Cuffing Her

by Emily Bishop

  “So, you’re staying then. In Moondance, I mean?”

  “Looks like it.” I checked my tables, but they were either eating, drinking, or attended to by Jerr—he acted as manager and waiter whenever I needed a break, and intuitive as he was, had picked up on my reluctance when it came to “that actor table,” as he called it.

  He looked up from taking an order, gave me a thumbs up, and raised his eyebrow, too.

  I nodded. I’m all good. For now.

  “If you’re going to stick around, you should come out and see my new place,” he said. “I’ve started renovating the kitchen. It looks fuckin’ rad.”

  Rad. This guy’s an oversized teenager.

  “I don’t live with my parents anymore,” he said. “Moved out a couple years ago when the lumber biz took off.”

  “You’re still working for your father at the mill?” I picked up a glass and polished it.

  “Not the menial labor, no. I’m a manager now.” James straightened his Polo shirt and checked his collar was still poppin’. “I make sure that everyone’s doing what they’re meant to. That they wear their safety gear. Important stuff, y’know?”

  “Totally,” I said, in a monotone.

  “Well, it’s great to see you again. And listen, I’m sorry if I was a little pushy the other day. It’s just that seeing you brings back a lot of memories for me,” he said. “I want to make up for the way I treated you back then. I was a kid and immature. I shouldn’t have made you feel less than what you were.”

  Curiosity tugged at me. “Then why did you?”

  “I don’t know. I wanted to maintain my image, I guess. That was the type of guy I was. But hey, I’ve changed, look at me now,” he said and flicked a hand over his buff chest. Good Jesus, his nipples were pricking holes in the damn shirt. “I’m a whole new man.”

  “In what sense?”

  “In the sense that I’m remorseful for my actions. I’ve come a long way, Aurora. I’d kill for a second chance with you.”

  I sighed and put down the beer glass. It almost tipped over, and I caught it, set it upright. “I’m sorry, James, but I’m not interested in pursuing anything with you. I forgive you for what you said, but some things aren’t forgotten. Can you understand that?”

  His lips writhed in place, a strange pale dance of contempt. They curled back, pushed forward. “You’re giving up an opportunity here, Aurora. You should reconsider.” The smooth-as-peanut-butter tone had vanished. His voice was flat, forced.

  “This isn’t a business transaction, James.”

  My ex’s jaw clenched, and he strained forward, knuckles white and fingers pressed against the bar top. “You realize I can have any woman in this town. Any woman I want. And I’m here with you. You realize that, right?”

  “I’m not interested. And if you can have any woman, why don’t you go out and find someone else. Why me?”

  “Because you’re mine,” he grunted. “You were always mine. From the minute you came to town. No one else wanted you, but I took you, and that means you’re mine. You lost your virginity to me.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Dude, I’m at work right now. Have you lost it?”

  Footsteps clunked on the wooden boards behind James. I leaned to check who it was, but my ex slapped his hand onto the bar top. “Look at me!” he demanded, gaze cold.

  I switched my focus back to him. “Stop that. This is a restaurant. You can’t act that way in here. You should leave.”

  “I should leave?” James’ss laughter came out in a moist rumble. “You’re the one who should leave. No one in Moondance wants you here.”

  “Apart from you, apparently,” I snapped back. “James, you always were a detestable prick. I only wish I’d seen it about you sooner and saved myself the embarrassment.”

  He bubbled with anger, shifted, and fidgeted with the Rolex on his wrist. “Little bitch,” he hissed. “You’re nothing. You’re just like your mother.”

  My mother had been everything, but it still stung. All those eyes on me, the judgment I’d thought I’d overcome, shriveled my nerves to wisps. “Get out of here, James. We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, and that includes you.”

  “My father is—”

  “A founder, I know. Nobody cares.” God, I hoped I was right. Jerry would surely have kicked him out if he’d heard what James had said, but I didn’t want to make trouble for him or his restaurant.

  It was only a pity trouble seemed to follow me around like a dog off its leash.

  “Whore,” he grunted, and this time, loudly.

