Rescue Me (Butler Island)

by Nikki Rittenberry

  Because no amount of wishing was going to bring Jimmy back.

  Grant bought the next round after Randall effortlessly sank the eight ball into the called right corner pocket. Again. “Man, Livvey’s gonna kill me if I keep this shit up.”

  Stifling a smirk, Randall glanced at his watch. “Maybe not; they should’ve been here an hour ago. Maybe they changed their minds.”

  “To do what?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know—chick shit, I guess.

  Grant slurped a sip of beer and then ran his tongue over his mouth to capture a segment of froth that’d settled on his upper lip. “Chick shit, eh? And what might that be?”

  “Nail painting, purse swapping”—leaning forward, he braced his hands along the edge of the pool table—“pillow fighting… You know, shit like that.”

  “Pillow fights?” Olivia asked as she sidled up beside them. “What type of fantasy land do you reside in, Randall?”

  Tugging at her waist, Grant pulled his wife against him. “What took you so long?” he questioned as he nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck. “

  “Well…”

  “It was my fault”, Lana began. “I—”

  “Almost won the pillow fight. Yep, and you know Lana: Mrs. Competitive”, Olivia emphasized teasingly as she gestured at Lana with her thumb. “She demanded a rematch.”

  Laughter rippled around the pool table. Olivia’s rundown of the events that’d taken place prior to their arrival couldn’t have been more contradictory in nature. Lana was sweet. Compassionate. She didn’t have an antagonistic bone in her body.

  “Well, I’ll be… I thought that was you”, said Dan as he came to rest next to Lana. “Sure is good to see you in here.” The longtime bartender/owner swung one of his arms around her shoulders and smiled.

  “Thanks, Dan. Looks like you’re in for a busy night tonight.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Winterfest always seems to draw a big crowd—plus I heard it’s supposed to rain later. When that happens, folks will likely stop in here. What’re you lovely ladies drinkin’ tonight?”

  “I’ll have a glass of merlot”, Olivia announced. “A full glass.”

  “I think I can manage that. And what about you?” he asked as he turned his attention back to Lana. “The usual?”

  “You mean—you still remember? It’s been ages since I’ve been in.”

  “Of course, I do. It may’ve been a while, but I wouldn’t forget. Malibu and pineapple juice, three maraschino cherries”, he gestured with his fingers.

  Stifling a shy smile, Lana nodded.

  “All right. Be right back.”

  Randall placed his half empty mug on the nearby table, gathering Lana in his arms in a friendly greeting. “Hey, girl, I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show. Good to see you.”

  “Thanks, good to see you too”, she said as she stepped out of his arms.

  “Grant mentioned your parents were taking Connor to the carnival.”

  Lana nodded. “They usually keep him overnight once a month to give me a break. Just so happens it fell on Winterfest this month.” She forced herself to smile—nobody wanted to be around a Debbie Downer. “I’m sure he’s milking them for ride tickets and a load of junk food as we speak.”

  “Yeah, he’s a smooth-talker, all right. Talked me into buying donuts at Anderson’s Bakery last week.”

  “Wait—he talked you into it?” She emphasized as she pointed a finger in his direction. “Am I hearing this correctly? Because I don’t recall anyone ever having to talk you into that before.”

  Anderson’s Bakery was a family owned establishment that’d been opened for nearly three generations. They sold everything from bread to pastries to pizza dough. The bakery specialized in unconventional donut flavors, and if customers timed their arrival just so, the gourmet creations were served warm.

  “Touché”, Randall replied, attempting to hide a growing grin. “I do have a weakness for key lime glazed donuts.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  Dan appeared again—this time with drinks. And when his delivery was complete he wove around the growing crowd, returning to his position behind the wood-shellacked bar.

  “Now that the girls have their drinks, you ready for another round of pool?” Grant asked.

  Randall smirked, revealing an easy confidence. “Depends: Are you up for buying the next round of brew?”

