by Kim Pritekel
At twenty-five, Denny had been the manager of Mile, a popular coffee hot spot in downtown Buffalo, learning the tricks of the trade from her boss and friend, as well as Mile owner, Joni Sanchez. Joni was twenty years older than Denny, but she was feisty and knew every trick there was to run a successful business, and she taught them all to her protégé. Joni instinctively knew that someday Denny would have her own place. Lo and behold, she was right.
On Denny’s twenty-sixth birthday, she went to the bank and began talks about taking out a business loan. She’d always had a good head for business, yet had no experience and no formal education. Nor did she have any collateral. This made things tough, and near impossible. Eventually she’d managed to get someone to believe in her dream, and financing began. She got hold of a local realtor that specialized in commercial properties, and suddenly she was in business.
The old shoe store began to take shape, it’s bare, brick walls cleaned and twenty-foot ceilings painted. Used equipment was bought and put into place, and a mixed bag of tables and chairs arranged. She had already started hiring, the would-be baristas mopping, cleaning, lifting, grunting and sweating along with their boss to get DiRisio’s ready on time.
It was the day before opening, and Denny had done all of her hiring, but had forgotten to take down the Help Wanted sign. The bells above the door jingled as a woman stepped through, looking around.
”We open tomorrow,” Denny said, glancing up from where she was trying to fix the bean grinder.
“I want to apply,” the woman said, stepping up to the counter and leaning over it slightly so she could watch the brunette. Denny looked at her briefly before realizing her hand was stuck in the motor.
“Shit,” she whispered, trying to be cool as she yanked her hand. “I’m fully staffed,” she grunted, cursing once more.
“Do you need help?” the woman asked, slightly amused.
“Nope. Got everything perfectly under control.”
“So I see,” the woman snickered. Denny glared at her over her shoulder.
“You must not want a job very bad, laughing at who would be your boss.” Though Denny was joking with the attractive woman with the dark hair and teasing eyes, the look of remorse on the woman’s face was just too good to resist teasing her.
“Look, I just got out of a really bad marriage, and I need a job desperately. I’m available for any shift, any day, doing whatever you want done. Just please give me a chance. Okay?”
Denny stopped what she was doing, standing up straight, hand still caught in the machine, and looked into the woman’s dark eyes, seeing the desperation there, mixed with her natural fire.
“What’s your name?”
“Hannah.”
“You help me get unstuck and I’ll think about it.”
Older than the rest of the crew at twenty-eight, Hannah was a wonderful employee, helpful and smart. She and Denny hit it off immediately, and began to spend a lot of time together. Hannah was one of the only full-time people at DiRisio’s because she wasn’t in school, and was available for any shift. Denny began to count on her, and eventually promoted her to manager. It only took six months before Denny realized she’d fallen in love with her employee, and had no clue that Hannah was in love with her. One night as they were cleaning up after a busy night, a local band playing in the corner, things had broken wide open, the backroom seeing more flesh than it ever imagined. The next day Hannah told Denny she wanted more, but couldn’t date the boss, and was giving her two weeks notice.
Denny, who had climbed onto a rock in a rare sunny spot in the canopy of trees, allowed herself to dry and warm as she starred up into the cloudless sky. What was Hannah doing? Was she okay? Was her Aunt Moira there for her?
The brunette brought her hand up, wiping at her eye, which she rubbed as it was tickled by an escaping tear. The amusing thing was, Hannah would love the island. The dark-eyed woman loved the ocean, and relished any time in the sun and surf. They’d vacationed on the island of Kauai in Hawaii on their sixth anniversary, and Denny nearly had to drag Hannah to the airport, dark eyes filled with tears at leaving paradise. And now, ironically, the coffee shop owner was stranded in paradise. Fate sure had a sick sense of humor.
Denny heard something, and quickly grabbed her jeans, holding them to her naked body when blonde hair emerged from the dense foliage.
“Oh! Sorry.” Rachel was about to scurry away when she heard her name softly called.