  Even Jerry turned from his table and frowned at the disturbance. He clicked his tongue then started for the office door in back.

  “Get out,” I said, firmly.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  A massive hand landed on James’ shoulder, and I followed it from wrist, up a suited arm, and to Jarryd’s face. His cheeks were red, lips curled back in a rictus over perfectly whitened teeth. “She told you to leave,” he growled. “So leave.”

  James shrugged off the grip and circled, a predator seeking its prey, and finding only another predator. The two of them squared off, James only a little shorter than the actor. Every eye in the establishment widened, phones came out and were raised.

  All on the record. Oh shit. Hadn’t Jarryd wanted to keep his visit as quiet as possible?

  “What are you, her savior?” James chuckled again.

  Jarryd puffed his chest out and took a step forward, practically busting from his suit. “Listen here, you little shit. You were told to leave, and if you don’t, I’ll drag you out myself.”

  “Typical.” That came from Felicity in the corner. “Honey, come sit down!”

  Jarryd placed his hand on James’ shoulder again and dug his fingers into the shirt, thumb biting into the flesh up near the collar bone. “I’ll fucking break you if you speak to her like that again,” he whispered. “Do you understand me? I’ll snap you like the twig you are.”

  James slapped his hand onto the actor’s shoulder and mimicked his action. “I beg you to try. I fucking beg you.” James had been on the football team, he’d boxed in his spare time, and he’d been a track star.

  But Jarryd’s muscle spoke of practical experience, and I’d witnessed his strength firsthand.

  Either way, I wasn’t interested in finding out who’d win in a fight between Batman and the Joker. “Stop it,” I said, strident. “This is a family establishment, and you’re ruining everyone’s evening.”

  “Hear that?” Jarryd said and cocked his head toward me. “It’s time for you to leave.” He balled his free hand into a fist. “Or do you need another incentive?”

  “Give me one.”

  “That’s enough!” It came out as a desperate shriek, this time.

  The office door slapped open in the corner, and Jerr marched out, toting a sawed-off shotgun. He leveled it at the two of them and a round of gasps, followed by total silence, ensued. “Yo,” Jerry yelled.

  The two men looked at him then at each other then at him again.

  “Are you for real?” James asked.

  “I’ve had just about enough of this damn circus tonight. You,” he said, and gestured to James with the sawed-off, “can get out of my establishment.”

  “Are you—?”

  “Now, princess!” Jerr jerked the sawed-off toward him, and the patrons in the restaurant ducked and yelped, exchanging glances. All except Felicity, who tapped on the screen of her cell and rolled her eyes.

  What had she meant by “typical?” Did Jarryd usually get into fights like this?

  “Fine,” James said and finally let go of the actor. He stepped back, dropping his arm. “But I’ll be seeing you again.” He nodded to Jarryd then cast that iced gaze in my direction. “And you, too.”

  “You heard the man,” Jarryd said. “Get out.”

  James ignored the words but marched out regardless, and let the door slam shut behind him.

  “That
goes for you, too, Marlon Brando.” Jerr relaxed slightly but didn’t put down the shotgun. “You and your troop of monkeys. Out of my restaurant, now.”

  Jarryd jerked back, blinked then bobbed his chin once. He glanced at me, too, and I couldn’t quite place the look or what it meant, only that his eyes swam with something unspoken. A promise?

  The actor beckoned to Luke, not to Felicity then made for the exit, cutting a refined image even now, back straight.

  They left in a row, Felicity’s heels clicking on the boards, and the door swung shut behind them.

  “All right,” Jerr said and hefted the gun. “Is there anyone else who wants to make an fool of themselves? Anyone?” The patrons averted their eyes or shook their heads. “Good. Now, eat your damn food and enjoy yourselves.”

  I sank back against the side of the bar and pressed my hand to my forehead. What the hell have you gotten yourself into, girl?

