Rescue You

by Elysia Whisler

  A smile plastered her face as she took the short drive home. She went inside and collected Chevy, who’d taken to following her everywhere, and brought her back out to do her business. Chevy had just finished squatting in the grass when an old station wagon screeched to a halt.

  Chevy gave a sharp bark. Sunny grabbed the newspaper off the front stoop, even though it wouldn’t make much of a weapon.

  “You!” Janice’s tall, skinny form made it out of the car and to the driveway in a flash. She fisted her hands on her hips, her lips pursed and sporting premature wrinkles at the corners. “You got my place shut down! You got my dogs taken away!”

  Sunny drew a steadying breath, her grip on the newspaper tightening. The last time Janice had come over, she’d shaped her bony finger into a gun and pointed it at Sunny’s head. This time, Janice was a thousand times as angry and might actually be packing.

  “I did nothing of the sort. You got your own dogs taken away by abusing and neglecting them.” Sunny snapped her fingers at her side, and Chevy came around and sat there. Sunny stepped in front of the dog, just in case Janice pulled out a real weapon.

  Janice’s eyes, drawn over in heavy black eyeliner and clumpy mascara, narrowed. “You did this,” she repeated. “And this time you’ve gone too far. Too. Far.”

  Sunny pressed the newspaper to her chest. “Get off my property.”

  Janice pushed back her stringy hair. “You just wait.” Her voice was quiet. Almost a whisper. “You just wait.” She threw her shoulders back and marched to the driver’s seat of her ancient car. The engine roared to life, but Janice poked her head out the window and repeated her directive one more time. “You just wait.” Then she pointed at Chevy, peeking around Sunny’s knees. “And you, too.”

  Sunny remained frozen to the end of her driveway long after Janice was gone, despite how her body shivered in the cold. Chevy shifted around, dancing, her nails tapping on the concrete. “All right,” Sunny murmured. “Let’s go inside, girl.”

  * * *

  Constance made sure the cast-iron pan was smoking hot before she seared off the chunks of beef. In just a few minutes, she’d have a beautiful crust on the meat, the juices and the flavor sealed in and ready for the long, slow stew in the oven. She chopped the veg while the meat cooked. Onions, celery, carrots and potatoes. Simple, down-home ingredients.

  “Is that Daddy’s magic stew I smell?” Sunny’s voice called out from the foyer.

  Constance waited until Sunny was in the kitchen and could see for herself.

  “Whose ass are you trying to kiss?” Sunny popped around the corner. “Daddy’s dead. Is this a celebration for Janice losing her dogs today?”

  Constance said nothing, even though Sunny’s text this morning regarding the dogs had made her week. Using tongs, she flipped each meat chunk over so they were evenly caramelized on every side.

  “Ohhh,” Sunny said. “Right.”

  “Go get undressed and get on the table,” Constance ordered. She didn’t want to discuss her “magic stew,” which Sunny had named back in the day when she discovered that Constance always made this meal when she knew Daddy was going to be pissed about something. Daddy wasn’t a picky eater. He ate everything Constance made. But the stew never failed.

  “You don’t have to tell me twice.” Sunny disappeared downstairs, to the massage room.

  Constance finished the meat, then washed her hands and went downstairs to find her sister, already undressed, under the sheets and half-asleep. “You’re hungover, aren’t you?” She could always tell when Sunny had had a late night. She still had that perpetual spring in her step, but she got these dark rings under her eyes that were easy to spot on her pale skin.

  “Maybe a little. It’s mostly worn off.”

  “You know I can make it worse.”

  “You won’t. You’ve massaged me hungover many times.”

  “Comforting.”

  Sunny went quiet after that, until the end of the massage. During the neck routine, her voice came softly from the table. “I’m sorry I got you in this mess with Rhett. Though, I can’t lie, I’m only a little sorry. If you hadn’t agreed to the deal, animal control might’ve never been able to completely shut down Janice’s operation.” Sunny went silent, and when Constance didn’t respond, her voice went meek. “All right, I’m completely sorry.”

