier if you told me your name,” Frankie said, the corners of his mouth turning up in an intoxicated smirk.
“Audrey.” She smiled back. “And a word of advice, don’t let life get you down, because it’s short. And just when you think it sucks, something is right around the corner to make it all worth it.”
Dylan entered the Lone Bar with her friends. Immediately she noticed Frankie sitting in the booth chatting it up with the blonde waitress. Her friends without delay went up to get drinks.
Sam, her old pal from high school turned around. “Dylan come on. What are you waiting for? I know that test was just as brutal on you as it was the rest of us.”
Dylan smiled but didn’t join. She kept her eyes glued on Frankie, who hadn’t even noticed her. He was too busy romancing the blonde she thought. “I’m going to say hello to someone real quick. Save me a seat.”
She carefully wound herself around tables and passing people, hurrying over to Frankie. The waitress giggled playfully, her eyes landed on Dylan the moment she was closing in on Frankie.
“Oh, look who it is,” Frankie said, his words a bit garbled.
Dylan put a hand on her hip. “Look who it is,” she said back sarcastically. “You haven’t called.”
Frankie took a drink of his gin, dropping it back down on the table, the remaining contents sloshing out and wetting the napkin. “I didn’t realize I had to call you. I’m sorry if you got your hopes up.”
“Are you?” Dylan asked, crossing her arms. The blonde looked between the two of them but refused give them privacy. Frankie hadn’t told her he was taken. As far as she was concerned he was fair game.
“No, actually I’m not. But that’s what girls like you want to hear right?” He sighed. “I don’t think Audrey cares if I call her back. She just likes my company.”
Dylan swallowed down her anger. “Because Audrey doesn’t know you, if she knew you she would be upset too. She only knows the sloppy drunk sitting at the table trying to get in her pants.”
“Hey. Why don’t you back off? Clearly he doesn’t want to talk to you.” Audrey piped in. Frankie smirked. He loved a good cat fight. He waited for Dylan to say something equally hateful and then he was sure there would be fist flying in a matter of seconds.
“Don’t test me. I will rip your pretty little hair out,” Dylan snapped, leaning forward and dropping her hands on the table top to warn the blonde to back off. She stared Audrey down. Frankie sized them up, and realized the passion Dylan had was way more extreme than anything the waitress was bringing to the table. She wouldn’t have a fighting chance.
He took hold of Dylan’s wrist. “Just cool it. It was nice chit chatting with you. But my stalker is here so I must go. Call me sometime.” This was enough to get the blonde moving. She deliberately stepped down on Dylan’s foot and pushed into her with enough force to knock her sideways. Dylan went to attack but was soothed by the feel of Frankie’s hand clamping down on her shoulder and the other against her neck. “Easy crazy,” he whispered in her ear.
Dylan didn’t pull away. Instead she stared into his eyes, breathing in the gin and cologne.
“You should have called me,” she told him, she knew it sounded desperate, but she felt a little desperate. She wanted to see him.
“I’m not worth your time. And maybe instead of getting pissed off and telling all your friends I’m an asshole, you just accept that, and quit following me into bars,” Frankie told her, trying to pull away.
Dylan moved closer, placing a soft kiss on his lips. She stayed there, her lips pinned to his, impatiently waiting for a reaction from Frankie. She could feel his fingers tangling with her hair, and the intensity that filled his body as he moved closer to hers, his body pressed tightly against hers, his eyes closing in agony. Her scent, her lips, her annoying ways, those pale hazel eyes making him think twice about what he should do.
“Just go hang out with your friends,” he said in response, instead of kissing her.
“How are you going to get home?” she asked, ignoring his demand. “I saw your car outside. You can’t drive, you’re wasted.” She licked her lips staring him down, hoping he would kiss her, her insides aching for more from him.
Frankie pulled back, dragging his hand through his hair, his eyes evading hers. “That’s what cabs are for, and legs. You have a nice night.”
