The Girl He Knows

by Kristi Rose

  “You want to let go of my arms before I clobber you?” I say it as if it’s a light request of no consequence, though my heart is racing and nothing about this moment feels remotely light.

  “You want to rethink not taking me to this wedding.”

  Whoa. Did he just threaten me? I jerk my arms up, break free, and slide back onto the stool. My arms burn from his release. I continue to hold his stare, refusing to blink.

  “You come near me or my friends again and so help me God—”

  “What are you gonna do?” He pulls out a tea towel and begins to wipe down the bar, casual-like.

  “I’ll turn your nut sack into an evening bag, and I’ll take it to Josie’s wedding. At least a part of you’ll get to go.” I don’t crack a smile. “Push me. I dare you.” He breaks eye contact first. I slide off the stool and walk away. I want to run to the bathroom and cry. I want to call Hank and have him beat up Jake. I want to kick myself for being stupid. I don’t know what I’m going to do if he does push me, but it sounds good. Can you even make a purse from a nut sack?

  On wobbly legs, I walk to the table where Kenley, Josie, and Jayne sit waiting, and take a seat facing the bar. I want to see if the guy spits in my drinks. On second thought, I don’t think I’ll be ordering drinks. Regardless, I’m too afraid to turn my back to him.

  “Are you OK? What happened there?” Kenley leans in to ask.

  “I had to hold Josie back,” Jayne says.

  “I think I’m going to be sick.” I tell them with a smile, putting on a brave front in case Jake is looking.

  “He was only going out with me to get to Josie’s wedding. It seems he is...desperate to work for Brinn and he thought if he went to the wedding, he would be able to get in.” Boy, I could use a drink. My hands tremble. I push them under my legs to steady them and look at Josie.

  “Desperate. Ha. He’s been trying to buy into the company. Even started some rumor about shoddy work at the hangar and tried to ruin Brinn’s reputation. He crashed Brinn’s meeting in Ft. Lauderdale last week.”

  I stare openmouthed at her. Is she, or is she not my friend? “Why didn’t you fucking tell me this?”

  “Now, Paisley, calm down.” Jayne is always the mediator.

  “No, I won’t calm down.” It’s difficult keeping my voice very low. “He’s crazy and you let me go out with him.” Incredible. Well, she can be one bridesmaid short.

  “I told you he was crazy right off the bat. I didn’t know about this stuff until yesterday when Brinn told me. He wasn’t sure it was Jake until he showed up in Ft. Lauderdale. He wouldn’t have said anything except he knew I worked with him. When I mentioned you were seeing him, he told me the whole story. I was gonna tell you tonight,” she says in one crazy-long breath.

  We reach across the table to hold each other’s hand.

  “I’m sorry, Paisley, had I known sooner, I would’ve said something. You know I would’ve, right?” Josie says.

  “It’s all right. I—”

  “Oh, dear. Look at your arms.” Jayne covers her mouth with her hands.

  Large red welts are rising on my arms. On the back, there are clear finger marks.

  “I owe you an apology as well. That...that...” Jayne points to my chest. “Mark he gave you. I thought you gave him permission.” She looks horrified. “Oh, Paisley, I’m so very sorry, darling. Now I realize what he was doing. Jake’s not only a creep, he’s a sexual predator. I have to tell Mum.”

  Jayne leaves before I’m able to stop her. I explain the details to Josie and Kenley, and we decide to move our get together to a different place. If I don’t leave soon, I may lose my ever-loving mind.

  Jayne comes back after a few minutes. “They’re going to sack him,” she explains. “We should leave.”

  We gather our stuff and walk out. I don’t even look back. I take in a deep breath once we get outside and try to calm myself.

  “You know, I have an idea.” Josie pulls out her phone and begins to dial. “Listen up, girls. You’re going to like this. And if not, too bad. It’s my last wish as a single girl.”

  * * * *

  We circle the apartment complex for the third time, and Josie giggles.

  “Shhh,” Kenley whispers.

  “Who’s gonna hear us? We’re in a car with the windows up,” says Jayne. “Move your elbow, Heather, it’s in my side.”

