Call Me Ana: A Novel

by Bonnet,Scarlet

  “Mmm, bacon.” I remembered how Sam would whine when I made bacon. He was a vegetarian, and it was the only thing that tempted him.

  “Bacon fan?”

  “Who isn’t?”

  Grant chuckled.

  “So you grew up riding?” That had really gotten my interest.

  “Yeah, my mom and dad both raise horses.”

  “Together?” I asked, thinking how sweet that sounded.

  “No, they split before I was born.” He said it like a fact.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “Never knew anything different so it wasn’t a big deal. I can’t even picture them together. What about you? Are you from here?”

  “Um… no. I’ve been here a while.”

  “Where were you from originally?”

  I didn’t want to lie to him, but everyone around town thought I was from Detroit. I didn’t need any drama starting up if I told him where I was really from and it somehow got passed along to someone in town. “Detroit,” I answered automatically, hating myself for it.

  “A Yankee, huh?”

  He liked this new fact about me. “Yes.”

  “You know… I thought I heard a little Yankee in your voice.”

  “Really?” It had been a long time since anyone had said that.

  “Yeah, but I wouldn’t have thought Detroit.”

  I kept my voice conversational though I felt the throb of nerves. “Where then?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe more Northeast. Hard to say. Whatever I heard was pretty faint anyway.”

  I felt a pang of homesickness at that. I missed the way people talked back home. I’d thought the accent down here was fun when I first heard it, but now when I heard someone clipping their words short, it made me do a double take. It hardly ever happened, and it was always someone speaking on TV. I didn’t want to think I was losing me… losing Ana.

  “So Nirvana.”

  I laughed. “You’re not going to let that go.”

  Grant flashed me a smile, and something warm bubbled through my chest. He had a nice smile. A nice mouth in general.

  “What else do you like?”

  “Pretty much everything. I get a little sick of country because I hear it all day. What about you?”

  Grant saw the sign to Johnson City and turned his blinker on to exit the highway. “I’m not really sure how to describe my taste in music. I’d say I lean toward alternative stuff, but…”

  “Really?” The revelation pleasantly surprised me.

  He looked back at me, that dimple showing again. “What? You expected me to say bluegrass and Johnny Cash?”

  I looked at him through my lashes. “Maybe.” I crossed my foot over my ankle. “So you lean toward alternative, but?”

  “But…” His eyes were searching the road some more, probably for a place to stop. “I like a bunch of random stuff. I can handle some country. I’ve been to South by Southwest more than a few times in Austin, and I like a lot of the Indie stuff.”

  I’d heard of the festival in Austin he was talking about, and I couldn’t quite picture him there. I was also surprised that he liked Indie stuff. “Are you like… a closet hippie or something?”

  Grant’s eyes sparkled. “Absolutely not.”

  I laughed at his answer.

  Grant’s energy shifted. “There’s a pancake place that’s still open. How’s that sound?”

  “Sounds good.”

  He steered that direction and it wasn’t long before he’d parked the truck and we both got out. He moved fluidly, like he was in control of himself and everything around him, a quality that put me at ease. He stepped just in front of me as we got to the door, then pulled it open and held it for me.

  “Thanks.”

  His eyes twinkled at me. “You’re welcome,” came that rich voice.

  I walked into the little restaurant, again wondering what I’d gotten myself into and why the heck I was acting like such a fool. Going to a pancake place at ten o’ clock at night with some random man was so not my scene.

  The hostess seated us quickly as the place was nearly vacant other than some trucker types and a table with two sullen teenagers. They were so different from me and Sam. We’d always been laughing.

  Grant handed me a menu that had been tucked behind the napkin holder. My chest squeezed with anxiety. I took it from him, hoping he hadn’t noticed. I looked over the pictures, trying to calm my mind down so I could figure out what I would say when I ordered something. I usually didn’t have so much trouble hiding it, but I was acutely aware of how awkward things could get if Grant found out I couldn’t read.

