by Fawkes, Sara
Maybe it was time to try relaxing the reins a bit.
I must have paused for too long, because Everett ducked his head down so he met my eyes. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
I wished desperately that it were easier for me to just say yes. The invitation sounded safe, but I’d already made a fool of myself once in front of Everett. Thinking straight with him this close was also very difficult. My hand itched to touch his bare chest, and I dug my fingernails into my palm. “Can I think about it?” It was the best I could do, despite my heart wanting me to scream Yes.
“Sure, no problem.” He leaned in close. “But let me know if you aren’t up to it, maybe we can do something together.”
I searched his eyes, trying to find anything that said he was picking me up for sex. That was how his words sounded, but the teasing look in his eye and his casual tone gave me conflicting signals. “Okay,” I said after a moment, realizing I needed to reply.
Everett grinned suddenly. “I’ll see you around,” he said, grinning widely.
He turned and walked back to the construction site, and I stared after his retreating figure. Tearing myself away from that spot was difficult. All I wanted to do was stay there, spend more time with the boy who actually seemed interested in me, not in what I could do for him. I saw it in Everett’s eyes: I wasn’t a toy to be used and tossed aside. There was respect in his eyes when he looked at me, more so than even my family bothered to show.
It was enough to make a girl want more, and that desire, the neediness inside my heart, terrified me. That same feeling had, for too long, chained me to Macon’s side. I was only now finally discovering my own independence, struggling to discover who I wanted to be. Why would I give that up for a boy who would probably leave at the end of summer and never look back?
But, oh God, I wanted to so badly.
I didn’t realize how long I stood there staring until Everett glanced back at me, breaking my thoughts. Even from here, I could see the play of muscle across his chest, the definition in his arms and shoulders. It lit a fire inside me I desperately wanted to keep buried, but it was the ache in my heart that finally got my feet moving. I jumped into the Bronco and started it up, pulling away and back into town toward my sole remaining job.
I couldn’t afford any entanglements right then, romantic or otherwise. But I couldn’t help but wonder, if I let this opportunity pass without grabbing hold, whether I’d ever find anyone else I wanted as much as Everett.
CHAPTER NINE
“Lacey, do you know where Davy got that bump on his head?”
“Hmm?” I wasn’t used to my little brother’s teacher approaching me when I picked him up. Melinda Jones looked to be on the right side of forty but I didn’t know much more about the petite brunette, except that my brother adored her.
“Your brother came to class this morning with a bump on his forehead. I was wondering if you knew what caused it?”
Startled by her words, I shook my head. “I wasn’t at home until after he went to bed last night. Did my mother say anything when she dropped him off today?”
The teacher looked troubled, which made me worried, but she nodded. “If you find anything out, please let me know.”
Her cryptic statement stayed with me the whole way home. While I strapped him in his car seat, I examined Davy’s head and in fact saw a small bump, barely visible against his pale skin, right above one eyebrow. “Baby, where’d you get that lump?”
“I hit my head playing.”
The glum look in his eyes did nothing to assuage my worries. I remembered the bruises I’d seen on his inner arm, and uneasiness plagued me all the way home.
My mother got home around five, and I couldn’t even wait until she got all the way through the door. “Mom, where did Davy get that bruise above his eye?”
She blinked owlishly at me, and then shrugged. “Must have happened at the school,” she said, moving toward the fridge.
I shook my head. “Ms. Jones said it was there when he got to class today.”
“What are you saying, Lacey?”
My mother had her back to me, but I could see the tension in her shoulders. “I’m not saying anything, Mama,” I said, tensing for a fight. She’d just gotten off work at the post office; it was usually only when she was drunk that she got easily riled. “I just thought you should know what Davy’s teacher said.” Truthfully, I was hoping she had an answer to the unspoken worries in my heart.
She closed the fridge door and stared at the handle for a long moment. “You don’t think,” she started, and then paused. “You don’t think your grandma is … ?”
I swallowed, trying not to let the idea overwhelm me. “That she’s abusing Davy? I don’t know.”
My mother flinched at my statement, then slowly turned around. “She took him to school this morning. I don’t remember seeing anything when we had breakfast.” Then she shook her head. “No, my mother would never …”
“She does it to me.” The statement was out of my lips, years of frustration coming to the fore. “Ever since we moved here, she’s been nothing but cruel to me.”
“Well, you’re different. She actually liked Ben, but your daddy was, well …”
Her tone and words made my heart clench, and I tried to shake off my own pain. “Did she ever hit you as a child?”
I could see the answer in her eyes, but also saw the stubbornness there. “Lacey May, you let me take care of this,” she said firmly. “If someone’s hurting my baby, I’ll find out.”
Her words, the strength there I hadn’t heard in years, relieved me to my core. No matter what I thought of my grandmother, I didn’t want to accuse her of abusing my baby brother. While it hurt that my mother would stand up for Davy and not me, at least she was going to do something.
“Yes, Mama,” I said, relieved.
The tension in the room lessened, and we shared a small smile. “How about some dinner?” she asked.
