by CL Rowell
“Maybe if you choose to do it. I didn’t choose to. It was thrust upon me.”
“Yeah, and if you hadn’t jumped to conclusions, that’s probably not all that would have been thrust upon you…or in you, as the case may be.”
“I’m going home.” I sat forward, my face in my hands.
“What? You’re just going to give up now?”
“I may as well. What else can I do, Lucy? I ran out of the building like the hounds of hell were on my heels, setting off an alarm, and hiding from security. Before that? Let’s see…yeah, I ran that night, too—as he rushed after me, trying to stop me. Hell, after our first and only night together, I sneaked out the next morning without even saying goodbye. I may as well face it—I don’t have the best track record with the guy.”
“Yeah, he probably thinks you a psycho at this point—just kidding! Just kidding.” She patted my leg. “Let’s see when and where his next concert is, and we’ll decide from there.”
“It’s in Ft Worth, at Famous Faces—but I’m not going. I got my three chances, and turned them into strikes. Three strikes and you’re out. I give up. I’m done. I’m not chasing after him anymore.”
“Poor baby, you want to crash in my spare room for the rest of the night? Everything will look better in the morning.”
“No. I’m heading home. Mom will want to bring James over in the morning. I should be there.”
“If you need me—“ I forced a smile, nodded, and gave her a hug. She didn’t have to finish it. I knew. She was always there for me, whether I needed a shoulder to lean on or a partner in crime.
From that day on, it felt like something was missing in my life. The sun lost half its shine. It almost felt like a layer of dust had settled over my world, leaving everything a bit tarnished. I almost wished I’d never gone inside Bartholomew’s that long ago night. Almost, but not quite—because if I hadn’t gone in, I’d never have had James, and he was the one bright spot in everything that had happened. For him, I dragged myself out of bed every morning and went to work. For him, I carried on like everything was normal. I laughed and smiled. I hung out with family and friends. I celebrated the holidays and tried to look forward to the new year.
10
**
As the end of the year approached, I received a surprise text from Lucy.
We’re going out, New Year’s Eve. I asked your mom to watch James for you. She said she would. No excuses.
What are we doing?
Going to Bartholomew’s. They’re breaking in their new deck with live music and fireworks.
I didn’t know they had a deck?
You would if you did more than work and go home every day.
I go other places.
Grocery store, library and gas station don’t count. I can’t even drag you to a movie anymore.
Lucy…
Uh, no. Don’t you ‘Lucy’ me, and don’t try to wriggle out.
I laughed, picturing her face scowling at me. Fine, I’ll go. Who’s playing?
It’s Andy Amos. I wrinkled my nose, not as happy about going anymore. Re-focusing, I finished reading and giggled at how well she knew me. And if you’re wrinkling you nose, quit it. They added to the group and I hear it’s a huge improvement.
If it isn’t, at least this time I can drink until they sound better.
Hey, that’s right! Wear something hot.
I paused, staring at the phone, suspicious. Why??
Because we haven’t been out in forever and I plan to go all out. Gonna let me put you to shame?
Never! I felt horrible for doubting her. She was my rock. I’m gonna look so good you’ll wish you never asked me to come.
Sweet. I’ll pick you up at nine.
In the days leading up to New Year’s Eve, I must have tried on every outfit I owned, as well as several from stores around Natchitoches and Alexandria, too. I knew quite well just how competitive my friend could be, and how insulted she’d be if I didn’t bring my A game. Outdoing her would be a monumental task—if it was even possible. She had modeled in her spare time, as a teen, and knew how to pair items to their best effect. But, since she’d taught me all of her tricks, I really had no excuse to slack.
I finally settled on a little black dress that flattered my chest and made my legs seem to go on forever, paired with black platform booties and a smoky charcoal pashmina. I kept my makeup minimal, gathered my hair into a high topknot, braided with sparkling black ribbon, and topped it off by walking through a spritz of Bombshell perfume.