  Waffles were easy, I decided. You didn’t have to say how many you wanted and there was only one kind. I’d get a waffle. Knowing it’d never fill me up, I decided on ordering a milk, too. Feeling calmer, I glanced at Grant. He was still looking at the menu, his eyes moving in a way that told me he was reading a description of something. I felt a pang of envy and then looked back into the restaurant. The waiter caught my eyes on his way over, and we exchanged polite smiles.

  “What would you like to drink?” he asked, stopping next to our table.

  “Coffee,” Grant replied.

  “Milk.”

  He nodded and wrote it down. “Do y’all know what you want?” He turned to me first.

  “I’ll take a waffle.” I held my breath, hoping they didn’t have some option that I was supposed to read over. The server wrote it down and turned to Grant.

  Grant ordered a loaded breakfast sandwich. It sounded amazing. If only I could read.

  When the waiter disappeared, Grant’s attention shifted to me. “So I noticed you don’t write anything down.”

  I began to panic, then realized he was complimenting me. I gave him a flick of a smile to hide my nerves. “It’s not too hard when everyone orders the same thing every day.” He looked at me in a way I knew meant more questions, so I asked, “What are you so into on your phone?”

  A tired look came over his eyes. “Work.”

  “You… do work on your phone?”

  Amusement lit his eyes. “I read a lot.”

  I moved on. “What do you do?”

  “I’m a weapons consultant for the military.”

  A surprised smile spread over my face. “What?”

  He hadn’t expected that reaction from me, and he smiled back. “I analyze what’s going on here, give my two cents when it’s needed, and take field trips to learn about the newer stuff that’s out there.”

  “Field trips to where?”

  “Overseas.”

  He was being purposely vague by his answer, but I was so curious I shamelessly prodded anyways. “Overseas where?”

  His eyes held mine for a bit longer than he needed to as his smile twitched a hair larger. He looked down at his fork as he flipped it slowly with just a slight roll of his fingers. “Middle East usually. Afghanistan, Iraq, sometimes other places.”

  “So what are you doing in Rayburne? I assume you’re on business…”

  He cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Yeah. There’s an ammunition factory not too far from here. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Giving them your two cents, huh?”

  His eyes met mine, and I saw that spark in them. “Yep.”

  “Having a hard time getting in those two cents?”

  He held my gaze for a minute, like he was slightly surprised. “Actually yes. I normally love my job, but the people at this factory are very…”

  “Set in their ways?”

  “Yes.”

  “Huh. Wouldn’t have guessed.”

  “Except that you just did.”

  I sighed. “Yeah.”

  The waiter came with our drinks and our food then, and I felt Grant’s eyes on me as the waiter set everything down in front of me. I fought to control myself at the sweet aroma of the waffle. It was no loaded breakfast sandwich, but it would do.

  “So how’d you end up here?” Gr
ant asked.

  “Looking for a change of scenery mostly… and needed work,” I answered, fighting my panic. At least I knew that the economy sucked in Detroit.

  “Is your family still up there?”

  I tried to think of the last time anyone had asked me about my family. For the life of me, I couldn’t. “There’s only my mom, and I… we don’t really… we’re not close.”

  “Oh.” Grant sounded like he hadn’t expected that.

  I gave him a smile to let him know it was okay that he’d asked.

  “Is she in Detroit?”

  Him deliberately asking about Detroit caught my attention. I cleared my throat. “I don’t really know where she is, to tell you the truth.” It wasn’t a lie.

  He hesitated, like he wasn’t sure what to say. “That must be hard.”

  “I do just fine.” It was harder being around her than being away from her. I could only do so much for her, especially when it seemed like she’d hated my presence. Sam had helped me let go of her some, just as I had helped him deal with his family.

  I realized he’d been a little tense as some of the muscles in those broad shoulders of his relaxed. My eyes flicked over his sandwich before I could help myself.

  Grant leaned back with a smile. I’d been caught ogling his food.

