by A. C. Arthur
“Hey, Rod. What’s going on?”
“This is Brent Reardon. He’s from The Wire, a national magazine. Came into town this morning to do a story on Portia and her big book debut,” Rod said. “Imagine that, huh? Out little Portia a bigtime author and stuff.”
Ethan knew that Rod had been overly impressed with the “and stuff” that Portia did. Once she started coming into the bar regularly people had begun to notice her and not just because she’d grown up in Providence. Rod had been overly excited when he found out who she was and what she did for a living. He’d thought it a push from fate that he was working on her house. But Ethan had politely pushed his thoughts in another direction as he’d very pointedly told Rod that Portia was off-limits to him. His old friend had seemed to accept that warning in stride, but today his eyes were back to looking bright with excitement as he’d said her name.
“Reardon,” Ethan repeated. He’d never heard the name before, but he knew of the tabloid rag called The Wire. “You come all the way down here just for a story about an author?”
From his days at the Secret Service when part of one of the investigations he’d been assigned to consisted of him tracing dozens of media outlets for information, he recalled The Wire’s home offices were in Chicago.
“Yeah,” Reardon said, using a finger to push his glasses up further on his face. “It’s a big story. We’re trying to get the scoop before she starts getting invites to the morning shows and stuff.”
Ethan nodded. “One little book is making that much of a splash?”
“It sure is,” Reardon told him. “Rod here tells me that you’ve known Portia Merin all her life and that the two of you are pretty close.”
Ethan shot Rod a heated glare.
“I mean, you are, right?” Rod stammered. “You were helping her out at the house too. Boarding the windows during the storm and things like that.”
The look he continued to give Rod promised the guy he’d deal with him later.
“Yeah. Right.” Rod said slowly with a nod. “I should be going. It was good meeting you.”
The last was said quickly before Rod turned and made a hasty exit. Yes, Ethan was definitely paying his friend a visit after his shift.
“So, do you have a few moments to answer a couple of questions about Ms. Merin?” Reardon asked when he and Ethan were alone.
“No. I don’t.” Ethan’s response was curt, but he wasn’t going to retract it, nor was he going to apologize.
“I just want to know what she was like growing up. What type of childhood leads to a phenomenal career in the adult entertainment industry?” he continued.
“I don’t know,” Ethan said. “I’m not in the adult entertainment industry.”
“No. I heard. You and your friends opened this bar a year ago. You all come from different careers, one of the Greer twins—Delancey—was with the police department in D.C. while, the older one, Delano, went a step above to work for the DEA. Noah Jordan was a Hollywood stuntman. I was a huge fan of Rock Patterson when he was on the wrestling circuit. And Jeret McCoy’s an ex-Army Ranger.”
“You did your research,” Ethan said. He didn’t like that at all.
“I did,” Reardon admitted with a nod. “You were with the Secret Service, so I couldn’t find out too much about you. But that’s cool. I’m really looking for your insights on Portia. Was she abused as a child? Is that what turned her into a sex goddess? Her father’s in politics. I plan on speaking to him next.”
“Don’t!” Ethan snapped.
Reardon tilted his head and Ethan knew he’d just moved Wayne Merin’s name up to the top of people this jerk was going to contact.
“Are the two of you involved in a romantic relationship?” Reardon asked next.
“I don’t have any comments,” Ethan told him.
Reardon nodded. “You drive a silver Yukon Denali, right?”
Ethan didn’t answer.
“I’ve seen it a few times, parked in front of that bright house where I was told Portia is staying,” the nosy reporter said. “A few times.”
A muscle twitched in Ethan’s jaw as he glared at the man.
“It’s cool, man. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” Reardon said with a slow grin spreading. “Providence is a nice little town. And if there’s one thing I know about small towns, it’s that there’s no shortage of people willing to give you all the details of everyone who lives around them.”
“That’s not what you want to do,” Ethan warned. “Your best bet is to turn around and head out of town. Leave the people of Providence and Portia Merin alone.”
Reardon took a step back and folded his arms over his scrawny chest. “Is that a threat, former Agent Ethan Henley?”
Ethan kept eye contact and never wavered as he replied, “That’s the best and the last piece of advice I’m going to offer you, Brent Reardon from The Wire.”
It was too early in the day for pink colored shots, so Portia had made a pitcher of lemonade and baked some of Sunny’s famous chocolate chip cookies. She carried a tray with two glasses and a plate of cookies out to the porch where Camy sat waiting for her.
“Oh. My. Goodness!” Camy exclaimed when Portia sat the tray down on the small stained-glass topped table that sat between the porch swing and two white Adirondack chairs.
Portia met with Cynthia yesterday and since the repairs to the house were just about complete, the realtor had suggested Portia work on curb appeal to help boost the price for the house. Sunny had scoffed at the idea but gave Portia the go ahead to access one of her many bank accounts to do whatever was needed to get the place sold. Portia had accepted her godmother’s approval, but used her own money to pay for landscaping and the new porch furniture, just as she’d paid for all the additional repairs after the storm.
