Hometown Girl

by Robin Kaye

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. And remember all men are idiots. If it was meant to be, he’ll come back to apologize for whatever it was he did.”

  Elyse nodded, unable to say anything more. It was all she could do to stifle the sob that threatened to escape.

  The closer she got to her home, the harder it was to keep the floodgates up. By the time she unlocked her door, she lost whatever grip she had on her emotions and sank to the floor of her studio apartment, pushed the door closed, and let the tears fall.

  After five minutes of digging through grocery bags, pulling out tissues, and stuffing chocolate into her mouth between sobs, she remembered the ice cream.

  Elyse picked herself up, took the five steps into her kitchen, and put her ice cream away. All the chocolate she’d eaten wasn’t helping the sick feeling she’d had ever since she saw the recognition and disgust in Simon’s face.

  She grabbed one of the Cokes hoping it would help settle her stomach, plucked the stack of the movies and a box of tissues off the counter, and tossed the lot onto her bed before stripping.

  Her phone rang. It was Mel, so she let it go to voice mail and crawled into bed wearing one of her oldest, threadbare T-shirts before realizing it was one of Simon’s she’d saved all these years. Shit. Wouldn’t you know her favorite shirt would be one of his. She rolled over and let the tears flow.

  * * *

  Simon sat at his easel, pulled off the sketch of Elyse done in the style of Picasso, and set it beside the one he’d done in the style of Salvador Dali. Definitely not his best work.

  He finally gave up. It wasn’t helping him get over her any faster, if at all. His art had always been his outlet; it never failed—until now.

  He rose stiffly from his stool. He’d been working since he closed the bar in the wee hours of Sunday morning. He thought it was Monday morning, but then he wasn’t sure. He needed to find out though, because he had a meeting with Pete at the Crow’s Nest at noon and it was almost eleven. He looked out the window. Yeah, definitely eleven a.m. He just hoped it was Monday and not Tuesday.

  Simon took a swig of old coffee that had gone cold hours ago, scrubbed his hand over his bristled chin, and turned to the sculpture he’d worked on until his arms ached and his head swam. Yeah, it was of her too.

  Last week he’d gone to his favorite junkyard looking to lose himself in the possibility he saw in every piece of metal. All he saw was Trouble. A piece of a car’s undercarriage was the exact shape of her hip as she slept beside him in the dark. A black piece of flashing looked like her hair draped over his pillow like silk the first time they’d made love. The old window symbolized something—now he couldn’t remember what the hell it was. Oh, yeah, the glass distorted the image of everything beyond it symbolizing time. He sat down hard. Shit, this piece probably sucked too.

  A knock sounded at the door and he ignored it. There was no one he wanted to see. The knocking continued for a few minutes and stopped just before the door squeaked open and slammed shut. Shit.

  He turned and watched his sister walk into his studio. He tamped down the urge to strangle her. “Come to gloat, Mel?”

  Mel stopped, hands on hips, hair coiled on the top of her head with lacquered sticks holding it in place, wearing a pair of jeans shot with holes that looked as if they were about to fall off, and a see-through top that showed off a diamond-studded navel and what he hoped was the top of a bikini. “I came over to see if you wanted to play hooky and go to the beach with me. Are you sick? You look awful.” She looked around his studio. “So, wanna tell me what I’m supposed to be gloating about?”

  He rushed her and bent down until they were nose to nose before he yelled. “You know damn well what!”

  “Back off, bro.” She pushed against his chest with both hands. “Now calm down and tell me what’s tied your dick in a knot.”

  “Oh don’t play dumb with me. It took me awhile to figure it out, but even I can put two and two together.”

  “Earth to Simon.” She had the nerve to knock her knuckles against his forehead.

  It was all he could do not to pick her up and toss her into the bay.

  “I only stopped to see you because I was worried, you numbskull. You haven’t answered any of my calls or texts so instead of heading over to Point Pleasant, I came here thinking we could go to Jones Beach or something—that is if you hadn’t died or fallen off the face of the earth. I still have no idea what you’re accusing me of, so you’d better hurry up and get specific because I’m quickly losing patience.”

