by Brinda Berry
A waitress appears and asks for our drink order. We ask for a couple of sodas, even though I'm sure Josie has a fake ID. But we’re not here to party—it’s purely a form of escape. Something to make us feel like part of the living.
Before the waitress can return with our drinks, Josie leans forward. “Dance with me.”
The dance floor, a square the size of a postage stamp, makes it difficult to do anything but dance close to someone. Josie raises both arms in the air and sways in time to the music. She’s still in her black funeral dress and I’m in my suit. We have more than one curious look thrown our way.
One thing I’ve always liked about Josie… She couldn't give two shits about what other people think.
There’s a mixture of people grinding against each other and some old-school patrons who two-step. Josie and I are somewhere in the middle—the light touch of my hand on her hip says we’re friendly, yet a solid six inches between us marks a definite boundary.
She still looks incredibly sad. Her eyes are closed and her chin down. The dance floor is so packed, I don't notice the guy at first. He squeezes in next to us and makes a move like he’s going to dance with Josie. Before he can get too comfortable, I grab his upper arm–a bony arm—and yank him out of the way.
Josie never even notices.
The musicians start a slow song, a cover from one of those 70s hair bands. The crowd changes a little, and Josie and I stand in place. Hardly thinking about my next move, I take one step to close the distance between us and fold her into my arms. Press her ear to my chest and above my heart. Her arms wind around my neck and her body matches up to mine.
For the love of God, don’t get a hard-on now. Think about my schedule next week. Or about that paper due in Finance 101 on international trade. That should do it.
I relax. And then she melts against my chest and her hair smells like summer and…hard-on.
There’s no way to stop my body at this point. She’ll either detect my propensity to be a total dick or she’ll ignore it. Then I go a step further on the road to paradise and nuzzle the top of her head. "Feel better?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she answers and her hips line up to mine perfectly. She lifts her head and our breaths mingle.
Only a dog would take advantage of her now. But I want to kiss her so badly that the magnetic pull of her lips makes me lean toward her in slow motion.
She must sense the inevitability. She drops her face and presses it into my suit jacket.
This is the story of our lives. She takes one step forward, and I take one step back. I pursue, and she runs.
I don’t understand it, really. But something has changed during the last minute, and I can’t get it back. The song ends and without a word, she leads the way off the dance floor and to our table. She grabs her coat and I throw a twenty on the table for the waitress, being careful not to let Josie out of my sight.
Then we’re on the sidewalk and heading toward the parking lot, three blocks up. She’s practically running now, and I just don’t get it. I didn’t kiss her, didn't put my hands on her body in the way I wanted to, and didn’t exactly ravish her on the dance floor.
“What did I do to piss you off?” I hit unlock on my key fob.
“I’m just tired.”
The most irritating part of our relationship is I know her better than I know myself some days. And she’s lying. “Yeah, whatever.”
I regret my tone the minute the words leave my lips. She's dealing with her dead parents and if any time isn’t the right one, it’s now. Josie flings her car door open and hops in before I can do anything about it. I walk around and slide into the driver seat.
“Listen. I'm sorry,” I say with a sincere plea in my voice. “I’m really, really sorry. You know I’m the number one dumb ass and back there on the dance floor I got caught up in the moment and
almost—”
“It’s not your fault. It’s all me. I’m the dumb ass. I just really needed somebody, and I took advantage of you.”
Take advantage of me! “I’m here for you in whatever way you need me.”
“You don’t get it. I was this close,” she says while holding her thumb and pointer finger in close proximity to each other, “to kissing you. And that kiss would’ve led to a lot more.”
Her words sizzle into me like an electrical shock. “You didn’t have to stop. I wanted it to happen.”
“No, you feel sorry for me. Okay maybe sorry is the wrong word. You wanted to comfort me. But Dane, I have a boyfriend.”
Even though I haven’t started the engine, I reach forward and grip the steering wheel. Hard. I stare through the front windshield and make a concerted effort to slow my breathing. It’s not like I thought she was a nun off at college. But it’s like the universe held out a golden treasure to me and then snapped the lid shut.
