by L. A. Fiore
Arissa studied the older woman and even knowing she owed her an apology, it got stuck in her throat. She didn’t like her, not one fucking bit. “You should have told him,” Arissa said. “Had you been honest with Hank, none of this would have happened.”
Catherine leaned closer and clipped her word. “Had you minded your fucking business, none of this would have happened.” She stepped back, looked around and added, “You are just one in a long line of women…” She glanced back. “And not very high up on the list. He’ll move on. I’ll be there to help him.”
Arissa fisted her hands because she wanted to hit her. What a smug fucking bitch. She had yet to close the door. “Get the fuck out,” Arissa demanded.
Catherine smiled but it wasn’t pleasant. “There you go, little girl. Show your true colors.” Catherine strolled to the door. “I’d say it was a pleasure, but it wasn’t.” And with those parting words, Catherine walked out. The door slamming closed behind her.
Arissa didn’t move at first and when she did, she reached for the closest thing and threw it against the wall. One thing became a steady stream of objects.
There was no knock this time as Maureen entered, saw Arissa and hurried over. “You’re not going to have anything left going the way you are.” Maureen then saw all the boxes. “What’s going on?”
Anger shifted to heartache, the tears that hadn’t stopped since her confrontation with Hank earlier welled and spilled down her cheeks. “I fucked up.” Arissa looked at Maureen, her pain so easy to see. “I really fucked up.”
Maureen pulled her in for a hug. “I’ll call the others.”
Not twenty minutes later, Arissa was surrounded by the Belles. Hya was sitting next to her, and in an uncharacteristically comforting gesture, held Arissa’s hand. “Start at the beginning,” she suggested softly.
Arissa shared everything with them, and unlike their usually boisterous selves, they stayed silent during the telling.
Silence even followed for a few minutes after she finished before Hya said, “Catherine’s a fucking bitch.”
Arissa wiped at her eyes. “She is a bitch. I hate her, but she gave Hank a home, a family. Whatever she might be, she loves him. And even with my heart being in the right place, I tried to sabotage that.”
“Bullshit. He had a right to know,” Maureen said. “They should have told him.”
“I lost him,” Arissa said, her focus turning to the window but she didn’t see anything. “He wouldn’t even look at me. Hank has made me feel so many different emotions, but he never once froze me out.” Arissa bit back the sob. “Not having him looking at me in that way he does…” She stood, needed to move. “He said he was going to marry me. We were talking kids—” She turned from the others, her shoulders shaking from the tears she couldn’t hold back. “I never saw him coming, but he burrowed so deep inside of me how the hell do I go on now without him?” She ended on a pained whisper.
“So you’re leaving?” Millie asked softly.
She turned to the women who had become like family. “I can’t stay. I caused enough pain.”
Hya stood, walked to the kitchen. “I say we drink.” She glanced back. “Drink first, then we’ll worry about what comes next.”
21
Hya drove Bertha through town. She’d lived in Summerville most of her life, and through all the changes that had come and gone, one thing stayed constant…the vibe that was uniquely Summerville. There was no other place she wanted to be. Recently, though, that feeling was missing.
There had been no mishaps with delivery boys and their food deliveries jamming up traffic, no rogue livestock holding residents hostage. No swarms of overly dressed females walking Main Street looking to commit misdemeanors. Not even Elmer and Sal were at their table when she drove passed Dehlia’s, even knowing they’d been released from lock up. Their stupid stunts, a daily event, had stopped. No stolen DeLorean, or wires running across Main Street so they could try to get back to the future…a stunt Hya knew firsthand was on Elmer’s to-do list. Summerville was in a funk, a shadow hung over it, and it did because what fed the vibe, what kept it going, was the one person who kept it under control. Life was opposites and as crazy as Summerville’s residents were, Hank Weathers was the glue that kept it together. And their solid, dependable sheriff had been missing in action for three days.
Hya drove to the outskirts of town to Hank’s. She pulled up behind his truck, climbed out of Bertha and strolled inside, knowing his doors would be unlocked. They always were.
