You and Only You

by Sharon Sala

  Vesta nodded. “Yes, you’re ready,” she said, and helped the old woman to a dryer, handed her a couple of magazines, and set the timer before going back to her station to clean it up.

  She glanced at Vera and then mumbled, “I swear to goodness, I wish that woman would leave her hearing aids in her ears instead of carrying them in that pill bottle in her purse. They’re not doing anyone a bit of good there.”

  The bell over the door jingled again. Ruby turned to look as LilyAnn walked in, resplendent in black slacks, a blue sweater, and a shiner in varying shades of lavender and purple.

  Ruby peeled off her disposable gloves and dropped them in the trash, then went to meet her.

  “Oh honey! It is the best thing ever to see you walk in here with that smile on your face, but your poor little eye! Does it hurt?” Ruby said.

  “It’s not so bad if I don’t touch it,” Lily said.

  The moment LilyAnn’s hand went toward her eye, Ruby saw the ring. She squealed, then grabbed Lily’s hand and turned it to the light.

  “Lord have mercy! Is that thing real?”

  LilyAnn was grinning so wide it made her face hurt.

  “Yes, ma’am, it is real, and so is my engagement to Mike.”

  Ruby laughed out loud. Now the bouquet and the cryptic message on Mike’s card made sense.

  Mabel Jean was gluing bits of bling onto Rachel Goodhope’s new nail polish, but she was happy for LilyAnn and wanted in on the conversation.

  “When’s the wedding?” she asked.

  “This coming Valentine’s Day,” LilyAnn said.

  Vesta frowned. “My stars! That doesn’t give you much time to make a big wedding happen.”

  “That’s because we’re not having a big wedding,” LilyAnn said. “In fact, we’re not getting married in Blessings at all.”

  “Why?” Vera asked.

  “Because all of his family is in Colorado, and what’s left of mine is in Florida. However, when we get back from the honeymoon, we’re going to have an open reception for family and anyone in Blessings who wants to come.”

  “Okay then,” Ruby said. “You have just redeemed yourself.”

  “Where are you going to get married?”

  “Jamaica.”

  “Take me with you.”

  Everyone laughed at the woman sitting in Vesta’s styling chair. It was no secret why Alma Button would want to run away from home. She had six boys who, on a daily basis, made her regret her decision at seventeen years of age to forego life in a nunnery, and she wasn’t even Catholic.

  “Sorry, Alma, but I intend to be the only female under Mike Dalton’s radar,” Lily said.

  Although the shop was full of chatter and good wishes, Rachel Goodhope had stayed silent. From the moment LilyAnn walked in, and through the entire congratulatory process, she had felt out of place. She’d made a fool of herself about Mike, and LilyAnn knew it, and then there was that thing about T. J. Lachlan. That was a secret Rachel would carry to her grave.

  When Mabel Jean finished Rachel’s nails, Rachel laid cash on the manicure table, hoping she could slip out without notice. But when she turned to walk out, she found herself face-to-face with LilyAnn.

  She made herself look up at the bruises on LilyAnn’s face, the puffy lower lip, and a black eye no amount of makeup could ever hide.

  “Oh my,” she said softly. Without thinking, she lifted her hand toward Lily’s face, and then caught herself and stopped. “I am sorry…so, so sorry that happened to you,” she whispered.

  Then she ducked her head and hurried out of the shop.

  “What was that all about?” Ruby asked.

  LilyAnn frowned. “That was weird.”

  “How so?”

  “Like everyone else, she just pointed to my face and said she was sorry. But it didn’t feel like commiseration. It felt more like an apology.”

  “That is weird,” Ruby said. “But what else is new? There’s always something weird going on around here. So, did you come in for a special reason, or did you just come to show off your new ring?”

  “Both,” LilyAnn said. “I came to ask if you know anyone in town who does alterations.”

