Wings Over Poppies (Over #2)

by J. A. Derouen

  Antoni’s is a casual Providence hangout, with red-checkered tablecloths, flat screen televisions at every angle, and huge frozen beer mugs for any brand of draft beer you can imagine. It also has the best pizza I’ve ever wrapped my lips around. The crust is thin and crispy, and there’s no skimping on the toppings and extra cheese.

  “Sara, tell me about those sweet little angels. How are Lily and Gage doing?” I ask, loving the big smile on Sara’s face the minute I mention Adam’s children.

  I’m so happy Sara and Adam worked out their differences. It’s obvious how much they love each other. Things have been going so well between them, I expect two houses to become one any day now.

  “The goofy smile on your face says it all, girl,” I say with a laugh. “And I know Lily and Gage feel the same way. They are so in love.”

  “They’ve started calling me Rah Rah,” Sara admits with glassy eyes. “I can’t even explain it. Every time I think it’s impossible to love them more, they do something that takes my breath away.”

  “And it doesn’t hurt their daddy is lickable man candy who knows how to lay the pipe,” Marlo chimes in, like only she can.

  I ball up my napkin and pelt Marlo in the head with a laugh. “Way to ruin a sentimental moment, Marlo! It’s not always about the pipe.”

  She narrows her eyes at me and cocks her head to the side. “Don’t even joke, girl. Ninety percent of the time, it’s about the pipe.”

  “Don’t even waste your breath, Alex. Our girl Marlo approaches men with a singular purpose. Some things will never change,” Sara says with a laugh.

  “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, sweet, little Alex. I gave you ample time to confess on your own, but the jig is up, girl. I’m not above coercion,” Marlo says with a smirk. “Spill it. Who’s the hottie from this morning? West, is it?”

  “Hmmm?” I sip my drink and eye Marlo innocently.

  “Sara, you should have seen this guy. The epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, let me tell you. If he didn’t so obviously belong to our girl, Alex, I’d climb him like a tree. Damn!” Marlo shouts with a hand slap to the table, earning her scowls from our neighboring tables.

  I sigh loudly and sit back in my chair, looking at two sets of eyes focused intently on me. How do you sum up years worth of information in just a few sentences?

  “Y’all, this isn’t a conversation to be had over a quick pizza. To say West and I go way back would be a huge understatement.”

  “We have all afternoon and nowhere to be. Am I right?” Sara asks Marlo, and they both nod in unison.

  It doesn’t look like I’m getting out of this, so I put my pizza down and start talking. And talking. And talking.

  When I’m done, they both sit in complete silence, eyes focused on me. Bits of crust litter the table, the only remnants left of the pizza. Melted ice fills the glasses. Used napkins litter the table. I’m not sure how much time has passed, but it feels like I’ve carried on for an eternity. I’ve spilled my guts to them, only leaving out our late night tryst. I’m going to leave that little confession between Celia and me for now. Darling, the best kept secret is the one you never tell. So true, Momma.

  All at once, the silence is broken, and my friends fire questions at me in rapid succession.

  “You were attacked and never told us?”

  “You kicked his prosthetic leg?”

  “I fucking knew that boy could lay the pipe! Seriously, if he was that good at eighteen, what do you think he’s like now? God’s gift, I’m telling you!”

  I’m sure you can guess who asked the third question. We burst out laughing at Marlo’s antics, and I’m thankful to her for lightening the mood.

  “Just sayin’,” she says with a laugh, her hands raised to ward off the napkin attack.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, y’all. I just … I don’t know. I felt stupid for not being able to get over it. I mean, it’s been six years, and I still can’t let it go. It’s embarrassing,” I admit as I direct all of my attention to tying my straw into a knot instead of facing my friends head on. I don’t want to see the pity in their eyes.

  “Are you really going to let him check out every guy who asks you out?” Sara asks.

  “In theory, yes. I don’t plan on accepting any dates for the time being, so it shouldn’t be an issue. But if giving him that control makes him feel secure, I can do that for now.”

  It’s a small sacrifice to make in the grand scheme of things.