  My three friends sit scrunched in the back of Josie’s Porsche. After hearing Josie’s plan, we tried to talk her out of it, but she can be quite convincing. The others capitulated. I was the most resistant. I used Heather as an excuse, saying it would be unfair to leave her out so we should scrap the idea. Because stars line up for Josie Woodmere, a few quick phone calls later, Doug is watching Heather’s son and Heather is crowded in the back of a Porsche coupe.

  “Remind me why we took your car again?” Heather asks.

  “These things weren’t designed for people to ride in the back.” Kenley shifts to allow Heather, who is sitting in the middle on the hump, more room.

  “Not three people,” Heather says.

  “No, it’s made for shopping bags. I told you we should have stopped for Brinn’s SUV.” Josie gives me a pointed look.

  “It doesn’t matter now, does it? We’re here.” I point to the row of cars parked in front of the apartment. I was the one who pushed to do this sooner than later. I like to get my purposeful acts of stupidity over early so I can spend the rest of the day beating myself up over it.

  “Which one is his car?”

  “Kenley, honestly, you don’t have to whisper.” Jayne sighs.

  “The black one is the douche bag’s car,” Josie chimes in. She circles past it a few times.

  His license plate reads NO1BETR. It can’t be denied. I’m a dumbass.

  I look at my watch and at my girlfriends. We’re dressed in black and have dark hats covering our heads. Camouflage paint streaks Josie’s face.

  Perhaps we’re out of our minds. It’s way past the witching hour, some of us have drank way too much, thankfully, they’re in the backseat, and I’ve spent an obscene amount of money on toilet paper, shoe polish, eggs, shaving cream, and glitter. The more time passes, the more this idea smells.

  Josie eases the car into a spot about a block away and we sit. No one speaks as she turns off the engine.

  “Make sure you take your foot off the brake,” Kenley whispers.

  “Duh,” says Josie.

  “We stay together, cross the grass patch there in front, and it’s the third car on the left,” Josie tells us. “Got it?” In a past life I’m guessing she did military ops.

  “The jeep?” asks Jayne.

  “Your other left, Jayne, the Mercedes,” I tell her.

  “When can we go?” Heather asks.

  “I have to pee.” Finally, Kenley uses a normal voice.

  “A few more minutes, ladies, and it will be all systems go.” Josie reaches across me to pull a Swiss Army knife out of her glove box.

  “Judas Priest, Josie, what do you plan to do with that?” I ask.

  She shrugs and gives us what I assume is the signal to go. We scramble from the car; some of us fall out. Kenley and I make our way to the hatchback and pull out the supplies. I hand out items to each of my friends and we follow Josie up the side of the parking lot, across the grassy patch, stopping every few cars until we reach the one we want.

  Jake’s car.

  Kenley snags a roll of toilet paper out of my arms and disappears around the side of another car. I’m confused for a moment until the sound of liquid hitting the pavement gives me clarity.

  Josie and I grimace. She begins to shake a can of shaving cream and writes something on his windshield. I blush when I read it. We roll, we crack eggs on the car, we glitter, and we spray shaving-cream profanity on the glass before we take a step back to admire our handiwork.

  I walk to the back of the car and see Josie squatting by the rear dr
iver side tire, Swiss army knife open and poised to strike.

  “Holy shit, Josie!” I cry in my loudest whisper. I reach out and grab her wrist. “I’m not that mad.”

  “This isn’t for you. This is for Brinn,” she whispers.

  “Look, I know you’re upset, too, but this moves into serious vandalism. Don’t stoop to his level.”

  I let go and walk away. She folds up the knife with a click and picks up her shaving-cream can. She walks to the windshield and places a Ziploc bag with a white note inside under the wiper blade.

  “What’s in there?” I ask.

  “Insurance,” she says.

  “Insurance?”

  “So there’s no retaliation.” Her face is deadpan.

  Somewhere in the distance, a door to an apartment opens and five girls go running for their lives.