“Sexy!” she called after the door slammed shut behind her. The sight of his kitchen stopped her in her tracks. Not littered with takeout containers, but bottles of Jack. As a lover of that fine nectar of the gods, even she wouldn’t have consumed so much. Moving through the house, she found Hank in the living room staring at the fireplace but not seeing it, a tumbler half empty dangling from his fingers. He looked like shit, and not just because of the large quantities of alcohol he’d been consuming.
“Well, damn. Never thought I’d hear myself say this but you look like shit.”
Hank lifted his glass in the air and offered, “There’s some in the kitchen.” Then he drained the last of what was in his glass.
“Not a hell of a lot in the kitchen. I think you’ve had enough. Don’t you?”
Hank placed the tumbler on the table beside him, leaned forward, held up a finger for a beat…two then added. “Nope, still feel the fucking pain. Be a doll and grab the bottle from the kitchen, will ya?” Then he leaned back in the oversized leather chair but not for comfort but because his head was spinning a little too much.
Hya stood over him, pushed her hands into the pockets of her overalls. “I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to get you drunk so I could take advantage—”
“Go ahead,” Hank offered, cutting her off. He spread his weak legs, held his heavy arms out and offered, “Everyone else has been in my shit, what’s one more.”
Hya shook her head. “The appeal of you is that you keep it all under control, almost effortlessly. Seeing you like this breaks my heart. That’s not an easy thing to do.” She kicked his foot. “I saw Arissa. She looks as bad as you. She’s moving back to Charleston.”
“She should,” Hank muttered, reached for his glass, realized it was empty and slurred, “Fuck.”
“Why should she?” Hya said with a bite to her words. “Something was off, she figured it out. Her intention was to bridge the distance between your parents and her.”
“Bullshit!” Hank rumbled then rose from his seat but swayed a little as he caught his feet. Walking toward the kitchen he added, “She fucking hates my parents. It wasn’t to fill gaps, Hya, it was to destroy my relationship with them.” Hank stopped by the island, held his arms out, stumbled a bit and backed into the counter and shouted, “Well, guess what, she got what she wanted!” Then he turned, looked at the empty bottles littered around, saw there wasn’t much left and took an arm, swiping the bottles to the floor. The crash did not make Hya jump or even jerk in the slightest. “I was gonna fucking marry her, give her my kids and this. This is what I fucking get, everything I ever knew about my life being a fucking lie!”
“Whose fault is that?” Hya demanded. “Your life is a fucking lie not because of Arissa. And I can see how you’d think her goal was to destroy your relationship with your parents, fuck, even she’s thinking she did it to destroy your relationship, but I know that woman. From the beginning, she has only ever tried to make shit work, even when your mother was filling her head with bullshit. She brought your fucking ex back to make peace, willing to step aside if you were still in love with Phoebe—”
Hank was searching his cabinets, looking for more alcohol, any alcohol when he stopped, straightened to the best of his ability and asked, “Exactly, what the fuck was with that, bringing Phoebe back here? All it did was cause that woman to hurt again.” Hank po
inted an unsteady finger at Hya. “She’s got you under her spell, woman, it’s just a matter a time before she throws shit at your fan.”
Hya studied Hank, one of the most logical and intuitive people she knew, but damn he had it all fucking wrong. “Phoebe has closure. She needed it and so did you. Arissa made that happen. And she did so for you.” Hya leaned closer. “I’m not the one under a spell and it ain’t Arissa throwing that shit out. We’ve had this talk before, Hank. Open your eyes to what’s really going on here. Your parents LIED to you your entire life about who you were and where you came from. Arissa has only told you the truth. Truth that might hurt to hear, but only the fucking truth.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Hank started, and in his search, found a bottle of Vodka in the freezer. Score. Twisting the cap, he took a swig. Fuck. That didn’t go down as smooth as the Jack. “I fucking get it, Hya, I do but, Jesus, she brought nothing but shit with her. Nothing but pain. And who…” Hank stopped to take another swig. Shit, that was harsh. He gave a beat to see if the liquor was going to stay down and added, “Before she showed and started her Nancy Drew fucking shit, life was good…great even. What, Hya? What good does it really do me knowing what my parents did, huh? Nothing, not a good damn thing. You know what?” He put the bottle to his lips, sniffed the Vodka and almost gagged. He put the bottle on the counter and finished. “You tell me what good she’s done, tell me?”
