He ran his fingers through his damp hair, then suddenly turned and punched the wall. “Damn!” But he wasn't sure if he swore because of the pain or the grief of losing Aaron that still snuck up on him.
Turning, he looked for a box to unpack. Anything to get his mind occupied with something else. He pushed aside one, pulled open another, and saw his brother's face staring up at him. Eddie stopped breathing. Taken four or five years ago, the two of them were forever frozen in that silver picture frame, tossing a football around the back yard and laughing at their mom. She always snuck up on us and took our picture, he remembered. We used to hate it. He ran one finger over the glass. Now I wish she'd taken a thousand more.
Eddie tucked the picture into the box, facedown, and shoved the flap back into place. Surrounded by pictures of the past was the last place he wanted to be right now. He headed for the shower instead, doing his best to scrub away the memories.
Better, he thought as the hot water turned cool after awhile. At least he wasn't feeling so damned depressed anymore. He dropped his towel on the floor, dug through a suitcase for a change of clothes, and ran a comb through his damp hair. Then he darted upstairs and pounded a fist on his new housemate's door.
* * * *
"Hello?” Eddie knocked a second time and still heard nothing. Maybe Jen and Ash had gone out after all. He turned to leave.
"Eddie?” The door cracked open, and Ash peeked out. A hesitant smile lit her face. “Hi. Come on in."
"Thought you guys were out."
"Jen left,” she said. “She wanted to get back to the city before dark."
"You eat yet?"
She shook her head. “I was just wondering what Paradise has in the way of take-out."
"Well, there's Primo's Pizza right down the block. Or Louie's Sub Shop around the corner. They're both close enough.” The curiosity on Ash's face stopped him. “What?"
She smiled and shook her head. “You live here,” she said. It wasn't a question, but a quiet discovery.
"Oh, yeah.” Eddie nodded. “My whole life. Thought I mentioned it before. I grew up on the other side of town, went to the community college for a couple of years.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Figured it was about time I moved out of my parents’ house."
Ash sat down beside him on the loveseat, though he noticed she kept a careful few inches between their bare legs.
"So what do you think? Pizza or subs?"
"Pizza,” she decided. She looked over her shoulder, in the direction of the kitchen. “You know, there's a pretty cool rooftop out there. Want to get the pizza to go?"
"Now you're talking.” Eddie stood, stomach growling.
"I don't have anything in the fridge,” she apologized. “We should pick up a six-pack or something, too."
"Pizza and beer? A woman after my own heart."
Her cheeks reddened at his words, and Eddie grinned. He liked having that effect on women, making them at first uncomfortable around him and then by turns so comfortable he could open them up, peel back the layers, and turn their hearts inside out. He liked making women ache for him. He was good at it.
"You have a boyfriend?” he asked as he followed her down the stairs. He figured he might as well negotiate his options from the start.
She shook her head, and reddish curls moved across her shoulder blades. He wanted to touch them, wind them around his fingers. He bet they smelled like some kind of floral shampoo.
"No.” Her answer was quiet in the stairwell. At the bottom she turned to look back at him, and he saw that the light had vanished from her eyes.
"Ah ... mending a broken heart?” He backpedaled and changed his approach.
"Something like that.” As she opened the door, her shoulders sagged a little, and Eddie followed, wanting to reach out a hand and comfort her.
* * * *
"Pepperoni or mushroom?” Eddie asked as he opened the boxes. Steam poured out and wound its way upward.
Standing in the middle of the kitchen, Ash pulled the tops off two beer bottles. “Mushroom, please.” She took a long swallow. “I'm a vegetarian,” she added.
"You're kidding."
"I'm not."
"You really don't eat meat?"
"I don't eat anything that used to have a face. It's just—I don't know—it makes me feel bad."
"How long?"
"Since college.” She paused and sent a look straight through him. “Does it bother you?"
"Nah. Just never knew anyone like that before.” Eddie separated the cheese as he pulled slices apart, two for each of them. “Napkins?"
