by Lesley Jones
“Watch your manners. You might be grown, but I can still stand on a chair to kick your ass. Now, act like the gentleman I know your momma raised and introduce me to the girl, would ya?”
I turn around to find Gracie watching us with a small smile on her face, her dimple barely there. I gesture with my head for her to join us, and her smile gets bigger as she moves in our direction.
“Gracie, this is Martha. She’s been like a second mom to me my entire life and is best friends with my real mom.”
“Hey, Martha, you all right?” Gracie’s English accent is so very prominent as she speaks.
I watch as her cheeks turn pink, but Martha just tilts her head and smiles, taking in everything about Gracie while they shake hands.
“Oh, my word would you just listen to that accent. Where did you blow in from, darling?”
Gracie gives her a megawatt grin, dimple now fully on display.
“I’m from England.”
“Well, that accent is just precious. Let’s get you seated so you can order.”
Martha leads the way, and again I place my hand on the small of Gracie’s back as we follow her towards a booth right by the window in the back of the dining area.
There are four menus and place settings, but Martha removes one from each side as we slide in.
“Can I getchya a coffee?”
“Oh, could I have tea please?” Gracie asks.
“Sure thing. I’m assuming you mean hot tea and not iced?”
“Oh, definitely hot. Green, if you’ve got it, with a slice of lemon.”
Martha’s eyes cut to me and then back to Gracie. “Darling, I can fetch you coffee and tea, iced or hot. We have four or five kinds of soda. I can offer chocolate, strawberry, or vanilla shakes, bottled or tap water, but that’s about it.”
Gracie has taken her jacket off and is unwinding her scarf as Martha speaks, and her neck and cheeks have grown pinker as she does.
“What kind of tea is it?”
“Lipton’s.”
“English Breakfast?”
“Just tea.”
“I’ll have water please.”
“Bottled or tap.”
“Bottled, thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
Martha looks to me with a don’t-you-dare-fuck-with-me glare in her eyes, so I simply say, “Coffee please, Martha.”
“Thank you, Koa. I’ll send someone right over with your drinks and to take your food order.”
We both watch her walk away.
“I think I pissed her off,” Gracie says quietly.
“I believe that you’d know it if you pissed Martha off. She’s probably back there adding green and English breakfast tea to her list for the next time she goes to Costco.”
I watch as she swipes one thumb over the nail of the other, but before I get a chance to reassure her not to worry, someone moving our way catches my attention. Two someones in fact.
“Shit.”
“What?” Gracie asks, craning her neck around the booth to watch Misty and Curtis Walker approach.
Misty falters very slightly in her step when Gracie looks at her but then continues her advance.
She stops right in front of our table, arms folded across her bony chest. Despite the temperature outside, she has on jeans that are so low and a top so short that her skin is on display from beneath her artificially inflated rack all the way down to her protruding hipbones.
Sure, she and I may have hooked up more than once, both before and after Danielle, but that was then, and this is now, and a lot seems to have changed. Misty never did carry much weight, but she looks gaunt, almost emaciated now. Her once fair hair is dark, greying at the roots, and I almost wanted to ask her if she was still as close to Danielle as she used to be. Seems to me they were both running headlong down the same path.
The years haven’t been kind to Misty Walker.
“Heard you were back in town. Didn’t think the mighty Koa Carmichael would actually grace us with his presence, though.”
“Decided you all could do with a treat, seeing as the weather’s been so bad.”
“Still got that high opinion of yourself then.”
“Apparently. But seeing how you came over here and not the other way around, why don’t you get to the point. What do you want, Misty?”
I watch as Curtis, her brother, buries his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels, looking anywhere but at me.
“Just to warn you to stay the fuck away from Danielle. She’s happy and in love, probably getting married soon to my brother. She don’t need you turning up and causing problems.”
“Thank you, Misty. I’ll do my absolute best to stay out of Danielle’s way, she is the very last person on this earth that I would want to see, so that really won’t be a problem. Now, if you don’t mind, please fuck off. I’d like to order my food.”
She looks at me like I’m a piece of shit before turning her gaze to Gracie, looking at her in much the same way. I’m ready to get up from the booth and physically restrain Misty if she makes a move towards Gracie. Knowing her from way back, I’m only too aware of what a vicious bitch she can be.
“Who’s your new friend? I heard the last one took your kid and ran. Just can’t hang on to a woman can you, Carmichael?”
“Listen, love, don’t know who you are . . .” Gracie pauses for effect, looks Misty up and down before continuing, “But judging by what you’re wearing and the state of your regrowth, I would assume you’re one of the town’s homeless, or maybe just the local whore who’s hit on hard times. Can’t be easy, turning tricks in this weather. I’m sure even the grubbiest of clients don’t want their dicks to drop off. Although…”
My head tilts to the side. I watch with wide eyes as Gracie gives it to Misty, and I have to swallow back my grin.
“If they’re clients of yours, there’s every chance their dick’s dropped off from a dose of the clap, long, long ago. Anyway, assuming you’re not deaf as well as a skank, you heard what the man said. He’s starving. I’m starving. So, fuck off and let us order our food.”