If Hya wasn’t so pissed, she might actually feel sorry for Hank. “That I gotta tell you what good she’s brought…maybe you’re right to let her go. She deserves better than you. And if you want to continue with this pity party, at least be fucking honest with yourself. Your mother has been in your face and your business from the get go. A grown ass man with a mom meddling to the lengths she has. And you may be drunk but you fucking know what I’m talking about. She has far more interest in your life than she should have. What good did Arissa bring…she cut the fucking cord for you. So when you’re sober and realizing you let the best fucking thing in your life get away, maybe you’ll send her a thank you so the next woman who tries to love Hank Weathers won’t have to fight his fucking mom for the privilege.”
Hank started off slowly, his hands coming together in an exaggerated clap. “She cut the cord, good for her. Now she can go back to Charleston feeling like a fucking winner.” Hank put up a finger, made a check mark in the air and said, “Another point for the high and mighty editor-in-chief of Southern Charm.”
The slap came out of nowhere and hard enough for Hank’s head to jerk back. “You’re an asshole,” Hya hissed.
Hank placed a hand over his cheek. Fuck, that woman had a hand on her. Rubbing his burning cheek was when Hya broke it. She snapped the last string that was holding Hank together. He backed up against the fridge and sunk down to his ass. Bringing his knees up, he put his elbows to them and held his head in his hands. Closing his eyes thinking it would be the barrier to stop them, it didn’t, the tears that sat there every second of the day let loose. “I just want it to stop hurting,” he said in whispered words.
Hya hunched down in front of him, her voice soft. “You’re not the only one hurting, Hank. And if that’s truly what you want, she’s leaving town for you, leaving the life she started here because she’s brought you enough pain. In time, maybe it will stop hurting. But you should know. Your mother visited her after talking to you. Came to gloat. Arissa is barely holding it together and your mother stuck the knife in deeper and twisted it. You’re right to be pissed, but your anger is directed at the wrong person.”
“I know,” Hank muttered, lifted his head and looked at Hya. The woman that caused him the most shit in his town, gave him a run for his money the past eight years he was the sheriff, was the one helping him pick up the pieces of his fucked up life. Out of the blue, Hank uttered, “I should shower.”
Hya offered her hand. “You do that and I’ll clean up this shit, start a pot of coffee, make you some eggs.”
Hank took her hand, but held it tightly. “I’d like that,” he told her softly and with meaning because he did mean it. His number one crazy was here, in his house helping him. Where were his parents? Why wasn’t his mom barging into his house, smacking him around with words then literally smacking him to get a grip on it all…where was she? The alcohol was still flowing nicely through Hank’s veins, so it wasn’t the logical part of Hank Weathers that spoke next. “You know what, I’m gonna give you a statue, right on Main Street.” He looked in the distance only seeing what was playing out in his mind; he waved a hand. “Can you see it, a life-sized Hyacinth Delacroix looking over Main Street?”
“As long as it’s a nude, Sheriff. That will send our tourist industry into the black for life.” She caught his eyes and despite the teasing, sincerity burned there too. “Don’t need a statue, though. It’s what friends…” She paused then corrected. “Family does. And like it or not, Sexy, I’m in your family.”
Hank put a hand to Hya’s cheek, feeling the smooth aging skin underneath it. “Then if you’re family, Hya, we can’t fuck, it’s illegal.”
Hya held his stare for a second, a lot said without words, then she cackled. “Since when do I follow the rules?”
Hank’s lips tipped up, the sensation feeling somewhat foreign since he hadn’t smiled in three days. “True.”
