by JC Gatlin
Gasping, she nearly fell out of her chair. She was about to get up from the table and run outside after him when a voice from behind shouted, “Bookworm!”
McKenzie Thomas, wearing an Earl Gray skirt with a floral top—and a light blue ribbon in her red hair—stood behind Abbie with her arms raised. “I can’t believe it.”
“McKenzie?” Abbie glanced at her, then looked back toward the front window. Traffic had built up again, waiting for the light to change. She couldn’t see across the street.
“Come here, Bookworm,” McKenzie said. “Let me get a look at you. You haven’t changed a bit.”
“Neither have you. How’ve you been?” Getting up from the table, Abbie gave McKenzie an awkward hug. Her eyes remained focused on the front windows. Cars moved forward, revealing the sidewalk across the street. People walked past the window. A woman jogged to the intersection. But the tan trench coat and brown hat was gone. She looked back at McKenzie.
“Peachy. Just peachy,” McKenzie said. “When your grandmother told my grandmother that you were going to college in Tampa, I just had to look you up.”
“Yeah, Clinton Reed said you ca—”
McKenzie sat down without letting Abbie finish. “How is he doing? How’s he holding up?”
Abbie took her seat at the table. “He’s doing fi—”
“And your grandparents? Why I haven’t seen them since I don’t know when?”
“I know. It’s been—”
“Too long. Just too long.” McKenzie reached over the table and touched the unicorn pendant hanging from Abbie’s necklace. “You’re still wearing your sister’s necklace.”
Abbie grasped the pendant away from her. “It’s all I have left of her.”
McKenzie inhaled deeply, as if there was something she wanted to say but was holding her tongue. Then the features of her face softened and she smiled. “I just can’t believe we’re seeing each other again after, what? How many years?”
“Oh, I think it’s been about two years or so.”Abbie glanced out the window again. The man was definitely gone. She looked back at McKenzie. The light blue ribbon held back a wave of fiery red hair.
“Do you know how many times I tried to find you on Facebook?”
“Clinton Reed never let me sign-up for—”
“And it’s your birthday too.” McKenzie’s voice rose above the clatter and hum in the busy restaurant.
“Well, it’s actually –”
McKenzie clapped her hands together. “It’s your twenty-first birthday, is what it is. Do you know what a big deal that is?”
“My birthday is actu—”
“You only turn twenty-one once. That’s an important event in a gal’s life. It only comes around once in a lifetime.”
“Yes, well. Technically my birthday—”
“Have you had a drink yet?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” McKenzie dramatically brought her hands to her chest and gushed. “Let’s order something fun and intoxicating.”
“But I’m not actually turning twent—”
“Let’s order a bottle of sake. I’m buying.”
“But I can’t actually dri—”
“Oh, I almost forgot! You will not believe what happened to me.” McKenzie held up her hand to reveal a large diamond ring. “I’m getting married. Isn’t that ring to die for? And I’ve got to tell you all about Rocky. He is the most handsome, generous, dynamic man I have ever laid my eyes upon. I tell you, I am not lying. The man is—” McKenzie seemed to be searching for the most colorful adjectives. But before Abbie could respond, McKenzie’s attention turned toward the restaurant door. “Oh, look, there he is!”
McKenzie stood and waved. Abbie turned to watch a young man with thick rimmed glasses nod and cross the crowded restaurant.
“Rocky! You made it,” McKenzie said as he came to the table. He had dark wavy hair atop a long, oval head, with a thin, lanky frame in a white, starched shirt and bright green tie. He was well over six foot, Abbie noticed, and she knew immediately she had seen him before. He’d been sitting in Dr. Wachowski’s waiting room. She was sure of it.
“Rocky, I was just telling Abbie here – oh! I haven’t introduced you yet.” McKenzie squealed and waved her arms as she spoke. “Rocky, this is Abbie Reed, my oldest and dearest friend on the planet. And Abbie, this is Rocky Stern, the love of my life.”
Abbie stood and extended a hand. “I think we met.”