Frankie quickly moved around her, heading out of the bar. Not giving in.
The Confession
Rose quickly wiped down the diner tables, in a hurry for her shift to come to an end. She was ready to go home, to take a nice long bubble bath and wrap herself in her fleece throw, the one with the roses that her mother got her for Christmas.
One more hour she told herself tossing the rag on the counter, taking the cherry pie from Lyle, her boss. “The man in section two ordered this. He asked for you.” Rose scanned section two, the booths near the door. She felt her heart pumping, her hands trembling. She wished she could just tell Lyle to do it himself, that she had a secret fear of strange men. But this was much too complicated.
Rose inhaled, shaking the fear away, tiny wisp of her blonde hair falling in front of her eyes. She wound her way through the tables and chairs. Staring at the back of the guy’s head, he had a thick head of dark brown almost black hair. Her feet stopped moving just as she set the pie down, her eyes without hindrance taking in the unfamiliar set of cool blue eyes with dark lashes draped delicately across them. If anything it only made the blue lighter and almost electrifying to look at. She would have remembered him before if she ever saw him.
“Cherry pie. Can I get you anything else?” she asked softly, dropping her gaze as soon as he seemed to be looking at her a little too intimately. More than any ordinary man should.
“You’re Rose, right?” Frankie asked, giving his best unadulterated smirk. He could feel the battered and scarred vibes from a mile away. This girl was traumatized.
Rose nodded. The kitchen crashing plates in the oversized sinks drowning out any attempt she would have to speak, she knew by now her voice would come out shaky and frightened. Even if she wasn’t sure who he was she needed to be. Maybe he was friends with Tad. “Are you friends with Tad?”
Frankie debated on agreeing. Not quite sure if he was being set up or if this was just a question. He lifted his fork, stabbing a round cherry and then pinned his eyes back on her. “No, can’t say that I know him. I’m familiar with someone else you know. Well, two to be exact.”
Rose watched him touch the cherry to his lips before he very carefully pricked the fruit from his fork with a sensual flick and dip of his tongue. She swallowed, a bit turned on and a bit startled that he was being so mysterious. She knew she should probably go to the kitchen and tell all the cooks to assign this guy to someone else, but it was as if something was drawing her to him. “Like who?”
Frankie looked to the register and back to Rose. “Sam, and Delaney.” He raised an eyebrow, watching Rose’s expression go from horrified to shock.
“Why are you here?” Rose whispered, the heat in her face rising, she gripped her tablet in fright. “I don’t want any problems.”
Frankie patted the cracked vinyl seat. “Sit down. Don’t go getting all freaked out. I’m here for a variety of reasons. Some might say a favor. Others might disagree with that very statement.”
Rose untied her apron, shouted to Lyle that she was going on break and scooted in the booth across from Frankie. He took another bite of his pie before shoving it away and gesturing her to follow him from the diner. Before she could say no he was halfway out the door.
“If you know Sam then I’m sure you know I don’t like hanging around with people that I don’t know.” She told him, crossing her arms tightly across her chest in great apprehension.
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking you to hang out then.” Frankie leaned against the brick wall on the side of the diner, where nobody but a passing car could catch sight of them.
“Who are you?” Rose asked apprehensively.
“I’m Frankie. And I am here because Sam asked me to help him out.” He grabbed Rose the second she tried to take off. “Easy now.”
Rose went to scream, Frankie covered her mouth with his hand, his eyes watchful and quite angry. “Don’t scream. Don’t kick me, don’t do anything and this will be easy for you.” He pushed her head into the brick harder. “I try to be a nice guy. I don’t like to make things messier then they have to be. So just relax and listen to me and then I’ll leave.” He arched an eyebrow, waiting for a response that she was willing to do that, he groaned, she wasn’t giving in. Frankie’s expression grew serious, his demeanor taking on one similar to a sedative as he stared into her eyes, Rose’s body relaxed.