* * *
Hank was fresh out of the shower, a razor to his face when he heard the vacuum kick on. He smiled. Then as quickly as it turned on, it turned back off followed by a cursing Hya complaining that he hadn’t cleaned out the vacuum in ages. He chuckled, and continued shaving. The three glasses of water Hya had him drink and the cold shower had helped clear away some of the alcohol-soaked cobwebs in his head. He finished up, threw on a pair of jeans and a tee and went downstairs.
“Fuck, that smells good,” he muttered while walking into the kitchen to find Hya at the stove. Looking around, he saw that she had cleaned up all the shattered glass and bottles.
Hya looked back as Hank entered the kitchen, then turned to study him, a little smile on her lips because he was looking more like the sheriff she loved. “You’re looking better,” she said, and then gestured to his phone. “But that fucking thing hasn’t stopped ringing. Either answer it or I’m sending it where all the fucking broken bottles went.”
He smiled and moved to the island to retrieve his cell. Looking at the screen, scrolling through the numerous notifications, he told her. “Thanks for cleaning up.” He came across eight emails from Sean Fowler, seven missed calls and one text that said, Call me asap.
“Anytime, but I will want sexual favors in return.” She informed him, as she threw him a grin over her shoulder. She plated up the eggs and bacon, dropped the plate on the table while shaking her head. “You eat Hilda’s offspring and still she loves you.” Her eyes found his, before she took in his handsome face and said, “I understand the appeal. Now eat.” She went for the coffee, poured him a mug and brought it over.
Hank chuckled, sat down at the table and shoved a piece of bacon in his mouth while looking at the small screen. He opened an email from Sean with the subject line that read, Shit, man, call me. Reading the message—Hank you need to look at this, buddy. We backtracked Harley Aldridge’s final days. This was the last place he was seen—it was accompanied by a link. He clicked on the link and it brought up video footage of a restaurant. Hank scooped up a bite of eggs and tossed them into his mouth as he watched patrons walking in and out of the restaurant, while servers tended to the crowded dining area. What had him dropping the fork on his plate with a loud clatter was the woman walking with intent toward a table. “What the fuck,” Hank grumbled and swallowed the chewed eggs. Thank God he did because what he saw next was that same woman sitting down with Harley Aldridge. Their body language suggested it wasn’t a friendly meeting; in fact, it looked as if they didn’t want to talk or for that matter, see each other.
“Jesus, fuck,” Hank grumble
d when he watched the woman and Harley exit the restaurant together. Hank’s cell slid out of hand and fell to the table. He lifted his eyes and looked across the table to Hya, her brows drawn in confusion by his reaction.
Hya’s fork stopped midway to her mouth, but it was the look on Hank’s face that had her own going pale. “What’s wrong?”
Hank didn’t even know how he managed to say the words that came out of his mouth next, but he did, and evenly when he told Hya. “Catherine was the last person to be seen with Harley Aldridge.”
It was Hya’s fork that clattered to the plate. Shock sweeping her expression first, followed with anger. “Harley was that lawyer, right?” But Hya was out of her chair, pulling a hand through her hair because, shit, but then she sank back down in the chair because the ramifications of that statement. Her eyes found Hank, saw how she was feeling looking back. “Shit. You don’t think she…” Hya couldn’t even say it…talk about a dark turn.
Hank ran a hand through his damp hair and let out a breath. “I don’t know what to fucking think.” With that he stood, snatched his cell from the table and stabbed at the screen.
Hank knew who would have the answers. He put the phone to his ear and not a second later he heard, “Jesus, fuck, where have you been?”
“Drowning my fucking sorrows—”
Sean cut Hank off. “What?”
“Found out my parents took me from a druggy and—”
Again, Sean interrupted Hank. “Cassidy Jamison?”
Hank blinked, was that his mother’s name? His birth mother? “Don’t know,” Hank muttered.
“Shit, it’s all coming the fuck together,” Sean uttered more to himself as the missing pieces of the puzzle surfaced. “You see the footage I sent?”
“Yeah,” Hank grated out, that word feeling like a shard of glass in his throat.
“Have prints too, Hank.”