  “I’m talking about you and Elyse scheming for me to sleep with her. I can’t believe you did that, Mel. You need to grow the fuck up and get the hell out of here. I’ve had enough of your childish pranks to last me a lifetime. But I never thought you’d stoop this low.”

  “You’re the one?”

  “You know damn well I’m the one since it was probably your idea. Stop playing dumb—it’s not becoming.” He stepped back and crossed his arms to keep from throttling her. “I’m sure you two had a great time laughing about it.”

  “Laughing?” Mel’s voice got dangerously low and her eyes widened to the size of saucers. “You’re the one who hurt her?”

  It had been a while since Simon had seen his sister on the edge, but he’d never forgotten that look. The last time was when he’d used parts of all her Barbie dolls for an avant-garde art project. He backed up as far as he could and rammed into his worktable.

  “I’ve been worried sick about Elyse, so worried that I went to her place and spent a half hour knocking on her door. She pretended she wasn’t there. Good thing I had a key.” When she took two steps toward him he skirted away like a pansy. But hey, he remembered the damage she’d done when she was only seven years old, Lord knew what she was capable of now. She chased him and shoved him so hard he almost ended up on his ass. “What the hell did you do to her?”

  “Nothing she didn’t want me to do.”

  “Listen carefully, Simple Simon. I spent most of the week passing Elyse tissues and watching every chick flick known to man—and you know how I hate those movies. Elyse—the person who didn’t miss one day of school in her whole entire life—was so upset, she called in sick to work three days and missed a meeting with her advisor.”

  Simon suddenly wasn’t feeling too sure of himself or his ability to stand. He grabbed a stool and lowered himself onto it. “No way—you two had this all planned. You’re just saying that to cover your own ass.”

  Mel gave him another shove that had him thanking God the stool he sat on was against the wall. “You’re delusional. And for your information, even after torturing me for days and crying on my shoulder, Elyse still refused to tell me what happened or who the dickhead was who broke her heart.”

  “I didn’t break anything. I just didn’t know who she was. I mean, I knew I knew her, I just couldn’t remember from where or how. Elyse knew it all along and never told me. If I had known who she was, I never would have touched her.”

  “Whoa, back up, cowboy. You slept with someone you didn’t even know?”

  Shit, when she put it that way it certainly didn’t help his case any.

  “Did you ask her?”

  “No, but once I figured it out— God, she was like a pesky little sister to me. She tricked me into sleeping with her and you were in on it.”

  “What an idiot. For a guy who is supposedly freakishly intelligent, you’re amazingly stupid. Did it ever occur to you that the only pranks we played were on you and your so-called girlfriends? Elyse has been crazy in love with you since we were in the third grade.” She held up her hands. “I know, there’s no accounting for taste. And believe me, she’s tried to move on. She’s dated lots of men but she never found anyone who could compare to her completely irrational imaginary version of you. Some Prince Charming you turned out to be.”

  “Elyse was in love with me?”

  “Yeah, I used to think it was a schoolgirl crush, but even th
ough she rarely mentions you any more—”

  “She really didn’t know where I worked?”

  “I certainly never told her. Why would I? You’re the last person I’d fix my best friend up with.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with me?”

  “You really don’t know, do you?” She shook her head. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Super Simon always thought he could do no wrong. For your information, I wouldn’t wish you on my worst enemy, no less my best friend, for fear that you’d treat her as badly as you treated all the rest of the women you’ve dumped.”

  “Hey, I’ve never treated any of the women I’ve dated badly. They all knew the score.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re that oblivious. I was the one stuck home answering the phone when whoever you dumped called you every hour on the hour, remember? I was so glad when you went to college just so I wouldn’t have to deal with the tears of girlfriends past. It was a freakin’ nightmare.”

  “I never promised anyone I’ve ever dated more than a good time.” Until Elyse, he’d never met anyone he wanted to see more than casually.