  “That’s probably smart. Especially while I have your neck in my hands.” Constance applied pressure down either side of Sunny’s cervical spine.

  “You have to talk to him about it, eventually.”

  Constance moved her way slowly back up to Sunny’s mastoid processes and held there. “Your neck’s a mess. It’s all that texting and typing and spinning.”

  “Just fix me. I’m not giving up any of those things.”

  “I can’t fix you. Only you can fix you. I can only try to help.”

  “And what are you doing to fix you?” Sunny tilted her head back to look up at Constance. “What have you done to fix things with Rhett? Which, by the way, you didn’t have to say anything about our deal. You could have made up anything.”

  “Lie still.” Constance flicked Sunny’s forehead. “Quit staring at me.”

  “Ouch.” Sunny settled back on the table. “Do you flick all your clients?”

  “Just you. And I did have to tell him.” Constance cradled Sunny’s head in one hand and grasped her right SCM with her thumb and forefinger of the other. Sunny hated this part of the massage, because the muscles were right near the windpipe. Constance decided to spend extra time here. “You wouldn’t understand, but I can’t lie to Rhett. About anything.”

  Sunny stiffened as Constance worked the anterior neck muscles. All was silent until the massage was over.

  “So are you going to talk to him?” Sunny sat up, holding the sheet over her chest. “Obviously you’re making him Daddy’s magic stew. So, you’re going to talk to him, right?”

  “Maybe.” Constance swallowed a tremor in her voice. “I haven’t been to any of his classes this week. I can’t give up the gym at this point. It’s doing too much for me. I think I’d die without it. But I’ve been going to classes where I know Rhett won’t be coaching.”

  Sunny tossed back the sheet, stood up and strode to the opposite side of the room, where her clothes were. “You can’t keep that up forever.”

  Constance had long ago stopped telling her sister that she was supposed to wait until the room was empty to get dressed. She’d been massaging Sunny for over ten years and Sunny was probably the least modest woman who existed. “I’m going to Rhett’s class tonight, okay?”

  Sunny dropped her tank top over her head and slid into her Lululemon leggings. “Good.” By the time she was fully clothed and ready to go coach spin class, she looked like she’d never been touched. Every hair was in place and her makeup was perfect. “Talk to him. You owe him that much.”

  “And you—” Constance followed her out the door and upstairs “—watch your ass. If you’ve really shut down Janice’s puppy mill, then you’ve taken this war to the next level. I don’t trust that woman.”

  “Animal control shut down Janice’s puppy mill. The courts. Not me.”

  “She’s going to blame you.”

  Sunny shrugged, but despite her cavalier attitude, Constance saw a glimmer of worry in her sister’s eyes. She was hiding something. “Anything you want to tell me?”

  Sunny sighed. Her head hung down, like a scolded child. She looked back up and faced Constance. “Janice came by today. Right after animal control left. She’s livid. Threatened to get me back.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I swear to God, Cici, it was like something out of The Wizard of Oz.” The skin on Sunny’s arms popped with goose bumps. “I’m going to get you, my pretty!” She raised her voice to a cackle and pointed her finger at Constance’s chest. “And your
little dog, too!”

  Constance’s jaw dropped. “This is not funny, Sunny.”

  Sunny swallowed hard. “I know. It was really kind of freaky, how quiet Janice was. She kept saying, ‘You just wait.’ I don’t even know what to do with that.”

  Constance got a tight feeling in her gut, like she’d eaten something bad. “Sunny. I think you should tell Callahan.”

  “No.” Sunny waved her hands. “Our relationship isn’t like that. I’m not about to whine to him that Janice Matteri pointed a finger in my face. You know I don’t like looking helpless in front of the men I’m sleeping with. In front of any men.”

  Constance had about a million things she wanted to say about stubbornness, pride and bravado, but she knew her words would be wasted on her headstrong little sister, who was already sliding on her coat and heading for the door. “At least tell me you’ll be careful. Lock everything at night. Tell Roger to watch his back.”

