by Tyla Walker
“She was surprised, but she stood her ground. I think Andrew was looking for a scene, but she told him to get out of there. It’s like you said. She’s tough.”
“She’s had to be. Poor thing. That girl could use some good in her life.”
“You like her then?”
“Of course I do. Cindy’s been through more than many, and she has a lot of reasons to be angry. But she has a smile for everyone. And she loves Nathan more than anything in the world.”
“I like her too,” I say. Ma looks at me over her coffee cup and tries to hide a smile. She knows all too well what I mean. I stand up, suddenly restless.
“I’m headed home to unpack some more. Did you take your pills?”
“Yes, doctor,” Ma says. “Give me a kiss.”
I lean down and kiss her cheek, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
“Try to get out for a walk today. I’ll bring some food by later for dinner.”
* * *
I spend all morning trying to distract myself with unpacking, but I can’t stop thinking of Cindy. Every couple of minutes I check my phone to see if she’s texted. Nothing. On the drive into work, all I think about is kissing her. Those soft lips, her tongue exploring my mouth. I think about the way her body felt, her breasts pressing into my chest. How her hands wrapped around my neck and her fingers played up into my hair. I think about holding her in my arms and how much I want to do it again.
‘Get a grip,’ I tell myself. I can’t go into my second day on the job lusting after my boss. Can I? Part of me hopes she won’t be in, that perhaps James opens for lunch and Cindy comes in later to handle the dinner crowd.
As I pull in to park behind the restaurant I see her car exactly where we left it last night, but that doesn’t mean anything. With a dead battery it could be a few days before she gets it fixed, or has it towed to the nearest garage.
I step down from my truck, slamming the door before setting off for the back door into the kitchen. As I step through I bump directly into Cindy. The baskets of cornbread she’s carrying scatter all over the floor. So much for avoiding her.
“Oh god. Sorry. I should look before I barrel through here.”
We’re both on the ground, picking up squares of bread and piling them back into the basket that she’ll have to throw away.
“You can take that out of my paycheck. Or I’ll pay for them. Whatever you want.” I’m babbling like an idiot. Seeing her in front of me has left me even more off balance than I thought it would.
“It’s fine. It’s my fault,” she says.
“I can get more. Want me to throw those away?”
“No, I got it. I can do it.” She can’t get her eyes to meet mine. Maybe I’m trying too hard?
“Of course. I didn’t mean you couldn’t...um.” Her gaze meets mine, and it’s clear we’re both thinking of last night. “Are you alright?”
For a brief moment I sense anger in her eyes. Or hurt? But only a second later and she’s the picture of strength and confidence: the boss addressing her employee, and not the woman who invited me into her bed last night.
“I just mean... your car. Did you get a ride this morning?”
“I called a taxi.”
“Oh. I could have...”
“You should get to work. We’re slammed out there, and Sarah’s not in today. The guys can get you up to speed. I have to get back out there.” She walks away then, and I’m left staring after her.
There’s my answer. Cindy wants to forget about last night and pretend it never happened. And after what she’s been through, I can’t blame her. But what Ma said keeps running through my mind. Cindy’s a woman who could use some good in her life. And maybe I’m the one to give it to her. If she’ll have me, that is. I think I’m willing to wait and find out.
Ten
Cindy
Another late night at the Smokehouse. Another table of Burnet High burn-outs taking all night to finish up that last chicken wing, making the rest of us wait around forever. Finally the restaurant clears out, and we close up shop.
The kitchen’s been closed for almost an hour, so Juan, Ernesto, and Miguel are long gone. It’s just me and Ashley now, wiping the last of the place down.
“Is it okay if I duck out and leave you to do the dirty work?” Ashley says. “I got a date, and I didn’t think I’d be staying here so late.”
“Yeah, of course,” I say.
“You’re the best!”
She dives out the door like she’s fleeing the scene of a crime. And before I know it, I’m alone. I walk to the front door and pull down the little chain on the OPEN sign. The red light flickers out, and I turn back to the deserted Smokehouse.
