Jade

by Sarah Jayne Carr

  Seth took a step backward with wide eyes.

  “For the love of…” She gasped with surprise, and she waved her index finger at me. “What’s that white stuff on your face? And on your chest. Is that… shame gravy?” Iris pinched the bridge of her nose. “Be glad your grandmother’s already in her grave because seeing this would kill her.”

  I glanced down at the smear on my shirt. “It’s paint!”

  A familiar male sounded, and it wasn’t Seth. “I walked the perimeter. The truck’s engine is warm, and someone keyed a dick with a shriveled nut sack on it. Jade’s Jeep—”

  My day worsened. Taxidermy Teddy appeared with a bag of cricket chips in his hand, chewing with portly cheeks. The foil packaging fell from his grip when he saw me, a flurry of crumbs falling to the ground like yellowed snow.

  I muttered under my breath, “How long have you been listening at the door?”

  Iris crossed her arms. “Long enough.”

  Seth grabbed his flannel from the back of the chair. His actions were clunky as he fumbled his way into it and offered mumbled bits and pieces of an apology.

  Escape was impossible, his hasty maneuvers serving no one but himself. Iris Geraldine Nash and Theodore Fauntleroy Simpson blocked the only exit. No offense to Seth, but my money banked on the tag-team duo to win.

  “What are you doing here?” I murmured, trying to corral her backward through the doorway. Being thankful for the rescue didn’t cross my mind.

  “You’ve ignored my calls since Teddy asked you out for a date on Thursday. For all we knew, you could’ve been laid out in some hospital.” She paused and narrowed her eyes at Seth. “But I can see you’ve been laid out in a much different way.”

  I ground my teeth. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, and you have no business walking into my office unannounced. We’re closed.”

  She grabbed the broom with her left hand and studied the rubber handle. “You know, I’ve seen plenty in my day. Sock on a doorknob. A do not disturb sign. But a broom? That’s plain weird.”

  I’d achieved a special level of being mortified. “We weren’t doing anything wrong! I’ve been painting!”

  “‘Professional rubbing.’ Total front.” She braced her palm against the doorway. “I hope he’s paying you well for the service you provided, and he’s chipping in for the STD test you’ll need.”

  “Get out!” I shouted. “It’s not what you think!”

  Iris wagged her finger and started a list of her own. “Sure, Jade. Him saying things like ‘Jesus, you’re tight’, ‘Pin me hard and don’t let up’, and ‘If you want to be finished’ don’t illustrate an innocent picture. Plus, I don’t even want to know why his elbow would make you squirm. Sickening.” Her focus turned toward Seth. “And let me tell you a couple of things, young man. First, if you have to ask if you’re ‘doing it right,’” she curled her lip in disgust, “you probably aren’t. Second, if my daughter yells, ‘Seth McCullough isn’t so bad’ during the throes of passion… you probably need to up your game.”

  Oh. My. God. Did my mother just say “throes of passion” and “up your game”? My entire body flooded with embarrassment, and I wanted to melt into the floor to disappear forever. Unfortunately, it didn’t happen. “We’re freaking clothed!”

  Teddy touched my arm gently. “Do you charge extra for that?”

  “For what?” I snapped.

  His eyes flicked down toward my chest. “The body paint. Honestly, I’d pay double whatever you charged him.”

  “Excuse us,” I said to Seth, ushering Iris and Teddy toward the main lobby of the office and around the corner past the copy machine.

  “You both need to get out.” My voice rose to a near-yell, “Now!”

  The arguing between Mama Nash and I continued for another ten minutes before she gave in and left. Teddy followed suit, looking over his shoulder a few times before clambering into the passenger seat of her minivan.

  When I went back to my office, surprise hit me. It shouldn’t have. Once again, Seth had performed his famous disappearing act.

  A white square on the floor near the end table caught my attention. I crouched down and picked up the K-7 napkin. Seth had crossed out the little two that’d squared the “SORRY” and replaced it with a teeny number three.

  Sorry cubed meant going back to square one.

