Raising Landry

by Andee Michelle

  I turn to my mother and can tell by the look on her face that she is more concerned with appearances than the fact that her only daughter is heartbroken and running away. She opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off again. “Well, you got what you wanted, Mother; the wedding of the century that everyone will be talking about for years to come.” I take a step toward her and I can see the fear in her eyes. I speak only loud enough for her to hear my next words. “I heard the whole conversation between you three upstairs. I know you’re the one who talked them into not telling me, and that broke the last tiny thread of attachment we had. YOU are now dead to me.” I lean back and look into the eyes of my mother, a woman who has never cared about anyone but herself a day in her life. Her eyes don’t reflect the hurt of a mother losing her only child; they show anger and resentment. Just further proof that having her out of my life is a step in the right direction to healing myself.

  I start toward the cab again but stop just before I get to there, turning to the crowd that has formed. Normally, I’d be embarrassed that all of these people are staring at me. Today, I hope the show they’ve just witnessed will be the gossip for years to come. I won’t be here to deal with it. “I will miss those of you who are my true friends and family.” I look around one last time and my eyes meet Chris’. He is still holding his face, with Jenna standing beside him.

  “I loved you with my whole heart, Chris. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you.” I let out a slight sob and he starts toward me, but I shake my head and turn away. I don’t need or want any of his words. These people, my family and closest friend, all betrayed me. I have nothing left here.

  I climb into the cab and give the driver the address to my parent’s house. I never turn back to look at them all standing there. My life here is over. I’m starting over on my terms, and I don’t need a thing from this place except some clothes and a plane ticket. I’m OUT!

  PRESENT DAY

  I climb into my truck and head to work. Turning up the stereo, I stare at the huge buildings as I come into downtown Seattle. I love this city. It took a long time for me to get used to being so far from home and everyone I knew and loved but now, I couldn’t be happier. I am finishing up my degree in culinary arts at the Seattle Culinary Academy. It has always been my dream to own my own restaurant.

  I work at The Friedmont as a bartender. It’s a nice place, and the manager lets me basically work out my own schedule since I’m in school, as well. It’s a sports bar/dance club that’s in the perfect spot for a plethora of patrons to mingle. I started out as a waitress but realized quickly I wasn’t good at it. I give props to those girls. They work their asses off. I fit much better behind the bar. I’d made myself a promise when I left New Orleans that I’d never again let someone else dictate my life or my choices, or let them look down on me for what I believed in and wanted. Bartending was a much better fit for me. I love the camaraderie.

  I park my truck in the back of the lot because I will cut a bitch if they scratch my truck. He’s my baby. He was my first big purchase when I arrived in Seattle about 5 years ago. He’s a jacked-up, blacked-out, Ford F250 Super Duty, with chrome rims and heavily treaded tires. He’s a beast and the only man in my life.

  I jump down out of the truck and walk toward the front door, noticing Lulu’s car is here already. She must’ve had the earlier shift. Lulu is my best friend, one of the first friends I made when I moved here. We were roommates until her daughter, Landry, was born, and they are my all-around lifeline to reality. Lulu and Landry are my life, really. I don’t really date. I mean, I’ve gone out to dinner with a few guys, but nothing ever came after that. I learned my lesson a long time ago that relationships just bring pain, and I don’t want anything to do with it. I love Landry like she is my own child, and Lulu humors me when I refer to Landry as my surrogate kid.

  I walk through the front doors and toward the bar area, spotting Lulu immediately. As much as I love her, we really are polar opposites in the looks department, and pretty much every other department, as well. She has the most beautiful naturally blonde hair, which she always wears straight and long, and the most intriguing cat-green eyes you’ve ever seen. She has pale, porcelain skin and a dancer’s body. She’s taller than me by a few inches, though I’m not sure how tall exactly. I’m 5’7” so I’d guess she’s 5’9”-ish. She’s drop-dead gorgeous and one of the most popular waitresses at The Friedmont. Imagine that.