The whole place is silent. Misty lunges for Gracie, but she anticipates her move and slides back in the booth out of reach. At the same time, I stand to block anymore attempts she might make to get at Gracie while Curtis grabs Misty by the waist from behind.
“Put me the fuck down, Curtis put me down.” Misty kicks her legs out in front of her as her brother carries her towards the door.
“This ain’t over, Carmichael. You and that little bitch need to watch your backs.”
“Yeah, and you need to consult with a stylist at the local salon and get them roots fixed, sweetheart,” Gracie, who is now up on her knees and peering over the top of the booth, calls out.
“Get her out of here, Curtis. And watch your mouth, Misty.” I hear Martha shout from behind the counter.
I look around the room at everyone staring our way, some actually have their cell phones out and are blatantly recording the whole shit show. I take my time glaring at them all, and the buzz of conversation slowly starts again.
GRACIE
“WELL, JUST LOOK AT ME, making new friends on my very first trip to town. Can’t wait to meet the rest of your mates and feel the love.”
I give him a closed-mouth smile and watch as his lips twitch while he fights his own. I’m shaking on the inside. I’m not a big fan of confrontation, but at the same time, I don’t take shit from anyone, either. I grew up with no brothers or sisters to fight my battles for me and learned to stick up for myself a long time ago.
I can’t say that I’ve ever been bullied, but I’ve been in situations where the mean girls have laid into me verbally. It’s been years since I’ve been in a physical fight, which was all Kimmie’s fault, but what I lack in height and experience, I make up for with my mouth. I’m good at giving evil looks and dishing the shit when the occasion requires, and this occasion definitely required a massive serving.
I’ve no clue who Mis
ty is, or her connection to Koa, but I wasn’t just gonna sit there and listen to all that bollocks. My inner Essex Bird reared her head, and there was no stopping me. At least it didn’t end with us rolling around on the floor. That would’ve just been tacky, and seeing as I only have one hand to fight with right now, I most likely would’ve lost.
A waitress appears at the table, pours coffee into the mug that’s already sitting in front of Koa, and places a bottle of water in front of me.
We both offer up a thank you, and she pulls out her pad to write down our orders.
“You guys know what you’d like to eat. Breakfast is about to wrap up, so I need to get this in quick.” She pauses, then adds, “Hey, Koa, how are you?”
I watch as he looks up from his menu and his smile finally breaks free.
“Rebecca? Hey, how are you? How’s Drew?”
“He’s good. We have three boys now, and they all have football practice up at the high school this morning. So, he goes there, and I come here.”
“Three boys? What ages?”
“Eleven, fourteen, and sixteen.”
“How ’bout you? You got two, is that right?”
Two?
He never mentioned two kids.
I look up from my menu and catch him staring at me, saying, “Yeah, I’ve got two.”
There’s a long moment of silence before I ask, “Could I have the omelette, please? Can you add spinach, avocado, mushrooms, and extra cheese to that, as well? Thanks.”
“Sure thing,” Rebecca replies. I smile, and she takes the menu from me.
“I’ll have the breakfast special with the lot, please, Bec.”
“Coming right up.”
She turns and leaves the table. I fiddle with my napkin. This whole situation is weird, and I suddenly feel awkward and unsettled.
“I went to school with Rebecca and her husband Drew. Grew up with them. Sorry, I should’ve introduced you.” His voice interrupts my thought process, not that I’d got very far with it.
I don’t know this man. I mean what the actual fuck am I doing here, and why the fuck did I just get a little stab of jealousy at the way Rebecca smiled at him? And what’s the fucking deal with Misty the stripper, or prostitute, or whatever the fuck she is, warning him away from his ex?
And why the fuck do I even care?
“As what?” I ask, throwing down my napkin and attempting to unscrew the lid on my bottle of water as I do.
“Huh? What do you mean as what?”
Don’t go there, Gracie. Don’t go there. Don’t go there. Don’t go there.
“What would you introduce me as, your lodger, your guest, the girl you cried on and whose arms you fell asleep in last night?”
I went there.
He sits back against the red vinyl seatback and picks up his napkin.
We both watch as he twists and untwists the napkin around his finger. He has beautiful hands, the backs are smooth, his fingers long, but they have callouses on them. From what? I don’t know.
“I should apologise for that, Essex, but I won’t because it felt good.”
“The crying or falling asleep in my arms?”
He smiles and throws his napkin at me. I throw it back, and it lands straight in his coffee.
“Oops?” Is all I have. And even that I offer as a question, but he’s still smiling at me.
“Both. Both felt good.” My heart picks up its pace and begins to canter in my chest. I watch as he scoops the soggy napkin from his coffee and hand him mine to place it on. All without making eye contact with him.
“You throw like a T-rex.” I can hear the smile in his voice, but I still don’t make eye contact.
Come on, Gracie. Get it together.
“I’m not good with my left hand.” Yeah, that ain’t really what I would call getting it together.
I suck in my cheeks and do my best to fight a smile.
“Really? You do better with your right?” My gaze finally meets his, and he’s full-on grinning at me.
“Fuck you, Cowboy,” I say quietly.