  Chapter 9

  Enveloped in a thick cloud of haze, Lana sat at a high bar table wedged in the corner of the smoke-filled room, alternately chatting with Olivia and sipping her mixed drink while Grant and Randall rivaled in another round of eight-ball. She’d fought the urge to phone her parents to check on Connor numerous times in the hour since her arrival. She knew he was in capable hands, but relinquishing control—even for one night—was still difficult to do.

  Losing Jimmy had been out of her control. And somewhere deep inside the recesses of her mind she concluded that as long as Connor was within sight, she’d be able to keep him safe. Her theory was probably unrealistic, she knew. Because when a person fulfilled their time on this earth, no amount of careful observation could save them. But that certainly didn’t obscure her half-baked rationale.

  Music spewed from the speakers, an eclectic mix of classic rock and fast-paced country tunes, causing Lana’s toes to tap against the bottom rung of her wood stool. It took a conscious effort not to squirm in her seat as Luke Bryan’s voice serenaded, requesting country girls to shake their tushes. God, she missed dancing. Missed how her mind would go blank and her body’s sixth sense simply took over.

  To her right, Olivia sat with her arms raised above her head, snapping her fingers to the melody, mouthing the lyrics to the catchy chorus.

  “We should dance!” Olivia suggested over the roar of the music.

  “Maybe later.” She’d purposely kept her response vague—that way, she wouldn’t feel guilty when it was suggested again. And she knew it would be at some point.

  “Okay.”

  The lights dimmed as the upbeat rhythm transitioned into a slow country ballad, beckoning couples to the rectangular dance floor like moths to a flame. “Hey, Womack”, Olivia shouted, “you ’bout done yet?” Hopping off her stool, she sauntered up to Grant and pried the cue stick from his hands.

  “Livvey, baby, we’re in the middle of a game, here.”

  “Oh, quit actin’ like you’ve got a chance in hell at winnin’.” Olivia latched onto the front of his shirt and tugged. “C’mon.”

  Randall laid his cue stick along the edge of the pool table and plopped his rear end on the stool Olivia had vacated moments ago. He took a healthy gulp of Miller Lite, then turned his attention to the pretty brunette to his left. “Having fun?”

  “A lot.”

  He eyed her over his glass while he took another sip. “That so?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  It was a whopper of an answer. And he wondered if her response was meant to put his mind at ease, or her own. He wasn’t going to call her out on her obvious lie—not yet, anyway. Changing the subject, Randall gestured over his shoulder at the dance floor with his thumb. “Think I might’ve lost my pool partner.”

  Lana diverted her attention to Olivia and Grant, locked in a lover’s embrace. They’d married in early spring in a simple ceremony along the stretch of surf behind Grant’s beach house. They’d looked so in love that day, and as Lana observed them swaying on the dance floor tonight, she sensed their feelings for one another had only continued to ripen. “They look really happy…”

  He didn’t need to look over his shoulder again to know the two newlyweds were mashed up against one another, practically hypnotized by their close proximity. Just like he didn’t need to look at Lana’s angelic face to know she was thinking of Jimmy. “Yeah, they’re a good fit.” Propping his elbow on the table, Randall rubbed the course stubble along his cheek with the back of his fingers. “Surprised you haven’t ventured out to the dance floor yet.”
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  Chipping away the teal polish painted on her nails, she shrugged. “Guess I just, you know… haven’t had the urge.”

  “Are you shittin’ me?” He asked incredulously. “I saw you over here squirming in your seat, your boots just-a-tappin’—it’s in your bones.”

  “You’re crazy, you know that? You saw no such thing, you’ve been busy playing pool. Or don’t you remember…?”

  “Trust me, I definitely remember.” And he was likely to never forget how her body had subtly swayed to the melody, her bottom fidgeting about on the hard wooden stool. A man would have to be damn near blind not to have noticed.

  The soothing sound of steel guitar faded, replaced by a heavy thump of beating drums, followed by an unmistakable electric guitar intro. Randall stole a quick glance over his shoulder at the dance floor as John Mellencamp’s Hurt So Good began, stirring a craving deep in his gut he couldn’t quite name. Standing, he offered his hand. “C’mon.”

  “What?—no!”