  I, on the other hand, have really long, dark brown hair, which is neither straight nor curly. Sometimes it’s wavy, and other times it just looks like I stuck my finger in a light-socket. I wear my hair up almost all the time because it just gets in my way. Every once in a blue moon, I’ll wear it down and straighten it so it lays down my back nicely. It takes a long time to do, though, so I don’t do it often. I have an athletic body, because I love to run, work out and do a little kickboxing. It is my therapy. I’m a little more muscular than some men like but I really don’t care; I don’t do it for them. I like being able to take care of myself.

  I’d have to say my best feature is my blue eyes, which I inherited from my daddy. My nose is covered in freckles, which I hate, and they darken in the summer with the sun. I guess I’m okay looking. Plain. That’s what my mother had always called me. There is nothing overly interesting about my appearance other than my tattoos. I get a lot of looks from guys but am not approached often. As a matter of fact, it’s been months since I’ve been out with a guy. I pull out my phone to look at the time but notice the date immediately. Great, it’s the anniversary of the worst day of my life. Awesome!

  “MOTHERFUCKER!” I hear Lulu yell at the same time I hear glass shatter. Luckily, the bar isn’t open yet or Lulu would be getting a write-up for that language. The higher-ups don’t mind if we cuss, but Lulu takes potty mouth to the extreme sometimes. She’s been talked to several times for it.

  “What’d you do now, Lu?” I yell as I walk in her direction.

  “I dropped a damn bottle and cut my hand,” she says, a little too snippy.

  “Okay. Tell me what’s going on. You never drop bottles and you’re being a shit. What happened?” I ask her calmly.

  “Just having a bad day,” she mumbles as she turns toward the sink to run water over the gash.

  “Lu, that’s bad. I need to take you to get that looked at. You might need stitches,” I tell her, grabbing her hand looking it over.

  “Well, thank you, Dr. Carson Breaux, but it’s fine. I’ll put some ointment on it and wrap it tight. I’ll be fine.” She grabs a towel and starts to walk toward the break room where the first-aid kit is.

  “I’ll finish stocking the bottles. Take your time!” I yell after her. I quickly clean up the broken bottle and mop to get the sticky liquor off the floor. We open in about 15 minutes, so I know it needs to get done quickly. Lulu comes back and helps me finish up.

  “Thanks, Car. Sorry I snapped at you.” She lets out a deep sigh. “I ran into Landry’s dad this morning. It was awkward to say the least. You know, it’s the first time I’ve seen him since the night she was conceived.” She takes a deep breath. “He didn’t even recognize me when I said hello.” I can hear the pain in her voice as she continues. “I really should have told him to begin with, but I was a chicken-shit and just couldn’t do it. Now I wonder if I made the right decision. I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s a little late to tell him now. What would I say? ‘Oh, hey, guess what!? Our one-night stand? Yeah, I got pregnant and, guess what, SURPRISE, you’re a dad of a 5-year-old little girl who looks just like you.’”

  I see the sadness in her eyes when she talks about him. I’ve only ever known him as ‘Landry’s dad’ or ‘Landry’s sperm donor’. I don’t even know his name and I’ve never asked. Lulu was just a couple months’ pregnant when I met her and when I asked about Landry’s dad, she just responded that it was a one-night stand and he was not in the picture. I left it at that.

  “Lu, how did you meet Landry’s dad? What’s his name?�
� I look at her as she turns her face toward me. I hope she doesn’t get mad at my questioning. I’ve never pushed her to tell me more, and she’s never really talked about him. Just little things here and there about how Landry has his eyes or his dimples.

  “We met through mutual friends, went out the one time. A few beers later and we ended up with a one-night stand that resulted in my beautiful baby girl. He seemed like a nice guy, but we just didn’t click. He was hot, though.” Lu actually giggles awkwardly. I don’t push at the fact that she didn’t answer the question about his name.

  “Why wouldn’t you just tell him if he seemed like such a good guy?” I ask, somewhat irritated that she’d keep something so life-altering to herself. He deserved to know he had a child. She makes him sound nice, yet she chose to leave him in the dark about his own kid.