  “I know someone,” Mabel Jean said. “Mrs. Ling. She does all kinds of sewing, including making the cheerleader outfits for the high school. She has a sign in her shop that says ‘Alterations and Tailoring.’”

  “Where does she live?” LilyAnn asked.

  “Across the street from me. She has a little shop in what used to be her garage. Here, I’ll write the address down for you.”

  “Thanks, Mabel Jean,” LilyAnn said.

  Ruby, being Ruby, wanted to know what was going on. “Are you going to have her make your wedding dress?”

  “No, nothing like that. I have something I need altered for the New Year’s Eve ball at the country club. Mike is taking me to celebrate our engagement, so I better hustle. I have to go back to work tomorrow and need to get all of this set in motion before I do.”

  Ruby frowned. “Should you be back at work?”

  LilyAnn thought of the workout she and Mike had been giving her bed and smiled.

  “Yes, ma’am. I think I’ll be fine.”

  The bell jingled over the door as she left.

  * * *

  An hour later, LilyAnn left Mrs. Ling’s house with a spring in her step, confident that her gown would be ready in plenty of time. She was on her way home when she remembered she needed some things from the grocery store and headed for the Piggly Wiggly.

  * * *

  T. J. Lachlan regained consciousness a little over twenty-four hours after LilyAnn clobbered him with the vase. Even before he opened his eyes, he guessed he was in a hospital, but he couldn’t think why. The last thing he could remember was putting the house key under a rock at his uncle’s house and driving away.

  He hurt in so many places that he was convinced he had been in a wreck and, at the same time, wondered why his balls were so sore. He moved his leg just a little to accommodate the pressure and started to readjust them under the covers when something yanked hard against his wrist.

  He opened his eyes, but everything was blurry. When he tried to move, he heard a man’s raspy, cigarette voice.

  “About time you woke up.”

  He turned toward the sound, blinking rapidly to clear his vision as a man’s face came into focus.

  “Are you my doctor?”

  “Nope. I’m Harnett Easley, your court-appointed lawyer.”

  T. J.’s heart skipped a beat. All of a sudden his head was pounding so hard it was making him sick.

  “My what?”

  “Your court-appointed lawyer.”

  T. J. shifted his gaze from the man to the bed rails, and then to the handcuffs.

  “What the hell?”

  “Do you want to tell me your side of the story?”

  “What story?” T. J. cried, and then moaned because the sound of his own voice made him ill.

  “I don’t want to put words in your mouth, but maybe a rundown of the wounds you suffered that put you in here might help you remember. You have a fractured skull, severely swollen and bruised testicles, you’re missing a piece of your right ear, and your face looks like you tried to kiss a bobcat.”

  T. J. flashed on a face.

  “The blond bitch did it.”

  “That’s what I heard. What I need to hear is your side of the story of what you did to her, and you can start with why you broke into her house.”

  “I’m going to puke,” T. J. whispered.

  “I’ll get a nurse,” Easley said, and headed for the door.

  T. J. was seriously fucked. He couldn’t claim being drunk or high on drugs, because he figured they’d already run all the blood tests on him while he was dead to the world. And he couldn’t claim
a grudge or retaliation for something that had happened to him first. The fact that she wouldn’t give him the time of day was not grounds for breaking and entering. And the fact that she had rebuked his advances and flipped him off in the middle of Main Street was not against the law. What was even more humiliating was that when he went after her to teach her who was boss, she pretty much whipped his ass.

  He didn’t need a mirror to know she’d put some scratches on his face, and he didn’t need to see them to know she’d literally busted his balls. He remembered she’d bitten his ear, but he had not realized a piece of it was gone.

  Shades of Mike Tyson, a little blond from Georgia had taken off a hunk of his ear, and he had barely lived to tell about it. On second thought, once they threw his ass in prison, and he knew that they would, he could never tell the truth about how he’d been maimed.

  His daddy had always told him his temper was going to get him in trouble one day. He didn’t like the old bastard, and admitting his daddy had been right was going to be a hard fact to swallow.

