Spin the Bottle

by Anne Conley

  Have fun with my little dude.

  Zane

  Lettie smiled to herself as she read the note he’d written, even as she picked her way through the stuffing on the floor. The sofa was destroyed with Otis having chewed it down to the wood frame, which he was attempting to make short work of.

  Her first purchase would be a crate. Zane hadn’t mentioned anything about a crate for the puppy, but he needed one, desperately.

  After greeting Otis, feeding him, and taking him outside to the spacious backyard Zane had, she went back in to pick up the remains of the couch from the living room. Throughout it all, Otis followed her around dutifully, eating, pooping, peeing, and acting like he was a complete innocent in the destruction of Zane’s sofa.

  Zane’s kitchen was stocked. As in, ridiculously so. Dude clearly cooked. There was enough meat and vegetables in the fridge to tell her he cooked for himself regularly and had probably gone shopping right before finding out he had to go out of town. There was no way she knew what to do with all this food with her limited culinary skills. The hotplate she had in her tiny apartment in the boarding house didn’t lend itself to actual cooking, and before that, in Gainesville, she hadn’t been much better. Her grandma had done all the cooking when she’d been home. Maybe something rubbed off on her?

  She tried to think of some things her grandma had cooked and set out planning a menu for the week, hoping the food wouldn’t go to waste. Speaking of her grandma, she owed her a phone call.

  Lettie had some time before the Skype call with Zane, so she picked up her cell phone and punched the number attached to the gray-headed lady typically smiling between a cigarette and a flamingo-shaped margarita glass.

  “Hey, Grandma.”

  “Lettie! Long time, no hear! You found a husband yet?” That was her familiar greeting, and it annoyed Lettie every time.

  She understood Grandma was from a different generation, but she wasn’t that damn old. It pissed her off she couldn’t be her own person without a man in her life, like her existence was defined by whether or not she was married. Since Grandpa’s death, Grandma had struggled, bringing it up more and more often. So she let the comment slide, even if it rankled.

  “No husband. Just calling to check in.”

  “How about friends? Have you made any of those? Or are you just being your normal, sullen self?”

  Another barb. Thanks, Grandma. Was it so strange to enjoy your own company more than other people? Relationships, whether platonic or not, meant she had people to impress, do for, and care about. Caring inevitably ended in hurt feelings due to misappropriated expectations.

  “Normal, sullen self. How’s Bingo? Have you won the jackpot yet?” Desperate to change the subject, Lettie laid down a barb of her own. She’d been making fun of her grandma’s Bingo nights for years.

  “Nope, but the Bingo caller asked me out two weeks ago. I told him he was crazy because he’s ten years younger than me, but it felt good to know I’m not completely repulsive.”

  Lettie laughed, the familiarity of her last living relative’s voice soothing her nerves.

  “I’m housesitting for someone, and I wanted to know what to make with chicken breasts? He’s got a stocked fridge, and I thought I would cook some stuff before it spoils, but it’s been so long since I cooked anything. He had to go out of town unexpectedly.”

  “I can send you some recipes. I’ve got a good chicken bake you used to eat the hell out of when I made it for you and Vern.” A coughing fit had her missing part of the rest of what Grandma said as Lettie held the phone out at arm’s length. “… by yourself.”

  “What?”

  “I said, you shouldn’t be so solitary. It’s not good to be by yourself.”

  Lettie liked solitary. She had always been a bit of a loner because she couldn’t abide by the fakeness of some people and it was exhausting to find the real ones amongst all the pretenders.

  “Am I weird?” Might as well ask. Grandma was one of the most honest people she knew.

  “Yes. Yes, you are. But I love you anyway. You just need to get out and meet some people. You’ll eventually find your tribe and be so much happier.”

  Lettie didn’t necessarily agree with that. Why would she need to depend on other people to make her happy? But she also knew something was missing from her life. Maybe it was friends?