  “So what happens now, Alex?” Marlo asks with an eyebrow raised and a smirk on her face.

  And here comes the fun part.

  “I fight.”

  “Yeah, she does!” Marlo hollers with an animated fist pump, high-fiving Sara and me.

  I’m glad they’re on my side for this one, because I have a sneaking suspicion I’m gonna need them.

  The smell of fresh cut grass and the sound of golf shoes clicking on asphalt will always remind me of home. Friday afternoons are always a busy time at any golf course, but I made sure to secure our tee time earlier in the week.

  No way is West getting out of this.

  I see his truck enter the parking lot, and I wait in front of the clubhouse as he grabs his clubs and walks toward me. He sits on the bench and changes shoes, and I take the opportunity to retrieve my clubs from my car. As I approach, he stands up, slings his clubs over his shoulder, and gives me a stiff nod.

  “Let’s get this over with,” he mutters as he passes me on the way inside.

  Ouch. I take a deep breath and square my shoulders. He can throw insults at me all day long, but I’m not giving up. It’ll take a lot more than that to push me away.

  Do your worst, West Adler. I’m ready for it.

  I feel a tinge deep in my chest seeing him dressed this way. West wearing khaki slacks, a polo shirt, golf shoes, and a baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes brings me back in time. His hair still curls over the edge of his hat. His ass still looks good enough to bite. Yes, I said it. It’s the damn truth.

  Even the differences intrigue me. His build is completely filled out, muscles protruding where there used to be bone. His beard, dark and concealing, begging for me to touch. And, of course, his leg. I want to tell him I love him, I accept him, I want him. Just as he is.

  I want to tell him, but I won’t. Not now. He’s not ready to hear it. I’ll let him push me away for now, but I’ll shove back when the time is right. He’s too important for me to let him go without a fight.

  He walks out of the clubhouse carrying the game card and the keys to the golf cart. He walks past me without a second glance.

  “Let’s go,” he calls over his shoulder.

  Game on, West.

  “How are your mom and Lucy?” I ask as we drive up to the tee box for the sixth hole.

  West expels a loud sigh and shakes his head. “They’re fine, Alex.”

  “That’s three,” I say cheerfully with a quick handclap.

  “Huh?”

  “Three words. That’s the first time you’ve answered with more than one word since we started playing.”

  “Shouldn’t that tell you something?” he mutters with a scowl.

  “That’s five.” I bump his shoulder and smile, which earns me a headshake and a look to the sky for patience. “And, yes, it does tell me something. I need to practice asking more open-ended questions.”

  “Maybe you should practice hushing the hell up and playing some golf. I’m two strokes ahead of you, ya know.” He angles out of the cart and grabs his driver out of his bag.

  After we both take our shots, I get back to business.

  “Where are they living now?”

  “Jesus. Fuck. You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

  “I’ll quit when you answer me.” I plaster an unwavering smile on my face.

  I sit down in the golf cart and wait for his reply. He pulls off his hat and runs a hand through his hair before pulling the hat back firmly in place. He remains st
anding, but leans toward me with an irritated scowl.

  “A few months after I left for the Army, my mom fell in love with one of Lucy’s ER physicians, and they got married within the year. Needless to say, healthcare costs were no longer a problem. He fell in love with Lucy and adopted her a few years later. They are all living happily ever after in Shreveport, and Lucy graduates high school next year. She plans to attend LSU and major in veterinary science. Happy now?”

  “For now.” I smile, satisfied with his answer.

  He folds into the seat and pushes his foot to the brake pedal. He turns to me and sighs loudly.

  “This is not what I signed up for, Alex. I said I’d give you nine holes once a week. Cut the fucking commentary, or the deal’s off,” he growls.

  He smashes down the gas pedal, causing the golf cart to lurch forward. I quickly grab onto the side pole to stop myself from being thrown from the cart. West doesn’t spare me a second glance.

  This may be more difficult than I initially thought.

