Boys and Burlesque

by Ripley Proserpina

  I don’t know if you’d recognize me.

  I saw you on TV when I got back. Your image is all over the internet. You look beautiful, but I’m not sure if you’re happy. God, Bets, I hope you’re happy. The smile on your face isn’t one I’ve ever seen.

  You’re successful. I’m glad. So fucking glad. My dreams will never come true, but it means the world that yours will.

  Love, Josh

  Sixty-Nine

  Betsy

  There was silence following my question.

  “Where do we start?” Landry asked. I glanced at him. There wasn’t much room in the backseat, but Josh seemed more than happy to share space with me.

  He studied Lan then turned back to me. “You remember we told you we were deployed after we got your New Year’s message.”

  The blood drained from my face, and a chill went through me. Asking about their past inevitably would remind me of mine. They hadn’t known I’d lost Marigold and was trying to keep the pieces of myself together with tape and glue and anger.

  “We all started out the same rank,” Josh said, “but Lan was put on track to make officer right away. We were in basic and whatever it was they saw, they wanted. Weren’t you approached about being a SEAL?” he asked Lan.

  “I wasn’t interested in that.”

  Hmm. It seemed that just like when we were young, the world adored Landry.

  “I wondered about you.” I turned toward Josh, touching his long hair. “Is this allowed, Sailor?”

  Josh shrugged. “I got out of the Navy last fall. I can do whatever I want with my hair.”

  I’d read my share of Navy SEAL romance novels, and they were the only people allowed to have a non-regulation appearance. “Are you a SEAL, Josh?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I was what was called a swick.”

  “Swick?” I’d never heard of that.

  “Special Warfare Combatant-Craft Crewman. SWCC.”

  “Is that what you do?” I studied Brant. He wasn’t really Navy regulations either with that beard.

  “I went the SWCC route, too. I grew the beard while I was off base.” He smiled at me before turning back to the road. I noticed his phone in his hand and the little blue dot that indicated our car.

  “Why are we taking the long way?” I asked. “Is Weatherby that far off the beaten path?”

  “We’re making sure no one follows us.” Josh took my hand and lifted it to his lips. His kiss was quick, but he lingered, just pressing my skin to his. “Brant’s the navigator.”

  Oh. I nodded. No big deal—just making sure there are no stalkers trying to—you know—stalk me. “You boys must be exhausted, too.”

  “We’re used to running on empty,” Brant said, but his voice was tired. And Westin had to be sore.

  I couldn’t even offer to drive, since my right foot was in a cast.

  “You’re not going to try to make it all the way without stopping, are you?” One glance at the boys, and I saw—yes, they were. “You have to stop. Even if it’s at a rest area for a little while. Josh and Westin haven’t even had a chance to shower.”

  “Neither have you,” Josh retorted.

  “Yeah, but I wasn’t dodging bullets.” The car went silent.

  “You were, actually.” Landry’s voice was just above a whisper.

  If I was, then they were, too, but arguing about this would get me nowhere. Like I had long ago, I’d bide my time and wow them with my reason and logic when it really mattered.

  “Did you like the Navy?” I changed the subject.

  “No,” Westin answered immediately.

  “So what did you do after?” I asked.

  His blue eyes flashed to mine and then back to the road. “I’m a mechanic.”

  I could see that. He was always interested in details. “I wondered what you would end up doing.”

  “I still wonder that. I haven’t spent enough time thinking about a career. I’m thinking about it now. You won’t have to worry about anything though. I’ll make sure I can take care of us.”

  I hadn’t been worried about that at all. “I can take care of myself, Wes. You just do what you love.”

  “I don’t expect you to support me.” Westin’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, and I sighed. He was probably turning over all the things I’d said to him when they first wanted to see me. I had asked if they were coming back for my money or for fame.

  “I meant we’re equals,” I said. “You know—we take care of each other?”