“It’s okay. Come on in- the water’s great.” Denny grinned, lying back down, though she kept herself covered. The blonde entered the small area.
“Are you sure? I can come back later,”
“Not mine to horde. Help yourself.” Denny closed her eyes as she rested her head back onto her arm, trying to give the author her privacy. “Do you want me to go?” she added.
“No. I’m not going to run you out, Denny. You were here first.”
The brunette grinned, unable to help it. “That reminds me of my older brother and me when we were kids. I called it first!” Denny heard Rachel chuckle, as well as the tell tale rustling of clothing being removed. “Man, we used to fight over the front seat.”
“I call shotgun!” they both exclaimed in unison, Denny’s eyes opening to see the blonde grinning at her from the pool.
“Exactly!” Denny sat up, drawing her legs up to cover her breasts, but making sure her jeans were placed just so over other parts further south. “Do you have any siblings?”
Rachel nodded, dipping her head and smoothing her hair back out of her face. “Sisters. I grew up the youngest of four.”
“All girls?” Denny rolled her eyes at the blonde’s nod. “Oh man. Your poor parents.”
“Nah. We weren’t all that bad. Hell, I was like every parent’s wet dream.” Rachel chuckled, an evil twinkle in her green eyes. “I did nothing wrong- no smoking, no drinking, no sex, in fact I was a complete prude. It was pretty sad.”
“Really? Quite the good girl, huh?”
“Yeah. Too good. I was extremely self-righteous.” Rachel laughed, lowering herself until the water was to her shoulders, enjoying the coolness on her skin. “It was pretty bad.”
Denny smiled, lying back on her rock. “I was evil. My father has a head full of gray hair, and I think I gave him every one. Finally I got a clue in my early twenties. Or most likely, I was of age and on my own, so it wasn’t as fun anymore.” They both laughed at that, then a companionable silence took over. Denny put voice to a question that had been rolling around in her head for over a week. “What do you think happened?”
Rachel didn’t have to ask the brunette to clarify. She thought about her response as she climbed out of the cool water, allowing it to fall from her flesh in sprinkled waves. Tugging on her underwear and bra, the blonde climbed onto a rock similar to Denny’s. Finally she answered. “I’ve wondered that, too. I think it must have been engine failure or something. But then again, we should have been over the northern Atlantic, and this obviously isn’t the northern Atlantic.”
“I’ve thought about that, too. Were they off course? That badly?” She glanced over at the author, trying not to notice the woman’s beautiful body, basically naked as her underwear was all but completely see-through.
“I don’t know.” Rachel shook her head slightly, staring up into the sky, imaging a huge commercial liner flying overhead, and imagining herself on it. Then images of the crash came before her mind’s eye, snippets, mostly the emotions that went along with the events. She didn’t want to think of those things, hearing the screams and feeling the bile in her own throat. Rachel’s nights had been dotted with nightmares and memories. She’d wake up, chest heaving, heart feeling like it would pound out of her body, and that the others could hear it. As if reading her mind, Denny spoke.
“I hate the nightmares I have now. It’s like they chase me, you know?” She glanced over to meet Rachel’s gaze, and saw the blonde’s nod.
“Yeah.” Rachel’s voice was soft, filled
with compassionate understanding. She looked into Denny’s eyes, thinking the brunette would make a wonderful character.
“So does anyone else realize who you are yet?” Denny’s cracked a grin, which the blonde returned, though it was incredibly shy. She looked back to the sky, presenting her profile to the brunette.
“I don’t think so. I haven’t said anything, and don’t intend to.” She glanced quickly at Denny, conveying all she needed to with a flash of her green eyes. Denny chuckled again, nodding her understanding. “Oh, by the way,” the blonde said absently, closing her eyes as she soaked in the day. “I got a fire started finally.”
* * *
Goddamn, what I wouldn’t do for my Stetson… Michael stood on the rock, feet wide spread as he studied the shallow pool of sea water below. He clenched his hands, feeling the slight edge of his fingernails biting into the rough palms of his large hands, then his fingers were stretched again. The sun beat down on his head, his scalp burning, and the rays almost blinding on the glittering water he had been staring into for the past hour. He let out a war cry as he pounced on a long, silver fish that swam into the pool as the tide came back in, filling the small water pit.