  “Look, you’re a lovely person, Lettie, you know that. But you hold yourself to higher standards than most, and I guess that’s admirable, but you really need to cut loose sometimes and have some fun.”

  “I should lower my standards?” Lettie’s voice rose on the question.

  “No. Just go out and have some fun and see what happens. I bet you haven’t even been to a bar up there.”

  She hadn’t, but she wasn’t about to admit that to her grandma, who had weekly social hours in the yard behind her double-wide in the mobile home park outside Gainesville. A dozen drunk senior citizens telling stories so loud they could be heard over Jimmy Buffet’s Caribbean guitar wasn’t really her idea of a great time.

  However, Grandma did have a point. Lettie needed some friends. She wouldn’t lower her standards for men because she valued her self-worth and had lowered them plenty with the idea of experimenting with her kissing theory. But she was finished with that. She knew what she wanted, for the most part, and it wasn’t something explosive that would end in pain.

  Why were her thoughts suddenly overwhelmed with Zane?

  “Hello?”

  “Oh, sorry. Uh, I have an appointment at 6:30, can I let you go?”

  “You young people … They’re called dates.”

  She laughed. “It’s not a date, it’s an appointment. For work. Talk to you later?”

  “Is he good-looking?”

  “Goodnight, Grandma. It was nice talking to you.”

  “Goodnight.”

  At 6:30, Lettie was ready for his Skype call.

  More or less.

  She wasn’t sure she could look at Zane every night like this, but he was paying her to do a job and seemed to be taking her professionalism seriously. For that, she’d give him a chance—a chance at what, she wasn’t sure. She certainly wasn’t letting him into her pants, not after that kiss. But maybe they could be friends? Lettie scoffed at herself. She didn’t do friends, and if she did, they would be women because that’s how friends worked, right?

  So the word “chance” was wrong, but he was being professional. In the note, he hadn’t hit on her at all, so she was giving him another shot to have a professional relationship. There. That sounded better in her head. He was rescuing one of her puppies, and she was helping him out with the dog sitting while he was having a family emergency.

  Wow. That sounded an awful lot like friendship, but she didn’t have a whole lot to go on. Maybe she should make some actual friends—women friends—to compare?

  The funeral was tomorrow, and everyone was at Zane’s parents’ house. At least, all his brothers were there. He had his laptop in his childhood bedroom which had been turned into his mom’s hobby room. He considered himself lucky to be surrounded with sewing and scrapbooking junk. Rafe and Dirk’s room had been turned into a rosy guest room which looked exactly like a French whorehouse had barfed all over it.

  He found the least offensive corner and sat on the floor, his laptop open, and called Lettie. When she answered, her face was larger than life on the screen, along with Otis, the giant furball. After the hectic day full of family and well-wishers, their faces were welcome.

  “Hey,” he said, and she actually smiled at him. “Otis! You see me?” He wasn’t sure if the dog could actually see him, but he reacted, cocking his head at the computer screen and wagging his tail, whipping Lettie on the face. Good-naturedly, she batted it away, giggling. Zane wouldn’t say what the sound of her giggle di
d to him. It was wholly inappropriate to be thinking thoughts like that amongst his mother’s quilting things.

  “Everything okay up there?” Her earnest question gave him hope she didn’t hate him, even though he knew she was just being nice.

  “Yeah. Tomorrow’s the funeral, and everyone’s just gathering right now.” He wondered if she could hear all the noise downstairs.

  “How many kids in your family?”

  “Seven, all boys. My mom’s a saint to put up with all of us.”

  “No shit.”

  “How were things when you got there tonight? Did Otis eat anything else?”

  “Um, I don’t think your sofa can be saved, honestly. I’m going to go out after this and get him a crate. That’s what he needs for your lifestyle. If you can’t stay home with him twenty-four/seven, he’s going to need one or else he’s going to eat your entire house, piece by piece.”

  “Just save me the receipt.”

  “Will do.”

  “Yo, Z! Movie time! Mom made us all some popcorn and brownies.” A loud bang on his door caused Lettie to jump and Otis to lick the screen.