He briefly took her hand then kissed McKenzie on the cheek. Taking a chair from another table, he plopped down in it and picked-up a menu. He never really acknowledged Abbie or that she had just said they’d met before. Instead, he put down the menu, removed his smudged glasses and wiped the lenses with his tie. He was definitely the guy from the waiting room, Abbie thought. She was sure of it.
“Well, maybe we haven’t formally met,” Abbie said. “We ran into each other the other day.”
Returning his glasses onto the bridge of his nose, he stared at her, unblinking. “I don’t think we have. I’m sure I’d remember if we’d met before.”
Abbie bit her lower lip and grasped her silver unicorn pendant. Did he really not remember her? It had just been twenty-four hours or so, but surely she wasn’t that forgettable.
“At Dr. Wachowski’s office. Remember?” She let go of the pendant. “You were in the waiting room. Wachoski made some lame comment like, ‘cool threads’ or something.”
Rocky chuckled. “I haven’t been to see a doctor since I was a kid with the chicken pox.”
“No.” Abbie shook her head and waved a hand as if erasing a chalkboard. “He’s not that kind of doctor.”
She stared at him. For a second, she considered the possibility that she was mistaken, but she knew better. He recognized her. She saw it in his eyes. Then she wondered why he was lying.
Chapter 9
Abbie studied Rocky as he sat across from her at the table in SoHo Sushi. The candle in the center of the table reflected in his glasses, and somehow that seemed fitting. She was positive he was lying. McKenzie stood and moved behind him. She placed a hand on his shoulder as she spoke.
“Everyone says he looks like the Doctor from that TV show.” She gently brushed the back of her hand along his neck and traced the line of his shoulders, but she never took her eyes off Abbie. “You know which one I’m talking about? The one where the blonde actress got fired and they replaced her with that other actress, but she just didn’t have the same chemistry.”
Abbie ignored her and focused on Rocky, who seemed to be a little ticklish to McKenzie’s touch.
“I was thinking,” Abbie said, wondering if he just didn’t want to admit to seeing a therapist. “I bet we’ve run into each other on campus?”
Rocky narrowed his brows, looking at her with uncertainty. “No. I don’t think so.”
A waiter came to the table and McKenzie returned to her chair. Oblivious, she put her hand on Abbie’s as she rambled. “I’m telling you, it’s that doctor. You know, the actor who was in that movie where he was like a senator or a governor or something and he was dating that hick girl from the small town.”
“Sweet Home Alabama,” the waiter said. He was a thin man with black, slick-backed hair that was parted in the middle. McKenzie looked up at him with a shocked expression on her face. He smiled at her. “The movie you were referring to. It’s called Sweet Home Alabama.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” McKenzie said. The waiter nodded and took everyone’s order. When he left, Rocky put down his menu.
“I hear it’s your birthday.” He grinned briefly with no trace of possible deception.
McKenzie squealed. “It’s Abbie’s twenty-first birthday today and she’s going to blow off her afternoon classes and we’re going to order a bottle of sake and get stoned hammered, like in the old days.”
“Well cool. Happy birthday.” Rocky reached across the table and took Abbie’s hand. McKenzie slapped it away.
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br /> “To be honest, we never drank in the old days,” Abbie said. “And my birthday isn’t until tomorrow.”
Rocky’s face brightened with amusement. “Well, cool anyway. My Happy Birthday still stands, even if it’s a day early. So how do you and McKenzie know each other?”
“My grandmother and her grandmother—” Abbie started, but McKenzie cut in.
“Abbie lived with her grandparents in Pembroke Pines and when I was growing up, I would visit my grandparents who lived down the street from them,” McKenzie said. The waiter brought out three plates with spicy tuna, yellowtail and prawn tempura, and a large, winding dragon roll. Next to that he set down wasabi and shoyu. Rocky picked up a set of chopsticks as the waiter filled the three wine glasses. McKenzie kept talking. “I saw Abbie every summer and it was my job to drag her out of her room and away from her books and get her a little tan before school started again.”
“My grandmother made it McKenzie’s personal mission to get me out of my room,” Abbie added. “So she would encourage me to hang-out and do stuff—”
“Like roller skating!” McKenzie slammed her hands on the table. “Remember how we would go to the Galaxy Skateway with those boys?”