“Shit!” he exclaimed as the squirming fish got away from him. Again. With a heavy sigh, he took his place again, stance wide and ready.
“Do you realize just how much easier that would be if you had a spear?” Dean asked from where he lounged on the beach.
“When you can do better you let me know,” the Texan said between clenched teeth, never taking his eyes off the pool as he waited for the tide to come in again.
“Jesus, Michael!” Dean exclaimed. “You’ve been at this for an hour, like some sort of brute Neanderthal or something. You’re never going to catch anything that way.”
Michael had heard just enough out the little faggot’s mouth. He whirled on the man, hands clenched into fists. He was pissed enough, not being able to catch anything, and the little fruit sitting on his flaming ass doing absolutely nothing!
“Listen here, you little queer, keep your fuckin’ mouth shut or I’ll shut it for ya!”
“What did you call me?” Dean got to his feet, trying to not shake in the shadow of the big man that he knew could lay him out flat with one well-placed fist. Hell, even a crappily placed fist, the attorney would be out for the count.
“I ain’t got no use for fairies, so stay clear, boy.” Michael’s growl made his intent clear. He out-sized Dean by a good four inches, and used that advantage as much as possible, squaring his wide shoulders. The pasty pale little man was nothing compared to the line-backer sized mechanic.
“Give it your best shot, Bobby Joe.”
“You little bastard!”
“Hey! Stop it!” Pam ran down the beach, throwing herself in between the two men, a hand on either of their chests. Michael fought the urge to throw the doctor aside and go after his target. The veterinarian looked from one to the other. “What the hell is the matter with you guys? Jesus! The redneck and the queer.” She laughed at her own joke. “It sounds like a bad sitcom.”
Michael took a step back, Pam’s hand dropping away from him. He took several deep breaths, muscles in his jaw bulging with the effort of restraint. Dean brushed himself off, also taking a slight step back from the older woman, eyes never leaving the Texan.
“Now, either you boys kiss and make up or stay on opposite sides of the island. I’m sick of pulling you two apart.” Once again she looked from one to the other, noting Michael’s glare at her words. “It’s a form of speech, Michael! For crying out loud!”
He said nothing, just turned and walked back to his fishing hole, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, muttering about fairies and fruit flies. Dean held his chin higher, his pride in tatters around his feet, but he wasn’t to let that son of a bitch know that.
“Thank you, Pam,” he said softly, then turned and disappeared into the foliage, too many memories of locker room encounters and beatings flowing through his mind.
* * *
Hannah Donnelly sighed as she opened the strong box that had been hidden on the top shelf of the master bedroom closet. With shaking hands, she inserted the key into the tiny lock, turning it with a small pop. The lid was heavy as she lifted it, squeaking slightly on its hinges. Inside she saw some bank papers, the velvet box Hannah kept her grandmother’s ring in, and the very edge of some bills. Slowly pushing the bank papers aside, Hannah saw the money coming into view. Her hand went to her mouth as she remembered so well what it was for.
“Here, we’ll put the big bills in here,” Denny had explained, taking the four hundred dollar bills from Hannah and tossing them inside the strong box. She grinned at her partner. “That way we won’t be tempted, and can save.”
Hannah slowly lowered herself to the bed, eyes never leaving the money. She reached inside the strong box, taking the bills out and tucking them into her palm. They had just counted those three weeks ago- $750.
“See? There’s our souvenir money!”
Hannah remembered how the baby blues had twinkled at Denny’s declaration. Their annual trip to Disney World, a place they were both addicted to. They had both started taking at least fifty dollars from each paycheck so they wouldn’t have to pay for the trip on their credit card, as they had just about gotten them paid off.