Ash looked around. “I know Jen put them somewhere. Oh ... on top of the fridge.” She stood on tiptoes and reached for the unopened package. “What else do we need?"
"Nothing but a rooftop and some good conversation."
"Okay.” She pulled open the window. “Here goes.” She lifted one leg up and over the sill and hopped out. “The view's great out here."
He grabbed the rest of the six-pack, handed her the plates and followed. Wow. She was right. He walked to the railing that ran along the perimeter and surveyed the block from end to end. The trees laced together overhead, and he could smell the scent of flowers somewhere close by. Contentment settled over Eddie. He leaned against the side of the house and reached for the pizza.
Opposite him, a few feet away, Ash sat with her plate on her lap. Her shorts grazed the tops of her thighs, and through the thin skin of a gray T-shirt, Eddie could see small breasts punctuated with perfectly round nipples. He argued with the part of him that wanted to lose himself in the view and stopped looking. Not going to do it, not now. She just broke up with her boyfriend. Give her a break.
"So, you and Jen went to school in the city?"
Ash nodded.
"College?"
"Law school."
"You're kidding me."
She smiled. “Nope."
He took a long pull on his beer. “Excuse me for asking, but what the hell are you doing in Paradise?” Shit, he felt about two feet tall next to someone who'd just finished becoming a lawyer.
She gazed across the street. “I needed a change of scenery."
He laughed before he could help himself. “Well, you sure got one here. We're only a hundred miles from Boston, but it's a different world, in case you haven't noticed. Half the people in Paradise have never even been to Boston."
Ash's chin twitched, and she looked defensive. “Well, it seemed as good on the map as any other place. I just wanted to get away for awhile."
Eddie finished his slice and reached for another. “Don't get me wrong, it's a great town. Just don't see many city girls here, that's all.” He paused. “So you're going back in the fall? Got a job waiting for you?"
She shrugged a sort of yes. “Couple of my siblings are attorneys."
"Ah. Runs in the family?"
"I guess.” Her voice dropped.
Eddie rested one wrist on his knee, dangling his empty bottle. “I gotta say, you don't sound very excited about it."
She sighed. “Ever since I was a little girl, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted to do. College, law school, work my way up to partner by the time I turn thirty, and then run for public office. Maybe end up in Congress."
Eddie stared, his mouth around a slice of pizza but forgetting to chew. Who the hell was this woman?
Ash went on as if the expression on his face hadn't changed in the least. “Turns out, that was more what my parents wanted me to do.” She scratched her arm. “Truth is, I don't know what I want. I have a—a cousin who's running for office in the fall and can't wait for the fight.” She grimaced. “But some things happened in the last couple of months that made me think twice about that. I don't think I'm cut out for a life in politics."
Eddie watched indecision trek across her forehead and down to the corners of her mouth. Law school grad or not, his housemate looked as uncertain about the future as half the people he knew. “You know, you don't have to decid
e your whole life tonight. Or even this summer."
"No?” She smiled again. “Tell that to my father."
"Ah, pressure from the parents.” Eddie nodded.
"What about you? Did you always want to fix cars?"
"Oh, yeah.” He cracked open another beer. “I was born for it. I've always known it. Used to drive my mom crazy, taking apart the vacuum cleaner, the lawn mower...” He chuckled and let the memories wash over him, good ones this time. “The minute I turned sixteen and bought my own beat-up Chevy, I knew what I wanted to do. It's like breathing to me.” He leaned back. “Maybe I'll open my own shop someday, hire a couple of guys to work for me. That's all I'll need, that and a house with a garage big enough for three or four of my own."
"You definitely know what you want."
"Guess I'm just lucky."
Ash didn't speak for a while after that, and Eddie wondered if he'd offended her somehow. He hoped not. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a real conversation with a woman. He realized with surprise that he liked just talking to her, liked listening to her pause over her thoughts, and choose her words instead of letting them spill from her mouth without meaning like so many other women he knew. Sitting up here near the trees, talking with someone who wasn't trying to impress him, felt good. For once, he wasn't thinking about how soon he could kiss her, or what would happen next. The now was all that mattered, talking to her and watching the color of her eyes change as she listened to him. He liked it.