Abbie managed a nod. “I remember you and some boys laughing every time I—”
“Oh, Abbie had the moves, let me tell you.” McKenzie turned to speak directly to Rocky. “She could do this thing where her legs would come up from under her and she would literally fly three feet in the air, do a backwards somersault and land on her derriere. It was a sight, lemme tell you.” McKenzie laughed, scooping up a dragon roll and popping it into her mouth. She then looked at her wine glass as if noticing it for the first time. “Oh, sake.”
Rocky brought a white linen napkin to his mouth and wiped his lips. Then he stood, poured out the last of the sake into his and McKenzie’s glasses.
“And remember that night we went to the drive-in?” McKenzie popped a California Roll in her mouth, chewed slowly until it was gone. She wiped rice from her chin and continued. “She’d had her eye on this boy named Patrick who—”
“That wasn’t funny. That wasn’t a good time for me.” Abbie buried her face in her hand and sighed.
“Why, Bookworm. Are you embarrassed?” She stabbed at the Dragon Roll again and took a sip of sake. “Patrick was too old for you. Anyway, he would’ve never considered going out with you in the first place. That’s what makes it so funny.”
Abbie looked up and glared. “It wasn’t funny for me. I was humiliated.”
McKenzie leaned forward. “Because his girlfriend had no idea you where even there.” She touched Abbie’s arm as she talked. “And when you got in the truck with him and Melanie, I still laugh today when I think about it. You shoulda seen Melanie’s face when Abbie climbed in the truck with Patrick. And then when she took Patrick’s hand, I thought Melanie was going to explode!” McKenzie fell back into her seat and burst into laughter that drew the attention of people at nearby tables.
“Maybe we should leave the past exactly where it is, in the past.” Rocky’s expression stilled and grew serious, possibly sensing how uncomfortable Abbie had become.
Abbie pushed McKenzie’s hand away. “That was a cruel joke. It wasn’t funny then and it’s not funny today.”
“Oh, I swear Abbie. You were the life of the party.” McKenzie could barely speak through her laughter. Her eyes teared and she dabbed at the corners with a cloth napkin. Finally, she sighed as her breathing returned to normal.
Rocky let out a half-hearted chuckle, but Abbie detected something more. Almost as if he were judging McKenzie. Perhaps everything wasn’t as simpatico between them as McKenzie believed. Abbie wondered again if he was actually the guy she saw in Dr. Wachowski’s waiting room. What if her imagination was working overtime again?
The table fell silent.
“Well, I’ve got classes coming up at one.” Abbie got up from her seat. “I’d better get back. It was really good catching up.”
“Don’t be mad, Bookworm. It’s your birthday.” McKenzie picked up the bottle of sake and reached over the table toward Abbie’s glass. “Here, have some more wine.”
“Yeah, Abbie. We’ve got a surprise for you.” Rocky patted his mouth and leaned back in his chair.
Abbie grabbed her purse. “McKenzie already showed me the surprise. The ring is beautiful. Congratulations.”
“No, not the ring.” McKenzie finished filling Abbie’s glass and leaned forward across the table. She looked up, smiled, and handed Abbie a red envelope. “I got you something for your birthday.”
“You got me a card?”
McKenzie waved the envelope until Abbie finally took it. Then McKenzie tilted her head and said, “Of course, it’s your birthday. It’s your twenty-first birthday, nonetheless.”
My twenty-first birthday, nonetheless? Abbie thought and opened the card. It read, “A girl turns 21 only once in her life time… but 29 again and again. Happy Birthday!” She pulled out a sheet of paper. “One free ticket to a market seminar for Vitamin Ritamin in your area.”
“It’s not just a present, it’s an opportunity,” Rocky said then drained the final drop from his glass.
“It’s an opportunity, Abbie. And I want you to come as my guest.” McKenzie made gentle strokes across her empty plate, flicking up the last of the shoyu with her index finger. She popped her finger in her mouth, sucking on it while staring at Rocky. He didn’t seem to pick-up on her gesture. He turned to Abbie, moving his hand as he spoke.