Crumpling the money in her fist, Hannah brought her fists to her face, the tears coming once more. She had been looking for Denny’s insurance papers, and instead found yet another piece of her partner, something else to remind her of just what she’d lost. She was haunted by the all too brief phone call, grateful for it, yet hearing Denny’s panicked voice in her head again and again.
“Han..a! …annah, …d, thank god. Hon…y, … ove ou! Something… wrong.”
“What? I can’t understand you.” Hannah felt her stomach twist as it was gripped in fear. “What?”
Then strangely, clear as day, “I love you! Always know that.”
The line went dead.
Sniffling and wiping her eyes with her sleeve, Hannah set the money aside and turned back to the strong box, looking for what she’d started. Grabbing a handful of papers, she thumbed through them, having to read the forms sometimes two or three times as her concentration was shot. Finally finding what she was after, Hannah tugged the folded forms out of their envelope and shook them open, smoothing out the creases. As she read the legal talk and terms, Hannah felt her stomach roil. No amount of money meant anything. All she wanted was Denny back.
“Damn you, Denny,” she cried, throwing the forms off the bed with a vicious cry, then sending the strong box to follow in their fate. Anger filled her, creating a rage within that she felt radiating in every cell, making her tremble. She was angry at Denny, angry at her cousins in Milan who asked her to visit, angry at the pilot and angry at God.
PART 5
MIA GRUNTED LIGHTLY as she stretched her body out as much as possible, trying, trying, trying... "Gotcha!" She reeled her prize in, nearly losing her balance and falling ass over appetite off the rock ledge she was perched so precariously on. Dragging herself and the heavy suitcase back to safe ground, Mia panted at the exertion. She set the large, heavy Samsonite with another bag that had drifted to shore, making sure there were no more.
Licking her lips, the teen plopped down on her butt and crossed her legs under herself. Grabbing the first bag, which looked to be most likely a carry-on, was the type with a roller board, though three of the four wheels were missing, the fourth plastic wheel cracked and chunks missing. The handle was broken off and jagged. The girl lugged it toward her, grunting, as it was water logged and heavy. Looking it over, she looked for any sort of identification, not that it mattered, but she wanted to be able to send up a thanks in her prayers that night.
The zipper was present, but its teeth were jammed. Mia tugged at it, the slippery metal slipping out from between her fingers more often than not, but she managed to get it open a small space, but no further. Lea
ning down, dark eyes peered into the shadowy depths of the bag, seeing nothing. She looked around her, spotting a low twig on a nearby tree. Hurrying over to it, she plucked it off and sat back down in front of the bag, jamming the stick into the small opening and using it for leverage.
It took nearly ten minutes for Mia to get the bag unzipped, but finally the zipper teeth gave, and the she flipped the top open, curious as to what she'd find. Inside she found layers off soggy clothing. It had been two weeks, and all of them were shedding clothing day by day, or cutting up what they had. The heat made pants impractical, and shirts and undergarments were getting unbearable, even after soaking and rinsing them. The clothing in this suitcase, that of a stranger, would mean the world to those on the island.
Mia removed the first layer, unwadding it and stretching it out before curious eyes. A tee shirt. A very large tee shirt. Setting it aside, the girl brought out the next treasure- a pair of large men's briefs, followed by what would have been socks, but were now soaked, stretched blobs of material. At the bottom of the bag was lined with wet magazines, no longer recognizable, the pages sticking together, images and writing one big black smudge. She set those aside, unsure if they could be used for anything for not. Perhaps kindling once they dried. She moved aside a few more articles of clothing, and some items that were no longer discernable, and then her eyes went wide. Tucked in an inside pocket was a cache of chocolate, still wrapped, and for some reason, had been put into Ziploc baggies, so had been kept safe and dry.
"Eureka," she whispered, holding the chocolate up for her eyes to inspect. They'd been eating what they could, cocoanuts and the tiny bananas, and fish when Michael could catch one. Mia had already begun to drop weight, and could see it in her companions' faces, too. The girl realized she held food in her hands, and frantically tore into the baggie, ripping it in her haste. The smell of chocolate immediately met her nose, and dark eyes closed as a soft moan escaped her lips.