  Chapter 13

  Jarryd

  Polished RVs sat lot by lot in the park, like ducks in a row. If the RVs were ducks, the people bustling around them were ducklings, moving quick and quackin’ away. Barely past nine in the morning, and folks moved between trailers. Women and men, cleaning up last night’s barbeque or scrubbing down the outside of their vehicles. A man lugging a case here, or the twitch of a curtain there. Folks came and went in the park.

  Some engines rumbled, while others were still. This was a place of transience, and it made the knot in my chest tighten.

  Aurora could leave whenever she wanted, and she wouldn’t look back. My behavior last night had probably made the case stronger for her to do hightail it out of Moondance without a backward glance.

  Christ, I wish I could leave whenever I wanted. Drop all the responsibilities and get the fuck out. But that would make me no better than my father, and I wouldn’t let that happen. It’d also mean never seeing her again.

  I made my way past another RV, this one oversized, black and sleek as a panther, with a woman sitting on a lawn chair under a shaded overhang outside the front door. She perked up and leaned forward, gave me the onceover then fumbled her cell out of her pocket.

  I quickened my pace and wound past her plot, toward Aurora’s much smaller RV, in shades of cream and gray. The curtains were drawn, the front door shut tight.

  “Shit,” I muttered. What if she wasn’t home? Fuck it, at least she hadn’t left altogether. I needed to make this right.

  I strolled up the two front steps and knocked on the door—clack-clack. “Aurora?” Silence greeted me. Nothing. She wasn’t home, after all. I kneaded my forehead, squeezed my eyes shut.

  She wasn’t home, and I hadn’t apologized for last night, or for yesterday afternoon. Did she think I’d ditched her?

  A prrt-meow sounded at my feet, and Aurora’s kitty jostled up the stairs then wound between my ankles. At least she was happy to see me. I crouched and stroked the top of her silken head. “Hey, there. Where’s your mom?”

  Another meow, followed by a rumbling purr. Mistress pushed the top of her head against my palm then rubbed the sides of her furry chin against my skin.

  “Not here, eh?” Fantastic, now I’m talking to a cat. What would the paps make of this? I laughed and straightened then hopped down onto the vibrant green grass in front of the RV. I studied the outside of the vehicle and tapped my chin.

  Mistress barreled down the stairs after me and promptly sat down beside my ankle, still purring. She flicked her tail and gazed up at me, yellow eyes unblinking.

  “There’s something about you, too,” I said, and smiled at her. “You and Aurora are both a little bit magic, aren’t you?”

  She meowed her agreement.

  Come on, you can’t give up this easily, Jarryd. But the windows were shut tight, and the lights were out. What could I do? Hover around until she turned up and freak her out with my stalking abilities?

  I shrugged and circled the RV, regardless, dress shoes crunching in the long grass. Mistress followed me, of course, padding along with her tail rigid, pointing toward the heavens.

  So what if I hung around? I wasn’t a quitter, and Aurora needed to hear what I had to say.

  The woman made me crazy. Physically, our connection was over the top—I’d never come so hard in my life, and emotionally? I didn’t want to dig too deep and examine the quickening of my pulse when she was around, or the way my heart skipped a beat at the merest hint of that lavender scent that was oh-so-Aurora.

  My cell buzzed in my pocket, and I grimaced. Fuck, what was it this time? I brought it out, sighed at the name that flashed on the screen then answered, pressing the phone to my ear.

  “Rod,” I said. “I sent you a memo last night, did you get it? We’re reconsidering the bar scene and the female main character’s motivation. It might take some time before we come to a conclusion. I’m meeting with Luke tomorrow to discuss the rewrite.” Better to get all of that out in the clear in case he’d called because of the lack of communication.

  “What were you thinking?” Rod’s voice had an asthmatic quality, probably from the two packs of cigarettes a day over the course of the last ten years.

  “It’s not a huge rewrite,” I replied. “Just a single scene.” For now. “It shouldn’t set us back too much in time. Luke will knock this one out of the park in no time.”

  “Fuck Luke, and fuck the park, and the rewrite,” Rod thundered. Plastic crinkled on the other end of the line, followed by a rip, the click of a lighter. Rod sucked in smoke and exhaled on the receiver, producing a low roar of feedback. “Christ, Jarryd, I thought you were smarter than this.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said. “Can you clarify?”