  I sat down on the office chair and traced my finger over the number three. It baffled me to think about how I’d gone from a peaceful afternoon of painting alone to the misunderstood chaos transpiring with Seth, Iris, and Teddy. There wasn’t enough time before meeting up with Cranston, or in the day for that matter, to hash it all out inside my head. If I didn’t leave soon, I wouldn’t make it to Poseidon’s on time.

  I scrambled through the office, barely recalling when I’d closed the paint can, washed brushes, placed the broom far from the doorway, and shuffled belongings back to my office. The half-coated walls looked horrible. A haphazard mix of depressed fuchsia and frosty white with a non-existent hint of green stared back at me. Most of what I’d covered needed a second coat, and the colors didn’t complement each other. Not in the least. Claiming creative license wouldn’t be believable. I’d end up pulling an all-nighter to finish it before the office reopened.

  I grabbed my tote bag, set the alarm, locked the office door, and hurried to the Jeep. A salty breeze tickled my bare shoulders with its warmth, perfect weather for a swim. But relaxation had to wait. Laps in the cove would be both a reward for enduring Annelies and a celebration after meeting with Cranston. He’d drop a bombshell— a positive one. I could feel it. After I put my seat belt on, I heard a beep from my phone. New texts from Annelies were timestamped two hours ago and made me want to throw up.

  Anal Eyes

  Teensy change to the itinerary.

  Forgot to include the rehearsal/rehearsal dinner tonight. My bad.

  See you at the WC&W at 5:30 p.m. Then, dinner at Brady’s before the bonfire.

  P.S. Let’s talk about your no-show last night.

  “First of all, let’s not,” I mumbled. “Second of all, what the hell?” The deeper I fell into the wedding abyss, the more I felt like a puppet. Annelies had her hand rammed so far up my ass I couldn’t swallow. She still owned me and gave a reminder every time she could. Less than twenty-four hours to go.

  The winery. Skimming over my dad’s text, it confirmed our meet-up time at 6:30 p.m. “Ugh.” I tossed the phone to the passenger seat and growled before driving home with the odometer hovering fifteen miles per hour over the limit.

  By 4:30 p.m., I pulled into my driveway, jumped out of the Jeep, and rushed inside through the side door. As I darted past the hallway mirror, I skidded to a stop when I saw my reflection. A shower wasn’t negotiable. Enough paint streaked my face and chest to raise questions wherever I went. After a turbo clean-up, I threw on a pair of denim capris, a maroon racerback tank top, and black flip-flops. There wasn’t enough time to straighten my hair, so I scrunched the damp locks into loose waves, applied mascara, and hoped for the best.

  By 5:02 p.m., I’d fed Charlotte and dashed out the door. As I spun gravel out on the driveway, Sabina waved me down from our shared mail post.

  “Not now.” I pushed the brake, forcing the corners of my mouth upward. “Hi.”

  “Everything okay?” she asked while struggling to pull the key from her mailbox. “You seem frazzled.”

  “Good. Just running late. Again.”

  “I’ve been thinking,” she said, rifling through her stack of envelopes and magazines one-by-one at a snail’s pace, “about our talk the other night.”

  “Yeah?” I glanced at the clock and half-listened, watching the indicator flip from nine to ten. Another minute lost. Come on. Come on.

  “I think you should know something about—”
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br />   Tick tock. My fingers anxiously drummed the steering wheel. “I’m not trying to be rude, but can we finish this conversation later? Maybe over tea? I’m going to be really late if I don’t go.”

  “Oh! Sure, dear.” She smiled. “Stop by whenever you’d like.”

  “Thanks.” I waved and said goodbye, continuing up the hill to the main street.

  By 5:30 p.m., I climbed the twisting road to Windmill Chateau & Winery.

  Make that 5:31 p.m. Almost not late.

  The grassy knolls were emerald green and flawless, a complete distraction to the fact the winery didn’t actually have a windmill on its grounds. All of it rivaled a fancy golf course. Sitka Spruce trees in a deep shade of avocado bordered the distance, rich in contrast against the historic building. The chateau’s aged white walls with blue-topped turrets belonged in the pages of an art history magazine, not in Cannon Cove. Large, rounded bushes dotted the perimeter while clusters of pink rose bushes and lavender plants softened the antique feel. Too bad Annelies and Eli’s wedding tainted the entire setting.