  I jump over Kenley’s puddle of pee, and Heather runs through it with a cry of disgust. Josie slides across the grass, wet with dew, and still beats us to the car. It’s a free for all as Heather, Jayne, and Kenley fight each other to be the first to get in. I jump in through the hatch we left open and hold it down but not latched. Josie pulls away, with the lights off I hope, as I pray we get away.

  Josie pulls into a parking lot about a mile away, I let go of the hatch when she says my name and jump out of the back, run to the passenger door, and squish up front with Jayne. We’re about five miles away when someone starts laughing.

  “It smells like piss in here,” says Kenley.

  “You couldn’t have gone around the building,” Heather cries in disgust.

  More laughter fills the car, the tension breaks, and someone questions Josie on her colorful language.

  Chapter 23

  I sit back in my beach chair and readjust my umbrella so only odd angles of my body catch the occasional ray. I enjoy the beach. I like to swim. I don’t like sunburns and freckling, a common downside for redheads like me.

  “This bachelorette party rocks.” Kenley runs up from the beach and flops onto a lounge chair, seawater glistening off her dark skin, sand clinging to her feet and calves.

  “Great idea, Paisley,” Heather mumbles. She sounds half-asleep, lying there on her stomach, absorbing sun.

  “It was a collective effort between Jayne and I. Plus, I wanted to make sure we don’t run into Brinn and his buddies who, I’m told, are staying in Daytona. Welcome to Fernandina Beach.” I spread out my arms and smile at my friends.

  “You are aware I specifically said no strippers, so the most excitement this event will get is if one of you gets drunk,” says Josie.

  Everyone boos her choice of limiting our debauchery, but I’m relieved. I think most of us are, yet pretend otherwise.

  We’re a pretty tame group. Besides the usual suspects, we’ve added her boss and my divorce attorney, Samantha King, and Gigi. Gigi came up late last night and stayed with me.

  The plan is to enjoy the sun, have a nice dinner, and hit the town for some pub fun. I scan the faces of the people walking the beach and sunbathing, looking for Hank. I know he lives nearby, and it would be pure coincidence to see him here, yet I keep scanning. I don’t even know if he’s in town.

  “Hey, Gigi, we aren’t going to run into Hank here are we? Isn’t he out of town?” I want to punch myself in the face for asking. It’s been a week since the Swan Ball. And we’ve texted twice.

  “No, I believe he got back the other night.” She sips an iced tea. It’s odd she’s not drinking. Being away from John and Pete, isn’t this the prime opportunity to do so?

  “How’s John?” I always inquire about Pete, never about her husband.

  She continues to read her book as she answers me. “Fine. Hates his job but is a workaholic like my father. What did I expect? They say women marry their fathers, and I’m living proof of that.”

  I’m glad she isn’t looking at me because I’m pretty sure disbelief shows on my face. John is nothing like her father. Poppy is warm and affectionate to his children and his wife. He’s a dedicated family man who’d rather spend time with his kids than time at work. I’m having a hard time seeing him as a workaholic. John is a quiet man who appears to be irritated by the slightest thing. I can’t recall a time I’ve seen him do activities with his son, and I always seem to interrupt a fight between he and Gigi.

  “You said John is keeping Pete this weekend?” I ask.

  “Yeah, he took some vacation time and is taking Pete camping.” This time she does look at me and laughs, pointing at my face.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Do you think it will go over well?”

  “Yeah. Why? They camp out all the time.” She turns back to her book.

  I must have sat gape-mouthed for some time. My conversation with Hank is a resounding reminder that I may not know John at all and if I want to change my strong opinion of him, I should probably base it on fact not just experience. But my experience shouldn’t be discounted.

  Of course, to Gigi and Hank, things seem normal because they are too close, unable to gain perspective. Though close to the entire family, I’m able to observe Gigi’s relationship with a divorced eye and know when something is wrong. Lord knows, I love her like a sister, but something in her relationship is rotten for sure and denial is going to get her nowhere. Just like it got me.