  “Clarify? How about you switch on E! and take a look for yourself?”

  “I’m not at the hotel right now.” I looked around, lowering my voice in case Aurora’s neighbors decided to eavesdrop. I continued my path around the back of the RV, treading slowly this time.

  “Of course not. You’re never where you’re supposed to be these days,” Rod snapped. “Christ, you’re making a fuck up here, Jay.”

  “Spit it out, Rod. What’s going on?” I leaned against the corner of the RV and stared out at the forest behind it, the solid tree trunks, with cracked bark and branches reaching for the sky.

  “The paps are going crazy. Apparently, there’s a video circulating on the internet. You in an altercation with some townie in Moondance. Jay, they know exactly where you are now.”

  “It was bound to happen eventually. I haven’t exactly been keeping my presence a secret,” I said.

  “The video has gone viral, you dickwad,” Rod growled. “And the undertone is that you were defending some chick’s honor. Everyone wants to know who you’re with and whether Felicity knows about it.”

  “I—fuck.”

  “I—fuck, indeed.”

  I paced forward, stopped. “Still, these aren’t insurmountable odds. It’s publicity for the movie, in a way. After all, we’re here because we’re scouting.”

  “Those fuckers don’t care about Pride’s Death. They care about your new lover,” Rod replied. “It’s totally overshadowing the movie. Bud, do you think anyone’s going to touch this movie if they think you’re messing with some ho right after you broke up with America’s sweetheart?”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I said and bristled at ‘ho.’ “My personal life is—”

  “It’s everybody’s business. This was supposed to be a low-key visit. The last thing we need is the town swamped during filming, for fuck’s sake.”

  “We haven’t selected this town as the location, yet,” I said but it was a weak argument.

  The fact was, the paps would swarm out here, especially since it appeared there were new juicy details to soak up and disperse to the masses. Any chance at peace would be out the door. And it will severely limit my ability to meet up with Aurora.

  “I’m starting to wonder if you even give a shit about this movie anymore. You ne
ed to get your damn head out of your ass before you ruin this for everyone.”

  “I’m not fucking it up.”

  “You are, and you don’t even see it, and that’s what worries me. Look, dickhead, I’ve stuck with you through all of this. Through the crap movies, the A-lists, the B-lists, the fucking straight-to-video shit. All of it. I know you, and this isn’t how you act.”

  Well, maybe I wasn’t the old me anymore, maybe things had finally fucking changed. I’d been a workaholic for too long. Perhaps, it was time to take a step back. But, no, there was too much at stake. People expected this movie to work.

  “Rod, listen to me, this will work out. Last night was a slipup.”

  “Christ.”

  “I’m serious, it was a minor slipup, and it won’t happen again. I’ll make sure of it, OK?”

  Rod sucked on the cigarette, a moist rattle of inhalation. “Fine,” he said. “But I’m warning you, Jay, this is the last fuckup. I’m not interested in investing in a shitshow. We’ve had a good business relationship, but even I have my limits. This movie is way behind schedule. These decisions should’ve been made weeks ago.”

  “I was a little busy weeks ago.”

  “Don’t give me the sob story again,” Rod said, but his gravelly tone softened up. “You’re not the only one who’s been punched in the gut by a lover.”

  “I’m not looking for pity. Rod, dude, we’re going as fast as we can, working as hard as we can to get the movie rolling, but I’m not going to push a mediocre product out to the public. You wouldn’t be happy with that.”

  “Of course not, but I don’t believe for a second that you’re focusing fully on Pride’s Death,” Rod reply. “I watched that video, Jay. I saw the chick in the background and the way you puffed your damn chest out like a gorilla. You’re not focused.”

  “Rod—”

  “I don’t want to hear any more of this,” he said. “You’ve got a week to get your shit together, or I’m done. And I don’t want any excuses. You called the press down on your head, and you’ll god damn deal with it. Make. This. Happen.” And then he hung up.

  That was it. Ball-busting completed.