“Check you out.” Lucy whistled as she walked around me. “Every eye in the place is going to be on you.”
“Too much?”
“Nope.” She struck a pose and admired our reflections in the oversized mirror in my front room. It was built into the wall above the couch, between the living room and kitchen, and was where I went for my final inspections when I needed an uninterrupted head to toe view. “We’ll be the best looking bitches there. The women are gonna be smacking their hubbies upside the head all night long.”
I eyed the plunging, skintight knit mini-dress she was poured into and silently agreed. But it wouldn’t be because of me. Imagine the results if Felicity Shagwell and Foxxy Cleopatra were blended into one person. That’s Lucy in a nutshell. She’s every man’s walking fantasy in one smoldering package. Most females hate her on sight, but I couldn’t imagine my life without her in it.
“You ready?”
I nodded. “We have to stop by Mom’s and say bye to James, though.”
By nine thirty, we were pulling into the parking lot at Bartholomew’s, and my jaw dropped at the number of cars parked out front. Most people around Natchitoches went to the bars there in town, so all the traffic Bart’s usually saw was from locals who lived close enough to walk home or didn’t mind passing out in their vehicles where they sat. Settling for a spot out by the road, we started across the gravel.
“Awful lot of people for a simple New Year’s firework display with tunes provided by a ragtag group of middle-aged men with a thimble full of talent between them.” I studied her out of the corner of my eye. “This new deck must be a sight to behold. Lucy?”
She shrugged, her cheeks pinker than could be attributed to her makeup. “I hear Bart brought his grill out, for burgers, corn and hotdogs—and has had an entire pig cooking in the ground, Kalua style, since six o’clock this morning—just for tonight’s festivities.”
“Mmm.” I nodded to the bouncer and went to step inside, when he barred the door with his leg.
“That’ll be ten bucks for the cover charge,” he informed me, boredom oozing from every pore.
“Ten dollars for food, fireworks and a wannabe band that couldn’t play their way out of a cardboard refrigerator box?” I turned away. “Lucy, maybe we should just go someplace else.”
“No.” She glared at him, “We’re special guests of the owner. We don’t have to pay a cover charge. I can call and have him come out, if necessary. Don’t you have a list?”
“Oh, yeah—uh, sorry ‘bout that. Names?”
“Callie Rhodes and Lucy Turner…”
“Yeah, you’re on there. Sorry for the mix-up. Ain’t used to shit being so fancy-schmancy around here. It’s a dang bayou bar.” Pouting, he lowered his leg so we could pass. “Go ahead. Welcome to Bartholomew’s freakin’ country club.”
Once inside, I looked around. Aside from a few LED light strings strung from the walls to a spot on the ceiling in the middle of the room, giving it an exploding firework effect, the place was dark, and luckily mostly empty. You had to pay close attention in order to cross the room without bumping into someone or something. The bar was the only decently lit area in the entire place, so, at a loss, we shuffled in that direction.
“Maybe everyone’s out back?”
Glancing at her, I shrugged, “Your guess is as good as mine. All these vehicles have to have owners, and they’re sure as shit not in here.”
She tipped her head. “You
hear that?”
“Yeah, I hear it.” I turned my head from side to side, listening. There was a band playing, but the sound was muted—and then someone opened a door in the back wall.
“Hey, Benny, we could really use you out on the deck. The pig’s coming out of the ground as we speak, and they’re getting ready to set off fireworks. Have George put up the sign and man the ramp, just like we discussed.”
“Bart, hold the door.” Lucy gripped my arm and increased her pace, “It’s as dark as a tomb in here.”
I stared at her, my mouth open. “How do you know Bart?”
“He’s a longtime friend of the family. Went to school with my daddy.”
“Who said that?” Bart shaded his eyes, as if he expected it to help him see through the gloom.
“I did. Lucy—Lucy Turner?”
“Ah, yes, Lucy. Did you bring the guest of honor?”
“Yep, got her right here.”