  “You know, Simon, maybe I should thank you. You might have just done Elyse a big favor. Maybe now that you’ve treated her just like all the others, she’ll finally be able to move on.”

  “Move on?”

  “Yeah, maybe now she’ll be open to finding a nice guy who will treat her like the prize that she is.”

  The thought of Elyse with anyone else made him feel sick.

  “Oh, and just so you know, the only reason I’m not murdering you right now is because I’m going to start sending you my therapy bills. It just occurred to me that you’re probably the reason I’m scarred for life.” She turned, stomped out of his studio, and slammed the door so hard his windows rattled.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Simon looked at the clock and cursed, running as he stripped off his clothes. He had twenty minutes to shower, shave, and get his ass to the Crow’s Nest—that was if he was right about the date. He probably should have asked Mel what day it was before she stormed out. After his job performance last week, he’d be lucky if Pete didn’t have him in the kitchen doing dishes. He was making enough money with his art that he didn’t need to tend bar anymore, but it gave him time to people watch, to fill his creative well, and besides, he loved it.

  When he shouldered his way through the door of the Crow’s Nest, he was only five minutes late. If he’d been a day late, there would be customers at the bar. Pete and Francis did twin head-turns and wore matching expressions that had all the hair on the back of his neck standing at attention. This week was definitely one for the suckathon record books.

  “Hi, Pete, Francis.” He made his way to the bar. “Pete, I’m sorry I’m late. You wanted to see me?”

  Pete turned the stool next to him around. “Sit down, son.” He nodded to Francis who poured three shots.

  Simon swallowed hard. It had to be pretty bad for Pete to have Francis pouring top-shelf scotch at this time of the day.

  Francis pushed one toward him. “What we’re having here is an intervention. You’ve been walking around all week like a bear with a toothache. What’s the problem?”

  Simon eyed his boss. “Pete, I can’t remember the last time I ate. It’s probably not a good idea for me to start drinking.”

  Pete smiled and pulled out his phone. “I’ll call for a pizza. What do you want on it?”

  “My appetite flew the coop. I’ll pass.”

  Pete set his phone on the bar and sat back looking at him. “Well, shit, boy. I knew it was bad, but I had no idea it was that bad.”

  Simon rubbed his forehead where the headache he’d had for most of the week had taken root.

  Pete reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

  Damn, Simon had expected to get his ass fired; he hadn’t expected sympathy. He grabbed the shot and downed it, welcoming the way the burn chased the pain. “Look, Pete, if you’re going to fire me, I’d appreciate it if you would just go ahead and do it.”

  “Oh, man. Not again. This is like déjà vu.” Pete slicked back what was left of his white hair. “I haven’t seen a man in such a sorry state since Patrice dumped Francis.” A smile lit his face. “Remember that, Frankie?”

  Francis downed his shot. “Not fondly, but yeah, I remember. It’s more of a recurring nightmare—one I have whenever Patty makes me sleep on the couch.”

  Pete slapped Simon on the back—hard. “I’m not gonna fire you boy. Frances and I are worried about you. We thought you might need some advice, or at the very least a few men to commiserate with. I’ve never seen you hung up on a woman before. With you, it’s usually the other way around. The girls are always coming around here lookin’ like they’re about to cry.”

  Francis nodded. “Yeah, we send them over to talk to Bree. She calms them down, gives them a drink on the house, and keeps us out of it.”

  “This happens often?”

  Pete and Francis shared a look and both nodded. “’Bout once a month,” they said in stereo.

  “Damn. Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?”

  Francis leaned his Hulk-like arms on the bar. “Why would we? We know how you operate—or we did until you met Fitz. You’re a free agent, man. You never promised those women a thing—doesn’t make them stop wanting to change your mind, and for some reason, they’re always upset when you don’t. It’s not your problem.”

  “That’s not what my sister said. She just stormed out of my place yelling about how she wouldn’t wish me on her worst enemy. She accused me of mistreating every woman I’ve ever dated.”