  At that point, his gut lurched. Thanks to the handcuffs tying him to the bed, he couldn’t sit up to reach for a bedpan, and he couldn’t roll over to puke on the floor. There was nowhere for it to go but all over him. He was still retching when a male nurse walked in.

  “Oh, hey…what a mess. Why didn’t you buzz for a nurse?”

  “’Cause I was jacking myself off,” T. J. moaned, then rattled the handcuffs against the bed rail to emphasize the answer.

  “Oh. Right! Well, hang on. We’ll get you cleaned up,” the nurse said, and headed back out the door.

  Harnett Easley poked his head in the door, saw the state his client was in, and frowned.

  “I’ll be back later. You’re not going anywhere.”

  Chapter 17

  LilyAnn went back to work on Thursday, enduring the stares, comments, and the occasional request for an autograph. It was almost like being the Peachy-Keen Queen all over again, except for the black eye and the fact that she had a three-carat diamond on her finger and not a crown on her head.

  Her boss was in awe. He had never imagined—in all the years that she had worked for him in her quiet, unassuming manner—that she was capable of such ferocity.

  Mitchell viewed her black eye with interest, wanting to know how she got it, and then asked the inevitable question: Did she really bite off Lachlan’s ear?

  “Just a piece of it,” she said. “Do you want to shelve the aspirin or the Kotex?”

  Mitchell flushed three shades of red and threw his arms up in the air.

  “Like you had to ask!” he mumbled, and grabbed the carts with the boxes of aspirin and headed for the drug aisle.

  “And that’s how you end a conversation,” LilyAnn said to herself, and finished restocking the shelves of feminine products.

  She was getting ready to switch duties and man the register when she saw two teenage boys huddled up at the far end of Aisle 9. She watched as one grabbed several packets of condoms from a rack and stuffed them in his pocket, while the other one pocketed a bottle of massage oil from the shelf beside it.

  She couldn’t get Mr. Phillips’ attention and knew if she moved, they would be gone. Considering their age and the pimples on their faces, she could pretty much guess at the reasoning behind the thefts. If no one knew they bought those items, then no one would know they were having sex. It was stupid, but taking into consideration that most boys of that age had no concept of cause and effect, and had the reasoning level of a newt, it made sense.

  They were so intent on the thievery that she was behind them before they knew she was coming. She grabbed them by their elbows.

  “Sorry, boys, but you need to come with me.”

  The taller one jumped and started to pull away, then saw her black eye and paused.

  The other one was crestfallen, his head already hanging in shame.

  “Move it,” she said, pushing them toward Mr. Phillips’s office, even though they were arguing with her and each other, and dragging their feet. At any moment, she expected one or both of them to break and run.

  Mr. Phillips saw her and frowned.

  “LilyAnn! Do you need me?”

  She nodded. “We’ll be in your office.”

  She pushed the boys inside, then shut the door, standing between them and freedom.

  “Have a seat, boys,” she ordered.

  They sat. One of them whispered to the other, and LilyAnn frowned.

  “Hey! No talking.”

  The taller one raised his hand for permission to speak. She rolled her eyes. Nothing scarier than crooks in school mode.

  “What?” she snapped.

  “How did you get your black eye?”

  She thought about brushing it off, and then realized maybe she could use this to deter an event of future stupidity.

  “Someone hit me.”

  “What did you do to her?”

  “It wasn’t a her, it was a him. A guy hit me.”

  They looked at each other, as if confirming their suspicions.

  “So what did you do to him?”

  Although it hurt a little, she narrowed her eyes in what she hoped was a menacing expression.

  “I hit him back.”

  “Are you her?”

  LilyAnn sighed. She knew what they meant, but she wasn’t going to make it easy on them.

  “Her, who?”

  “Her. That woman who bit off a guy’s ear?”