  “I didn’t know how to tell him. It had been a couple months since the night we got together, and I didn’t want to open that door, ya know. By the time I found out I was preggers with Landry, I was already dating Kyle and couldn’t imagine bringing him into our new life together,” Lu explains with tears in her eyes. “I know it’s fucked-up, Car. Please don’t judge me. It was a hard decision to make, but I had to do what I thought was right for my baby and me. At the time, it made total sense. Not so much anymore.”

  “Lu, you know I love you more than my luggage. I’d never judge you on any decision you made, good or bad, if it was for the right reasons. I’m your best friend. I love you. Maybe you should just think about telling him. I think he deserves to know,” I say as mellow as I can. I don’t want her to be upset, but she really should tell him.

  “I know. I’ll think about it,” she replies quietly then turns to get back to work.

  Four hours later, the place is hopping. There are people everywhere, and I’m making a stupid amount of tips. I don’t even have time to think about the anniversary today. In the back of my mind, I know I’ll fall apart the moment I walk into my apartment. I always do…every year. It’s not so much the thoughts about losing Chris, or even Jenna’s betrayal anymore, but not having contact with my dad is so hard. It’s been years since I told him I’d never forgive him. In truth, I forgave him a long time ago, but he respected my wishes and has not tried to make contact with me at all since the day I left. I guess my mother was right; he’d always pick her over me. She had reminded me of that every single moment of my life. Bitch.

  I’d zoned out and hadn’t really noticed the crowd that had seated themselves at the side of the bar I’m supposed to be serving.

  “Hey, sweet thing! Johnny Walker Blue, double, on the rocks?” I hear a deep baritone voice say from my left. I turn and look to see who made the request, and come face-to-face with a pretty boy. He has longish blond hair, odd light green eyes, but he has a weak jaw, although offset by a mouth-watering smile. Guys this pretty are usually total douchebags and it takes me all of 5 seconds to see through the smile.

  “Yep. Coming right up,” I say quickly and grab the bottle from the top shelf. I steal a glance over to where he is sitting and notice he’s watching me with interest. I put a little sway in my hips as I walk his way. If he’s ordering top-shelf scotch like a champ, he’s probably rolling in the dough. Probably a good tipper if I flirt a little.

  “Here you go, honey. That’ll be $20,” I tell him with my most seductive voice.

  “Here ya go, baby,” he says louder than necessary, slamming down half his drink, and then throwing a $50 on the bar. “Keep the change.” He pauses then looks at his friends, trying to get their attention, before he continues. “Maybe put it toward the ‘boob fund’ you so obviously need to start,” he finishes, once again loudly enough for many of the patrons around him to hear. I feel the redness creep into my face, instantly pissing me off. Yep, I called it. Douchebag.

  I walk to the cash register, trying really hard to talk myself out of what my brain is telling me to do. I need this job. I need this job. I need this job, I repeat to myself over and over. I bring his change, slam it down on the bar in front of him, ending his and his buddies’ laughter.

  “Here ya go, baby,” I start with sarcasm, leaning toward him. “I don’t need your trust-fund money; I have plenty of my own. If I wanted to look like Barbie, I’d pay someone to make that happen. But since I don’t, I’d rather not have a wannabe-Ken making comments to me about shit he has no idea about. There is plenty of no-brained, arm-candy floating around here, so if that’s what you’re into, by all means, go find one that finds you funny. I don’t.”

  I smirk at the shocked look on his face, lean closer to him so only he can hear me and speak softly into his ear. “And for the record, I squat almost twice my body weight and I used to be a gymnast. I’m like fucking Gumby. You have no idea what I can do with this body, B-cup or not.” I lean back and wink at him, then grab the glass sitting in front of him that is not empty yet, throw the contents of the glass into the sink and place the glass into the washer tub. I turn quickly and take a peek at him. He’s still sitting there, his face bright red, mouth open, eyes bugged out. Shit, I hope he doesn’t get me fired.

  “Hey, gorgeous! Can I get a Corona, no lime, and a salt shaker,” I hear from the opposite corner. I walk swiftly in the direction of the request.