“Right here? Before we eat or after? Or maybe we should just skip breakfast and eat each—”
“Here you go, guys. One omelette with extra cheese, mushrooms, spinach, and avocado and one breakfast special with the lot.”
“Thank you,” we say in unison.
“I’m Rebecca, by the way. That was rude of me earlier, not introducing myself. Koa, that’s your doing.”
“Yeah, sorry ’bout that. All my fault, and I did apologise.”
“That’s good to know.”
I watch their exchange and then offer, “Gracie, I’m a friend of Koa’s visiting from England.”
“England? Oh wow. You two meet through the band? Koa’s quite the celebrity around these parts.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard.” I leave my answer at that, not wanting to share that I’m shacking up with a total stranger.
She pauses for a second, realises that I’m not going to say anything else, smiles, and tells us to enjoy our food.
We eat in silence for a few seconds, and then, me being me, I have to say what’s on my mind.
“Do you not think that was a little totes inapprops?”
I watch as Koa chews on what Rod always refers to as ‘old ladies clit’ but is, in fact, what passes as a dry, crispy, excuse for bacon in America. His analogy is the reason I always stick to eggs when I travel here.
“Do I not think what? Do speak English.” He says the last part in what I think was another attempt to sound English. He fails.
“What you said about skipping breakfast and eating—”
“Lunch. I was gonna suggest skipping breakfast and eating lunch instead.”
I shake my head and give him my best eye roll.
Rebecca reappears, asks if we’re all good, and tops up Koa’s coffee as she asks if I’m sure I wouldn’t like any. I once again decline, and she leaves. I learned my lesson about the coffee they serve in the States the hard way. Or maybe I should say the runny way? Yep, it goes straight through me.
“There’s something I wanted to ask you.”
I take a swig of my water as Koa sips his coffee, watching me with those brown eyes of his over his mug.
“No, I don’t swallow on the first date.”
Coffee sprays the table as he chokes and splutters. I throw my head back and laugh, doing nothing to help him. When he finally regains his composure, he gets up and collects more napkins from the counter.
He sits back down opposite me and begins to wipe up the mess he left behind.
“Not swallowing implies that you do suck, though.”
I shake my head.
“I don’t suck or swallow on the first, second, or third date, Cowboy. And just so we’re clear, taking me to breakfast does not count as a date, so get any ideas you might have regarding me or my mouth and any suck, spit, or swallow action out of that dirty mind of yours because it ain’t happening.”
I eat the last mouthful of omelette that I can manage, well aware that he’s watching me. Yeah, I give all the old bollocks about not giving it up on the first date, but looking at him in all his fineness, I so would.
“Can we please stop talking about sucking, spitting, and swallowing?”
“Course we can, Cowboy. What was your question?”
I tilt my head back and sip on my water, making sure to swallow hard so that my throat moves. When I’m done, I circle the bottle with my swollen right hand and screw the lid on with my left. I may then stroke the bottle up and down, maybe once, twice or twelve times. When I’m entirely sure I have Koa’s full attention, I use my ring finger to wipe non-existent drops of water from each corner of my mouth. And then I slowly lick my lips.
“Question, Koa, what was it?”
His eyes shift from my mouth to meet mine, and he clears his throat.
“So, huh, yeah.” He fumbles, shifts in his seat, and clears his throat again.
“What we discussed before, about inter
iors? I was wondering, if I were to let you stay for free at Emily’s place while the renovations are done, would you give me some help with the interior stuff? Usually, after I’m done with renos, I have a company come in and dress them, but I’m not sure that I wanna sell the old place yet.”
“Why would you wanna sell it? Didn’t you say that your dad built it?”
He nods. “I did, yeah. Before I was even born.”
“Do you need the money? Is it a financial thing?”
He shakes his head and puts his knife and fork down, not having touched even a half of what’s on his plate.
“Fuck no. I earn decent money flipping houses and what the band brings in alone has me set up for life.”
“Then why sell?”
He puffs his cheeks and blows out a breath. His fringe moves, which has him raking his fingers through it in an attempt to push it back from his face.
“This town holds a lot of memories for me. Not all of them good.”
I nod, totally understanding where he’s coming from.
“The tree where it happened is gone. Had to be chopped down after the accident, but I still have to drive past that spot every time I come in and out of town. And it’s not just me it affects, I have to think of Kai, too.”
“I thought he lived with your mum?”
Mention of his son reminds me of what he’d said earlier. Two kids.
“That’s just a temporary thing. Kai decided he didn’t wanna go to college, wanted to learn a trade. So, I took him on as an apprentice carpenter. Money’s not great, but he’s learning a skill that will eventually bring him a good living if he sets his mind to it.” He takes a sip of his coffee and continues. “He’d been doing great until I got a knock at the door late one Friday night. It was Nelson.”
“The same sheriff who showed up to rescue me the other night?”
He gives me a look before saying, “Yep,” and wrapping both his hand around his mug. “My legs almost gave out from under me when I opened the door and saw him standing there. I can’t, even to this day, put into words the fear that had a grip on me so tight that I couldn’t bring myself to say a single fucking word.”