  “Women.” Pete shook his head. “You tell them the way it is. When they choose not to listen, that don’t make it your fault.”

  Francis nodded. “Still, it doesn’t explain what flew up your ass last week. We saw you leave with your girl, Fitz, on Saturday night with a big-ass gonna-get-me-some-of-that grin on your face and you came back to work on Tuesday looking like someone had just put your beloved pet frog in the blender and hit Frappe.”

  Pete nodded. “That about sums it up. So now it’s your turn. What the hell happened and what can we do to help?”

  “Nothing. I mean something happened that should never have happened, and damn if I know what to do about it. It’s something I have to work out for myself.”

  Francis poured Simon another shot. “Yeah, I get it, man. I know what it’s like. Believe me, the last thing I wanted to do was come to Pete when Patrice told me to take a long walk down a short pier. Still, I’m glad I did. It’s the age and wisdom thing, you know what I’m sayin’? A guy doesn’t tend bar most of his life without learning a thing or two about women. Maybe he’ll help you as much as he helped me.”

  “Fine.” He turned to Pete. “Have you ever met someone that you knew you knew, but you don’t know how you knew her?”

  Both Francis and Pete nodded.

  “Well, I didn’t know how I knew Fitz, but it was like I’d known her all my life. We fit—really, really well. She was perfect, funny, beautiful—in less then twenty-four hours I fell long and hard. I even told her I wanted a relationship—a real, honest-to-God relationship.”

  Pete pulled a stogie out of his pocket and ran it under his nose for a sniff.

  Simon shook his head. “Bree’s gonna be out here in two seconds flat if you light that thing up. You know how she hates your smoking.”

  “Shit.” Pete put the stogie back into his pocket. “It’s my bar. A man should be able to do whatever the hell he likes in his own castle. Bree needs to find herself a man to order around and leave me the hell alone.”

  Francis laughed. “In order to do that, she’d have to date. And Bree hasn’t had a date in six months.”

  Pete shrugged. “Yeah, well, Bree’s lack of a love life’s a problem for another day. So, Simon, if everything was going so well, what the hell happened?”

  Simon cringed. “Fitz was sitting in my kitchen stirring mayo into her eggs, and I finally
remembered how I knew her. She’s my little sister’s best friend.”

  Francis looked stunned. “Who puts mayo in their eggs? God, that’s gross. Sometimes Patty will put ketchup and hot sauce on hers.” He shook his big head. “I just don’t get it. But still, that’s not enough to turn a guy off the woman he loves.”

  “Francis, Elyse is my sister’s best friend.”

  “Pretty name, much better than Fitz.”

  “Don’t you get it? She was like a pest who was always around the house—I used to call her Trouble. God, she and Mel ruined every one of my dates they found out about. They used to make my life miserable. When I figured out who the hell she was, I thought she and Mel were pulling another prank on me. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize her. But then, I haven’t seen her since I left for college when she was a skinny fourteen-year-old with glasses, braces, bad skin, and frizzy hair.”

  Francis smiled. “Yeah, but man, that had to be at least ten years ago. She sure did grow up to be a beauty.” Francis quickly scanned the empty bar. “Not that I was lookin’ or anything, but hot damn, she’s almost as pretty as my Patrice and that’s sayin’ something. And she’s nice too. Patrice really liked her.”

  “Francis! I slept with my little sister’s best friend. It’s the closest thing to incest I know.”

  “Now hold on, son.” Pete set his drink on the bar and lit the end of his cigar, puffing like a freight train going uphill until the end glowed. “You haven’t seen Elyse since she was a teenager, right?”

  “No, but she’s—”

  Pete held up his hand. “She’s what, four or five years younger than you?”

  “She’s twenty-four.”

  “And you had no idea she was the little girl who ruined all your dates?”

  “Not a freakin’ clue.”

  “So you didn’t know you were sleeping with your sister’s best friend.”

  “No, but it doesn’t change the fact that I did.”

  “You talk about her like she’s still that teenager. The woman you left with was no little girl.”