  “Huh-uh, I’m not taking no for an answer. Dance with me…”

  It’d taken every ounce of courage she owned to be here tonight. In fact she was quite proud of the forward progress she’d made thus far—albeit a tiny baby step. Panic coursed through her veins, but one look into Randall’s gray eyes shoved it down.

  You’re not alone, you can do this...

  Lana accepted his offer with trembling hands, allowing Randall to guide her down from the stool she’d occupied since her arrival, to the adjacent crowded dance floor.

  It took a few moments to loosen up, but when she finally let go, allowed her tense body to unravel, something magical happened: questions, doubts, worry, and fear dissipated. And in its wake, Lana saw a glimpse of the lively woman she used to be.

  Randall spun her around as they traveled the dance floor. He was a really good dancer—taking the lead, yet still allowing her an opportunity to unleash her creative finesse. He was right: dancing was in her bones. And she had an inkling it was just the kind of therapy her body needed to mend itself.

  She was blossoming before his very eyes, a contented smile spreading across her pink lips. Admittedly, Randall had done a lot of wrong things in his life. But this?—this felt good. His heart quivered when he realized what he’d managed to do here tonight. Lana had taken another step, entrusting him to lead her.

  He hadn’t known until that very moment how much her trust would mean. How the simple gesture of taking his hand moments ago would rescue him from the arms of anguish.

  “…Hey baby, it’s you, come on, girl, now, it’s you

  Sink your teeth right through my bones, baby…”

  Randall spun Lana around, then firmly gathered her in his arms. This no longer felt like a one-sided arrangement. Holding Lana while their bodies swayed patched the gaping hole in his heart. And while he still felt considerably empty, he couldn’t help but wonder if this woman was his ticket to contentment.

  “…Hurt so good

  Come on baby, make it hurt so good…”

  Maybe he didn’t have to be tough all the time. Maybe this incredibly strong woman could be his rock, too.

  A slap on the back startled him as the song came to an end. Randall turned to find Grant by his side.

  “Hate to skirt out early, but I just got a call from Ty. Kendall’s water broke. They’re already at Mainland Hospital. We’re heading over there now.”

  “Oh, wow”, Lana began. “I’m sure Ty’s probably freaking out right about now!”

  “Yeah, that’s an understatement! Listen”—Grant shouted over the music as he turned to Lana—“we can drop you off at your house if—”

  “That’s not necessary. I’m sure I can catch a ride home with somebody.”

  “I’ll drive you home”, Randall offered.

  Lana turned to face him, baffled by his generous offer. “Wait—you’re not heading over there with Grant and Liv?”

  “Nope, wasn’t plannin’ on it… Your call: I can either take you home now, or we can stay.” Randall eyed her for a few long beats. He could see the gears-a-turning in her brain as she carefully considered her choices. He figured she’d probably call it a night. After all, she’d conquered many firsts tonight.

  “I think I’ll stay for a bit—I mean, if you’re sure it’s okay.”

  “Of course, it is.”

  Lana turned to Grant. “Give Kendall and Ty my best.”

  “Will do. I’ll have Olivia call you once we have some news.” Grant squeezed through the crowd toward the bar where Olivia stood waiting for him. She gave a quick wave to Lana and Randall before disappearing behind a sea of line dancers near the front segment of the dance floor.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I’m sure I can find someone else to—”

  “I’m positive”, he reassured her.

  “But she’s one of your best friends. Figured you’d want to be there, you know?”

  Randall shrugged. What could he say? He’d bared his soul, as well as his naked body, to Kendall two summers ago, confessing how he’d fallen for her. He’d done all he could—short of begging her—to give him a chance. But she hadn’t wanted that. Instead, she’d pursued a friends-with-benefits relationship with his lieutenant, Ty Everitt.

  “It’s complicated.” There was no need in rehashing the past. Their friendship had withstood the blow of her marriage to Ty, but he’d be lying if he said it hadn’t suffered irreparable damage. “How ’bout we get another drink?”

  “Only if you promise to dance with me again later”, Lana countered.