“A boyfriend?” Damn the way my voice sounds. Like some wimp whose had his favorite toy taken away.
“Yeah, Shelton and I have been dating for months. It may even be serious.”
What the fuck kind of name is Shelton? And did she have to add the word serious? My heart races and adrenaline hits me like a whip. “Where the hell is this guy? Why wasn’t he at the funeral?”
“He had some exams he couldn’t miss. He’s applied to a summit at—”
“What kind of an asshole doesn't come to his girlfriend’s parents’ funeral?” I would stop a NATO summit to rush home and be with her.
“Don’t get all superior about it. He wanted to come. I told him not to. I mean, look at me. I’m a mess.”
“Exactly. That’s why he should be here. You need to break it off. A guy who won’t be here for you now isn't going to be here when you need him. Because you need him now. Like you needed me.”
She glares at me and a fucking tear slips from her eye. “Don’t. I don’t need this right now. I wanted him to argue and say he’d come anyway. I’m not stupid.”
My throat tightens and I rub a hand over my face. “Butterfly. I’m so sorry—”
“Quit saying it. Just stop. I want to go home. Can you do that? Please.”
“Whatever you want.” I start the engine and we sit idling.
“You’re always there for me,” she says and places her cold hand on my arm. “I just don’t need to start something with you when I’m mad at him. You’re too important to me. Okay?”
“I need to go whip this boy’s ass. Address, please. I’ll give him a summit…” I mumble, more serious than not.
She laughs, but it’s a sad sound. “No need. I don’t think we’ll last long enough for you to hurt him.”
“That’s my girl. Break his heart and tell him adios. For me. Okay?”
She never responds. The trip to Josie’s house is miserably silent.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cold Turkey
Josie
Cece Delacroix knows how to make people feel wanted. Dane’s family hosts a Thanksgiving dinner every year at Dastardly Bastards. Today, fifty people, give or take a few, sit at tables in the party room. Hosting a dinner at the bar makes sense. Plus…there’s beer.
Beats the heck out of many Thanksgiving dinners around Nashville.
The people at the dinner aren’t Dane’s family—except for Marty and Cece. They invite all the bar employees who can’t get home for the holiday.
Cece waves at me from the kitchen doorway. “Josie? Want to come with me?”
I look around for Dane. He disappeared after his employee mentioned getting a new motorcycle and wanting to show him. Boys and their toys.
Grandma Lulu and her boyfriend talk with an older couple. They won’t miss me.
“Coming,” I call out and walk across to meet Cece.
“Keep me company back here.” Cece grins and holds the swinging door open. “I’m getting the last of the food ready so we can start eating.”
“I should’ve offered to help.”
Her heels click against the tile. “Honey, I’m only heating food tha
t’s already cooked. I just want your company and a smile.”
I follow her as she walks thru the galley style kitchen lined in stainless steel restaurant appliances and several large ovens. “I haven’t been back here much.”
“It’s not my favorite place. I like my kitchen at home better.” She grabs an apron and ties the strings around her waist.
“Hey. I don’t mind helping. I wish you’d let me do something. I loved helping Mom with holiday cooking when I was younger.”
She gives me a sympathetic look when I mention Mom. “I sure miss your mother, too.” She gazes at the wall as if remembering good times.
I rub the center of my round belly. “She’d be happy that I’m here with you for Thanksgiving. Give me a duty.”
“Okay. You can help, but no heavy lifting. We’re going to do this buffet style,” Cece says. “The salads and desserts are already out there. These rolls are ready to pull from the oven and you can put them in these serving baskets.”
“This is really cool. How long have you been hosting dinner here?”
“We've been doing this for over thirty years.” Cece shoves her hand into a mitt and grabs the warm rolls from inside the oven. She places the sheet on the counter next to a large wicker basket lined with cloth.