  “You want a bite?” he asked, a shadow of his dimple showing. “It has bacon on it.”

  I snorted a laugh. “Can I say yes?”

  He nudged the plate toward me and I took a bite. Lord, it was good. I think it even had pickles on it.

  “I’ll go halvsies with you.”

  The sound of a man like him saying “halvsies” made me laugh, and I had to put my hand over my mouth to keep the bite of sandwich contained.

  Grant took my plate from me and divided both of our food, then pushed my share back in front of me. I swallowed the bite of sandwich.

  “You are too kind,” I said, eyeing the food on my plate.

  Grant shrugged as he took a bite of waffle. “This is good, too.”

  “No, you totally out ordered me,” I conceded.

  “Why didn’t you get a sandwich? You don’t seem like the fruit and salad type.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him. “I don’t?”

  “I saw the way you attacked that defenseless sandwich.”

  I laughed, feeling my cheeks flush. “I told you I liked bacon.”

  His dimple was still showing as he looked down at his food. “You did.”

  My heart fluttered, but this time, I didn’t feel like an idiot.

  “So you and Pam…”

  My lips slowly turned up in a smile.

  “How are you not terrified of her?”

  “What, Pam? She’s just a big teddy bear.”

  “Yeah,” Grant said, looking unconvinced as he took a bite of his food. “Are you two like that all the time?”

  “Pretty much. We like to put on a show for people. Keeps things interesting.” We amused ourselves by constantly thinking of comebacks and insults. Just like I had with Chad…

  “You’re good at it.”

  “Thanks.” That left me feeling shy, and I scrambled to try to think of something to say.

  Grant beat me to it. “So what are you into other than music?”

  “Um…” I was favoring the sandwich and cut a bite of waffle to make up for it. What was I into other than music? “I usually go to the library on my days off.” I instantly kicked myself.

  “You like to read?”

  I fought to keep myself under control, hoping that he couldn’t tell I was freaking out on the inside. “I’m a sucker for a good story.” It came out right, and I inwardly sighed in relief. “What about you? What do you like to do?”

  “I used to read more when I didn’t have to for work so much. Other than that, mainly going to the gym or spending time at my dad’s.”

  Again, he surprised me. “What’s your dad’s name?”

  “Hank.”

  “Hank and Grant.” I smiled.

  “What?”

  “I like it.” I wondered if I’d been a bit too forward and felt a touch of shyness come back over me. “So what do you do at your dad’s?”

  “Eat, talk, and ride. We keep it simple.” He waited a beat. “You’d like my dad.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Mm hm,” he said as he took another bite of sandwich. “And I think he’d like you, too.”

  I knew my cheeks were tinged pink as I felt them warm again. I was really liking this though. He was easy to talk to, had interesting things to say, and was easy on the eyes.

  “I bet I would like him,” I said, trying to play off the blushing. Letting my curiosity reign, I went back to the subject that had so readily caught my interest. “So I’m still intrigued with you being a weapons consultant. What’s your favorite gun?”

  His eyes met mine and he gave me a warm, amused smile that made my insides melt. He liked my question.

  Chapter 3

  Grant pulled into the diner parking lot, and I tugged at my skirt, not wanting to get out of the truck.

  “Thanks for tonight. It was fun,” I said. It was really fun.

  “I had fun, too. Thanks for coming with me.” His gray eyes held mine, all sparkle and warmth.

  A crazy urge to kiss him came over me, but I grabbed the door handle and pulled on it before I did something silly.

  “Have a good night,” I said before I slid out the door, my feet landing on gravel.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.

  My chest dipped at the thought of seeing him again. “Okay.” I shut the door and headed into the diner. Grant waited until I got the door open and shut it behind me. Then he waved and smiled. I waved and smiled back. His truck rolled out from the parking lot, and I watched him go for a second, seeing his silhouette in the cab. The outline of his shoulders was already familiar.