  “I think I can manage that.”

  The crowd had thinned considerably by the time Randall and Lana ordered their last shot of tequila. “Okay”, she uttered, wincing as liquid warmth swam down her throat. “I think I’m done, now.”

  Slamming his empty shot glass on the shellacked bar, he smiled. “I think that’d be wise.” Randall raised his hand above his head, motioning for the bartender. “Cashin’ out, Dan.”

  “Be right with you.” Dan appeared moments later, placing the check face down on the bar.

  Lana reached into her purse for her wallet. “Here, let me—”

  “Hell, no—put your money away! Tonight’s on me.”

  “Randall, we drank a ton of tequila! The tab’s gonna be—”

  “The tab’s taken care of”, he assured her as he placed his credit card on the bar. “Don’t worry”—he winked—“I’ll let you buy me a beer next time.”

  Next time… Lana tucked her hair behind her ear, unsure what to do with her hands, knowing her cheeks were probably ten shades of pink. Why was it suddenly so hot in here?

  Dan swiped Randall’s card from the table and slid it through a groove along the side of the register. He waited for the receipt to finish printing before returning both paper and plastic to the bar top.

  She watched as Randall scribbled his name on the receipt, returned his credit card to its rightful slot, then shoved his wallet into the back pocket of his faded blue jeans.

  “Ready?” Randall asked.

  Lana tore her eyes from his backside, praying he hadn’t noticed. “Uh, yeah. I’m ready.”

  The short drive from The Saloon to her small home on the west side of the island was driven in near silence. Good. Because she wasn’t entirely confident she’d be able to hear him much anyway over the roar of her rapid pulse.

  The headlights illuminated the cold wet pavement, puddles near the road’s edges glistening like twinkling stars. They made a left onto her street, kicking her nerves into overdrive—although why she couldn’t say. She glanced at her hands just as Randall turned in to her driveway, flecks of teal polish scattered along her lap.

  “And we’re here”, he announced as he shoved the gear in PARK. “You okay? You’re not gonna throw up in my truck, are you?”

  “No, I-I feel”—restless—“fine…” The steady hum of the idling engine surrounded their bodies, which ironically only seemed to further enhance the silence lu
rking between them. Butterflies assaulted her insides, her heart galloping to a hasty tempo.

  God, she was nervous. Why was she suddenly so nervous? “Well, um, thanks for the ride.”

  “Anytime.”

  She stared at him a moment longer, laid back in his seat, completely unaware of the static currently wreaking havoc on her brain. “Okay, so… yeah, guess I’ll see you later.” Clumsily she reached for her purse, only instead of gripping the leather bag, she somehow managed to knock it over. A medley of items spilled from the cleft, finally coming to rest along the floor board. “Shit”, she mumbled.

  “And the mystery of what you girls carry in these damn things are finally revealed”, Randall uttered as he picked up a small spool of black thread. After tossing it into her purse he gathered more items, desperately trying to suppress his growing grin.

  This was beyond embarrassing— it was downright humiliating! Why did she have to be so darn clumsy? Hadn’t she suffered enough? The sudden need to grab the rest of her belongings and flee the confines of Randall’s truck washed over her.

  Stretching her body over the console, she reached for a tube of pink gloss that’d settled near the gas pedal, completely oblivious that Randall was reaching for the same item, until his fingers covered hers. His hands were rough, big, dwarfing her dainty digits. Slowly her eyes traveled up his chiseled forearm, past his broad shoulders, finally landing on two curious gray eyes. His steel-colored orbs were focused on hers, their faces inches apart. They sat motionless, frozen, breathing the same air—so close she caught a hint of tequila on his breath.

  Lana swallowed hard, then licked her suddenly dry lips (something Randall had clearly noticed, seeing that his eyes had averted to her mouth). Energy charged between them, pure, electric, rooting their bodies. She waited for the moment when the strength of it became too powerful, when the pull weakened their resistance. And just when she thought he’d close the distance between them, Randall did something completely unexpected: He nudged the tube of gloss into her palm, clearing his throat as he quickly pulled away.