I hurry to the sink and wash my hands. Grabbing a hand towel, I pat my fingers dry and inhale the yeasty scent of rolls. “It seems like a lot of work for you.”
Cece grabs a pan of sliced ham and tongs. She begins pulling slices out to arrange them on a platter. “Not really. Dane had his cooks prep most of it for me. I did the desserts and salads. It’s our tradition, and I love it. Everybody’s happy and relaxed. Marty always hired a lot of wait staff who spent Thanksgiving alone – singers trying to make it on Nashville Row, college students who lacked airfare to get home, and those young people who don’t get along with their families. Along the way, we picked up a few of the homeless people who hang out around the bar. We have so much food it seems a shame not to ask them.”
That certainly explains the ones who didn't seem to fit in with everybody else. My love for Cece and Marty grows at the thought. This is why Dane is a good man. He has their values.
“Well thanks for inviting Grandma Lulu,” I say. “I usually spend holidays with her and Leo. This year, Leo went to Texas with Harper.”
“I told you to invite them any time. Dane said he invited your new bookstore partner and his father. Are they coming?”
“No. They are spending this week in Oahu. Webb said he’s going to force me to take off when the baby comes, so he’s taking some time off now.”
“Yes,” Cece says, eyeing my baby bump. “It’ll be here soon. I cannot wait.” She trills the last part. It’s good to see her so giddy.
“Be right back.” Cece exits the kitchen with the tray of ham and I continue arranging rolls in the basket. When I'm finished, I look around for something else useful to do.
“Do you think it's that easy to get rid of me?” a voice demands.
I startle, my heart slamming against my rib cage. I grab the edge of the counter and turn at her question. “Ellen. Holy cheezits. You frightened me.”
Does the woman not realize the risk she takes in sneaking up on a pregnant woman? I almost peed myself.
Her hair hangs in greasy strands against her cheeks. Her angry eyes pin me in place.
We’re alone in the kitchen, and it's not as if I’m scared of her. Still my startled heart doesn't clue into that fact. Bang-bang-bang it goes, throwing the rush of blood through my ears.
She gives me a sneer, one corner of her lip lifting. “I knew you and Dane would be here. Every year, they give out food like the king and queen passing out cake.”
I glance nervously at the swinging door to the kitchen. “You should go, Ellen. Cece will be back any minute.”
I place my hands on my stomach and hate the way the movement draws her eyes... “How did you get in here?”
She waves a hand toward the kitchen doors. “The front’s open. If Dane had just given me the money, I would've gotten your rings. I only borrowed them. I meant to return every last one. I’m no thief.”
“If you’d kept your sticky, dishonest fingers to yourself,— ”
Cece’s loud footsteps wrench my attention away from Josie's words. “Ellen,” she says with grit in her voice. “You better be gone in the next minute. I do not want to cause a scene, but you know you’re not welcome here.”
“Oh.” Ellen draws the exclamation out to three syllables. “There she is. Queen of the castle.”
Ellen’s focus switches to me. “Did you know that Cece was barren and I saved her marriage? No eggs. I’m the one that gave her everything she ever wanted and does she show one ounce of gratitude…”
This is the sentence that unleashes Cece’s wrath. She doesn't speak a word. Instead, she’s across the room and grabs Ellen’s upper arm before I can blink. Ellen struggles to get out of her grip, but Cece doesn’t release her.
My mouth drops. We’re about to have a throw down right here in the bar kitchen.
“You bitch!” Ellen grabs a handful of Cece’s hair and yanks.
“Stop it,” I yell with a rising sense of panic. I consider jumping in to separate them because Ellen might hurt Cece. I doubt the woman has been in a cat fight in her life. When I move forward, I can’t get a good shot at grabbing Ellen’s arm. The baby bump keeps getting in the way and I can’t risk a punch to the belly either.
Ellen screeches at Cece and pitches her against a refrigerator as if she weighs no more than a doll.
The heavy thump of her head hitting metal drives the air from my lungs. Cece slumps to the floor, her mouth open and eyes closed.