“Guest of—“ My stomach dropped and I tried to slow our mad rush toward the door, “Lucy, what did you do?”
“You’ll see. It’s nothing bad.” She pushed me through the opening in front of her, “You’ll thank me later.”
11
**
“Callie!” It sounded like hundreds of voices shouting my name from every corner of the deck. Confused, I frowned and stopped moving. I squinted in the brilliance of several flickering tiki torches, more blind in their radiance than I’d been in the darkness inside the bar.
“Shit, she actually showed up.” I knew that shrill voice. Blinking to help my eyes adjust faster, I looked to my left.
“Jolene…do you live here, or what? You were here the last time I was, and that was nearly five years ago. Don’t you have a home to go to?”
“Watch it, girlie.”
“The name’s Callie. Did you forget already?” I needled her again, pleased to have gotten under her skin.
“It’s whatever the fuck I decide to call you, you little smart-ass bitch.”
I blinked, unsure how to respond as she lurched to her feet. Had I just started a fight? Shrugging, I braced to defend myself. It wouldn’t break my heart to punch her.
“That escalated quickly.” Bart hurried across the wooden deck and stepped between us, “Someone has had a bit too much to drink already, tonight. George, would you please escort the delightful Jolene home for me?”
“But, I don’t want to leave—the luau, the roast pig…the fireworks! I wanna stay! I’ll be good. I won’t say anything about—“
George grabbed a roll from a bread basket on a nearby table and stuffed it between her lips before sweeping her up into his arms. “I’ll bring you a plate and somebody will take pictures of the fireworks for you,” he promised.
“Wait…let her stay.” I put a hand on George’s arm and looked up at Bart. “She shouldn’t have to miss the festivities because of me. We can get along for a few hours, can’t we?” I forced a smile, and she nodded, removing the roll and plastering a grin on, too.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.“ Turning back to my friend, I planted my hands on my hips and leaned into her personal bubble, drawing out her name, “Lucy? What was she talking about? Won’t say anything about what? Is there something you forgot to tell me? Like why I’m the guest of honor at a New Year’s Eve party at a bar I never go to? What’s going on? What all haven’t you told me?”
“I think this is where I come in.”
My head jerked up and I spun in place, losing my balance and coming close to falling on my ass before he grabbed me. “Jessie! What are you doing here?” I hated how breathless I sounded.
“I was invited.” He lifted his chin, his eyes looking past me, “Lucy messaged Julie, explaining who she was, and asking her to give me her number.”
I turned to face my friend. “Lucy? You didn’t say anything to me about this. You didn’t think it was something you might possibly mention in passing…or drop into casual conversation? Oh hey, by the way—blah blah blah?”
“You were in so much pain. I didn’t want to make it worse…but you needed answers.” She dropped her gaze, obviously uncomfortable but standing her ground. “So I messaged her. I admit it, I did it. But, like I said before…you go to the horse if you want the answer.”
“But, you didn’t—“
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know if anything would come of it. I didn’t want to either get your hopes up or piss you off for nothing.“
“I almost didn’t reply, either. Their fans see the pictures on my page, of me with them, and message me, asking for an introduction—some of them are pretty clever, too. I was just about to click delete, thinking hers was just another one of those, but then I saw a familiar name—yours.”
I glanced around. “Julie!”
Before I could say more, she continued, “I was so surprised when you ran out of the concert like you did. I didn’t know what to think. Poor Jessie was so devastated, he barely finished the show—and that pissed off the other members, but I kept telling him there had to be an explanation. I don’t know you well, but you didn’t seem like a flake.” She lifted a slender shoulder, “So after Lucy and I chatted, I agreed to give him her number. I can’t believe you thought I’d go after your man, though.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. So much had happened.” I met Jessie’s eyes, “You and I do need to talk. There are things you need to know.”
“I know.”
Lucy snickered. “No…” She shook her head, “You don’t know. You really don’t.”