  We sit on opposite edges of the bench changing our shoes, not speaking a word. After West shared about his mom and Lucy, his one-word answers disintegrated further into grunts and huffs. The tension level rose exponentially the further we went through the course.

  “I’m meeting a few friends at The Courtyard tonight. Adam, my friend Sara’s boyfriend, always plays at their open mic night. You should come. We always have a good time.” My tone sounds tentative, even to my own ears.

  I know he won’t come. I’m not stupid. But I have to start wearing him down little by little.

  “I’ll pass.” He continues tying his shoe, not even sparing a glance in my direction.

  He removes his left golf shoe, and I watch with curiosity as he replaces it with his tennis shoe. I watch carefully as he pushes the shoe on and tightens the strings. His fingers stop moving before he ties the laces, and I look up to see him staring me down. He raises his eyebrows in question, and I lower my head in embarrassment.

  I stand quickly and face him head on. “Well, the leg definitely hasn’t affected your game. I didn’t expect to lose today.”

  “I’ve worked my fucking ass off in rehab, Alex. I didn’t throw on a prosthetic leg and become a superstar the next day, if that’s what you think.”

  “That’s not what I meant, West. It was supposed to be a compliment.” Jesus, I can’t freaking win. I swipe the keys off the bench and move toward the door. “I’ll go return the cart keys.”

  I blink back the tears as I walk to the counter, keys in hand.

  “Adler, returning golf cart keys.” The young boy behind the counter smiles and takes them from me.

  He digs through the file box, retrieves West’s license, and hands it to me.

  “Have a nice day, ma’am.”

  “Yeah, you too,” I whisper softly.

  I stand by the door for a minute to collect myself before walking outside. I know what he’s doing, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Every harsh word chips away at me, and my heart is at its limit for the day.

  I push open the door and walk outside with West’s license in hand. He’s no longer sitting on the bench, and I scan the cart path and driving range for him.

  No luck.

  I survey the parking lot, thinking he may have gone to his truck to turn the AC on. A black truck gets sweltering hot when sitting in the Louisiana sun. I remember exactly where he parked—and the space is empty.

  This time, knowing he’s not here to see me crumble, I allow the tears pooling in my eyes to fall down my cheeks.

  “The Wanderer” by Marc Broussard

  “THANKS FOR COMING out tonight, everyone. As always, my first song goes out to my girl. Love ya, babe.”

  Adam’s eyes never leave Sara’s as he strums the first few notes of “She is Love” by Parachute. Sara places her hand gently over her heart, closes her eyes, and lets his voice wash over her.

  God, I want that.

  The Courtyard is packed for open mic night, but Sara and Cain came early and saved us a table front and center. The outdoor patio has brick floors and a scattering of wrought iron tables and chairs. White twinkle lights are strung through wooden trellises, and the wooden stage is low and intimate.

  “I’m pretty sure I just threw up a little bit in my mouth. Can we dial down the cheese just a notch, please?” Marlo asks as she sticks her finger in her mouth, pretending to gag.

  I give her shoulder a good-natured bump and laugh. “Aw, come on, Marlo. It’s sweet. I’d give anything for someone to look at me like that.”

  Marlo narrows her eyes at me and shakes her head. “I’ve learned my lesson about ‘that look,’ and I plan to steer clear, thank you very much. I want no part of it or the plethora of shit that will most certainly follow behind it.”

  “Aw, Marlo, how about you give it a rest, huh? Alex looks like you just pissed in her Wheaties.” Cain gives her a stern look, not that she gives a shit.

  “Pipe down, Jolly Green Giant, I’m not trying to scare her.” Marlo pats the top of my hand and smiles. “That look was made for girls like you. You believe in heart and flowers, and unicorns that fart rainbows. I promise, your Prince Charming is right around the corner.”

  “Thanks, I feel much better now,” I mutter with an eye roll.

  “I, on the other hand, require less, how should I say it … pampering,” Marlo says with a sly smile.

  “I’ll never understand what you have going with that paramedic,” Celia says, shaking her head.

  “Mike and I have a mutually beneficial arrangement. I like the orgasms he gives me, and he likes my tits. It’s a win-win.” Marlo shrugs unapologetically.