  “Yeah, that’s me,” she said, as her voice grew softer with each word she spoke. “Only it wasn’t a whole ear. Just a piece of it. And I dug chunks of his face out with my fingernails, busted his balls, and fractured his skull. He broke the rules when he came in my house, and now he’s going to prison for a long, long time.”

  Her voice was barely above a whisper by the time she finished. They were in tears, shivering in their seats. She stifled a grin.

  My job is finished here.

  Mr. Phillips walked into the office.

  “LilyAnn?”

  She pointed. “Don Juan here has a pocketful of condoms, and his partner stole some massage oils and Lord only knows what else. They loaded up so much stuff that I decided they were pimps. Have you called the cops?”

  “No! No! We’re not pimps!” they cried and began to bawl.

  Mr. Phillips frowned. “Empty your pockets, boys.”

  They were sobbing loudly, begging Mr. Phillips not to call their parents.

  Big Shot with the condoms was in an all-out panic.

  “Don’t call my dad. He’ll kill me. The only reason we took them was so my parents wouldn’t know we were having sex.”

  “Put your wallets on the desk,” Phillips said. “The police will need to see your IDs.”

  “Did you already call the cops? Please don’t call the cops. I don’t want my parents to know.”

  LilyAnn rolled her eyes. I rest my case.

  Someone knocked on the office door. Phillips got up to answer, and both boys cried out almost at the same time.

  “Don’t leave us alone with her.”

  Mr. Phillips’s eyes widened.

  “What did you say to them?”

  She grinned. “I gave them a glimpse into their future.”

  The police took them down to the station, along with the loot they’d tried to shoplift. After they were gone, Mr. Phillips came looking for her.

  “Good job, LilyAnn. I lose more of that inventory to kids than I do anything else in the store.”

  “I know. Kids are stupid. I was one once.”

  He rolled his eyes. “So was I.”

  She went back to work, and the next time she looked up, it was a quarter to twelve. Almost time for her to go to lunch. She had a date with Mike at Granny’s Country Kitchen and was on her way to the back of the
store to wash up when someone called her by name. She turned to see Honey Andrews waving her down.

  “Oh, hi, Honey!”

  Honey shook her head. “Don’t ‘Oh, hi, Honey’ me. I heard all about what happened from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. I had to see for myself that you were still in one piece, and you are, although I don’t know how. Are you okay?”

  LilyAnn shrugged. “As you can see, a little battered, but that’s about it.”

  Honey shook her head. “You are one tough cookie. I have nothing but admiration for you. You did everything you had to do to survive, and there aren’t many of us who could say the same. Way to go, LilyAnn. Way to go.”

  “Thanks. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever endured, for sure.”

  “Thank God, Mike showed up.”

  Lily smiled. “Yes, I’ve been thinking that a lot the past couple of days.”

  Honey grinned. “I heard about the ring. Can I see?”

  LilyAnn held out her hand.

  “Is that real?” Honey whispered.

  LilyAnn giggled. “Yes. Pretty awesome, isn’t it?”

  “What is that…two carats’ worth?”

  “Three.”

  “Holy shit. Maybe I should have considered changing my gender preference after all.”

  LilyAnn threw back her head and laughed.

  Honey grinned. “Well, maybe not, but you get what I mean. So, gotta get back to work. I have a client due in a few minutes. Take care of yourself, lady, and I love the look of that natural eye shadow. It might catch on.”

  LilyAnn was still smiling when she got her coat and headed across the street.

  Mike was already there, waiting for her arrival, when he saw her come in. He stood up and waved, and as soon as she settled, he shoved a handful of pamphlets toward her.

  “What is all this?” she asked.

  “I stopped by Miller’s Travel Agency. Willa Dean thought you’d like to see them. It’s the location of your destination wedding, LilyAnn.”

  “Our wedding,” she said softly.

  Mike smiled. “You know what I mean. If it was left up to me, I’d marry you tomorrow down at the courthouse, but I want you to have all the best memories ever of the wedding and the honeymoon.”