  I hurried across the parking lot and bypassed the ramp, heading up the wide expanse of stairs when I saw the bride and groom talking to each other through an oversized window. My stomach flip-flopped. Memories flickered, reminding me of Eli’s hands. On my body. In the alley. Seeing his face through the thin pane of glass brought back a thunderstorm of unwanted feelings with violation topping the list. I didn’t know what to do— tell Annelies or let it go? As much as I hated her, she needed to know. Didn’t she? And the opportunities to speak my truth about what happened ran low. No matter my decision, her wedding or marriage had potential to crumble… all because of me.

  When I walked through the massive doorway, I spotted Seth talking to Sienna across the room. He still wore his same flannel, white t-shirt, jeans, and unreadable expression. His eyes flicked my direction before he adjusted his stance and turned his back to me. I shouldn’t have expected anything different. But somehow, I did. What happened earlier in the day was dominated by a fresh wave of unfriendliness. Even from thirty feet away, I felt the echo of his hands working over the muscles in my neck and shoulders. Their heat…

  “Hey. You okay?” Bo nudged me. His injuries from the night before hadn’t miraculously healed. In fact, they looked worse.

  I nodded hard, believing the dramatic head gesture would somehow avoid the forbidden topic of Seth, even though my gaze still clung to him from afar. “Not much. Just painted the office.”

  “That’s not what I asked, and you’re acting weird again.” He grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Can we talk about what happened—”

  Annelies shrieked and her eyes bulged when her gaze panned the room and landed on me. “Holy fucksticks!” She raged our way and stopped in front of Bo. “You didn’t tell me she looked this bad.”

  “Can’t hear that one enough,” I muttered.

  Annelies stared at my abrasions and bruises. “I hope Sienna can edit this mess out and salvage my wedding pictures. People will wonder if you got in a fight with a cheese grater and lost.”

  “I’m doing much better today. Thanks for asking.” My sarcasm bit hard but went unaddressed.

  Paige clapped her hands together three times to loudly announce her presence and introduce the wedding coordinator— Daisy. The next half hour muddled, and maybe I should’ve taken notes. There were countless musical cues to listen for while being shuffled into a dozen different directions. Conversations volleyed between Annelies, Bianca, and Daisy, of us practicing our entry with the men at our sides and solo with them already waiting up front. My head spun to the tune of a traditional wedding ceremony song.

  Lissy went first, followed by Bo and Paige. When the time came for Seth and me to meet and walk down the aisle, he stared straight ahead with my arm linked through his. Even while touching, I felt invisible.

  Listen. Pace your steps, Jade. “You should perform in Vegas,” I murmured to him while looking toward the outdoor altar.

  “Why?”

  “Your disappearing act is on point.”

  “You seemed busy with your mom and the bug chip-eating guy who murdered me with his eyes, so I left a note. Glad to see the shame gravy washed off.”

  “Don’t change the subject. The first time, you vanished at The Triple C. Then, you pulled the same thing at Bianca’s, after the hospital, and now this afternoon. What is it with you?”

  “Nothing,” he replied.

  “Liar.”

  He swallowed and uttered the one word out of 171,146 currently in the English language I didn’t expect. “Fear.”

  “Fear,” I repeated as we passed by the last two rows of chairs. “From a thrill seeker who jumps out of planes, an adrenaline junkie who kite surfs. The galloping. The mopeds. What could you possibly be afraid of?”

  There wasn’t time for him to reply because we’d reach the archway. I let my arm release from his and we parted ways— me to the left and him to the right.

  I caught his attention across the room a few times during the mock-up ceremony, but his face didn’t answer any of my questions. Daisy’s cues were rushed and brief, focused on positioning and not on any words to be spoken the next day. When we’d practiced exiting up the aisle and passed the last row of seats, I held onto his arm tight, even when he tried to let me go. “Listen—”

  “Hi,” Paige interrupted in an annoying singsong manner.