  Sunny nodded. “Already on it.”

  Once she was gone, Constance pulled out Callahan’s business card and considered calling him. Just how pissed would Sunny be, and just how much would Constance care? After some thought, she put the card away. Maybe she’d see the detective at the gym and find a way to bring up Janice and her threats.

  Constance pushed the mess from her mind and fixed herself lunch from last night’s leftovers. Nothing was going to taste as good as the beef stew in the oven, but that was going to take hours. Her plan was to take some to the gym tonight and leave it in the fridge, with Rhett’s name written on the top of the disposable container. Maybe that would be a good segue into having a conversation.

  She hoped Rhett would accept it.

  That evening, she dressed carefully for the workout, which was a first. Typically Constance would throw on one of the few pairs of leggings she owned and top that off with whatever T-shirt wasn’t dirty. She’d scrape her hair back into a ponytail that was getting longer and longer each week, and secure her bangs with whatever clip was handy. Tonight, she actually fished out one of her old tech tees from her running days and was surprised enough at what she saw in the mirror that she sucked in her breath.

  “Is that me?” she whispered.

  The woman who stared back at her was someone she had never known before. Whatever ideal, whatever goal she’d had in her mind had been shattered by what she now saw. Had she wanted to be “thin” again? Had she wanted to be “in shape”? Had she wanted to be someone that didn’t spend the larger part of her days nursing an elderly, sickly father? Or had she just wanted to be the woman that Josh had fallen in love with?

  Constance wasn’t any of those women, even if any of them had been an achievable or worthy goal. Whoever those women were, they no longer existed. The woman in the mirror now was someone else entirely. There was a glow to her skin that seemed fresh and bright; an angular shape to her cheekbones that hadn’t even graced her teen years; a tightness to the tech top in places she’d never expected, nor paid attention to, like her biceps and shoulders. The woman who stared back at her wasn’t a woman she had thought she could be, or even wanted to be, until she saw her. The woman who stared back at her wasn’t “thin” or “ideal” or “the new you.”

  The woman who stared back at her was just strong. A woman who had been doing something for herself, pursuing her own goals.

  Constance smoothed the shirt, then brushed her hair back into a ponytail, careful to catch all the strays. She used a pretty gold clip to secure her bangs and finished the whole thing off by dotting her lips with tinted gloss.

  When she was done, Constance resisted the urge to wipe off the gloss and muss her hair. She didn’t want to appear eager, and she was pushing that line. She drew a deep breath, headed downstairs, grabbed the container of stew and raced out to her car before she could change her mind. By the time she got to the gym, she was sweating and her heart was beating fast. She checked herself once more in the rearview mirror, tucked the stew into her gym bag and headed for the entrance.

  Just as she’d grasped the handle of the door, it pushed open, making Constance jump back. Rhett strode out, his own bag on his shoulder. He stopped short of running into her, apologized, then said, “Oh,” when he saw who he’d almost plowed down. “Hey.” His eyes roved over her, from leggings to snug tech tee to the gloss on her lips. He smiled, just the littlest bit. “How are you?”

  “Good.” Constance hated how forced her voice sounded. “I mean, okay. How about you? Aren’t you coaching the 7:00 p.m.?” She felt a wave of uncertainty. It certainly looked like he was leaving.

  “Hobbs has that shift tonight.” Rhett pointed toward the gym, but his eyes were still on Constance. “I’m cutting out a little early.”

  “What’s this?” A familiar voice rang out from behind Rhett. A second later, Katrina popped into view. “Oh.” Her dark eyes looked Constance up and down, examining her with a much different expression than the one Rhett had. “Aren’t you the—” Katrina snapped her manicured fingers “—the girl. From the resort.”

  Constance felt hot all over, the sweat from her nervous drive here drying up like a blister in the sun. “Constance. My name is Constance.”

