Haven

by J D Worth

  “Trent, Fifth Avenue is where all the most expensive stores in the city are located.” Violet comes to my aid. “The street faces Central Park, like the closer you are in location the better your housing is. Right, Audrey?” She offers a supportive smile.

  “Yes,” I confirm.

  “Where do you live in relation to the park?” Trent presses the subject.

  “Trent, drop it. Just let her enjoy the damn pizza,” Mace states in a firm voice, noticing my unease. I look at him in awe; he’s always providing me with what I need.

  “Just asking,” Trent replies in an annoyed tone, swiping another piece of pizza.

  “All you need to know is that we have a nice view,” I say, putting an end to the discussion. Cal chuckles at my curt response while Trent glares at him. “I guess pizza is my treat. I’ve never been allowed processed foods before.”

  “There’s a first time for everything!” Violet says, winking at me. “I’m putting tater tots on the bucket list. We’re giving you loads of reasons to return to Haven.”

  Payton catches the flash in Violet’s eyes and directs her attention on Mace and me. “Audrey, I grabbed my bag after Violet texted me about the gals-only sleepover. Jax, you’re not invited!” she warns. His grin widens, taking on the challenge.

  Violet says, “Yes, and another first for Audrey, meaning we’re getting our drink on.” She holds up her drink. “Cheers, everyone!”

  Payton hops up, asking what everyone would like for a drink. She snags Violet and me to “help” in the kitchen. “Damn, Baby Girl! I knew Mace was acting differently,” Payton whispers in my ear, giving me a supportive hug. I’m relieved when she doesn’t ask for details.

  We head back into the living room with new drinks, stumbling upon Mace having an intense discussion with Trent. Cal and Jax stand behind Trent who is shifting in his spot, saying, “I wasn’t thinking—”

  “Yeah, no shit! Until you learn to show a little more respect, you can head on home.” Mace motions to my front door.

  “Now, Trent!” Cal’s menacing voice says, moving into his space.

  “Everything all right?” I ask of the sudden strained situation.

  “Trent’s gotta jet.” Mace escorts him to the door.

  “Sorry, Audrey, the pizza was fun, but I’ve gotta head out.” He grinds out sharp words, hurrying to the front door.

  “Sure.” A frown pulls at my mouth, missing whatever happened with the guys. Trent’s been too flirtatious towards me all week, and the girls are trading knowing looks. This is not a good turn of events.

  15

  Cal’s mood lifts the moment Trent pulls out of the driveway. He clasps his hands together, and a wide smile covers his face. “Here we are making a night of getting rained out, and the booze is running low. Y’all are lushes since Goof’s been home.” I smile up at Cal as he flashes me a grin. “Mace and I are gonna make a run to Sonny’s to replenish our stock.”

  “We should come too,” Payton says. “Rain’s letting up, and Mace has his Jeep.” Eyeing me, she bites her lip in a playful way.

  “Princess, you wanna hit Sonny’s tonight?” Mace’s lips curl into a big smile as his hand lands on my hip.

  “You mean the run down, prohibition-era shack we passed earlier in town? Hell, yes!” They laugh at my comparison. “How will the underage four of us pass through the door?” My question is overwhelmed with a bunch of snickers.

  “Darlin’,” Jax says, “Sonny likes himself some fried food, so the place ain’t just a bar.”

  “All right,” I reply, not wanting to worry about any more brushes with the sheriff. “Is moonshine really served down here? One would assume Sonny’s is the place where you’d find the authentic spirits.”

  Cal guffaws. “Oh yeah, moonshine! How’d we forget to add that to the list?” He turns to Mace, saying, “You gotta let me have this one since I gave you the last one.”

  “You’re on.” Mace nods. He leans in close by my ear and says, “Princess, grab a cashmere to cover up those bruises. None of us wants an ass-whuppin’ from any of those big ole country boys. If they think we harmed you...” He squeezes my hip as though to reassure me.