I rolled my eyes at her and turned back to Jessie.
Then…
“Congrats on the mini me,” someone yelled out, just as I started to relax. Todd. No! My breath froze in my throat and my heart skipped a beat.
“Oh, shit,” Lucy groaned, behind me, burying her face in my hair, “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
But he didn’t.
“Looks just like you, man,” Todd kept vomiting words, making it worse, “I seen him in town a few times. Don’t need no paternity test on that one, do ya?”
Every ounce of animation and color drained out of Jessie before my eyes. Pain replaced tentative expectation and happiness, and I felt like a heel. Apparently, Todd did too, because he didn’t say another word. Too little too late, though.
My voice barely over a whisper, I spoke, “Jessie, I—“ But before I could say more, he pushed past me and ran down the ramp. Finding my voice too late, I shouted, “Jessie, wait!” He didn’t stop.
“Smooth move, Ex-Lax,” his drummer snarled, materializing out of the crowd, balling his fists and narrowing his eyes at me, obviously fighting not to lash out. “Hate to burst your bubble, but—no, actually, I don’t. That was a lie. Please allow me the pleasure of bursting it. I don’t know what your game is, but Jessie can’t father kids. He’s sterile. Way to make him feel like shit, though. Greedy slut.”
“Watch who you’re calling slut, asshole.” Lucy stepped between us, grabbed my phone out of my pocket, and almost shoved it up his nose. “Look at that kid—take a good long look, and then tell me Jessie can’t have kids. Callie’s no slut. She was a virgin before that night with him, and she may as well have been since then, too. She hasn’t been with anyone else but him. Tell your friend to get re-checked.”
“Ain’t my friend…well, not just my friend. Jessie’s my brother.” He stared at me. “That shit she said…you not being with anyone but him—that true?”
I clung to Lucy and nodded. “Yeah, it’s true.”
He bounced in place, chewing his lower lip raw. I thought I could almost see wisps of smoke rising from the top of his bleached blond head, he was thinking so hard. Finally coming to a decision, he nodded at Lucy, “Put this number in her phone, send me a picture of the kid, and I’ll see what I can do.” He rattled off a ten-digit number. “Got it?”
“Got it.”
He grinned, checking her out. “Send me your four one one, too, gorg
eous. It’s your lucky day. I’m single.”
“Oh god.” I saw Julie’s keyboardist rest his head on hers, his shoulders shaking. She was grinning, so I figured he must have been laughing, and I relaxed a little.
“What?” He glanced back at them. “I’m single…I don’t see no ring on this caramel cutie’s finger. If shit works out between my brother and Miss Callie, here…” He lifted both hands out to the sides and raised his shoulders, “You never know how things might go. Me and the luscious Lucy might click.”
12
**
January and February passed with no word from Jessie. If it hadn’t been for Julie feeding me tidbits on his life, and Lucy keeping me distracted, I’d have gone insane.
Midway through March, I heard a knock on my door. Before I could motivate myself to move to answer it, I heard the metal on metal scratch of a key being inserted into the lock. As it swung open, I looked up, knowing who I’d see.
“I was coming. You didn’t have to use the key.”
“Yes…” Lucy looked at me, sprawled on the floor in front of the television, “I can see you’re practically standing. My apologies for making the assumption that I’d have to let myself in.”
“Smart ass.”
She glanced around, “Where’s James?”
“At Mom’s.”
“Good. I won’t have to send him over there, then. Get up.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I said get up.”
I rolled over so I could see her better. “Why?”
“I’m getting you out of the house for a bit.”
“Why?”
“What are you—three? I’m taking you out because you’ve become like a freaking recluse. You go to work and you come home. That’s it. You’re wallowing in self-pity over Jessie—“
“I’m not wallowing.” I sat up. “Where are we going?”
“Ah, finally! A little interest in something other than work and James. I’m taking you to the Coushatta Casino Resort in Kinder—my treat. Dinner, slots, dancing—“