Ellen takes three steps back and shakes her head. “It’s her fault. She started it.”
“You’re a lunatic.” I run over and drop to my knees. “Cece? Are you okay?” I wobble, a little off-balance since my center is so heavy. Placing fingers on her neck, I feel for a pulse.
She moans and opens her eyes. “Josie?”
I exhale and look up. “Ellen, go get Dane or Marty.”
“You’re going to call the police? They’ll take me away forever. That’s what you want.”
“Stop it,” I say in a clipped voice that leaves no room for argument. My heart pounds so loudly in my ears I can barely think. Ellen may be mentally ill, but she doesn’t get a free pass to commit assault because of it.
Cece might be seriously hurt. With that thought, panic punches my lungs making it difficult to breathe.
I grab the edge of the table beside me and pull to my feet. If only I had my phone which I stupidly left in the other room. “Are you even listening to me? Go. Get. Dane.”
There’s no way I’m leaving Cece alone with her.
Ellen glares at me like a cornered animal. She pounces forward and shoves both hands against my shoulders. I stumble back, catching my hip against the sharp corner of the steel prep table.
Jumping fuckmuppets! I suck in a sharp breath and rub one hand over the place that’ll be an angry purple bruise by tomorrow. Then a touch of real fear burns along my nerve endings. I can’t afford to get into a fist fight with her. She’s unhinged. Dangerous. “Don’t touch me again,” I say in the steadiest voice I can muster.
I need a weapon. I feel behind me with one hand and grab the first thing my fingers hit. Pulling it forward, I hold it threateningly above my head. “Stay right there.”
Great. Of all the objects I’d hoped to grab, a turkey baster is all I managed.
Ellen points a finger at me. “You. You work for Satan. He sent you to take Dane from me. That’s right. You’re a devil in disguise and that baby is the spawn of—”
Dane appears behind Ellen in a blur of movement and snakes an arm around her waist. She kicks her legs out and misses me by inches.
“Fuck,” he yells. “What the hell?” His eyes dart around, taking in Cece on the floor. “Josie? Mom? Are you okay?”
His w
ords hold a mixture of anger and fear.
“I’m okay. I’m going to call 911 for your mom.” Now that I can turn my back on Ellen, I check on Cece. She’s moved to a sitting position and places a hand on my leg.
“I’m okay. Don’t call. Get that woman out of here.” Cece’s voice trembles with rage. “If she’d hurt you…”
The sound of pounding footsteps draws my eyes to the kitchen doors, swinging open wildly when Marty appears. His gaze immediately falls to Cece and he rushes to her.
Glancing at Ellen, I notice she’s less rabid and ranting. But her hate-filled eyes still give away the delusional insults she hurled seconds ago.
Dane backs away with Ellen still wrangled in his hold. “Fuck,” he says again as if it’s the only word worthy of the situation. “Take care of this,” he says to his dad.
And with that, he turns and half-drags Ellen through the kitchen and out the back door of Dastardly’s. I sag against the prep table at my back, the spike of adrenaline descending in a free fall.
Marty looks at both me and Dane’s mom. For a large man, he moves with surprising grace and swoops Cece from the floor to her feet. Pulling both of us to his sides in a hug, he exhales. “I’m not letting you two out of my sight for the rest of the day. How did she get back here?”
“Walked in the front door, I think.” I lay my head against his shoulder.
Marty squeezes me to him in a gentle hold. “From now on, the door stays locked with a secret handshake to get in. But I’m guessing that Dane’s making sure Ellen will be locked up for the rest of today at least. I’ll get some help out there to carry in the rest of the food. You two are coming with me.”
I nod and glance longingly at the back door. I’m no longer hungry and all I want is Dane back safely with me. I know he can handle anything, but Ellen is dangerous. More dangerous than I’d understood.
Dane calls from the hospital several hours later to let me know he’ll be a while. I offer to go to him, but he insists that I don’t. I try not to let it bother me.