“This smell brings back so many memories,” Camy was saying as she grabbed a napkin and three still-warm cookies. “Rylan and I used to walk all the way over here after school. She lived just down that block and was my excuse for getting a closer look at Sunnydale and these fabulous cookies.”
Portia bit into a cookie and had to moan herself. All of Sunny’s recipes were scribbled in a tattered book she’d kept in the kitchen drawer. Portia now had that book in her bag.
“Cookies and lemonade,” she said. “That’s what she always served while I did my homework. Of course, she had Caribbean rum in her glass, but she would eat just as many cookies as I did.”
Camy laughed. “Those were the good ‘ole days.”
“So true.” They were good days. Despite everything that had been going on around town, she’d had good times with Sunny.
“You ever think about coming back for good?” Camy asked after finishing her three cookies and taking a long gulp from her lemonade.
It was as if she’d reached right into Portia’s mind and pulled the thoughts that had been floating there in these past few days out for dissection. While Portia had been content to keep those thoughts tucked carefully away.
“Sunny’s not planning to come back,” she said and then shrugged. “So it’s kind of foolish to wish for old times to return.”
“Before my mom became really sick, she used to say that everyone in town was shocked that Sunny had stayed here as long as she did. She certainly wasn’t like any of the other women in town,” Camy said.
Portia shook her head. “No. Sunny always said the mold was broken, burned and buried after she was created.”
They both chuckled.
“That’s fine. I kinda think their time has passed anyway. You know, my parents, your parents, Sunny and a lot of the other old farts around here. It’s our time now. We’re the next generation and we should be making our mark in Providence.”
Portia wondered if Camy knew that she sounded like a politician in the making. “I believe I’m making my mark, just not here.”
“Even now, after you and Ethan have had the chance to get close?”
She should’ve seen that co
ming. Camy didn’t mince words. If she wanted to know something, she asked the question.
“I’ve only been back in town for three weeks,” Portia started.
Camy immediately interrupted. “You’ve known each other all your lives.”
“Not intimately,” she countered.
Camy chuckled. “Well, everybody in town knows the two of you are just about living together. And I for one, am happy about it. My brothers and their friends have gotten the short end of the stick long enough. It’s time they started to find real happiness.”
“But they all left here and found good careers. What happened to bring them back?” Portia asked the question she hadn’t been able to bring herself to ask Ethan.
Camy snagged another cookie and looked thoughtfully as she took the first bite. “Life, I guess. I don’t know all the details about the others, but I know that Del and Lance’s situations got blown out of proportion pretty quickly and before either of them knew it they were right back here, the place they’d longed to escape from. If you ask me, it’s fate. They all belong here, the next generation as I just told you. It’s our time.”
The conversation drifted to plans for a weekend trip to National Harbor where Camy and her girlfriends would continue to extend their hospitality to Portia. They could shop, see a show and hit the casino. Of course drinking would be included, a fact that made Portia laugh because she wasn’t the best at holding her liquor. But it was nice to make plans like that. It was nice to consider herself a part of a group of friends. It was nice and it was scary as hell because once again, it all hinged on Ethan.
Ethan, who’d acted very strangely this morning and hadn’t contacted her all day.
15
By Saturday, two days after she’d spent the night at his loft, Portia still hadn’t heard from Ethan. She’d thought about him constantly. About whether or not she’d done something wrong, or if his distance had something to do with that call he’d received from his ex-girlfriend the other night. All of the questions had culminated into a decision to take action.
Sunnydale was ready to be shown to perspective buyers. Portia had signed all the pertinent paperwork with Cynthia earlier this morning. The stagers that had been hired to fill the house with furniture that was sure to make it fly off the market, finished at the house just after five. And Portia’s revised book tour schedule had just arrived in her email box with new dates beginning on Thursday.
She climbed into her car and drove to Game Changers.
Portia had no idea what she planned to say to Ethan, just that she needed to say something. All those years ago when she’d left last time, she’d always felt as if she’d stolen away in the night. Too afraid to face everyone head-on in the light of day. Now, things were different—vastly different. If her time was up here, that was fine. She’d enjoyed the weeks of freedom and pleasure she’d experienced, but her life would go on. Except this time, she would be absolutely certain that this “thing” between her and Ethan Henley was over with once and for all.
With her bravado in place, a smile and a wave for Lance and Joy as she passed them on her way to the bar, Portia stepped right up to where Ethan stood. “Can we talk for a second?”
He looked surprised to see her with his neatly shaved low-cut beard and those startling green eyes that sometimes looked blue. Today they were more blue than green. Somber, she’d say if she had to give the way he was now staring at her a name.
“It won’t take long,” she continued when he looked as if he were about to make some excuse.
“Sure,” he said finally. “Give me a sec.”
She nodded. “I’ll just wait over here.”
“No,” Ethan told her. “We can talk upstairs. Go on up. I’ll be there as soon as I finish this order.”