As I’m wiping off the last table and putting the chairs up for the clean-up crew, I can’t help but turn it all over in my head: the last few days, Hank, the truck. The minute I start thinking about the rest of it, a warmth comes over my stomach, and I like it.
I switch off the lights in the front of the restaurant. Back in the kitchen, I tie up the last of the garbage. A smile starts to creep its way across my face. Can it be that, even on a late and annoying night like this, left to close up the Smokehouse by myself, I’m feeling happy?
I walk through the back door and take the few steps to the dumpster. I lug the garbage bag up over the side and hear it smush in with the rest of the trash. It’s dark, and the only real light is from a single street lamp that hangs between the door and the dumpster area.
So at first I don’t see him.
“Atta girl,” he says.
I jump out of my skin. And I stay out of my skin. At first it’s the shock of an unexpected voice, but the reason I stay anxious is the voice itself.
“Andrew, what the hell,” I say. I can barely make out the light of his cigarette through the shadows. He’s leaning against the back of the restaurant, watching me. His truck is parked along the side of the building. “What are you doing here?”
“I was in the neighborhood,” he says.
“And you figured you’d like to spend time out here with the rest of the trash?” I say.
He folds in half and laughs like a rusty hinge.
“You always were funny, Cindy. Annoyed the piss out of me back then, but I miss it now.”
“Is that right?”
“Hell yeah. You know I’ve missed you, and Nate too. Been away for far too long,” he says, still half in the shadows.
“Andrew. It’s late. I’m tired. I don’t wanna talk to you,” I say. And I flip the lid of the dumpster closed, hoping by some magic it’ll close the conversation, too.
“Mmmmm. But I wanna talk to you, darlin’,” he says. And there’s something about it that wakes up a little dread in my bones. There’s something not right in the air right now.
I sigh, and decide to walk away. Make a break for the door. Only way to do it, just focus on the destination and walk straight past him.
But it’s no good. I get two steps towards the door, and he moves in my way. As he does, he steps into the light and I can see his face full for the first time. Oh, God. Whether it’s drunk, high, or both, he’s too far gone to have any sense talked into him, I think. Ok, Cindy. Careful.
“Hey now, heyyyy. I said I wanted to talk,” he says. His cheeks are red. His hat’s hanging half off his head like he’s been tossed by a bronco.
“Well, if you wanna talk then call me in the morning. It’s late. I gotta close up,” I say. I push past him, gently but clearly moving him out of my way.
He sways a little bit, uneasy on his feet. But he doesn’t fall down. I can feel him moving towards me from behind as I put my hand on the door handle.
“Good idea,” he says. “Let’s talk inside. I could go for a beer anyway, if there’s any left in the fridge in there.”
I turn around to tell him to get lost, but he’s already forced his way through the threshold of the door. Before I know it, I’ve stumbled back into the restaurant and he’s in with me.
“Huh.
You changed things up back here,” he says. “Been a while since I’ve been back behind the counter. Look at this place.”
And I am. I’m looking around the room to see if there’s anything I can grab that might draw blood, knock him out, help him see in no uncertain terms that I mean business. That I’m not to be trifled with. On the other side of the room, behind Andrew by about eight feet, is an old Louisville Slugger that Ernesto likes to keep in the kitchen.
Get there, Cindy, I think. Easy and slow.
“Well, a lot has changed since you left, Andrew. Things move on,” I say. I’m slowly angling myself towards the baseball bat, pretending to be shifting my focus to get a closer look at him.
“Guess that’s true,” Andrew says, reaching up to tip his hat back on his head. I’m a step closer to the Slugger. “But then again, some things don’t ever change.”
Andrew lifts his hand toward me, and my muscles all tense. The Slugger is still a few feet away, to the right of me. He reaches his hand past my left ear and places it on the wall behind me. He’s leaning in towards me now, nearly pinning me against the wall.