  His shoulders relaxed, and though he didn’t say anything else, he’d heard me. Let him take as much time as he needed turning over what I said in his mind.

  “I like the Navy,” Landry suddenly offered. “I like the structure and the challenges.”

  “You and Brant are still active, and based at Coronado. How long do you have before you have to go back?”

  “We have plenty of leave.” Lan spoke in a way that made me suspect he told people when he’d return, and not the other way around.

  I leaned my head against Josh’s shoulder. After a while, the boys started talking about small things—like fixing a hole on the porch on this house. They asked me questions, too, but it stayed light. Easy.

  The miles passed by and soon the sun had set. Every so often, we’d jump on an interstate for a while, and the conversation would slow. The boys grew watchful, checking the map, their phones, the mirrors. It wasn’t until we started winding down back roads again that their hands would relax and shoulders slump.

  The amount of alertness required was too much for me, and I fell asleep somewhere in Pennsylvania. When I woke up, the sun was bright and we were back on an interstate. I cleared my throat, “Where are we?”

  “Virginia.” We must have stopped somewhere, because Landry was in the driver’s seat, and Westin had switched places with Josh.

  “Not to sound like a ten-year-old, but how much longer?”

  “An hour, maybe less. Traffic this way won’t be bad,” Brant said.

  I leaned my head on Westin’s shoulder. “Can we stop somewhere?” My body ached, and I really had to pee.

  “Yes.” Landry glanced at Brant who began typing on his phone. “There’s a diner a couple miles off the interstate. We’ll stop there, and then we can stick to some back roads for a while.”

  I tried to stretch, but there was no room. I probably stunk. An hour wasn’t bad. I’d slept through the bulk of the trip, but I was dying for a shower and a walk.

  We got off the highway. It was hilly here, but not like Appalachia. The hills were rolling, and we passed wide green fields and old colonial houses. “This is nice.”

  “You like it?” Josh’s eyes were a little bloodshot but excited as he reached across Wes and took my hand. “It’s pretty isn’t it?”

  It was. It had been a long time since I’d been in the south on the cusp of fall. I’d forgotten how long summer held on here. The flowers were still in bloom, and would be for the next month. The sky was bright blue, the sun shining, and I knew when I got out of the car, I’d be way overdressed—and not in the fancy way.

  Landry started down a main road and pulled in front of an old white building. A Coke sign blinked in the front window. “Here we are.”

  I opened my door and was immediately hit by a wall of humid air. There it was—overdressed. I pulled the crutch from where it sat under my feet, and started to put it on, sweat already forming at the back of my neck.

  “Need any help?” Brant knelt in front of me, drawing my foot forward carefully. It was an awkward thing to put on because it positioned my heel toward my butt. I had to sit on the very edge of the seat, and then balance on the crutch to strap myself in.

  “Sure,” I said. “You have to…” My voice trailed off as he gently placed my knee on the crutch and helped me stand. Once I was balanced, he slid my leg in place and strapped my calf and lower thigh. His hands were a gentle pressure on my skin. He didn’t hesitate in his movements. “You’ve been watching.�
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  “I wanted to help if you needed it. It looks uncomfortable, though.” He stood and wiped his brow. “Are you okay?”

  “Help me take my sweatshirt off? I don’t want to tilt when I pull it over my head.”

  He put his hands on my hips, and I dragged it up and over. The relief was instantaneous, but I didn’t toss it back into the car. That was the other thing about the south—air conditioning. Every building had it, and it would freeze the sweat and chill me to my bones when I got inside.

  With my hand in his, I followed Brant up the few cracked cement steps into the diner. Inside, it was packed. Most of the customers were older, my grandmother’s age if she’d been alive, and happily chatting and sipping coffee. Our presence didn’t merit a glance.

  “Booth in the back.” A waitress gestured with her elbow toward the back of the restaurant. We headed in that direction. Landry slid in first, facing the door. There was a bathroom across the aisle, and I pointed. “I’ll be right back.”