“Sure.” I swallowed as she turned away again, pulling items out of the fridge and pantry. It was nice having my mother back, even if only for the evening. I tried to put the marks on Davy out of my mind as we spent an evening together, free of my grandmother and almost back to the way we were before my life went to hell.
* * *
“Well, I say go ahead and fuck the boy.”
I winced at the older lady’s words, watching as the last customer I’d helped paused at the door, as if debating whether to stay and listen to this tidbit. I bit my lip as the woman glanced sideways briefly before finally deciding to leave. “It’s not that easy,” I tried again, wondering what on earth had made me say anything to my coworkers.
“Sure it is.” Connie’s gravelly voice held a note of certainty. “What’s wrong with sex?”
I wanted to bang my head against the countertop. How was I supposed to make an oversexed older woman understand that I wanted to change?
“Sounds like you’re doing fine,” a small voice piped up from behind me. Elise set the bread down on the counter and started loading the long, thin sandwich loaves into the warmer. She tugged at the dark hair around her face and gave me a shy smile. “I think it’s romantic.”
I turned to Connie. “See?” I indicated the younger girl with both hands, some of my exasperation leaking away. “Thank you.”
“Well, bless her heart but little Miss Prissy-Pants here probably isn’t one to give relationship advice.” Connie elbowed the smaller girl in the ribs. “No offense, sweetheart, but taking romantic advice from a virgin is pretty one-sided.”
“That’s beside the point,” I said, and then sighed. “Maybe I should give up on men altogether.”
Connie chuckled. “Where be the fun in that?”
Telling my coworkers about my dilemma probably wasn’t my smartest move, but it felt nice to get it off my chest. At least, I’d thought so for about two seconds after opening my big mouth. I’d either been lulled into a false sense of security, or was so desperate I
hadn’t really considered who was listening.
The sandwich shop had helped me some after being fired from the supermarket. It had been a little awkward coming in the next day and realizing my coworkers had heard about the confrontation and wanted all the juicy details. That I might not want to talk about it wasn’t even a consideration; the small-town rumor mill had to be fueled or it turned on you. I’d had enough problems lately to risk that.
They’d thankfully upped my hours a bit but the additional hours didn’t really equal what I’d lost with the other job. Add that to the fact I was now paying for gas on the Bronco, where before I’d been riding my bike for free, and I was leaking far too much money. Thing was, I liked the job; it wasn’t much, but I enjoyed helping folks and my coworkers were cool. I knew it wouldn’t ever go anywhere, but it was so nice to not have to think about things too hard for the moment.
I wanted to ask more but behind me, the bells on the door jangled, signaling another customer. Thankful to drop the conversation, I turned around. “What can I get … ” I stopped as I recognized the newcomer, an uncertain smile tilting my lips. “Hey.”
Clare seemed nervous, biting her lip and giving me a small wave. “Hey.”
An awkward silence ensued. She obviously came for something, and realizing it might not have been to see me, I dropped back into my role. “What can I get for you?”
“Can we talk?”
The request startled me. I glanced back at Connie and Elise, and the older lady shrugged. “I think we can handle the hordes,” she said in a dry voice.
“Thanks.” Taking off the thin plastic gloves, I followed Clare outside. It felt strange to see her here. I’d barely gotten to know her, but thought we’d hit it off fairly well. “How’d you find out where I worked?” I said as we exited the doors.
“One of the baggers said she’d seen you in here once, I figured I’d check if you were still here.”
“So, are you on your lunch break? Have I missed anything since I got fired?” My guess was that my exit was still the main source of gossip; it’d been less than a week since I was fired.
A short laugh burst from Clare. “I wouldn’t know, actually. Right after you left, I quit, too.”
I blinked. “Seriously?”
The redhead nodded. “Mrs. Holloway didn’t seem to care but Rob tried to get me to stay. He seemed pretty disturbed to learn you’d been let go so abruptly; I think if he’d known what was happening, he would have stood up for you.”
“Yeah, well,” I murmured, not really knowing what to say. “It was going to happen eventually.”
“It sucked how it went down,” Clare said fervently. “It was just wrong how you were railroaded like that. I told Rob that if a store manager would do that to one employee, how long before it would be me? I couldn’t stay knowing the ax could fall for no apparent reason. Most of the other checkers felt the same way, but they need their jobs too much to speak out.” She snorted. “Wish you’d cussed her out—heck, I wish I’d done it, too.”
Her rant left me speechless. I’d assumed that people would have taken the juicy bit of gossip I’d offered on a silver platter and run with it. “I’m okay, I guess,” I said after a stunned moment. “I had the sandwich shop, although I’ll need more hours to make up the difference.”
“Actually, that’s the reason I’m here. I was wondering if you still needed another job.”
That got my attention. No wonder she wanted to talk to me outside the shop. “Where at?”
“You know that country club on the north side of town? A member I go to church with recommended me, and I managed to snag a job as a hostess. Well, the same day we both quit, I go into work and several of the girls have already heard about it. The other coworkers were curious, and wanted to know what exactly happened.”
I stifled a groan, wondering how far my dubious infamy had spread, as Clare continued. “Turns out, Mrs. Holloway isn’t as popular as she thinks. Most people think she’s a hag, which she is, but they’re too polite to say it to her face, the cowards. So you’ve already got that in your favor, although I may have embellished your story a teensy bit.”