  The phone rang, making me jump. It was past midnight. Who the heck would be calling? I went to the back to go get my apron, letting it ring. It wouldn’t stop. A bad feeling came over me, and I finally picked it up.

  “Hello?”

  “Rachel? Where the hell have you been? We’ve been looking all over for you.”

  It was Tony, the owner of the pool hall. My face went cold. There was only one reason why he’d be calling. Roy. “What’s going on?”

  “Something happened with Katie. Roy went nuts. He knocked some shit around here. I threw him out and now he’s at Stevie’s, threatening everyone who comes within a five-foot radius.”

  Stevie was an old flame of Katie’s. I swore. I was the first one Tony called because I could usually calm Roy down. Tony was one of the few people who sympathized with Roy, probably because Roy and his family were some of his best customers.

  “I’ll be right over, just hang on.”

  I hung up the phone and sprinted for the back door. My bike was leaned up against the side of the diner and I jumped on it, heading for Stevie’s as fast as it could carry me.

  * * * *

  It was normally a twenty-minute bike ride to Roy’s, then another five to Stevie’s, but I made it in just fifteen. I could hear him yelling before I saw him, making me pedal the last bit as quickly as I could. Hope I get there before he does something stupid. My feet hit the ground after I jumped while the bike was still moving, letting it smack into the grass with a metallic chunk. Jogging around the corner, out of breath, my legs burned. Roy yelled at Terry, Stevie’s dad, while he swayed back and forth, his finger pointing at the man’s face. Terry stood stoically, in a manner that made me embarrassed for Roy. I wondered where the hell Kathy was.

  “Roy,” I called out. Both their heads turned to me.

  Roy’s chin set when he saw me. He knew I’d come to take him home. “You get home, Rachel! This don’t concern you!” He swayed so much he nearly fell over.

  I sighed and trudged over to him, acutely aware of Terry watching me with disgust on his face.

  “Roy.” I ke
pt my voice soft. “Come on, let me take you home.”

  He turned to me, his eyes wild with anger. “What the fuck are you thinkin’? You think you can just tell me off and come…” He pitched forward, and I leaned in to catch him. He pushed me away so violently, I had to take several steps backward to catch myself before I fell over. “Come crawling back?” he screamed in my face. “Fuck you, Rachel!”

  Anger swept through me so strongly, I nearly turned and left.

  “If you don’t get him out of here,” Terry said through clenched teeth, “I’ll call the police.”

  I turned to say something calming to Terry when Roy’s head jerked back to Terry. He yelled and screamed, cursing like a belligerent ass, going on about something to do with Stevie and Katie.

  “Roy.” I grabbed him by the arm and turned him toward me. For a second, it looked like he was going to hit me. The anger roared up in me again as I stared him down, my eyes burning into his, daring him to do it.

  Comprehension clicked in his glazed eyes, and he took a step back. “Why are you even here, Rachel? Huh? Ain’t it over? Huh?”

  He was baiting me, trying to rile me up like he’d do to anyone else he met in this state. And I wanted to take the bait. I wanted to yell at him that it’d never even started so how could it before over? And tell him he was an asshole. But that wouldn’t help things for anyone in the long run. “Let’s just go home, Roy. You’re drunk. You need to go to bed.”

  “Fuck you! You come down here—” he started off again.

  Something in me snapped. I couldn’t stand to hear one more string of immature, pathetic ramblings. “Fine!” I screamed. “Fine!” I pointed a finger at him. “Let Terry call the police for all I care! You know no one can afford to bail you out again! Maybe it would do you some good to rot in a cell for a while.” I turned on my heel and stalked off. For the first time, I was doing it not as a way to get Roy to come around, but because I really didn’t give a shit. I was so tired of this. I’d had a long day that had ended on a good note, and instead of being able to go home and enjoy what little peace I had, Roy had come charging in with his drama and blown it all to hell.

  Roy grabbed me by the arm and spun me around. “Don’t think you can just walk away—“