  After I did my business and washed my hands, I studied myself in the mirror. I looked just as bad as I’d suspected. My hair wisped all around my face. I wet the flyaways with water to get them into some semblance of order. Then I cupped my hands and washed my face, drying it with a paper towel. I’d kill for a toothbrush, but we were just an hour away. I could hold out until after our breakfast date.

  Date.

  That was a good way to look at it. We’d run out of New York City to have a breakfast date in a quaint little southern town. I liked the way that sounded.

  “What are you smiling about?” Brant asked when I hobbled back. He slid to the edge of the seat to take off my crutch and then gave me a hand into the booth.

  “We’re on a date,” I replied. I folded my hands under my chin. “Our first one.”

  Landry rested his arm across the back of the booth, leaned over, and kissed my temple. “First of many. I like the way you think.”

  “Me, too,” Josh agreed, and even Wes was smiling.

  “I thought we’d get food to go,” Brant said, “but if it’s a date, we should stay and eat.”

  “We could count the whole ride as one,” I offered, but they all shook their heads. Handsome little bobble heads.

  “Dates where one of us are asleep don’t count,” Josh clarified.

  The waitress came by, and the boys ordered huge breakfasts—grits, coffee, bacon, biscuits. When the waitress came to me, I ordered the same as them. I hadn’t had grits, real ones, southern ones, in a year. At least.

  It came out of the kitchen fast and we dug in, quiet as we shoveled food into our faces. I went toe-to-toe with the boys when it came to putting away calories, but I needed them. Once we got settled, I’d need to get right back to doing the exercises Nell had started me on. We ate fast, asking for the check before we’d even finished. I could sense being out in the open was making the boys nervous.

  Landry paid the bill with cash, and Brant slid out of the booth, helping me up and into my crutch.

  I held onto the table while he strapped me in. “So annoying.”

  “Only a few more weeks,” Josh said next to me.

  “Then the real work begins.” Would we still be here when it was time for the cast to come off and to put full weight on my foot? My stomach clenched, but there was nothing I could do about what came after.

  “You’ll be fine,” Westin said. He had been more quiet than usual over breakfast, and I noticed as we left, that he’d gotten some sidelong glances from the locals. I studied him when we came out into the sunlight. He looked tired, with circles under his eyes and pale skin. He wore a T-shirt and jeans, both of which were rumpled, and I wasn’t sure if the hole in his knee was fashion or from the garage.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  He took one more step before turning to me. I balanced on the stair above his, waiting for his answer. “Betsy. This is the best I’ve been in eight fucking years.”

  I leaned down, one hand braced on his shoulder and the other on his cheek, and kissed him.

  “An hour from home,” he said after a breathless moment.

  Home. “I don’t know who’s driving, but they need to go fast.”

  We rolled the windows down, and the breeze that flowed through the car was fresh, like cut grass and azaleas. Hand out the window, I followed the air currents and watched the scenery. The roads wound past horse farms and old houses. Places were a little run down, with chipped paint and overgrown creepers, but it was pretty.

  Brant was driving now, and he turned down a dirt road about a mile after we passed a sign that said, Weatherby, Est. 1731. The car bounced and jostled, and it was just like riding down the road to my grandmother’s. Suddenly, I remembered the way the boys had memorized all the potholes, and would wind the car around them, even in the dark.

  I strained to see, wondering what sort of place they would buy all together. They’d all been here at one time or another. Would it show signs of their presence? Would I look at it and know right away it was meant for them?

  This was a totally different life than the one I’d been living. Eight years had been consumed with dancing and success, but all of that was a million miles away. Yesterday, someone had shot at me. Today, I was driving with the boys I loved down a country dirt road.

  I’d come full circle. Somehow, I was living out the dreams I had as a young girl. It almost made all the pain and heartache worth it.