Apparently, they weren’t going to talk down here in front of a bar full of customers. That probably made sense. It almost meant that this talk was going to be bigger than Portia had even planned. She walked up the stairs to the Sky Box private lounge area. It was dim up here since they apparently didn’t have any private parties booked tonight. Portia moved across the floor toward the restrooms where she knew the light switches were. As she flicked them on, she watched the room become illuminated and smiled at the fact that she’d known where things were up here. She knew because she’d been here a lot in the little over two weeks she’d been here. She’d helped set up for another event that had taken place since her first time being up here with Ethan a week ago and she’d cleaned the area with Joy and Camy so they wouldn’t be here all night.
“I’ve got fifteen minutes,” Ethan said.
The sound of his voice interrupted her thoughts about possibly belonging here with her newfound friends and Portia looked up to see him walking towards her.
“If this is about me not being around the last couple of days, we’ve just been really swamped here. College kids and their families are coming in and Labor Day festivities are getting ready to take place. It’s just been really crowded,” he said.
He’d stopped a few feet away from her, folding his arms over his chest as he stared at her.
“That’s great,” Portia said. “This place is thriving. It’s going to be a big success in town, regardless of the Council’s wariness. They’ll never argue with the revenue the bar is bringing into the town. With Lance’s idea to bring in entertainment, the hotels in the area will see an uptick in reservations. The souvenir and specialty shops down on Main Street will also have increased business. It’s a win-win for everyone,” she told him.
“You sound like Del and Noah. Each of you have an eye for business,” Ethan said.
“I’ve taken a few classes over the years,” she said. “I even thought about going back to get an MBA. I don’t plan on doing videos or writing instructional books forever. But I do like being an entrepreneur.”
“You do it well,” Ethan said.
“I do,” she agreed. “So, are we finished? I mean, what we were doing. Is it over? It’s fine if it is, I just wanted to get clarification this time around.”
He at least had the decency not to look startled by her question. He had to have been thinking about this being the topic of conversation. She wondered if that were part of the reason he’d simply steered clear of her the past two days.
“To be honest, Portia, I don’t know what we were doing. I mean, it started out as one thing—us toying around with the ideas from your book. But somewhere along the way, that changed pretty fast.”
She nodded. “It did.”
“And I don’t know if that was for the better. I mean, you have your life in Seattle and I have mine here.”
So it was going to be a distance issue. That was understandable.
“You’re absolutely right. Long distance relationships never work. Glad we had a chance to clear the air. I have just a few things to tie up here and then I’ll be leaving.” The bravado she normally prided herself on was shot to hell, so she walked away. Staring at him while accepting what they had was really over was a little harder than she’d anticipated. The really hard part was acknowledging that Ethan wasn’t going to step in front of her to stop her from leaving. The last time she hadn’t given him a chance. This time he was making a choice.
“I can’t do this, Portia,” Ethan said quietly. “I need you to understand that it’s not you or anything you did. This is all me.”
She froze when he spoke, then snapped, “Cliché. I expected more from you, Ethan.”
Actually, Portia had just expected more. She’d allowed herself to believe that they were moving toward something, when she should’ve known better. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, Ethan.”
They stood for a few seconds in silence and then both looked up as they heard the footsteps running up the stairs.
“We’ve got a big problem downstairs,” Lance said to both of them, but his gaze had settled on Portia.
She followed the guys down the stairs to an almost silent lower
level. Sure, the music that always played at the bar was still going, but the television sets that normally played sports games or the news were now playing something else. Her name whispered in a male voice echoed throughout the room and for the second time today, Portia froze where she stood. She hadn’t even made it to the bar yet but stood just a few feet away from the front door.
She knew that voice. She knew the words that were about to follow her name, just as she knew the scene that was about to appear on those many television screens.
Bobby Adleman chuckled as he directed Portia to, “Spread your legs wider.”
Portia closed her eyes to blink but couldn’t bring herself to open them again. It didn’t matter, she didn’t need to watch the scene because she’d been there when it was recorded.
“Just like that. Now, just give me a minute…ahhh, yeah…that’s it, baby,” Bobby continued.
There was a shocked gasp, a hand clap and an offensive whistle coming from the room. The sounds were magnified since Portia’s eyes remained tightly shut.
“Yeah. Ahhhhh, yesssss,” Bobby continued before his next words were abruptly cut off.
“Oh, dear, there must be some technical difficulties,” Melissa Bannon chirped amidst a few complaints from the male customers in the room.
“Well, it’s okay. There’s a complete version of this video up on The Wire dot com. There’s also a very interesting story about one of the stars of the video, our very own Portia Merin. I guess this video proves the age-old adage that a person could actually sleep their way to the top.”
Her voice was like nails scraping over a chalkboard. No, it was like sand being caught in every possible crevice of your body even after a long hot shower. It was irritating and infuriating and when Portia’s eyes finally managed to open, she immediately sought out the redheaded bitch through her tear-filled gaze.
Camy and Lance were on either side of Portia as she took a step toward Melissa.