Eddie let his eyes drift shut, basking in the leftover heat that still hung above them. Ever since The Accident he felt chilled, even in the warmth of summer. The Accident. He always thought of it spelled with capital letters, T.A., like B.C., which he guessed was sort of fitting, since it had split his life in two. Every memory he had was catalogued either Before The Accident or After The Accident.
Life without regret: Before The Accident. Staying out all night and going to work with a hangover the size of Colorado: Before The Accident. But after? Sleepless nights, aches that never ceased, and an enormous gulf between him and his parents. Even three years later, Eddie's ankles, and the scars on his face sometimes, throbbed in the cold weather. And the nightmares, of course, had stayed with him, once he'd finally been able to sleep at all.
He shook his head and swallowed deeply. Though he tried to will it away, a bright green light began to shine against the back of his eyelids, and his heart started its familiar racing. Not here. Not now. For one day, I want to forget. He swallowed again, but the racing continued, and shattered glass roared in his ears. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. He counted to ten and tried to ignore the voices that screamed above the glass—not words, but voices lost in pain. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Please stop. Please.
After a long minute, his heart slowed. The green light faded into the recesses of memory, and the agony of sound disappeared. His pulse returned to almost normal. Eddie dropped his hand back into his lap and opened his eyes.
Ash was staring at him.
"You okay?” Her voice, soft and low, crept across the porch. She didn't press, didn't ask him what was wrong, like people always did. Of course, she didn't know about the accident, and he figured she was about the only person in Paradise who didn't. Still, she didn't get nosy and pry. She just sat and studied him, concerned.
Eddie nodded and tried to find a smile. “Yeah. I'm fine.” Yet a strange feeling of déjà vu raised the hairs on the back of his neck. His housemate, this person he'd only just met, reminded him of someone he'd known years ago. He couldn't remember who. But he suddenly felt better than he had in a long time.
Chapter Four
Ash tucked the Paradise Chronicle under one arm and locked her door. Skipping down the steps, she paused for a minute in front of Eddie's apartment. Yesterday she'd passed it three or four times, as she carried the rest of her things upstairs, and it had only watched, a solid brown door with nothing but quiet behind it. Today, though, it studied Ash as she stood there. It hid possibilities, ones she wanted to know more about. Maybe I should say hello. Say thanks for last night. She raised her hand to knock.
He's different somehow. I thought he'd be like every other good-looking guy, interested in himself and not much else. A memory of fraternity brothers tossing around a football and grilling on the quad during her undergrad days flashed into her mind. Eddie looked like a Sigma Chi, strong and masculine, the kind of guy who dated a different girl each week and won over his professors’ hearts with a wink and a smile. Sigma Chi brothers didn't date girls like Ashton; they asked them for class notes or directions to the library. Then on Friday nights, they shared their drinks and their beds with blushing sorority girls or the dark-eyed, mysterious graduate assistants who drank port and read Eliot.
Eddie had said he'd only gone to junior college for a couple of years, opting to work on cars full-time as soon as he turned twenty. Still, there was something about him, something about the way he watched her with thoughtful eyes, that made Ash suspect he had more intellect and common sense than half the people she'd met at Harvard.
That's why I have to be careful. That's why I have to keep my distance. I can't let him find out who I am. I can't let anyone.
She let her hand drop away from his door without knocking. He'd probably gone to work, anyway. She hadn't heard him leave, but to her surprise she'd slept well, a long eight hours without waking once. Stepping onto the porch, she glanced down at the classified ads. She'd found three possibilities this morning and circled them in red ink, a declaration of her decision to stay in Paradise, at least for now. She'd figure out how to explain that to her parents when the time came.
"Waitress needed immediately for busy jazz club. Experience helpful, but not necessary. Apply at Blues and Booze, 53 Main Street."