  As for her remark about how women marry men like their fathers. I’m an exception to the rule. Large, intimidating Scotsmen are hard to find in Florida. Trevor was nothing like my father. He was wiry and secretive; my father had been broad and warm and open. I run through a mental list of men I know and come up with no one remotely similar to my dad. Men like him and Poppy aren’t made anymore. OK, Hank is sort of like my dad. He’s funny and serious, warm and smart. He’s dependable like my dad. He’s trustworthy.

  I shrug to no one as my thoughts run wild. OK, the sex with Hank isn’t boring, or the conversation, but if I was in the market for a relationship, Hank still wouldn’t be a candidate. He’d never be around, moves every few years, and he’s my friend. Because of Hank, I’m going to be more prepared and observant so next time I will choose wisely. He’s shown me a new standard for which to measure men and that it’s not overreaching.

  I look at the other girls, spread out alongside me on the beach. Heather is the only one looking up at me.

  “Was Trevor like your father?” she asks.

  “Nope. Is Justin like yours?” It will be interesting to do a poll among our group.

  Heather looks over at Kenley, who isn’t making eye contact with anyone. She’s squishing her toes in and out of the sand and staring at the pattern. Heather looks at me and nods her head.

  “Justin is just like my dad. Of course, my dad mellowed more with age and became more of a family man after us kids moved out.” She turns to look at Kenley again and it prompts me to ask.

  “How ’bout you, Kenley?” Since Heather’s dad is Kenley’s father-in-law and if women married men like their fathers, was the same true for men growing up to be like their fathers? I wouldn’t have guessed Heather’s dad was anything other than superb.

  The gang is perking up and joining the conversation. We wait for Kenley to answer. Finally, still staring at her toes, she shakes her head and looks over at Heather. “No, but he wants to be like my father.”

  “Ha. Please tell me you aren’t trying to change him,” Josie says. “We know that’s an effort in futility.”

  Kenley shakes her head. “What I mean is Doug was raised by an absent father.” She reaches out and takes Heather’s hand. “He wants to be more like my father. He has the potential, something I’ve seen since the beginning.”

  I know they’re still struggling with the fertility issues and it does seem as if Doug is coping better. He’s the reason Heather can be here this weekend. He’s keeping her son, with the occasional help from their mother.

  “How about you, Josie; Brinn like your dad?” Heather
asks.

  “In some ways, I guess. I like to think Brinn has the positive traits of my father and none of the bad. More important, I hope I’m nothing like my mother.”

  “Whoa. Stop there, you’re starting a whole separate conversation,” Samantha calls out.

  “I think I’d need my shrink if we go there.” Kenley laughs.

  “I’d consider myself lucky to find a man like my father. He’s lovely and treats my mum wonderfully.” Jayne sighs.

  “Is Hank like your father, Paisley?” Heather asks. All eyes swivel to me.

  As soon as it’s out, I feel rather than see Gigi sit up straight and I give Heather a large-eyed look of warning.

  “My Hank?” Gigi asks.

  My smile quivers, and I shrug my shoulder. “Maybe,” I squeak.

  Everyone is watching us. Heather’s hands are clasped over her mouth.

  “What’s going on with you and my brother?” Gigi leans in toward me. There is no telling which way her emotions are swinging.

  “Nothing much.” I strain to smile wider.

  Josie snorts. Gigi looks from Josie to me.

  “Nothing but hot sex,” Jayne chimes in with her two cents.

  I groan and close my eyes, as a wave of nausea hits me. I’ve been dreading this moment.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell her,” Josie says, sotto voce.

  “You slept with my brother? Were you drunk or something?” Gigi’s voice starts to climb.

  “Yep,” says Josie

  “Just the first time,” I say to Josie with attitude.

  “There was more than one time?” Gigi chokes.

  “He was drunk the second time. Hmm, Paisley. Have you two ever had sex without drinking?” Josie is smug.

  “For your information, we actually have had sex without any alcohol being involved whatsoever.” I lean back against my chair and cross my arms. Ha! Put that in your pipe and smoke it. I realize what I’ve said and glance at Gigi, who is staring at me openmouthed.

  The others are snickering.

  “You’ve slept with my brother repeatedly?” she asks. Her voice is low, quiet.