“Some things, stay familiar. Stay just the same,” he says. There’s a flick of a smile at the edge of his lips, curling up his unshaved cheek. And bourbon, I think. Bourbon on his breath.
“Interesting theory,” I say.
His laugh slaps into the room again. That rusty creak of a creepy laugh. I shift to my right a step. Next stop, Louisville.
“A theory! I like that. Yeah, I got lots of theories,” he says.
His tongue peeks out of his mouth and runs itself across his top teeth. And he leans in further.
“Wanna test a few of them out?” He says.
And that’s when I hit him with the bat.
He screams and doubles over in pain. Since I could only get my right hand on the Louisville Slugger, I couldn’t see my way to bringing it down on his head like I wanted to. So he’s clutching at his left rib where I hit him.
“What the HELL?” He screams back, all bourbon and bluster.
“Andrew, I don’t know if you’re drunk, or high, or both; but whatever you are you’re dumb as a dishrag right now and I don’t want you trying anything!” I say to him.
He crawls away from me on the floor, inching his way back to the back door. I can see by the way he looks up at me that he’s scared.
Good, I think. Be terrified, you little shit.
“Hit me with a damn baseball bat?!” He squeals at me like a pig.
“I’ll do it again if you give me a reason!”
“What’s a matter with you?!”
“Get outta here! Leave me alone. A baseball bat is the last way I wanna tell you, Andrew! If you wanna keep at me, I can find something sharper and heavier to give you the message.”
He half-stands and opens the door, stumbling back into the night and hollering after me. I take my phone out of my pocket.
“I’m dialing 9 and 1, Andrew! Then I’m gonna watch you get in your truck and drive away before I hang up! If you so much as move an inch towards me I’m hitting 1 again and then we’ll get a couple of cops at our little late-night reunion.”
“I was just trying to have a conversation with you, you batty heifer!”
“Go home, Andrew!”
“I’m going, I’m go—” and then his voice disappears into his truck. In the dim light that spills out of the kitchen and into the back alley, I can see him sitting in the driver’s seat of the truck. He locks eyes with me, still red-faced and bleary eyed. And then, just as he fires up the engine, I swear to God — he smiles.
His crooked, hateful grin spreads across his stubbly bloated face, bearing his fangs to me. Then he tips his hat like a demented cowboy, and he rolls down the window, leaning out to leer at me.
Dear God, can’t he just get the fuck out of here?
“You really ought not to take a swing at me like that. That’s not a pretty look, baby. And you were always so pretty.”
“Call me baby again and see what happens.” My finger is hovering over that last 1, and I can see him turning it all over in his mind. “Don’t make me tell you again.” His eyes narrow, and it’s clear he’s just itching to get back out.
“Tell me what?”
Eleven
Hank
When I pull up outside the building, I can see through the front window there’s a light on. ‘Good. Cindy’s still here.’
I tried to go home, forget the day, and leave Cindy to make her own decisions about us and our relationship. I tried. But it was either sit home and drink or come back and have a conversation. “Take the bull by the horns,” people around here like to say.
“Go home, Andrew.”
Instantly my blood runs cold as I hear Cindy’s voice from around the back. She’s not alone. I hop out of my truck and run around the back to see Cindy standing in the doorway with a baseball bat in her hand. Andrew’s looming out the window of his idling truck, muttering something. I catch ‘baby’ and ‘don’t be like that’.
“Everything alright in here?”
Cindy jumps when she hears me, and I see relief in her eyes as I crunch my way along the gravel. Andrew’s caught by surprise as well. He looks over, and it’s clear that he’s more than a little drunk. If I don’t handle this right, it could end up being a real scrap.
I ease my way over to Cindy, and instinctively drape an arm around her shoulders. Her whole body is shaking, and she’s clutching that Louisville slugger like her life depends on it. Which, if I hadn’t gotten here, it might have.
“Get outta here, man.” Andrew says. I hear the slur in his words.
“He’s drunk.”