  “I’ll go grab something from my room.” Mace is right, but I can’t shake the feeling that settles over me. Not when I’m compelled to hide the bruises from my own eyes.

  Payton senses something is wrong. “Head on outside, y’all. The night ain’t getting any younger,” Payton says as she pushes Cal towards the door while Violet tugs Jax along. Payton waves her arm at Mace and he follows. “You boys better not be raring for trouble tonight. Smoke, drink, and act like you have some damn sense for once. Audrey and I will be right out.”

  Payton follows me to my room. “You okay, Baby Girl?”

  “I need to cover up...”

  “Say no more,” she says, thumbing through my closet. “Seems like you and Mace got frisky tonight?”

  “We started to. I froze, so he stopped. I don’t know what came over me.” I touch one of the bruises below my collarbone with the soft pad of my finger. “There are feelings of guilt and shame mixed in with my intimate encounter with Mace that don’t belong there.”

  “You still want to be with Mace, right?” I nod in agreement, and she smiles at me. “Here.” She gives me a light cotton patterned top that I layer over my cami. She pulls the shirt off to one side with a smile. “Tonight will be fun, I promise. The top will hide the fading bruises on your chest. The new tan you’re sporting hides the faint yellow ones on your arms. Guess my sister was right about the sun making the bruises disappear quicker. Let me do your hair.”

  Sitting in front of the mirror, I contemplate matters while she helps wrangle my messy hair by adding the wavy beach product Violet gave me. It dawns on me how I look like the guilty party in Chaz’s disappearance. I’m the one with a motive. Hal came close to accusing me of the actual crime. With my family’s money and power, I could make him disappear with no trace. Someone is intent on reminding me with creepy moves while they slither around my cottage.

  I latch onto her arm. Payton drops her hand from my hair as worry passes over her face.

  “Payton, did I make a mistake by not telling authorities about Chaz’s assault? I was so panicked about my immediate future that I was blind to the long-term consequences.”

  “Oh, Baby Girl, you told us.” She rests her hands on each side of my face. “Look at it this way. He’ll think twice before taking something without permission again.”

  “Never mind. I’m being … stupid. He attempted but failed to hurt me like he wanted to.”

  She sighs, squeezing my shoulder and smiles brighter than the sun. “You know what? Your hair is sexy like this. Like a ‘roll in the hay’ kind of sexy,” she muses aloud, looping her arm through mine. With an encouraging smile, she leads me out to the Jeep.

  Violet sits on Jax’s lap so we can all fit during the short trip to the bar. Cal slaps Mace on the shoulder, wishing him luck when we enter. Mace wraps a possessive arm around my hip, and Payton winks at me. Jax and Violet follow behind us as the group greets everyone on the way in. Cal and Mace are the only ones who are of legal drinking age. Still, nobody cares we’re here, even though food doesn’t seem to be on the menu.

  “Princess, you gotta meet Sonny first before you can get served.”

  “Because I’m underage?” My friends scoff at me.

  “Nah, ’cause you’re a Yankee,” Mace retorts with mock terror on his face.

  Cal tosses punches in the air. “Sonny’s king ’round here. He used to rule the ring when he was a boxer back in the day.”

  “Southpaw, you better watch out,” Mace rasps in my ear. I smile and grip his hand while we make our way through the country shack. Older men with long beards in different types of work clothes fill every corner. The women tend to be on the sturdy side while their fashion sense gives way to homegrown comfort. Makeup is scare, the hairstyles aren’t fussy, and not
one pair of high heels taps against the old wooden floorboards. I immediately envy how comfortable the women are in their own social scene. They aren’t putting on a show because they don’t have to. The bar dress code is plaid, timeworn denim, and battered footwear. With confused curiosity, I take note of several huge men wearing denim overalls with no shirts underneath. Mace stifles a laugh. “Those are your Southern country boys here for the hooch.”

  “Hooch?” I ask.

  “Moonshine, you goof!” Cal chaffs.