  “Brother?” She quirked up a brow.

  “Yup. That’s Alreck.”

  “Alreck, Zane …” She didn’t ask, but the amusement was obvious.

  “Yup. There’s also Dirk, Colt, Rafe, Lucas, and Roark.” He grinned at her, daring her to say it.

  “Payback for never getting a daughter?” She was barely holding in her laughter.

  “Nope. She is a huge romance reader. We are all Harlequin heroes.” That did it. She laughed hard. Big, loud belly laughs that had him grinning like a loon at her, wanting her to do it more.

  “Okay. I have some things to say to Otis, man-to-man, so can you leave the room for a minute?”

  “Uh, sure.” Lettie got up and left the laptop on the floor where she’d been sitting in front of his destroyed sofa. Otis started to follow her until Zane called his name, and he plopped his hind end down on the floor in front of the laptop.

  “Hey, man, quit eating my couch, okay? I wasn’t fond of it, it was just something a roommate left two years ago, but I need something for company to sit on, and I don’t think all that stuffing is good for your digestive system. I can’t imagine what your shit is looking like, dude.” He only felt marginally stupid for talking to Otis like he could understand him. “And if you wouldn’t mind, do what Lettie says. She’s there to take care of you, and I like her, so don’t fuck that up for me, okay? I’m pretty sure I’m fucking it all up just fine on my own.”

  Lettie lived up to expectations by coming back on screen just as he was finishing, letting him know she had been listening in the whole time. They said their goodbyes, and he told her he’d call again tomorrow, probably around nine since he had no idea when everyone would leave their house.

  And then he spent the rest of the night not sleeping, imagining her showering in his bathroom and sleeping in his bed.

  Chapter Five

  Zane was cooking steaks on the massive grill in his parents’ outdoor cooking area. Having a dad in the construction business had served his mom well. She got every single add-on a woman could want, and Zane had to admit the outdoor kitchen area was pretty sweet.

  His brothers had been bitching about not having enough red meat—never mind the million different salads and casseroles in the fridge inside—and Zane decided to take care of it.

  The funeral was yesterday, and people still crawled all over his house: well-wishers from the community, his mom’s friends and family, as well as his brothers’ families and girlfriends. It was hot as balls outside, and nobody was out there, so Zane was doing what he could to find some peace.

  He flipped the ribeyes, mentally noting the two on the end needed to be the rarest—one for him and one for Alreck—while he pushed his tongs into the rest to test doneness.

  “What are you doing?” His mom offered him an icy longneck with a small smile. She was holding together pretty well, but he sensed all the company was getting to her. She loved her family but had also been a sort of solitary person. He knew she would prefer to mourn her father’s passing with her husband and sons, but the community who’d lost a paragon wasn’t letting her.

  “Cooking,” he answered with a grin. “We’re sick of chicken salad. Need some iron.” He took the proffered longneck, guzzling a mouthful of icy yeastiness.

  “There’s pasta salad, too, you know.” His mother actually grinned as she sank into a seat next to him.

  “Salad, salad everywhere, nary a steak in sight,” he sing-songed. “We’re growing boys. Need some meat. There’s potato salad, right?”

  “Yup. Three kinds.”

  “It’s nice of everyone. We’re not complaining. I just needed something to do.” Zane wanted to make sure she knew he didn’t hate this. Didn’t need anything from her. She was doing enough to hold herself together; she didn’t need to do it for him too.

  “I know.” His mother was quiet a while. “Tell me something good, Zane. Who’s the girl you’ve been doing that computer stuff with every night?”

  He pulled his and Alreck’s steaks off before turning to his mom. She needed to talk about something besides Grandpa, and while he would usually rather pluck out his armpit hairs than talk to his mom about women, he figured he could give her this.

  “Lettie. She’s nice. Different.” He ducked his head sheepishly at the question in her eyes. “She isn’t falling for my usual charm, so I guess she’s smart.”