“It’s a celebration.” Andrew takes a flask from somewhere behind him in the truck, then opens the door and steps out toward us. I hold Cindy just a bit tighter. He holds up the flask as a toast and drinks. I see the slight sway in his walk and the way he’s holding his ribs.
Did Cindy already take a swing at him with that bat? Atta girl.
“I’m gettin’ back with my baby, cowboy. A reunion.” I just hold my ground.
“Cindy wants you out of here.”
“Stay out of it, man. Cindy needs me.”
“You’re the last thing I need,” Cindy says. She’s gripping the bat with such force her knuckles are white. I put my hand on the back of her neck and rub gently. ‘Just breathe,’ I try to tell her. ‘Just breathe. I’ll get him out of here.’
“Get out of here, or I’ll call the cops. This is private property,” Cindy yells.
“You know what? Do it. I’ve been meaning to call them.” Andrew smiles like a cat who’s spotted a mouse.
“What are you talking about?”
“You see, I have this kid. And my wife won’t let me see him...”
“Ex-wife,” Cindy says, but Andrew ignores her.
“I think the cops might help me with that. Isn’t Bud Saunders the new police chief?” From the way Cindy stiffens I can tell it’s true. And I can tell she knows what’s coming.
“Bud and I were Bulldogs together back in high school. I’m sure he’ll help an old teammate out. Solve this little custody dispute.”
“Nathan doesn’t want to see you.” Cindy is fuming. I can feel anger coursing through her from the heat off the back of her neck. I haven’t been in a fist fight since high school, but hitting this man in the mouth would feel pretty damn good tonight.
“The boy needs his father,” Andrew says. “And you need a man in your life.”
Cindy pulls away from me and steps towards her ex.
“Do I?” She asks.
“You need someone to hold you at night. Someone to ease all this tension. Someone to keep you from turning into such a cold, hard...”
Cindy lunges. She swings the bat in Andrew’s direction, but she’s too angry to swing with much accuracy. And even though he’s drunk, Andrew’s able to step aside. He nearly falls anyway, but manages to catch himself on the door of his truck. Looping his arm
through the window, he smiles, almost laughing at her.
He’s thrilled he got a rise out of her. Cindy throws the bat to the dirt and wraps her arms tight around herself. In the dim light of the alleyway, she looks defeated.
“Come on, baby. You’ve been brave these past couple’a years. Takin’ care of the kid on your own. But I’m back, baby.” Andrew’s quieter now, turning on the charm. I can almost imagine their arguments when they were married. And I can imagine his bullshit asking for forgiveness over and over again, wearing Cindy down until she gave in.
“You need me,” Andrew tells her. “I asked around. You ain’t been with anyone else. Let me be your man, baby.”
“You got some bad information, buddy. She’s got a man.” Cindy and Andrew both turn to look at me, shocked by my words. Hell, I’m shocked by my words.
“You heard me,” I say, doubling down. “Cindy’s got a man.” I step up and put my arm around her again to give Andrew the full picture. I try to glance at Cindy, to catch her eye and tell her to go along with it, but Andrew’s back on the attack.
“Who? You, barbecue boy?”
“Me. Now that you’re back I guess you’ll want an invitation to the wedding? Leave your address with us and we’ll be sure to drop it in the mail.”
“Wedding? You’re engaged?” Andrew asks. He leans back and squints at us a bit, perhaps sizing me up, wondering if I’m telling the truth. When I don’t respond, he looks directly at Cindy, waiting for an answer from her. I give her shoulder a gentle squeeze. ‘Just go with it. Get this asshole out of here.’
“What, did you think I would just wait around for you to come back?” Cindy asks. I can almost feel the tension leaving her body. “Yes. Engaged.” She gets closer to me, her left arm wrapping around my back. It feels good to hold her like this.
“We don’t want you coming around here anymore,” I say.
“I’m not interested,” Cindy says. “I will never be interested.”
Andrew’s off his game. He doesn’t know how to respond to this new information. He takes out his flask and drinks, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He burps.