  Mace pounds on the bar in front of a massive man pouring a beer from the tap. “Sonny, this here is Audrey. She’s the Wakefield kin.”

  Sonny must have three-hundred-plus pounds packed solid on him. He is also the perfect definition of a good ole boy. He towers over Cal and Mace who are massive in their own right. He’s an older man in his mid-sixties with more salt-than-pepper, long scraggly beard. A tattered white T-shirt pulls tight across his paunchy stomach and red suspenders hold up his even larger jeans. I’ve never met him, yet he seems familiar somehow.

  Rearing up, Sonny points his beefy finger at Mace, saying, “Son, you should’ve brought her in the second you crossed paths. You know how these things go!”

  I sink besides Mace as he explains, “There were complications. I brought her when it was proper.” Mace nods at me. “And she was more than willing to come tonight.” Sonny leans over the bar, eyeing me. I lean away, finding Mace’s solid arm locked behind my back.

  Sonny straightens up, and my shoulders relax. “You’re the long-lost grandbaby.” His throaty voice drawls as he takes his time looking me over.

  “Yes, Jonathan and Beth Wakefield were my grandparents.”

  His eyes dance over my curly hair and back to my brown eyes. “Look at that. Bloodlines are clear as day.”

  I churn my chin towards him. “Excuse me?”

  He slams a bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter. I jump in my place. He lets out a hefty laugh with several other patrons around us. Sonny places a large tray full of shot glasses on the counter and begins pouring alcohol. The other bartender adds two more full trays on the bar and several more bottles of whiskey. “Then a celebration’s in order. Someone ring my boy, he should be joining us. Wakefield kin is finally coming home to us! Returning to her roots, to her family.”

  Cal wraps his arm around my shoulder, watching the show with amusement. “The hooch is good tonight! Sonny’s already half-in-the-bag.” His smile is bright as he exchanges looks with Sonny. Mace passes shots to Jax, Violet, and Payton standing behind us. Sonny rings a rusted cowbell hanging over the bar. The rowdy patrons hush, giving Sonny their rapt attention. Mace hands me a shot glass and takes one himself. The other patrons grab drinks and the bar crowd gathers behind us, waiting for Sonny to speak.

  “Y’all listen up, ya hear now,” Sonny commands. “We got ourselves a little city mouse with us tonight. She’s real special too.” Beaming at me, Sonny places his hefty hand on my head. “She just so happens to be ole Jonathan Wakefield’s grandbaby.” He raises the shot and everyone follows suit. Bewildered, I glimpse around. “To good ole Jonathan.” The entire bar downs their shots, paying respect to my late grandfather. Sonny and the other bartender pour another round as the crowd shuffles back for refills. He says in a somber tone, raising his glass again, “To J.J., my boy’s best bud who left this world far too soon.” We follow with the second shot, paying respect to another individual.

  The noise in the bar explodes back to the level when we entered a few minutes ago. Payton and Violet join Jax by helping him rack up the balls on a pool table. I rise up on tiptoes, asking Mace in a whisper, “Who was J.J.?”

  Mace’s brows lift high. “That was your uncle, Princess. Folks here called him Johnny Junior. J.J. for short.”

  A befuddled daze falls upon me. “My mother never shared any of this with me. The more I discover the Wakefields, the more I realize how little I know about that side of my family. How well did I really know my mother? She had a whole other life here, one I’ve only heard miniscule snippets about.”

  “She lost everyone. I’m sure her memories here weren’t easy to share,” Mace replies.

  “You’re right. I’m facing the same arduous task with my own past.”

  Cal leans towards Sonny as he squeezes my shoulder. “How ’bout a breath of ‘fresh country air’ for our little city mouse here?”

  I glance towards Sonny who has been staring at me since my uncle’s tribute. Deep down, I know I’ve met this man before. I don’t recall any photos of Sonny, yet somehow I remember his large, welcoming arms wrapped around me in a paternal hug.

  “Thank you,” I say, motioning to the drinks. “Have we met before?” The question slips from my unfiltered mouth.