  “Right.” Katrina pushed her hair behind her ear and straightened her shoulders. Beneath her open coat she wore a tight pair of shorts and tank top, which accentuated the perfect contours of her hips, quads and boobs. “I knew it was an old-fashioned name. I just couldn’t remember which one. For some reason, I had Matilda in my head.” She barked out a laugh. “That’s nowhere near Constance, is it?”

  “No.” Constance glanced at Rhett, who looked like he’d eaten something bitter. “It isn’t.”

  “Going in to work out?” Katrina nodded at the door. “It’s brutal, so I hope you wore your big-girl panties. Rhett’s a great coach, though. Got me through it.” She ran a hand over his shoulder.

  It looked like Rhett flinched, but Constance could’ve been seeing things. “I hate that expression,” she said.

  “What expression?” Katrina narrowed her brown eyes, which would be a lovely chocolate color if they’d held any kindness. As they were, they looked more like crude oil.

  “Big-girl panties. It’s just dumb.” The weight of Constance’s gym bag felt like it was biting into her shoulder. “Little girls don’t wear panties, they wear underwear. And besides, girls have been forced to act mature and grown-up before their time for ages, so it’s not like putting on our ‘big-girl panties—’” Constance made air quotes “—is anything new or special. You know?”

  Katrina blinked at her in silence, her lips twisted like she’d sucked a lemon.

  Rhett smiled with his eyes.

  “I better get inside. Nice seeing you.” Constance pushed past them. As soon as the door swung shut behind her, a wave of restrained nausea rolled through her body. She paused at the trash can and closed her eyes.

  “You all right, Red?”

  Constance looked up and saw Hobbs giving her a concerned appraisal. She forced a smile. “Yep.”

  Then she took the stew out of her bag and tossed it in the garbage.

  * * *

  Katrina glanced up from between his legs. “Are you ever going to come?”

  Rhett realized he’d gone limp, despite the time Katrina had spent trying to blow him for the last ten minutes. “Sorry. Guess I’m tired.”

  “Fine.” Katrina rolled her eyes in exasperation. She stood up and fastened her bra, closing up the perfectly round mounds of flesh and saline. “Five hundred ccs,” she liked to say proudly as she cupped them.

  He rose and pulled up his shorts, then drew his shirt over his head. He couldn’t remember why he’d agreed to have her back here. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t agreed. It’s just what they’d always done whenever she was in town.

  “Rhett.” She grabbed his arm. “What’s going on with you?”

  Rhet
t drew his arm away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Katrina followed him into the kitchen and watched him take a beer from the fridge. “Are you seeing that girl?” Katrina narrowed her eyes. “The one at the gym? The one who was at the Christmas party?”

  “No.” Rhett pictured Stanzi tonight, standing in front of the gym. She’d looked so good he’d found it hard not to stare. He’d found it even harder not to draw her in for a hug, even if that was a bad idea. She looked like she needed a hug. Rhett sure as hell needed one. Even Katrina hadn’t hugged him—she’d gone right for his pants. “You should go. I’m not going to be much company tonight.”

  Katrina was frozen for a moment, her face blank, then cold, then melting into something Rhett couldn’t pinpoint. She lifted his hoodie from the back of a chair and pulled it over her head. “Okay, Rhett. I’ll go. You know what I’m thinking, though.” She fluffed out her hair. “You wouldn’t be having this problem if you were on the medication. You’re limping like an old man and you’re acting squirrelly. I’ll get this back to you after I wash it.” She touched the hoodie. “I don’t feel like wearing my big coat in the car.”

  “You don’t need to wash it,” Rhett said, ignoring her other comments. “And no rush. I have others. Spring is coming.”

  Katrina smiled. “See you soon.”

  Once she was gone, Rhett went out to his Jeep and tried to decide where he was going. He needed to go. Somewhere. So he just started driving. At the first traffic light, he considered turning left and heading back to the gym. The late class was over and most people would be gone, but Stanzi tended to linger, one of the few athletes he had that paid close attention to her mobility and flexibility and often spent a good fifteen minutes postworkout stretching and foam rolling.