“You see, Abbie.” Rocky removed his glasses and set them on the table beside his plate. He squinted his eyes. “Do you mind if I call you Abbie?”
Abbie nodded skeptically. “Sure. That’s fine.”
“I’m sure you pay your electric bill, your phone bill and your cable bill every single month.” The tone in Rocky’s voice changed and it reminded her of the announcer on the infomercial she saw the other night. As Rocky continued talking, the waiter returned and set the bill on the table.
McKenzie took her wallet from her purse and withdrew two twenties. Glancing at the total, she dropped the money on the waiter’s change tray and nodded him away.
Rocky waited until the waiter was out of earshot, then leaned forward to continue. “Those bills are nothing but an ongoing stream of residual income for these companies. Now, the advantage of Vitamin Ritamin is that it gives you an opportunity to enjoy residual income just like your cable company.”
Abbie looked puzzled. “You’re introducing me to a multi-level marketing company for my birthday?”
“Not a multi-level marketing company.” McKenzie held up her hand and wagged her index finger. “It’s an opportunity.”
The waiter returned with a cash receipt, which McKenzie took, and five dollars in change, which she handed back as gratuity. Bowing slightly, the efficient young man thanked her and departed. Rocky grabbed the receipt from McKenzie’s hands, which seemed to surprise her. Casually he folded the thin paper, brought it to the candle’s flame, then dropped the burning receipt in her glass. It flared, briefly illuminating their faces, before going out.
“Hey,” McKenzie said, staring at the wad of burnt paper in her glass. “I coulda used that for my taxes.”
Ignoring her, Rocky sucked down a last gulp of sake in his glass, then leaned forward once more. “We like to call it Network Marketing. It provides a more accurate description of what we do.”
“Oh.” Abbie noticed the light blue ribbon holding back McKenzie’s flaming red hair actually matched her eyes. It seemed almost comical in a way. “Thank you, but I really don’t think I’d be interested in—”
Rocky didn’t let her finish. “There’s no commitment to just check it out. You’ll hear testimonies from other successful Vitamin Ritamin Warriors and how this program changed their lives.”
Again, Abbie shook her head. “I don’t know…”
McKenzie turned away from her ruined glass of sake. “Come on, Bookworm. It’s
a great place to meet men.”
“Don’t call me that again,” Abbie said. “I put-up with that for fifteen summers. I don’t want to hear that nickname ever again.”
“I’m teasing you. It’s all in good fun.” McKenzie jolted back in her seat, looking as if her hand had just been slapped. “But okay, I won’t call you that again if you’ll promise to go tomorrow night. Like I said, you might meet someone special who’ll make you as deliriously happy as Rocky makes me.”
Abbie looked over at Rocky. She surmised that’s where McKenzie met him—at a Vitamin Ritamin meeting. Watching him a moment, she was certain he was the guy she’d seen in the waiting room. But why would he lie about it?
Their eyes met, then he looked away.
McKenzie grabbed her hand again, demanding her attention. “Now, about Facebook. I don’t care what your father thinks, we’ve got to get you signed-up. It’s your best resource for prospecting…”
* * * *
As night fell, the man closed the flaps of his tan trench coat tight against the wind and approached the abandoned house. Weeds grew high in the front lawn. Boards covered the windows. Despite the deterioration, it still looked the same as it did sixteen years ago. It’d been sitting empty all that time and was now just a rotting shell of wood and stucco.
Abbie Reed would return soon, he knew. It was inevitable. He wondered what she would find.
Coming to the front porch, he stepped up. Boards squeaked. They were gray and warped beneath his feet. Jimmying the lock, he made his way inside.
The front living room stood empty, dark. A brownish discoloration stained the wood floors, especially the corner near the boarded-up window.
The man removed his brown hat, putting it to his chest, covering his heart. He allowed a moment of silence. This house was waiting for her. He felt it.
Moving up the steps, he came to the upstairs landing. There was no light, and he removed a flashlight from a pocket in his trench coat. Highlighting the walls then sweeping down to the floor, he walked slowly through the hallway.