  A slow, easy smile crosses his wide face. “Southern blood never forgets their roots, my child.”

  His answer is perplexing at best. I shake away my thoughts, chiding myself for dreaming of a past here. That’s not possible. I’ve never set foot here before, and my mother didn’t share any stories with me about the colorful characters inhabiting Bell Peninsula. All I heard were her adventures with her brother exploring the long beach, the expansive marsh areas, and the woods behind the cottage. I rationalize how Sonny looks like Santa Clause with his large belly, red suspenders, and white beard. I must be overlapping childhood memories.

  “Moonshine, huh? You’re giving her the royal treatment then,” Sonny says, cracking another whip of a laugh, pulling out a glass jug gallon full of clear liquor from under the counter. Sonny’s smiling blue eyes land on me, asking, “Child, you ever have a lick of moonshine before?”

  Mace pulls a stool over, and I sit. “No,” I reply, craning my head up at Sonny.

  “Moonshine will make you grow hair in places you never knew possible.” Sonny’s large hand rubs across his belly.

  “Did my grandfather ever try it?” I ask. His response is a deep belly laugh that causes his whole body to shake.

  “Quick way ’round here to be accepted.” He holds up his hand, ready to count off with his fingers, saying, “You got kinfolk, you put roots down with your own kin, or you can hold your moonshine.” Sonny swallows another large swig. He shakes his head as the alcohol settles. I wince from watching his expression alone. He follows with a loud hoot. “There ain’t nothin’ like moonshine!” Sonny exclaims, cracking a toothy smile.

  “Five pulls,” Cal says.

  “One,” Mace challenges Cal with a pointed look. “You wanna burn a hole in her stomach, or what?”

  “Hey, my pass off was worth at least three.” Mace nods at him before glancing my way. In quiet fascination, I watch the two negotiate how much moonshine they think I should drink.

  I shove my shot glass forward. “Oh, I’m all in.”

  Mace says in my ear, “You got nothing to prove. You don’t gotta do this, and you don’t fuckin’ shoot moonshine. You sip.” Eager for new experiences, I hurl him a look of protest. Mace sighs and nods at Sonny who lines up three mason jars, pouring liquid into each one.

  “When would I ever get this opportunity again?” I ask as a coy smile plays on my lips. “My own Southern Santa is offering me local spirits, how can I say no?” Mace eyes Cal who hides a smirk.

  Cal points to Sonny and says, “Sonny Claus!” I chuckle, and Cal breaks out in a child-like grin. “She’s got you there, Gramps.”

  Mace’s eyes shift between Cal and mine. “You two. Unbelievable.”

  “I’ll do the three swigs or pulls, whatever you call the proper drinking etiquette of moonshine.” I snicker. “I’d like the full moonshine brochure please.”

  “Smartass.” Mace winks. “Sonny, a Coke chaser please.”

  “What kind?” Sonny asks me.

  “What kind of Coke do I want, or what kind of moonshine would I like? Does moonshine come flavored? Now I’m intrigued,” I ask. Sonny shares another hooting of a laugh. “Add the moonshine flavor menu to the drinking brochure ple
ase.”

  “Yankees!” Cal sighs, hamming it up. “Apple Pie moonshine is my favorite.”

  “Cal,” I say with an exaggerated sigh of my own, “it’s not a Yankee thing. It’s an Audrey thing.” I crack up laughing with them.

  Cal inches over to me, saying, “I’m getting that, Goof. In these parts, Coke stands for any kind of soda. Soda is what you call it in the big city, right?”

  “Grab her a regular Coke.” Mace nods to Sonny who’s still chuckling at me. “I’m guessing soda isn’t an everyday thing either. Right, Princess?”

  “Is moonshine an everyday thing?” I retort in a smart tone. Taking another swig of moonshine, Sonny guffaws. Several drunken hoots and fist pumps make their way around the bar from his beloved patrons. He grimaces, which can’t be a good sign if moonshine is his daily indulgence.