  His mother laughed. “If she’s worth it, you’ll fight for her.” His mom took a dainty sip of her beer. “I want her to be worth it. You need a woman. I need more grandbabies.”

  Zane grumbled, flipping the steaks just to have something to do. “It’s Rafe’s turn.”

  “I can’t go by age or I’ll die before I see another grandchild. Rafe isn’t mature enough for a woman right now.” His mother was getting into it, and Zane felt his insides crumble. Sure, he was helping her get her mind off her dad’s death, but it was at his own expense. Seriously. She could talk about this shit for hours.

  “Alreck! Get the guys and tell them their steaks are done!” he hollered toward the kitchen window, where he hoped like hell someone heard him. His mother settled in, propping her feet up on the table and taking another slug of beer.

  Zane checked his watch. Two more hours before he could Skype with Lettie. He could do this. His mom fucking deserved it.

  He sighed, turning off the grill and sinking into the seat across from his mom with his steak. He’d hoped Alreck would serve as a distraction, but the douchebag merrily danced outside, whistling as nonchalantly as someone who’d been listening at the door could, and grabbed the plate of steaks to run away back inside.

  Traitor.

  Lettie had come to the conclusion—with the help of her grandma—she needed to make some friends. She had lived in Pamona Gulch for nearly two months, having moved here last April, and had focused on her job and getting the shelter up to snuff. But now, with Zane becoming an ever-increasing presence in her life, she knew she needed someone else to diffuse his attentions. Because she thought about them too much.

  There was a dive bar on the outskirts of town. There were lots of bars in town, but most of them were upper-end places with eight-dollar drinks—she couldn’t afford that madness. She needed a drink, and if there were other women there to talk to, that would be even better.

  She was going to a bar to pick up a friend. And yeah, she knew that was weird, but whatever. There were lots of other places to make friends, but Lettie was awkward on a good day and needed a drink or two to soften her brashness. She knew this.

  Becca came to mind as potential friend fodder. Co-workers counted, right? If nothing else, having Becca there with her might help dull her sharp edges—a wingwoman of sorts while s
he picked up friends.

  Lettie wasn’t sure if she was looking at this the right way, but after the conversation with her grandma the other night, she realized she needed to be less weird. Grandma said it wasn’t good to be so alone all the time, and some tiny, itty-bitty part of Lettie knew Grandma was right.

  She called Becca, inviting her out for girls’ night, and agreed to meet her at Mo’s. Sucking up her hermitness, Lettie vowed to go meet people in this town she’d lived in for months.

  The bar was indeed seedy. The floor was made of scarred wood, dusty and well-scuffed. The tables and chairs were some throwback from 1972—heavy, oak captain’s chairs and round tables that probably weighed a hundred pounds each. The curtains over the windows probably hadn’t been washed in a decade, and the fact it even had curtains was a little bit gross.

  And it was filled with firefighters. She rolled her eyes at her choice.

  Figures.

  Zane was gone to his parents’ house, and her first foray into the real world since she’d moved here was probably his favorite hangout.

  She looked around at all the familiar faces from the shoots she’d been watching this week. A few of the men nodded and smiled at her, but most of them were drinking and letting loose.

  Working at the fire station in the weird capacity of animal-handler had given her an insider’s glimpse into the world of the first responders. They joked, teased, and cut-up brutally, but as soon as that alarm bell rang, everything was put on hold while they got serious and suited up. She’d seen these very men catcall and wolfwhistle each other, then turn serious and work as a team to get their job done at least twice a day since this had started.

  Becca’s face lit up from a table full of men close to the front of the bar. Her friend bounced up and spoke loudly enough the entire bar could hear her. “Lettie! I’m so glad you invited me out tonight!” Becca was turning heads and wearing a skirt as tight and clingy as a second skin, her boobs swaying with her walk. Lettie made a mental note to never let Becca dress her. Girls did that, right? They did in movies. She would not be participating in that particular friend ritual.