“Embellished?” Apparently Clare liked to tell a story. I glanced inside to see Connie and Elise still watching us. “I’m on the clock right now,” I hedged, hoping the hint would speed up Clare’s tale.
“Oh, sorry! Anyway, I put in a good word to my boss and he wants you to come down and interview!”
My eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”
“Well, Norma-May’s having her baby, and she used to wait tables for the bigger parties. It’s one of those jobs everyone wants because the tips can double your nightly income, so when I asked about it I was surprised they gave it to me. I mean, I’ve only been there for a little while, I would have thought they’d pick somebody from this area over me …”
I groaned. “Clare.”
“Anyway, there’s a hostess job open. They’re pretty keen on filling it quick, so the sooner you put an application in the better.”
I was speechless for a moment, unsure whether this was a lucky break or another setup for disappointment. Clare seemed to think my silence meant I was saying no because she added, “Please think about it? I know we didn’t get to hang out this much but I feel really bad about getting you fired.”
“I don’t know, how soon can I interview?”
“What time are you done today?”
CHAPTER TEN
Two hours later I was in Clare’s car, wondering what I was getting myself into.
We drove through the gates of the club, passing several Mercedes and Cadillacs by the valet stand, and picked out at least two high-end Italian sport cars in the parking lot. I poked at my clothing as Clare pulled us around the back toward what I assumed was the employee parking lot. She parked and got out quickly, but I took an extra moment to look at myself in the mirror. What was I doing?
“You look fine,” Clare assured me, opening my door and all but pulling me out of the car. “We’re about the same size, although,” she amended, her gaze dipping lower, “you may be a bit bustier than me.”
When Clare had shown up at the shop the second time just as I was getting off, she’d thrust a bag into my arms and pushed me into the backseat to change. That was probably for the best since all I’d had at the time were jeans and an old T-shirt. She’d given me a blouse and skirt, along with a pair of wedge heels that were a size too large but still mostly fit. They were spring colors, bright yellows and oranges, and definitely not from any discount stores. But even with the clothes I still felt like an impostor, trailer trash among the social elite, and I worried I’d be called out.
Trying to tamp down my nervousness, I followed Clare through the wide entrance and into a series of offices. There was a bustle of folks filling the hallway and spilling outside, all dressed in matching formal wear. “They’re getting ready for a wedding, it’s all hands on deck right now,” Clare explained as we pushed against the tide. “The main office isn’t far.”
The crush died down suddenly as we moved into the workout area, then past that toward the tennis courts. Ladies in small white skirts and racquets passed by, barely giving us a glance. For some reason not being noticed made me feel better. I preferred anonymity, and wondered what they’d think if I’d shown up in cutoff jeans and a pair of flip-flops. Doubt I’d blend in quite as much like that.
I knew we’d passed into the main club when between one door and the next the furnishings suddenly got much richer. It was subtle things like the marbled floors, expensive wood paneling on the walls, and glass cases with pieces of art. The high ceilings had large chandeliers, and crystal fixtures lined the walls. The whole aesthetic managed to proclaim class without being too over the top, but it still made me nervous. I don’t belong here.
“Earlier, I texted Drew—I mean Mr. Ford—that we’d be coming. He interviewed me in here last time. Hang on, I’ll be right back.”
Some of my anxiety returned as Clare disappe
ared around the corner. I poked through the business magazines on the coffee table by the couches and admired some of the artwork in the cases. Minutes passed and I grew more apprehensive, wondering where Clare had gone. I poked my head around the corner where she’d disappeared, but it was just another hallway like the other we’d come through.
Not wanting to get lost, I explored my current surroundings a bit more. There was a second smaller waiting area through one archway, this one with refreshments next to a baby grand piano. I sipped on water while I ran my fingers over the lacquered wood, and then sat down on the bench. Lifting the cover as quietly as possible, I ran my fingers lightly over the keys. This definitely wasn’t the place to run the instrument through its chords, but I let my fingers move across the keys in a familiar pattern, not pressing but remembering the sound from memory.
“Do you play?”
Startled, I accidentally pressed one key too hard, then covered my mouth in horror as the note reverberated loudly off the walls. I stood quickly to face the speaker, who was watching me with some interest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”
The stranger didn’t seem much older than me, maybe in his mid- to late-twenties, and unlike most of the people in the area he didn’t have much of a southern accent. He was tall and blond with a shrewd gaze, but despite having startled me, his even tone and answer made me relax. “You seemed to know what you were doing,” he said, shaking his head at my apology. One eyebrow quirked. “I doubt the piano or our guests were disturbed by so light a touch.”
“It’s been a few years since I practiced,” I replied, shrugging and looking back at the piano. “It’s a beautiful instrument, though. I learned on a Steinway like this.”
“So you do play. I thought as much.” He held out his hand. “My name is Andrew Ford, pleased to meet you.”
“Oh!” I reached out to take his hand. “I’m Lacey St. James. Clare said I should see you about a job?” As a matter of fact, where was Clare? I looked around but couldn’t find her.