Paradise had a jazz club? A busy one? Ash smiled. She'd spent a couple of years sloshing coffee at the campus java joint; did that count as experience? She supposed it probably did. She left her car at the curb and decided to walk.
Three blocks later, the numbers on Main Street crept from forty-one, Lana's Plus Palace, to forty-five, a used bookstore, to forty-nine, Lou's Sub Shop. Oh, right. Eddie mentioned this place last night.
Ash slowed and peered into Lou's front window. A solitary cook in a stained white apron stood behind the counter, rolling dough. In front of him, a display case showed row upon row of deli meats, cheeses, and colorful salads. Her mouth began to water, and she decided, then and there, that she'd stop by on her way back and pick up some lunch. The sandwich shop sat on the corner of Adams Street, an alley barely wide enough for one car. Still, accustomed to busy Boston avenues, Ash glanced both ways before crossing it. On the other side, she found herself in front of a tall, narrow-fronted building with smoky windows. “Blues and Booze” read the neon sign above the door. She shaded her eyes. “Eleven to midnight,” announced a paper sign in the window. Someone had scrawled “Help wanted” beside the hours.
She checked her watch and reached for the doorknob.
"Hello?” The word echoed in the space and fell away. To her right, a long bar stretched halfway across the room, ending at a curved doorway. Beyond the arch of the doorway opened another, larger room, draped in shadows. Chairs sat upside down on tabletops, skeletons in the darkness. At the far end of the restaurant, she saw a thin strip of yellow underneath yet another door.
"Hello?” She called again and took a few more steps inside. This time the door in the dining room swung open, and a thin figure emerged.
"We're not open yet.” A male voice, hoarse and curt, broke the stillness.
"Oh.” She looked at her watch again. “I thought you opened at eleven."
The man walked toward her. Narrow-faced, with a chapped nose and black eyes, he peered at Ash and coughed. A navy blue apron was tied over wrinkled khaki pants and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Yellow teeth crowded into a crooked row behind thin lips. Ash's stomach crawled into her throat, and she took a step backwards. This
was a mistake. Definitely a mistake. She wasn't cut out for a job in a place like this, a pampered girl from Boston's west side, and she knew it. Who was she kidding? She'd call home and ask for money, deal with her parents’ anger and disappointment somehow.
"Sorry,” she said. “I'll leave."
"No, wait,” he said, and this time his voice was kinder. “You here for the job?"
"Um—"
"Listen, you got any experience at all, you're hired. Hell, you don't got any experience, I'll probably hire you. Got no luck finding help in the summer when the college kids go home.” He untied his apron and tossed it onto the bar. “So?” Pulling himself onto a barstool, he lit a cigarette and waited.
Ash took one more look around and swallowed what little pride still hid in her heart. “Yes, I'm here about the job.” She stretched out a hand, hoping he wouldn't return the gesture. She could only imagine where his had been. Thankfully, he only nodded and blew a long stream of smoke up toward the ceiling.
"Great. You ever work in a restaurant before?"
"Sort of. I worked behind the counter at a coffee shop for a couple of years."
The man took a long draw on his cigarette and considered. “Okay. What's your name?"
"Ashley Kirtland.” It became a little easier, every day, to say the made-up name. “Ash.” She hoped he wouldn't ask her for a reference. She could only ask Jen to lie for her so many times this week.
"Marty Evers. You want the job, come back at five tonight. I got another new girl, been here about two weeks. She'll show you the ropes.” Sucking at the cigarette until it was a reddened stump between his fingers, he slid off the stool and mashed it out. “You available full time?"
Ash hadn't thought about that. Did she really want to spend forty hours a week in this place? “Days or nights?"
"Little of both. Course, you make more money at night, you know. Tips ain't so good during the day."
"That's okay. Yeah, I'm available full time.” What the heck. It'll keep my mind off things.
"Good.” Marty grabbed his apron and retreated back toward the kitchen. “Five o'clock,” he repeated.
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