  My breath caught in my throat as the house came into view. “You said it was old.” But they hadn’t said how old, and they’d said farmhouse. But this house, even with its peeling paint and dirty windows, was regal. It was a cape, maybe there would be a small upstairs, but it was wide, with two smaller outbuildings I suspected had been added on as the original owner’s family had grown.

  It sat on a knoll, framed by azaleas and apple trees.

  I loved it.

  The car pulled to a stop, but I didn’t notice the boys get out. My gaze was locked on that little piece of heaven. I’d never imagined my perfect spot in the world, but this was it.

  The door next to me opened. Hands braced on the top of the car, Wes leaned inside. “Well?” He smiled, but bit his lip nervously, giving himself away.

  “Wes.” I couldn’t find the words, but whatever he saw on my face sufficed. He reached inside, and pulled me out, lifting me into his arms like I was a bride.

  “I get to carry you over the threshold.”

  Landry, Josh, and Brant were already by the double doors and threw them open when Wes climbed the steps. “Wait!” I cried, noticing the color. “Haint blue?”

  The rest of the house was a peeling white, but the old doors were freshly painted—well—comparatively speaking, they were freshly painted.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Landry bowed like some kind of old world gentleman. “No spirits allowed.”

  My grandmother had painted her door haint blue, but her mother had been from a town deep in Louisiana. You didn’t find much of this color so far north.

  “Did you do this for me?” I asked.

  Landry rubbed the back of his neck but didn’t answer.

  “We always had hope, even if we wouldn’t admit it to ourselves.” Josh spoke from his heart. It was brave. And something I hoped I could do, too.

  Seventy

  Josh

  Betsy’s smile was huge as we opened the doors and walked inside. Her gaze bounced around, and I got the feeling that if she could run, she’d be sprinting up the stairs. Brant set her down gently, and she stood, foot slightly off the floor as she leaned on him.

  The inside was bare bones. There were no pictures on the walls because the last person who’d stayed here had stripped wallpaper and rehung sheetrock. It wasn’t me. I’d been in the basement, replacing a water heater on my last leave.

  “Wow.” Her eyes shone as she hopped toward the staircase.

  “There’s a big room upstairs, but it’s basically one level,” I said.

  She nodded, holding onto the
staircase. “Where do you stay?”

  “There’s a couple rooms down there.” I pointed through the living room. “The big one upstairs. I tend to sleep on the couch or on the porch in the summer.”

  “Is there a sleeping porch?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “No. But it does have some big ass fans on the ceiling.”

  “We usually just have sleeping bags,” Brant said. “I’ll run into town later and get sheets for the bed.”

  “I’m good with a sleeping bag.” She looked around. “I forgot my crutch.”

  “I have it.” Wes sat on the bottom step and reached for her foot to strap into the crutch. Once it was on, she started toward the living room. I noticed she was hobbling, her balance off more than I’d seen it before.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, hurrying to stand next to her in case she needed me.

  “I’m good,” she replied, “just sore from the ride. I’ll be fine.” She stopped in the living room, placing her hands on her hips. “Wow.”

  I tried to see the place through her eyes, but I’d been here enough and done enough work that all I saw were projects that needed to be finished. The windows went from the floor to ceiling, the original glass panes thick, distorting the outside. But the frames had to be replaced because last winter the wind shot around the rotten wood.

  And the floors, with their wide boards, had original handmade nails, but they poked up from the warped wood. I lost about ten pairs of socks last year.

  Betsy started walking toward the bedrooms. There was a hallway off the living room, toward one of the newer additions. There were two bedrooms there, big enough for a bed, dresser, and side table, but they had en suite bathrooms, which was perfect for us because four guys sharing one bathroom was disgusting.

  Betsy was quiet the rest of the time. We showed her around, giving her the grand tour. We went outside, treading across uneven cobblestones through the overgrown garden and around to the other addition. There were huge chimneys on either end of the house, but if there were fireplaces, they’d been sealed in.