  “Oh. Hey,” I replied, watching Annelies walk with Lissy across the grounds. Having that rational discussion with Anal Eyes about what happened after leaving The Salty Seaman went lost, another opportunity gone.

  “I didn’t get a chance to catch up earlier.” She rubbed her red lips together. “So…”

  “So… what?” I asked.

  “How did today go?”

  I glanced Annelies’s direction again. “Huh?”

  “The lesson. With Zoe.”

  Seth answered before I could. “It went fine.”

  Shock ran through me.

  “Good to hear.” Paige folded her arms and turned toward me. “Way to follow directions, Nash. If—”

  Eli and Bo called Paige over from near the front doors.

  She scrunched her nose. “Oh! Gotta go. More head bridesmaid business.”

  I bit my tongue from commenting on Paige’s self-proclaimed title creeping up on my label as MOH.

  “It went fine? What was that?” I hissed at Seth.

  “Do you really think telling any of them we didn’t go to The DA would help? Either way, we can’t change it.”

  “What do you suggest we do now?” I whispered.

  “We’ll wing it.”

  “Wing. Ballroom. How do we pretend to know a choreographed, heirloom routine? I don’t know about you, but anything I try to wing at the reception will resemble drunk interpretive dance,” I replied. “That’s the most—”

  “Calm down. It’ll be—”

  “McCullough. If you say ‘fine’ after ‘calm down’ again today…”

  “Jade.” Bo approached us from behind. “We didn’t get to finish talking earlier.”

  “And that’s my cue for another disappearing act,” Seth muttered and walked away.

  I opened my mouth to stop him, but it was too late.

  Bo’s mood darkened when he turned Seth’s way. “Did I interrupt or should I have interrupted sooner?”

  “N… no. It’s fine.” Damn it, Seth. Now, I’m using your four-letter f-word. “I’m just annoyed. Who forgets to put the rehearsal and the rehearsal dinner on their fancy itinerary?”

  “Calm down—”

  “If one more person tells me to calm down…” I seethed.

  “Talk to me, Baby Girl. What’s wrong?”

  “I have to meet up with my dad tonight.�
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  “So, what’s the… hold up. Is it the meet-up?”

  “Yes? No? Maybe. I don’t know. But I have to be here at a rehearsal,” I pointed down the hill, “and at some Brady’s dinner. Then, I’m required to attend a bonfire. It’s too much.”

  Bo blinked at me like I grew a third eye.

  “Doesn’t this bother you at all?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “Everything. Annelies is treating us like we have nothing better to do than cater to her. Be here. Go there. Buy this dress. Learn that dance.” I stamped my right foot into the grass. “I’m done.”

  “Chill. It’s almost over. Annelies,” Bo glanced across the grounds, “she’s stressed, too. I overheard her talking about how she had to move the bonfire farther down the beach.”

  “She’s stressed, too?” My jaw fell and I pointed in Annelies’s direction. “Mambo Rodriguez! Don’t tell me you went to the dark side and are defending her now.”

  “I’m not defending,” he paused and took a deep breath, “all I’m saying is view the situation from her perspective.”

  “Unbelievable.” I grabbed for my keys. “You can tell Annelies to view the situation from my perspective because I’m not going to Brady’s.”

  I left the winery and stewed on the way to Poseidon’s, knowing my father waited, probably with a frown on his face.

  The tiny, square building looked worn and like nothing special from the outside. Chipped brickwork and faded parking space stripes told of its antique appearance. Sprouts of pigweed filled cracks in the cement as if they were intended plants. The inside of the restaurant showcased another side. Poseidon’s fame stemmed from both its fish and chips and clam chowder. People drove in from miles around for the food and to have their picture taken with the statue out front.

  I got out of the Jeep and strode across the parking lot, pausing to study the life-size copper sculpture of the Greek god. Poseidon held his signature trident with his long hair blowing in the wind, permanently frozen in time. He stared off at the ocean with furiousness on his face. The naked statue was well-known for another reason, too. Weekly, local high school kids decorated his man meat. That night, the Olympian god wore a paisley mankini.