  “Sure thing, handsome. That’ll be $5,” I reply as I set the beer and saltshaker in front of the new guy. I’ve never seen him before, but he’s big and freaking hot. I assess: 6’1”, 190 lbs, athletic build, black hair falling out from under a ball cap, amazing blue eyes, olive complexion, 5 o’clock shadow, tattoos peeking out from under his long-sleeve dress shirt. The ball cap is out of place on this guy. He is the epitome of manly, though. It’s a shame I’m in a pissy mood ‘cause of Asshole Ken, because I’d totally flirt with this one. He is absolutely freaking gorgeous from what I can see. Hopefully he’s a good tipper, ‘cause I’m pretty sure the other end of the bar is not going to tip me well after me outing their boy for being a Class-A douchebag.

  New Guy throws a ten on the bar. “Keep the change.” He turns to leave but stops and looks my way. “For the record, that guy is a total prick. I’ve seen him upset almost every bartender and waitress in this part of the city, and you handled that confrontation well. Pretty impressive, actually.” He chuckles and continues. “He looked like someone shot his puppy toward the end there. If you don’t mind me asking, what’d you say to him to make him turn that pretty shade of red?”

  New Guy chuckles again. Holy shit, this guy is gorgeous and his voice is absolutely dripping with sex. I stare at him for a brief second, lost in those beautiful blue eyes, and feeling an obnoxious pull to reach over and kiss the hell out of him. Holy shit, Carson; get it together!

  I laugh, lean in a little closer and say, “Well, you see, I just told him that he was a Ken-wannabe, I didn’t need his fucking trust-fund money and that I could wrap myself into a pretzel. Ya know, kinda like Gumby.” New guy’s eyes go wide as I turn to walk away. Before I get to the walk-through, I turn and catch him staring at my ass. This could go one of two ways: I could walk back over, give him my number and let him be the first guy in years to make me scream, or I could continue over to talk to Lu on the other side of the bar. Holy shit, what I wouldn’t give for someone other than B-O-B to give me the big O, but I remind myself I’ve got to keep focused. Graduation is coming, and then I will be making all my dreams come true.

  I walk over to where Lu is serving on the other side of the bar. Since she’s on one side and I’m on the other, we don’t see each other for the most part because the liquor wall is between us. “We get off in an hour. Wanna hang out and have a drink with me after. Is Landry with Pops?” I ask her.

  “Yeah, she’s staying the night with Pops and I could definitely use a stiff one…and by that, I mean a drink,” she answers with a wink. “I’ll meet you in area 32. We’ll have a drink or 5 and then head out,” she says as we both turn to a bunch of whistling. I walk back to my side to find New Guy and his beer are gone. Shit. I re
ally was considering giving that guy my number, or maybe a little something else!

  An hour and a half later, Lu and I are seated in a booth, her with her fruity shit, and me with my Patrón shot and Corona chaser. We chat about the douche I put in his place and the guy she had to eighty-six because he wouldn’t stop trying to grab her ass. Lu also reminds me of my promise to help her paint Landry’s room tomorrow and I groan. Yeah, it’s time to go. Things are starting to wind down anyway since it’s close to last call.

  Right before we start to head out, my song comes on. I hear the beat and look at Lu, who knows I can’t hear this song without getting on that dance floor and shaking my ass. I grab her hand and drag her to the middle with me.

  Eminem’s voice sings to me about shaking my ass, and I pull Lu up on one of the platforms with a pole. I think I’ve had enough Patrón to pull this off. At least if I don’t pull it off, I’ll have a good excuse for it: I’m drunk.

  I grab the pole, wrap my leg around it and twirl to the side, throwing my long hair to the side. This is my stripper song. Every girl has one, that one song that always makes your inner stripper come out. It’s raunchy and dirty as hell. I continue my sexy dance on the pole, pulling Lu to me every so often to add her to the sexiness that is my drunk dancing. Dancing while drunk is the one time I let myself go. I know I’ll regret it in the morning, but I just can’t help it. I’m pretty sure the DJ knows it, too, cause he waited until I was up and leaving to play the one song I never walk out on.

  As the song ends, I look around and notice half the damn bar is standing on the dance floor watching Lu and me. I know I’m turning red because I can feel my cheeks catch fire. I grab Lu and start to walk toward the exit when I feel a hand clamp down hard on my bicep. I turn swiftly toward the warm body holding on to me.