  “I’m not touching that one with a ten foot pole. Speaking of Prince Charmings, how did a certain golf game go, Alex?” Celia asks, expectantly leaning across the table toward me.

  “It was a disaster. I can’t think of any other way to describe it.”

  “Aw, come on. It couldn’t have been that bad,” Sara offers with a timid shrug.

  “You don’t think?” I ask and then proceed to tell them just how horrible it was.

  All at once, they blast me with their opinions.

  “That jackhole.”

  “Douche city.”

  “I’ll kick that fucker’s ass.”

  Celia shakes her head as the others call out insults. “Remember what I told you. You’re gonna have to fight for the both of you.”

  I sigh and nod at them. “It’s a set back, absolutely. But I’m not ready to throw in the towel. He’s gonna have to do better than that. Or worse, I should say.”

  Celia slaps her hand on the table and stands. “There’s my girl. I knew you had it in you. Now, the ladies room is calling. I’ll be back.”

  “I know she’s right, Alex, but please be careful. There’s a fine line between fighting and being someone’s doormat,” Sara says.

  “Excuse me,” Cain says gruffly, standing up and walking away.

  “We’re here for ya, girl.” Marlo wraps her arm around my shoulders and plants a big kiss on my cheek.

  “Ugh, Marlo!” I fuss as I wipe my cheek. “Now I have lipstick all over my face.”

  “Couldn’t be helped. You’ll live.” She laughs as I grab a napkin and start wiping.

  “Hey, babe, you ready to head home?” Adam asks as he walks up behind Sara and nuzzles her neck.

  “Hmmm. I may stay at my house tonight,” she says with closed eyes.

  He stands up and tips her chin up to meet his gentle eyes. “Not happening, love. I need you next to me.”

  “Ugh, why don’t you two just get it over with? You haven’t slept at your house in ages, Sara. And I’d know, living two doors down and all. I’m best friendless all the damn time.” Marlo rolls her eyes and crosses her arms with a huff.

  I grab my purse and push my chair back. “I’ll be back, y’all. I need to wash off the remnants of Marlo.”

  “You know you love me,” Marlo shouts as I leave the table.


  The restrooms are at the far end of the bar, so I cross the room, weaving in and out of the tables. Since the bathrooms are located indoors and open mic night takes place on the outdoor patio, things are a bit deserted when I step inside. I round the corner and stop cold at the sight before me.

  Celia is backed up against the wall and Cain is in front of her at eye level, knees bent, arms wrapped around her waist. Forehead to forehead, he whispers softly but forcefully as she shakes her head over and over. She grips his shirt in her hands as if it’s the only thing keeping her standing upright. A sob escapes her just as his lips crash hungrily to hers. Her hands leave his shirt, only to dive into his hair.

  The kiss ends as quickly as it began when Celia pulls away and ducks under his arm, running to the bathroom. I hear his hushed apology right before the wall shakes with the force of Cain’s fist. He drops his forehead to the wall, and his shoulders heave in frustration.

  Cain straightens, squares his shoulders, and runs his hand over his face before turning to me. My presence takes him by surprise, but he recovers quickly. He walks toward me and stops when we’re shoulder to shoulder.

  “I need to leave. Can you please bring her home?” He never looks my way, his temper obviously boiling under the surface.

  “Of course,” I whisper.

  Before I can offer any reassurance, he’s gone.

  It looks like I won’t be the only one fighting.

  “Thank fuck I can drive the ball today, because my short game is pathetic,” Cain laughs as he digs his ball out of the hole.

  “Come on, it’s not that bad.” By the look on his face, my attempt at stroking his ego failed miserably.

  “It took me four strokes to put the ball in the hole, and I was ten feet away. That’s the definition of bad, Alex.”

  I bend down to examine the angle of my ball in relation to the hole and lift my eyes to Cain.

  “So are we going to talk about Friday night?” I stay crouched and still, waiting for his response.

  “Nothing to talk about.” He turns his back to me and walks to the golf cart to put away his putter.